Seanchaidh na Coille, deasaichte le Mìcheal Newton

Tha an leabhar seo tha cruinneachadh dhen stòraidh, eachdraidh, bàrdachd, agus litrichean a sgrìobhadh le Gàidheil fairis Canada. Tha ag innse na leth-bhreith Gàidheil a dh'fhuiling ann an Alba a thuilleadh ann an Canada, stiùireadh gun a’ bheud dhen cànan.

Memory-Keeper of the Forest, edited by Michael Newton

This book is a collection of stories, histories, poems, and letters written by Gaels across Canada. There are accounts of the discrimination Gaels faced in Scotland as well as in Canada, which lead to the loss of their language.

Enkidu embodies the wild or natural world. Though equal to Gilgamesh in strength and bearing, he acts in some way as an antithesis to the cultured, urban-bred warrior-king. Enkidu then becomes the kings constant companion and deeply beloved friend, accompanying him on adventures until he is stricken with illness and dies. The deep, tragic loss of Enkidu profoundly inspires in Gilgamesh a quest to escape death by obtaining godly immortality…

I read this and thought (STEREK) immediately. This is part 1.

The first half of the story discusses Gilgamesh, king of Uruk, and Enkidu, a wild man created by the gods to stop Gilgamesh from oppressing the people of Uruk. After an initial fight, Gilgamesh and Enkidu become close friends. Together, they journey to the Cedar Mountain and defeat Humbaba, its monstrous guardian. Later they kill the Bull of Heaven, which the goddess Ishtar sends to punish Gilgamesh for spurning her advances. As a punishment for these actions, the gods sentence Enkidu to death.

Part 2. Sterek am i right!!!!


Ok so heres this story where Derek moved to Salem when he was a young boy with his family. They were well off as they could have been at the time and an affluent part of the community. They were all know for being devout but welcoming and compassionate, a trait not shared amongst the entire town. Even as children they would consider anyone a friend which is how Derek met Stiles.

The boy had trouble in school and lived on the far reaches of town in the woods.
Unlike the rest of the children, Derek never learned to keep away from those who were different and this hyper son of the sheriff fascinated him, a trait he never lost even as they reached maturity.

When he was old enough, his hand was arranged to be promised to a young womans whose family was the most respected in the colony. The tying of the two households would have brought prosperity to both, but knowing that despite all his efforts never warmed Dereks heart to it.

He would meet up with Stiles in the woods, despite their school days being long over and try to convince his friend that this was a good match, that it was what was best, though he knew he was only trying to convince himself.

In the end he never had to worry.

His familys home burned to the ground in a freak accident leaving only his two sisters and himself behind.
The Argents bought their land, for a pittance when they had nothing to live on and were forced to accept, scraping enough to build a small cabin with whatever they could salvage and the help of a few loyal townsfolk.

Stiles father died that year. While digging throught the remains of the Hale house. John had always had doubts that it was an accident, just as Derek doubted his blow to the head had been a pillar giving way.

Stiles changed after that, always a little bit of an outcast; he was rarely seen or remembered especially after the whispers began.

Derek in his grief had turned to god, trying despretely to make sense of all that had happened to them and to provide for his family. He wasn’t terrible at it, he had always had a good sense of people and wanted to help the good in this town get back to themselves and remember why they had come all this way for a fresh start.

But there was so much he could not reconcile. The loss of his family and the untimely death of the sheriff ate away at him. Each day the town seemed to become more and more on edge. They lost the harvest two years in a row. Their were more unexplained fires, sickness became rampant.

Instead of this tying them to their faith, eachday they seemed to be inching closer to losing it. Neighbour turned against neighbour. Accusations flying out left and right for all manor of indiscretions. With no sensible replacement for law enforcement, the few who stepped in were in it for themselves and the town unravelled that much further.

Derek was quick to try and put an end to the rumours when they started. Each new utterance becoming more and more damaging. Everyone was looking for someone to blame and their were few too voices going against the injustices.

The Hales distanced themselves from the town as much as they could, staying inside or relying on their meagre plot of land to carry them through another winter without help.

But they were not alone. Just as they were putting the last of their stores on the table for the evening meal, despite their careful rationing a figure appeared at their door, shutting it quickly against the late winter snow.

Derek rose from his chair but before he could protest, the intruders hood was thrown back and a brace of rabbits were thrown over the hearth. Dereks breath choked in his lungs and he held the gaze of the man who had turned the tide of their fortune, his amber eyes glowing in the firelight. A man he hadnt seen in months but felt the ache of loss from in this seemingly hollow spot beneath his ribs.

Stiles brought them to life, quite literally that day. With his skill in hunting and uncanny ability to forage enough food from the woods that his family forgot what it felt like to be hungry for the first time in years.

The man was still hyper, figitting in his chair with an abundance of energy but a more subdued quality about him. He rarely spoke of the town, but seemed interested enough when Derek told him stories of the day to day life of becoming a minister, this wry sort of half smile always on the edge of the other mans lips when he spoke of it.

It was a distraction.

Amber so golden it was hypnotizing.

Stiles breathed new life into him, challeged him. Made him stronger in his faith but also tested it more intensely than Derek thought possible.

Its shamefully why he was so slow to notice when it started.

The whispers, turned to rumours.

Rumours turned to trials.

Which turned to death.

And no one saw what was at the heart of it. No one saw straight through to the truth like Stiles did. Derek begged him to stay out of it. He couldnt explain himself. Couldnt quiet his conscience with the idea that if enough people heard the truth this madness would be put to an end…as long as Stiles wasnt the one who put an end to it.

He should have tried harder. He was selfishly protecting the ones he loved by keeping them away. Out of sight. He tried. Every day but his voice wasnt enough.

He should have tried harder.

He should have pushed more. He felt at a loss and no one would listen to reason and he was questioning every foundation he had built his life on. These people had abandoned them, god had abandoned them.

And all it took was one more whisper for his worldview to shatter so competely its like it never exsisted in the first place.

The day they took him….

Stiles smiled at him while awaiting trial, the black lurid ink on his skin hidden beneath the white of his shirt did nothing to give Derek pause. He pressed the palm of his hand to the swirling image on the centre of the mans chest like being pulled there by a magnet the skin beneath his hand hot the heart below banging out a rhythm too calm for what was about to happen. And Derek knew.

Three years into this madness and they had finially got it right.

And that night every last one of them paid for it.

Emissary Stiles// This needs to happen. Stiles becomes emissary and finially puts that spark to use with a little help from his trusted baseball bat and the leftover shadow of the nogitsune. Tattooed head to toe in protection symbols. Plus one or two from his pack. Also this work inspired the hell out of me. Stiles as a bat wielding badass in Standinginanicedress ’s fic on AO3. As the Lights Go Down (62890 words)

Wolf Derek

So I drew this picture of Derek for this prompt but then i realized that it wasn’t sterek so then last night i whipped out the one of Stiles who I honestly did not mean to draw with those nogitsune sex eyes. But I’m loving it.

I’ve had this idea in my head forever, where Derek a UFC fighter. The best in the world, and has been for a long time. People call him the wolf. He is ruthless and unbeatable. When he meets Stiles for an exhibition match he isnt expecting to so affected by anyone.

Derek looked like he was fighting for his own survival out there. Stiles’ was the opposite, he lived for his moment in the ring, smirking around a bloody mouth guard and it threw Derek off. He knew this boy could beat him, and was suprised to feel that the idea made him feel nothing but relief.

Season 5a


His voice had cracked on the word, so used to forcing it down that he nearly choked on it; his cheek pressed hard against the glass, like he was trying to manifest the other mans voice into a physical presence. The fissure of losing his best friend, was the final piece that was breaking him apart. Derek knew, he already read the message Stiles had sent in the fog after killing Donovan. He wouldn’t have done it otherwise. His mind clinging to that whole and smiling Derek in Mexico the only thing stopping him from screaming at him through the phone to come back, more times than he could count. But he hadn’t. Before he couldn’t bear to be the one to bring that man back to this place. To tear down everything good in him that he had fought so hard to build. A moment of weakness. Three words in a text that he tried to take back. But couldn’t. And now he was here, Stiles pressed his back against the jeep counting his fingers over and over.

“We’re both here. I’ll fix this. I believe you.”

Stiles had dialed the number without even thinking. Derek had driven clear across the country the moment he’d read that text. Unable to stay away any longer. In that moment Stiles couldn’t bring himself to regret it.
Three little words that could have been so many things instead of “please come home”.  I miss you, I need you, I…