#(i had heard of sarah hale before in history classes it had just been A While and id forgotten abt her)

[secondwhisper]

Pg 24,

[Sarah] Hale [...] dedicated her Ladies' Magazine to the modest goal of educating women, "not that they may usurp the station, or encroach on the prerogatives of man; but that each individual may lend her aid to the intellectual and moral character of those within her sphere." [...] It was a career that revealed all the ambiguities of image-making as a means of self-advancement. Hale was a businesswoman anxious for success, but she gained respectability by advising a domestic role for women.

We have never stopped having to critique housewife influencers I see

Pg 26,

"Starve us to prevent us from getting drunk!" union leaders bitterly commented on the temperance argument for low wages

The "poor people are buying drugs instead of food" discourse has been around for at least 200 years too, in this case borne out of overt calls for wage suppression as tactic to indirectly enforce sobriety‽

Unitarianism stressed the value of intellectual liberty and social harmony, thus reflecting the interests of well-educated people too committed to Enlightenment ideals to govern willingly by visible authority.

The THIRD thing on page FIVE alone that makes me go 👀

I should not have held off reading this book for so long this is already so totally compelling. But also this is quite a statement to make in the history/premise chapter. As just like a given apparently? Fuck em up Anne

[theparanormalperiodical]

The Less-Than-Sweet TRUE Stories That Inspired Candyman (1992), And The Other 5 Scariest Urban Legends That Are Still Haunting The USA

In 1987, Ruthie Mae McCoy was found dead in her apartment.

As a mentally-unstable resident of the ABLA housing project - one of the most violent on the Chicago south side - her death is far from the only one to have taken place there. But her death is one of the most well documented.

So well documented, in fact, it’s legacy stretches back to the present day.

McCoy first reported strange occurrences taking place in her apartment when returning from the psychiatric unit at Mount Sinai Hospital. She claimed someone had threatened her life to a fellow passenger in the van next to her.

They urged her to seek help, but she chose to take shelter in her fear.

In April, the local police received a phone call from a frightened woman from the ABLA housing project who was claiming someone was trying to come through her bathroom cabinet. When the police finally entered the apartment, they discovered her on the floor of her bedroom with 4 gunshot wounds peppering her torso.

Her death would be just one of the threads that weaved the horror film icon, Candyman (1992).

Today we unpick the fabric, from the twisted history of the Jim Crow South, to America’s darkest urban legends.

Clive Barker never intended to create one of the most iconic Black horror films of all time.

In fact, Barker didn’t even create the feature length film that would change the face of cinema in 1992. What he did, however, was pen a short story about life on the breadline in Liverpool.

The Forbidden (1984) followed a graduate student in the UK who was studying graffiti. Among the garish curse words splashed on the walls of the run-down council estate she investigated, Helen discovered references to an urban legend that have been sprayed onto the concrete.

A legend called the Candyman.

As explained by the later films, Candyman is a pretty standard urban legend: you say his name into a mirror 5 times, and before you would appear a man sticky with sweet honey and with a hook for a hand.

Helen followed the trail back to reports and rumours mutilations and murders in the local area, failing to get any information out of the locals. She then became a victim of the Candyman himself.

Despite the short story closely mirroring the plotline of the film we know and love cower away from today, there is one crucial difference aside from the setting:

In the 1992 film, and in the upcoming 2021 reboot, the Candyman is African-american. Helen’s original encounter with the urban legend in Liverpool, however, was with a pale, waxy figure bearing all the traits of a dead white man.

When Clive Barker first conjured the Candyman from his imagination, he wanted to explore the theme of class in 1980s Britain. Bernard Rose, the director of the 1992 rendition of the tale, on the other hand, wanted to explore the theme of race in America, rewriting the characters on the other side of the pond and deepening the dark story Barker first put before horror fans.

Most importantly, he focused on developing the character of the Candyman.

Where he came from, what he did, and how he did it informed the entire plot, and would span 2 sequels shortly after.

The Candyman Of Cabrini-Green

Rose set the 1990 films in the Cabrini-Green public housing projects in Chicago’s North Side. Originally built in 1942 to home thousands of African-americans fleeing the Jim Crow South during the Great Migration, the housing project captured a snapshot of racial divides in America.

It doesn’t take a historian to understand that racism fuelled the neglect of the housing, and by the time the movie hit the theatres in the early 90s, only 9% living there were actually employed.

But Candyman didn’t just capture the poverty and racism inherent in American society; it pulled us through the mirror, and showed the viewers just one of the many origins fuelling the complex and corrupted history of the USA.

So Who Was The Candyman Based On?

Tony Todd was a pretty important part of the film.

Ok, aside from being one of the few black actors that managed to score a role in a horror movie that didn’t die in the opening credits, and yeah, as well as donning a prosthetic hook, he actually developed the character of the Candyman.

But most notably, he developed the backstory for the urban legend.

And the story starts in the 19th century.

Daniel Robitaille - an established painter - was commissioned to paint the portrait of a white woman. From there began an interracial relationship that was not accepted in this era.

When she fell pregnant, a lynch mob sought out Robitaille to make him pay for his alleged crime. They severed off his hand for touching a white woman, and covered him in honey, leaving him to die by being stung by bees.

What’s really striking of this tragic and terrifying image, however, is that this did happen.

Interracial relationships were scarce in the 19th and early 20th centuries in America and typically featured white men marrying black women (and consequently freeing them if they were slaves), and fed into deep-rooted racism that still haunts the country. One of the pillars of historic American racism and Western Imperial ideas of race was the ‘protection’ of white women from the ‘lustful’, ‘violent, and ‘savage’ black man.

In fact, marriage and politics were both considered the most important arguments supporting segregation, linking the freeing of slaves and interracial relations.

This fear became especially prevalent in the US after the Civil War; the influx of freed slaves would result in an increase in the forbidden relationships, bringing us back to the era Daniel Robitaille’s life was set in.

This timeline is made ever more accurate by the manner of his death: lynch mob activity peaked in the 1830s, 40s and 50s, proving that Robitaille’s story is unfortunately far too common. Although being stung to by bees and insects probably was used as a form of torture and murder, I can only trace a form of this execution method to Persia (approx. 6BC).

But what’s really quite striking is the transformation of Daniel Robitaille, an innocent and very much alive black man, to the Candyman, an urban legend who is seeking vengeance for his murder.

It’s the racial terrorism committed against Robitaille which make him so terrifying. The crimes committed against the innocent black man still tailor him into the image of a ‘scary black man’, the image that we are still haunted by today.

Urban legends are so petrifying because of the outlandish, outrageous monsters at the centre of the story that appear in ordinary places. And that’s exactly what we find here. But here’s the twist: the Candyman charted the original racism that founded the Cabrini-Green housing projects, and the racism still inherent in it.

In fact, that’s the sub-plot of the movie: Helen Lyle discovers more of the everyday realities of being African-american in the US throughout the movie, witnessing poverty and police brutality as well as the garish image of a hooked man smothered in honey.

We, the viewer, are given brief snapshots of black history and the black present, even if only through a bathroom mirror.

And it’s horrifying.

So Daniel Robitaille Was Based On History - But What Was The Candyman Legend Inspired By?

To summon the Candyman - if you dare - you simply need to say his name into a mirror 5 times. This less-than-innovative manner of conjuring the Candyman is obviously based on Bloody Mary and the act of saying her name into a bathroom mirror a certain amount of times that no one actually agrees on.

It is said she will then appear to either show you the face of your future hubby, scratch your face off, or kill you. You can find out more about this legend here.

But she isn’t the only legendary beast weaved into this horror hit.

His Hook Hand is obviously an aesthetic inspiration:

A couple were busy being horror-movie-villian-bait and making out in a car when the radio suddenly blared out an emergency broadcast.

A serial killer (*gasp*) had escaped from the local mental institution (*eye-roll*) and he had a hook for a hand.

One of them heard something scrape on the car so they drove off. Believing it to be merely a tree branch they take a look and discover a hook in the side of the car.

(Their insurance premiums! Oh the horror!)

The final urban legend explicitly linked to Candyman is La Llorona, possibly the second most famous urban legend after Bloody Mary herself.

This hispanic urban legend is tragic but fiercely popular: a woman had two sons and a loving husband. However, after being convinced her partner was cheating on her or loved her children more, she drowned them. She then drowned herself in grief.

It is said she still roams Latin America, looking for her deceased children and taking those who aren’t hers before drowning them when she realises they are not her sons.

To summon her (not sure why you’d want to) all you have to do is light some red candles in a room full of mirrors and yell out her name.

Candyman is thus clearly inspired by these classic american urban legends that have struck fear into gullible children and drunk teenagers for decades. But they aren’t the only stories that gave inspiration to such a film. And they certainly aren’t the scariest.

So What Are The Scariest American Urban Legends?

*clicks torch on*

#1 - The Alaska Triangle

Did you know this frosty American state is home to something scarier than Sarah Palin?

Also known as Alaska’s Bermuda Triangle, this is an area of untouched wilderness stretching from Anchorage and Juneau to Barrow. It’s earned such a reputation as this is where a lot of people go missing.

Okay, fine, an unknown area of woodland where people go missing - this isn’t a mystery, this is a tragedy. But the thing is, it's the sheer volume of people that go missing here which is so concerning.

It started in October 1972, when US House Majority Leader Hale Boggs, a congressman, and a political aide went missing while flying to Juneau. 90 aircrafts and dozens of boats scaled the area to no avail. No trace of the boat, no evidence of human life - or death. It was truly a mystery.

When more planes went missing, when more hikers didn’t return from their adventures, and when more tourists failed to return to their budget hotels, fears grew. Since 1988, 16,000 have disappeared. The rate of missing people here is more than twice the national average.

The disappearances have been traced back to a number of theories including aliens, energy vortexes, and a Tlingit Native American demon known as Kushtaka. The most popular case, however, is for the swirling vortexes of energy which can cause audio and visual hallucinations and health problems. And this isn’t the only location that allegedly homes them.

Search and rescue workers often report the physical feelings associated with vortexes with magnetic anomalies spiking in certain locations.

Could these missing people be lost in the ferocious wilderness of Alaska? Or is something else at play?

#2 - Turnbull Canyon

We now turn to a sunny California, and the 4 mile loop in the Puente Hills reserve. Aside from being known for the majestic views of the Hsi Lai temple and the Rose Hills Memorial Park, it’s been home to a number of paranormal forces.

But the most interesting thing about this location is that it's been considered an evil location for centuries. Local Native American tribes called it Hutukgna, ‘the dark place’. It was forbidden ground, and they didn’t set foot there. So, when Spanish missionaries came to convert them to Christianity, they did it here.

“Now we are without hope. Now we remain for as long as the sun rises and sets in the sky”

To this day locals and tourists report feeling as if they are being watched, and legend has it Native Americans that were killed there remain as spirits, waiting for the final sunset.

The urban legend amassed a new reputation during the Great Depression. Large groups of men and women in dark robes would partake in strange rituals at night which few witnesses have seen.

One witness claims they saw a young boy strapped to a cross. He was surrounded by a circle of people who danced and chanted in unknown languages. The robed group then flipped the cross until it was upside down, and proceeded to beat the child until he was close to death. He was then taken away. We don’t know what became of the child. But we do know a flurry of disappearances and kidnappings haunted the area throughout the early 20th century.

And then it gets even worse.

In the 1930s, an insane asylum was built there. It mysteriously burnt to the ground 10 years later.

Psychic mediums and visitors report feeling unbearable at the location, from reporting classic paranormal activity such as the feeling of being watched or seeing orbs, to feeling as if someone is rummaging about in your own brain.

#3 - Vampire Comte de Saint Germain

New Orleans already has a paranormal reputation. Jacques Saint Germain only blended seamlessly with this historic location. But the thing is, it is said he would have witnessed most of the history for himself.

Throughout history a man of similar stature and personality has been reported.

He was at a notable wedding in Cana where Jesus turned water into wine, he was an alchemist in the 1600s, and he was in high-society in 1742.

It was an encounter in 1760 with one Countess von Gregory which was really interesting: the Countess was convinced she knew him as the son of a man in 1710 - but he hadn’t aged a single day.

He joked, as he often did, that he was over 100 years old.

Fluent in 6 languages, his incredible abilities and knowledge made him an enviable man - and an impossible one, too.

We do know, however, that he came to New Orleans in 1902 from France and invited the elites for a special feast. He didn’t eat a single bite, but did drink dark, red ‘wine’. He then confirmed rumours of when he kidnapped a local woman, held her down, and bit into her neck.

When the police turned up to investigate, they found the room covered in blood stains. But Jacques was nowhere to be seen.

#4 - Nash Road

Like most titles of urban legends, the Three-Legged Lady gives away the story. But this tale fares just as tragic as the other legends that shape this list:

Just outside of Columbus, Mississippi is Nash Road.

Legend has it if you stop on the road, turn off the headlights, and honk the horn one, two, three times, she will appear. She will knock on the roof of your car to alert you of her presence, and race your car to the end of the road. She will slam her body - 3 legs n’ all - against the car the entire time.

There are many alleged origins of the three-legged lady. Some believe she killed a lover, severed off the leg and attached it to her body, whilst others believe she is holding what’s left of her daughter’s corpse. Alternate versions of the legend even claim she is the spirit of a human sacrifice of a nearby satanic cult.

#5 - The Watcher

The first letter was sent in the summer of 2015.

A family had just moved into a grand mansion in Westfield when they started receiving letters from a person who claimed to be watching over the house. They were eerie, they were menacing, and they were signed by someone only known as ‘The Watcher’.

Numerous former owners have all received other letters from the same person with the same sentiment.

“Who has the bedrooms facing the street?”

“Do you need to fill the house with the young blood I requested?”

“Did 657 Boulevard call to you with its force within?”

The Watcher often refers to the house as if it is an entity, even warning one unsuspecting family not to destroy the house when they brought in contractors.

There are many more details to this story, but what I find most intriguing is a paragraph from a letter welcoming a new family:

“657 Boulevard has been the subject of my family for decades now and as it approaches its 110th birthday, I have been put in charge of watching and waiting for its second coming. My grandfather watched the house in the 1920s and my father watched in the 1960s. It is now my time. Do you know the history of the house? Do you know what lies within the walls of 657 Boulevard? Why are you here? I will find out.”

The stalking is still under investigation.

***

I’ve written about enough ghosts, ghouls, and long-forgotten legends for just over a year now to know what true fear is.

And real life is always scarier.

If you liked this post and want to hear more then go on and hit follow!

Can’t wait to hear more real ghost stories? Check out the Peoples’ Paranormal Archive, the online ghost story collection that is chock-ful of real evidence of the supernatural just waiting to traumatise you.

[were-cheetah-stiles]

The College Years - Freshman Year (Chapter 16) -Stiles Stilinski

Author: @were-cheetah-stiles​

Title: “The Roommate, Part I”

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Isaac Lahey, Cora Hale, Sarah Millin & Reader/OFC

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of violence, mentions of sex.

Author’s Note: So I chose to have the reader be 20 years old to Stiles’ 18/almost 19, because I want him to have a mature relationship that has adult conversations about consent and birth control and sex in general. Someone that can mature him sexually, I guess. Whatever. Just read it. You’ll get it.

Summary: Scott has remained in Beacon Hills since returning from New Orleans with a resurrected Allison Argent. The gang continues in their fight against the vampires back in Berkeley without him. Stiles, y/n, Isaac and Cora brainstorm about how to kill the vampires, y/n and Stiles have a discussion about their relationship status, and an abduction changes the timeline for the Pack.

Chapter Fifteen - Chapter Sixteen - Chapter Seventeen

"How did she even know what classes you were taking?" Isaac asked, as he relaxed on the couch in Scott and Stiles' apartment.

"I don't know...” You rubbed your hands against your face, pulling at the edges of your eyes in frustration. “They're coven witches... they're creepy as fuck." You answered, somewhat exasperated.

"They really are though, man. Basically everything she said to Y/N was deeply disturbing." Stiles interjected.

"I don’t even want to talk about her. I just want to figure out what it was. Isaac, are you going to make yourself useful?" You asked, tilting your head to the side and grimacing at the handsome, blonde werewolf.

"Yea, yea, sorry." Isaac sat up and caught the notebook that you threw his way.

"I don't think that there will be anything about whatever is 'coming our way' in my American Government notes, but you know, it's good to be thorough." You said about the notebook you had just tossed to Isaac.

"How are we supposed to look for something that we don't even know about yet? 'For something comes your way' is really vague." Isaac asked, as he watched Stiles flipping through Scott's Western Civilization textbook.

"I don't know...” You smushed your face against your open book on the table, and continued speaking, muffled. “Ugh, fuck. You're right. I have no idea what we are even looking for." You said, frustrated, as you lifted your head and shut your History of Ancient Mesopotamia notebook. "We should just table this for now and go back to the vampires."

Stiles rubbed your shoulder, and kissed you on the cheek. "We'll figure it out, I promise."

You nodded. "So what do we have so far?" You looked up at the dry-erase board that Stiles had brought into the living room, from his bedroom, with all of the ways that they had found online and in books on how to kill a vampire.

"Okay, well, considering it won't be sunny around here for a while, or at least sunny enough to kill them, that can be taken off." Stiles said aloud, as he crossed off that option with a red marker.

"What about the silver bullet?" Isaac asked.

"I feel like that's a myth only related to werewolves, right? I'd cross it off." Cora said, as she emerged from the kitchen with beers from their fridge, sitting next to Isaac.

"Yea, there was not enough evidence that that one would actually work." Stiles said as he crossed that off the list as well.

"I think the wooden stakes to the heart seem like they could be... reputable. They're in most of the older books I found so there's probably some truth to it." You said to the group. Isaac nodded in agreement. Stiles put a check mark next to 'STAKE TO THE HEART' on the board.

"Fire?" Isaac asked.

"Fire is a 50/50, I think. I'm not positive it would work, I'm not positive it wouldn't. I don't like those odds though." Stiles explained.

"Can we not do fire until we run out of the other options?" You asked.

"Bad witch memories?" Isaac asked, facetiously.

"They aren't good." You glared at him.

"Y/N makes a good point. In the same way that it seems like silver is used for werewolves, fire is definitely used to kill witches, and considering you are a New England witch, I think keeping you away from fire is probably a good idea." Stiles erased fire from the dry-erase board with his sleeve.

"I have no issues with decapitating those creepy assholes." Cora piped up, pointing to the last option on the board.

"Decapitating seemed to have some good results in the research, especially in regards to werewolves and vampires." Stiles pointed out.

"Did you see that in one of the Twilight movies, Stiles?" Cora grinned.

"No, I read it on the wikipedia page, and also, shut up, Cora." Stiles glared at the younger Hale wolf.

"I read it in some other books too, so I don't know, that maybe is an option." You agreed with Stiles.

"Are we missing any?" Stiles asked.

"What'd they kill Dracula with?" Isaac asked.

You pulled your computer onto your lap and began typing. "It says... Dracula was ultimately killed with a bowie knife." You said, looking up at Stiles.

"Maybe we should put that on the list, just in case." Isaac said, as he watched Stiles then scribble it onto the white board.

"Okay..." Stiles placed the cap back on the marker, and stepped away from the board, gnawing on the end of the marker. "Those look like reasonable options... I'll have Scott talk to Argent and see if he has a bowie knife he can bring back." Stiles sat down in the chair that you were leaning against. You positioned yourself in between his legs and wrapped your arms around his calf, resting your head against his thigh. You felt comfortable to be yourself with Cora and Isaac. She was around your age and Isaac was sarcastic and dry but generally very nice and you felt close to the both of them.

"You know, Scott's not going to want to hunt and kill them." Isaac noted, as he took a sip of the beer that Cora brought him.

"I know, but we need to have the back up plan in place either way." Stiles argued.

"What do you think Scott will try to do instead? Run them out of town or something?" Cora asked Stiles and Isaac.

"After he heard about how Gerard got rid of the vampires from Beacon Hills, I think he'll try to make a deal with these ones too." Stiles explained, rubbing the back of his neck.

"When does he get back anyway? We have finals in a couple of weeks." You mentioned, looking up at him.

"I don't know, last time I talked to Argent, he said that Scott basically hasn't left the couch in Allison's bedroom since she got back to Beacon Hills." Isaac said, glancing at Cora to see if she was alright.

They're relationship had been somewhat strained since Allison had come back into the picture. Cora was suddenly doubting that if Allison was alive, if Isaac would have ever dated her in the first place. Isaac had spent the past few weeks trying to reassure Cora that he and Allison were never that serious and that when he heard what she said to Scott, as she died in his arms, he knew that he and Allison were never meant to be. Cora was struggling to believe him.

"I talked to Scott this morning and he's just not ready to leave her yet." Stiles shrugged. "We're kind of just floating here though without him, just waiting for them to make their next move."

You zipped your pants back up, and bent over to grab Stiles' boxers off the floor. You threw them at the bed and then went looking for your shirt. You buttoned your shirt up and sat back down on Stiles' bed, rubbing his leg over the thin sheet covering his naked body.

"Hey Sti, can we talk about something really quick before I leave?" You asked him.

"Yea.. is everything okay? 'Can we talk' is never a good conversation starter." Stiles sat up in bed, his slight happy trail peeking out from above the covers.

"Everything is fine.. sorry." You smiled and leaned forward to kiss him. "I wanted to ask....." You sighed. "I don't know how to put this... I wanted to ask if we are exclusive."

Stiles narrowed his eyes at you, confused. "Well... you're my girlfriend so I thought we were exclusive." He said, the concern evident in his voice. "What's going on?"

"How many girls have you had sex with?" You asked, jumping to your next topic.

"Three... including you." Stiles answered, obviously referring to Malia and Lydia.

"And when was the last time you were tested?"

"For STDs?" Stiles asked, his eyes widening and a blush rising to his cheeks. "Never... Have you been?"

"Of course." You said. 

"And.....?"

"I'm good... I'm totally good. Stiles, I would really appreciate it if you would go to the health center and get tested."

"I'm sure that I’m clean though." Stiles answered.

“I’m sure you are too but this is not going to happen again until you get that in writing.” You smiled at him smugly. You were not budging on something as simple as this.

“I will go today, I promise.” Stiles held his hand up like he was taking an oath to you.

"Thank you.”

“What prompted this whole conversation?” Stiles asked. 

“I was thinking, if we're only having sex with each other and that won't be changing any time soon, I thought we could stop using condoms.." You suggested.

"Because you want a baby?" Stiles pulled the sheet slowly towards his chest.

"NO. You idiot, do I seem ready to have a baby to you? I can't even keep the basil alive on your windowsill." You gestured towards the living room. "I didn't tell you, because this is a random conversation to have, but I'm on this birth control... it's basically this, like, hook inside of me that makes me hostile towards any.. invaders." You glanced down to the part of the bed sheet hiding his penis. "It's supposed to be even more effective than condoms, and I just... I just want to be with you. No barriers, nothing in between." You said, as you ran your hand up his chest.

"I feel like you should've started this conversation with 'Hey Stiles, we don't have to use condoms anymore because my womb won't take any of your shit.'" He talked with his hands the way he did when he was annoyed.

You laughed out loud. "Sorry..." You sheepishly grinned, as you leaned up to kiss him on the lips.

"So we don't have to use condoms anymore?" He asked. You shook your head. "Why didn't you start this conversation before we just had sex?" Stiles shook his head at you, and pulled you back on top of him.

"I don't know actually..." You laughed, as he pulled you close for a kiss. "Stiles..." You took a deep breath. "As much as I want to do this again right now, and as happy as I am that you can do this again so soon after, I have to go."

"No, come on, you can do your laundry here... after." Stiles tugged at your hands. "We never get to have sex when Scott's not here with his super-wolfy hearing." He complained.

You rolled your eyes and smiled. "We literally just had sex without Scott’s ‘super-wolfy hearing’ being here. I have to do laundry and I told Sarah and Hanna that I would have lunch with them. I have to go." You kissed him hard. "I'll see you later, handsome."

"I'll be here... burning my boxes of condoms..." Stiles yelled after you.

Stiles stood in the living room, staring at the dry erase board, chewing on the lid of the marker when he heard his phone vibrate.

"Hey babe, I went to the health center and they said I’d get the results tomorrow.. I was thinking for dinner, do you want me to order in Vietnamese or something?" He said when he saw your picture light up his lock screen.

"STILES... SHE'S GONE!" You were sobbing into the phone.

"Y/N.... Y/N, what's going on, are you okay?"  Stiles dropped the marker onto the floor.

"She's gone. She's gone! Hanna's been taken."

"Baby, slow down and tell me what happened." Stiles told you as he frantically looked around the room for his keys and his shoes.

"Sarah and I got to the restaurant for lunch and Hanna never showed up. When we got home, the front door was open and the place was trashed. They took her. They took Hanna. There was blood on the floor. Stiles, they took Hanna." You were screaming into the speaker.

"Have you called the police yet?" Stiles asked, as he tied his Adidas up with you on speakerphone.

"No, no, not yet."

"Okay, I'm calling Isaac and I'm coming over, take Sarah into your room and lock the door. We'll be right there. Don't let her call the cops yet."

Stiles pulled the Jeep up to the front of the building and threw it in park. He grabbed the bat he kept in his backseat and ran to the front door. He saw Isaac sprinting towards the front of your building, his claws already protruding from his fingers. Stiles fumbled with his keys to find the lobby key that you had made him a copy of for emergencies. He opened the door and raced with Isaac up the stairs to your floor.

Stiles held the bat against his shoulder as he and Isaac approached the front door of your apartment, noting the wood near the lock on the frame was severely splintered. Stiles pushed the door open further with the end of his bat.

"Y/N..." Stiles yelled, surveying the living room for his girlfriend, and seeing signs of a struggle around the apartment.

You burst out of your bedroom at the sound of his voice and ran into his arms. He hugged you tighter than he had ever hugged you before. "They came back.. They came for Sarah and me, and I fought them off." You sobbed, as he held you up in his arms. "There was just one, but it was them." You sank onto the floor in front of him, no longer allowing him to prop you up.

"Stiles, we have to call the cops." Isaac said, walking out of Hanna's room, blood smeared on the sole of his shoe, as he pulled his phone out of his pocket.

Stiles' eyes widened over Isaac’s bloody footprints. "Yea, call them and watch her." He helped you onto the couch, and peeked his head into your room to look for Sarah. "Sarah... are you okay?" Stiles helped her up from her crouching position behind your bed.

"What are all of you... what the hell is going on?" Sarah asked, shaking as Stiles helped her onto the couch next to you.

He crouched down in front of her, getting eye level to make her feel more comfortable. "Isaac is calling the cops right now, Sarah, and I promise we'll find Hanna, and I promise that we'll explain everything to you, but you can't tell the police about the guy coming back or how Y/N fought him off. Please. I know we owe you one hell of an explanation, but please don’t tell them what you just saw y/n do." Stiles pleaded with the scared girl.

Sarah looked at you and took your hand. She looked back at Stiles and nodded slowly. "I promise." You hugged her and the two of you sobbed on each other's shoulders.

Stiles walked over to where Isaac was standing in the corner, looking at the blood smears on the floor in Hanna's room. "We have to call Scott.. It's time for him to come back." Stiles said, a grave look resting upon his face.

Fifteen <- -> Seventeen

A lot just happened. Next chapter a lot happens too. Let me know what you guys thought.

@alexhmak @dontstopxx @iloveteenwolf24 @chivesoup @vampirepinary @parislight @surpeme-bean @snek-shit @mayahart02 @fuxkdean @teenage-dirtbagbaby @sorrynotsorrylovesome @iknowisoundcrazy @l4life @5secsxofamnesia @lovelydob @vogue-sweetie @awkwarddly @therealmrshale @the-vampire-diaries-all-the-way @twentyone-souls 

[jasminemaiacalland-blog]

ESSAY

‘The Influence of Akram Khan in Contemporary Dance’

“As a contemporary dancer I am a bit more masculine and animalistic,” he says, “but when I do kathak I am shifting between femininity and masculinity because somehow the form itself gives you permission to be androgynous, to move between yin and yang.”1

Contemporary dance is an ever-changing, malleable form of dance designed to break preconceptions of what dance ‘should be’. Prior to the introduction of Akram Khan, there had never been before seen a fusion of traditional Bangladeshi Khatak within contemporary dance; Khan changed this. Moreover, he allowed an entirely new form of expressionism where he built an artistic link between cultural differences. The quote above epitomizes the new freedom he has created within the 21st century, to not only fuse culture, but also to fuse new qualities within oneself as a dancer that previously has been ignored.

“He’s bridging the gap between Asian and Western culture. Coming from a Caribbean heritage, Khan in my training made me realise that other cultures makes contemporary dance what it is; an accumulation of a person’s being.”2

Khan: A Background

Akram Khan was born in London in 1974 to a family of duel-heritage, Bangladeshi and British. Growing up, Khan was made aware of his cultural roots and at the age of three he would dance at Mela, an outdoor Indian festival. Khan admitted:

"I didn't want to, because nobody would sit and watch. People were talking and my mother said 'if you can win this audience, this is the test'. That's where I learnt the most."3

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1 Sarah Crompton, Friday 8th January 2016, I’m Terrified My Body Will Give In, The Guardian 2 Harriet Macauley, Thursday 4th May 2017, Interview conducted with (contemporary dancer previously worked with Khan) 3 Christina Patterson, Friday 6th November 2009, Akram Khan: ‘You Have To Become a Warrior’

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Khan admits upon later work, Zero Degrees that his dual-heritage gave him the perception of never entirely belonging; the inbuilt ‘winning over’ an audience from such a young age, it could be considered he was attempting to make UK citizens aware of apart of himself- his Bangladeshi culture. What is more, it could be suggested he was already trying to break boundaries. At the age of seven his mother enrolled him in traditional Bengali folk dancing classes from celebrated Khatak teacher- Sri Pratap Pawar. By the age of 18, he became Pawar’s disciple and displayed his debut solo recital (Manch Pravesh) in London.

“The guru-disciple relationship is special. Ravi Shankar explains; the student learns all the process of life which relates to the art form also”4

Khan received an Aditi Scholarship for Higher Training in Kathak and was awarded the Senior Diploma (First Division), Prayag Sangeet Samati, in 1994, by the Dance Board of India.

‘Kathak today retains its courtly qualities of well mannered formality while emphasizing incisive percussive attack, lyrical fluidity and a sense of calm control.’5

Performance was a quality that naturally resided in Khan, however. He was brought up with notable opportunities that exposed himself to the Arts from a very young age; perhaps why he feels so comfortable to expose raw qualities and anecdotes in his works today in front of large audiences. Moreover, allowing an audience to properly understand two juxtaposing cultures in his works and see how it has enveloped his style. For example, at the age of 10 he achieved his first professional role touring in The Adventures of Mowgli. Furthermore, as a teenager he spent two years in Peter Brook’s play, The Mahabharata. His role as a storyteller within his younger years can most certainly be transmitted into his works as a dancer where he fuses historical Kathak arm gestures to tell stories enigmatically but in a way that is applied to his 21st century adventures. Moreover, this epitomizes the genius mind behind Khan as he uses the best of old to create remarkable new.

In 1994, Khan enrolled at De Montfort University to study a BA (Hons) Performing Arts (Dance) degree to which he had his first experience of both contemporary and ballet techniques. His first contemporary class at De Montfort left him perplexed so

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4 Willis, March 2001, Akram Khan, Dancing Times 5 Lorna Sanders, 1st August 2012, Akram Khan's Rush: Creative Insights

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he watched a video of DV8’s Strange Fish; “I was shocked – but in a positive way. I thought it fascinating.” After a two-year period there, he transferred to Northern School of Contemporary dance, after being enthralled by the genre; he went onto graduate with the highest marks in performance ever recorded, exemplifying his natural take to the stage. Thus, he added classical ballet, Cunningham, Alexander, release based techniques, contact improvisation and physical theatre to his dance repertoire, thus allowing the sophisticated freedom to explore two styles. Arguably, if it was not for his constant yearning for knowledge and perfection in the two, originally thought to be juxtaposing styles, Khan’s success may have not been as heard. Ultimately, Khan became the best at what he trained in. What is more, by doing so he made history in dance and culture to which no one could question.

The Development of Khan

“I believe he to be so successful as he has the ability to perform both solo works and have the ability to produce works on ballet companies, such as Ballet China. Not many choreographers have the ability to perform their own work.’ 6

Immediately after completion of his degree, Khan began the experimentation between a collaboration of contemporary and traditional Kathak dance that had never been before seen, first of all, on himself. The inextricable link between dance styles was formed and boundaries were pushed. It was undeniable, the exuberance yet powerful technique he had behind his works embodied his belief that the collaboration of styles worked. In 1995, ‘Loose in Flight’ was debuted and the imminent feedback was praise as he first divulged in “loosening the bolts”7 of Kathak’s rules that was transmitted by the fluidity of contemporary. Mesmerised by what had been produced, critics roared the upmost praise for this new found fusion, such as: “tension exploding into ... liquid eloquence ... balanced by ... cool aplomb”8

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6 Harriet Macauley, Thursday 4th May 2017, Interview conducted with (contemporary dancer previously worked with Khan) 7 ibid 8 Hale, Oct 2002, Akram Khan, QEH, www.ballet.co.uk

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and “he is extraordinarily present in performance ...his ... arms define distances like Blake’s drawing of God measuring the universe”9.

Not only did Khan allow dance, as an art form, a new means of expression but also through the microcosm of his movement he allowed the audience the macrocosm of rich Bangladeshi heritage. It should be dually noted that throughout Khan’s career, and still today, he never focuses on the same element of Kathak yet continues to broaden his own horizons on the interlocking of the styles; hence why his work still remains so significantly current. Many of his first solo work and group pieces show development of not only stylistic features, but also Khan becoming more aware of recognizing the significance behind the dexterity of each movement.

‘Loose in Flight’ gained a Jerwood Choreography Award that allowed him the opportunity to create ‘Fix’. Here he first experimented with external components to complement his movement- the lighting design by Michael Hulls that opened an entirely new pathway to take his art.

Collaboration

As Khan’s career progressed he used this tool of fusion and applied it to other aspects of theatre that allowed new levels of sophistication to his work that can be most notably distinguished within his work ‘Zero Degrees’ (2005). Not only did he collaborate with unexpected dance partner Sidi Larbi Cherkaoui, who both distinctly juxtapose with their approach to dance, but also he took this opportunity to experiment with sculptor Antony Gormley.

‘For me the point of a collaboration is that every participant should be taken to a place where they couldn't have gone on their own. If my ideas end up having been integrated into the dance that will be great. I will have gone the furthest distance of all from what anyone expected.’10

The beauty behind a work such as ‘Zero Degrees’ is that no element of the piece comfortably coincided, however the contrast that Khan created was a beautiful new way in that 21st Century could perceive both traditional and modern dance. From an

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9 Parry, May 6, 2001, First Class Air Male, The Observer 10 Antony Gormley by Judith Mackrel, July 2005, Opposites Attract, The Guardian

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outside perspective, he is not just advocate for modern dance but also community cohesion. He choreographed traditional Kathak movement upon Cherkaoui, completely out of his normal repertoire thus suggesting of cohesion between cultures once more. What is more, this all the while experimenting with a dummy cast of himself to tell a story of what it is like to be someone from duel-heritage displaying how art itself can be integrated into one another; mesmerizing madness. The innovative nature behind Khan is that he always remains true to his roots, while all the more finding beautiful new ways to present it to an audience.

Conclusion

Akram Khan is a catalyst in contemporary dance as he did not just allow the fusion of two styles to come together, but his influence on the industry allowed dancers to realize their unique differences is what should be used to their advantage. Khan on stage has a distinct quality that has been developed through his own life experiences, hence making him like no other. What is more, Khan does not just have the courage to show his unique choreographic style, but also to place it on himself in which is an extremely bold step for not any choreographer, but as a dancer as well; he encourages a regimented industry to take risks. Thus far, the risks have been extremely successful and through his influence, the industry should be so lucky to see someone as influential again.

[were-cheetah-stiles]

The College Years - Freshman Year (Chapter 13) - Stiles Stilinski

Author: @were-cheetah-stiles​

Title: “The Parents Weekend”

Characters: Stiles & Noah Stilinski, Derek & Cora Hale, Scott & Melissa McCall, Malia Tate, Ethan, Isaac Lahey & Chris Argent, Reader’s Father, Tom Y/L/N & Reader/OFC

Warnings: None, maybe language, who knows...

A.N.: This is pretty short but I just like the idea of Stiles getting grilled by your Dad while you get grilled by Noah. Plus it’s a major set-up for the next chapter........

Summary: Parent's Weekend has come and the mothers, fathers, and surrogate parents of Berkeley's underclassmen have descended upon campus. The pack has a large family dinner. Sheriff Stilinski questions Y/N, and Scott, Stiles, Mr. Argent and Y/N’s dad, Tom Y/L/N, finally have a discussion.

Chapter Twelve - Chapter Thirteen - Chapter Fourteen

"So why is your Dad coming and not your Mom?" Scott, who was on the other side of Stiles, asked you.

"My Mom couldn't get out of work and he kept saying 'if he's paying for Berkeley, he wants to see me there.'" You rolled your eyes.

"Maybe your dad will have some information about the vampires that he'd be more willing to share in person.." Scott reasoned.

"Maybe your dad will be able to convince you to take the martial arts class with Scott and I so that I don't have to worry about you." Stiles said, frustrated, flailing his arms.

"Hmm... nah." You replied, snarkily.

Stiles opened his mouth, shocked and frustrated by your sass. "Why won't you just take it. Y/N, come on." Stiles whined.

"I was forced to take tae kwon do in high school and I hated every minute of it.... I'm not saying that I got knee surgery to get out of tae kwon do, but I'm also not saying that I didn't milk it for way longer than was real..." You said facetiously, a smug grin spreading across your face.

"I hate you, you know that, right?" Stiles glared at you, as you all walked home from campus.

"Mhmm." You smiled as you glanced down to see your hand intertwined with his. You squeezed his hand, and he glanced down at you, a smile turning up his lips. "Maybe, like boxing or krav maga or something, I just don't want to do martial arts."

"Krav maga would be cool, you could see if Cora and Malia want to do it with you?" Scott suggested.

"That's a good idea."

"Now I hate the both of you." Stiles said as he closed the front door of their apartment behind him, watching you walk through his bedroom door and drop your backpack on the floor. He followed after you, seeing a trail of your backpack, coat, one shoe, the other shoe.

"So you hate me, huh?" You said with a grin, standing on Stiles' bed, pulling your shirt over your head, and tossing it to the ground. Stiles stepped back, cocked his head to the side, and then closed his bedroom door behind him.

"I definitely... definitely don't hate you." Stiles said as he rushed to the bed, watching you drop down to your knees.

He wrapped his hands around your back and pulled you close to him. You placed your hands in his hair and began kissing him. You sucked on his bottom lip and he moved down to your neck. He kissed across your collarbones and your shoulders, pulling the straps of your bra down as he moved along your body. You moaned quietly at his touch. He moved back up to your lips, his tongue slipping into your mouth, as you moved your fingers to unbutton his purple flannel shirt. Stiles heard your phone vibrate against his hardwood floors.

"Y/N, that was the third time your phone went off, maybe it's important..." Stiles said, holding your arm as you reached to pull his t-shirt off.

"It's fine, just leave it." You brushed it off, as you went to kiss his neck, pulling his shirt off over his head.

The phone went off again.

Stiles dropped to the bed beside you. "Damnit." He sat up and looked for your jacket. "Here, just see who it is."

"I have six missed calls from Hanna and Sarah.." You said as you hit play on a voicemail left by one of your roommates.

"Hey, so I just let your dad into the building but you're not here... sooooo Lamb and I are just going to keep trying to call you... or try to get Scott or Stiles' number from Simon since you're probably with one of them. Okay call me back." Hanna spoke frantically over the voicemail.

"Oh my god.. I completely lost track of time... I have to go." You said as you searched the floor for your shirt. "I'll see you at dinner later tonight?" You said as you ran out his bedroom door.

"Yea, see you later." Stiles yelled out the front door of his apartment, as he pulled his t-shirt back over his head.

You opened the door to your apartment and saw Scott and Melissa McCall, Stiles and Sheriff Stilinski, and Derek and Cora Hale waiting to be let in. You stepped out of the way, gesturing for everyone to step inside. Malia and Ethan were already sitting at the table with Isaac and Mr. Argent, and your dad, Tom.

You grabbed Stiles' arm and yanked him into the kitchen. "Just to warn you, my dad is pissed because it's really obvious that I have not been sleeping here for most of the semester and he's probably going to talk to you at some point."

"Okay, well this is horrible. I haven't even met your dad and he hates me." Stiles said, his eyes widening with anxiety and fear.

"Did your dad bring his gun? Actually it doesn't matter, Scott can probably just protect you."

"What?!" He whisper-yelled. "Are you serious?"

"It'll be fine, just let him yell at you and then talk about wanting to be like your Dad or talk about the Mets."

"Is that even going to work?" Stiles asked. You shrugged.

"Sorry to interrupt, but I was wondering if I could help." Sheriff Stilinski said, halting the conversation.

"Dad, did you bring your gun tonight?" Stiles asked, as he checked his dad's belt.

"...No, and get off me. I'm in a room full of magical creatures and we're having dinner, I thought I could leave the badge at home for one night." Noah retorted, shaking his head at his son.

"I can't count on you for anything, can I?" Stiles narrowed his eyes at his dad, before catching you motioning your head for Stiles to go back out to the party. "Ugh, if you hear a loud thud, I've literally died of terror." Stiles complained as he left the kitchen.

"I wanted to see if you wanted some help, thought it was a shame that I didn't get to spend much time with you when you were in Beacon Hills but you know, as far as excuses go.." Noah rambled.

"Uh, yea, I mean, I'm almost done but if you could watch the peppers for me, I can finish the pasta." You handed him a wooden spoon, and then went to work cooking.

"So where did you learn to cook?" Noah asked.

"My mom, and my dad, I guess. They're both really excellent cooks. Do you cook much, Sheriff?" You asked, nervous about where the conversation was going.

"No, no, not too much. Probably for the best too, I was never as good of a cook as Stiles' mom. Uh, Stiles tells me that you're a history and political science major with a minor in Arabic? Did I get that right?"

"Yes, actually you did. It's a lot of work but I really like my classes, and Stiles and I even signed up for a few poly sci classes together for the Fall. It should be fun." You replied, smiling, happy that the conversation was going well.

"And you're from New York? You a Mets fan?"

"Yankees..." You answered reluctantly, wanting to make a good impression on the Sheriff.

"Oh that's too bad, we are definitely Mets fans in the Stilinski house... Uh, Stiles also tells me that you're a witch..." Noah stated, nervously.

You stirred your vodka sauce for a few moments before answering. "I am."

"Do your roommates know about all of this?"

"No, not yet. That's why they're not here tonight. They're out with their own parents right now." You explained.

Sheriff Stilinski put his spoon down on the counter and turned to you. "I hate to ask this but I need to know, are you the kind of witch who can cast spells or make potions or anything like that?"

"No.. in that respect, I am no different from Dr. Deaton. My real power lies in my telekinesis and energy fields and invisibility and the occasional card trick." You joked, trying to lighten to conversation.

"So you can't make a love potion or something like that?" He asked.

"......No, nothing like that.... Why do you ask, Sheriff?"

"I didn't mean to intrude or imply anything, I just thought my son would never get over Lydia Martin, especially after what she did to him. Hell, I haven't even forgiven Parrish yet and I work with the guy... But the last few months, since Stiles met you, he has been so happy and so.... normal with you, I just, I had to make sure that you didn't spike his lemonade or something." Noah explained. "I just haven't seen my son this happy since his mother died, and I had to make sure it was real. I hope you didn't take offense."

You shook your head, lightly smiling as you stirred your sauce more. "No offense taken, Sheriff, I get it. I'm glad that I have made Stiles so happy. He makes me very happy too. You raised.... the best son." You said, your smile widening.

"Is dinner ready yet? I am dying out there with your dad, Y/N." Stiles burst through the kitchen door.

You nodded and pointed to the plates on the counter, prompting Stiles to set the table.

Everyone sat down at dinner and discussed school, work, the wendigos in Beacon Hills and the vampires in Berkeley. When dinner was over, and most people were helping to clear the table and get dessert set out, Scott, Chris Argent, Stiles and Tom Y/L/N sat at the table on your terrace.

After an hour, when dessert finally made its way onto the table, you went out to retrieve the men from the balcony. Your dad and Mr. Argent walked back inside to join the others.

"So what'd he say?" You asked, half closing the door behind you, blocking their exit.

"The irony of all of this is going to be astounding." Stiles remarked.

"Mr. Argent is going to head back to Beacon Hills with Isaac tonight to talk to Gerard."

"So he'll do it?" You asked, excited.

"Your dad agreed to it. He's going to set up the meeting for Easter weekend, when we're on Spring Break." Scott told you.

"We've gotta book tickets to New Orleans then, Allison is going to be the new Jesus." Stiles said jokingly, placing a hand on yours and Scott's shoulder, as you all walked back into the apartment.

Twelve <- -> Fourteen

Get fucking stoked for the next chapter coming at you tomorrow, and get your requests to be tagged in it now because it’s posting early and with all the premiere madness, you might just miss it.

@alexhmak @dontstopxx @iloveteenwolf24 @chivesoup @vampirepinary @parislight @surpeme-bean @snek-shit @mayahart02 @fuxkdean @teenage-dirtbagbaby