killing werewolves with his bare hands

Was he enjoying this? Not the pain. He’d pass on the pain. In fact he’d passed out on the pain. But there was that small part of him he’d heard sometimes during strenuous arrests after long chases, the part that wanted to punch and punch long after punching had already achieved its effect. There was a joy to it. He called it the beast. It stayed hidden until you needed it and then, when you needed it, out it came. Pain brought it out, and fear. He’d killed werewolves with his bare hands, mad with anger and terror and tasting, deep inside, the blood of the beast… and it was sniffing the air.
—  Terry Pratchett, Night Watch

in all seriousness though, werewolves are cool as shit and i would love to have a big buff werewolf bf who could kill me at any time with his bare hands

What did he think he was doing?
The Job, of course. The one that’s in front of you. He’d always done it. And the law had always been… out there, but somewhere close. He’d always been pretty sure where if was, and it definitely ha something to do with the badge.
The badge was important. Yes. It was shield-shaped. For protection. He’d thought about that, in the long nights in the darkness. It protected him from The Beast, because The Beast was waiting in the darkness of his head.
He’d killed werewolves with his bare hands. He’d been mad with terror at the time, but The Beast had been there inside, giving him strength…
Who knew what evil lurked in the hearts of men? A copper, that’s who. After ten years, you thought you’d seen it all, but the shadows always dished up more. You saw how close men lived to The Beast. You found that people like Carcer were not mad. They were incredibly sane. They were simply men without a shield. They’d looked at the world and realized that all the rules didn’t have to apply to them, not if they didn’t want them to. They weren’t fooled by all the little stories. They shook hands with The Beast.
—  Night Watch, by Terry Pratchett

we-areintrepid  asked:

Hello! I was wondering if we could get an update on the vampire Stiles tag? Thank you!!

hell yeah

Stilinski Orphanage by pineneedlepants (1/1 | 10,514 | R)

Throughout the short months Derek has been spending at the Stilinski Orphanage, he’s come to a few conclusions. One, for the Stilinski’s, bullying is a zero tolerance thing. There are hundreds of kids staying under their roof and they want things to be peaceful.

Of course, with that many children in one place, with different backgrounds and ethnicities, not everyone follows this rule. The thing is that because the Stilinski Orphanage is actually very popular and well respected, kids circle in and out in a decently fast cycle. Enforcing the strict no bullying rule isn’t always as effective, and so sometimes, these bullies get called to the headmaster’s office and then transferred to another orphanage, in a place that’s far, far away from Beacon Hills.

Except Derek knows better.

He’s pretty sure the Stilinskis eat the ‘transferred’ bullies. Not that he really cares.

Happy Early Halloween!

Hiding In Plain Sight by princessstilinski147 (2/? | 2,806 | R)

“You know our new neighbor?” He smiled a little too brightly, nearly bouncing up and down like an excited puppy.

‘Annoying.’, Derek thought to himself, frowning. “Yeah, I know of our new neighbor. I haven’t met him yet.” He stated bluntly, pausing. “Why?” He regretted asking almost instantly because Scott smirked now, looking almost proud of himself.

Oh, god. Why was Scott like this?

Scott inhaled deeply, taking a moment to let suspense grow. For Derek, it didn’t grow; instead, he became more annoyed by the second.

“I think he’s a vampire.” He said at last.

I’m Like Rolling Thunder by nameloc_ar_115 (2/2 | 9,771 | NC17)

Derek never imagined renting a prostitute in the first place, so when he did, it was not at all what he expected. At. All.

A Sliver of Hope by baozhang (1/? | 371 | R)

“Have you no reason to loathe those animals? Are they, or are they not the ones who slew your mother? Your voice holds sympathy for them.” He spat, baring his teeth, long and sharp, and the glass in Stiles’ hand shattered beneath his fingertips, piercing his hand. Blood dripped on the stone beneath his feet, but the only thing he could feel was the rage settled deep within his heart at his father’s words.

Lycans, Father,” Stiles sneered, the brown of his eyes melting into icy blue. “Lycans killed Mother, Lycans attacked the Covin, not Werewolves.”

I was listening to Stephen Briggs and he’s wonderful and this is such an underrated scene in Thud


Blackboard monitor Vimes, Vetenari’s terrier, who killed werewolves with his bare hands, who carries the law with him like a lamp. He’s also got a blanket with duckies on it.