#3 hours

From Cry Of Fear. Created by your one and only, me.

3 hrs. Procreate & IbisPaint X, 2025

Thank you for viewing.

Stiles sat with his feet dangling over the edge, his eyes were glossy and unfocused from the tears gathering in his eyes as he got lost in his own memories.

It was only when a figure appeared next to him and broke the silence that he was brought back from his mind.

"Awfully brave for you to be sitting up here." Peter turned his head towards Stiles with a smarmy smirk on his face that couldn't quite hide the concern he was feeling. "With your close relationship to gravity, I don't believe sitting on the edge this high up would do you any good."

All Stiles could do was twitch his lips upward as he tilted his head down, not quite looking at Peter out of fear of seeing the unfamiliarity in his eyes that he saw in everyone else's.

Peter's brows were pulled together in an upset frown, not even bothering to hide his worry. He still tried to make light of the situation though, he knew better than to try and get Stiles to talk about his feelings. He didn't know how he knew, but something in him told him that Stiles wasn't someone who was comfortable being vulnerable.

"What are you thinking so hard about," Peter asked as he donned a fake carefree smile. "Surely not my nephew, no, not with such a sodden expression on your face."

Stiles looked up then, staring off into the distance, facing where he knew the woods to be. His eyes were soft and full of longing, as if he could see his wolf running with his pack in the woods beyond his sight.

His eyes were roaming around for a minute as if searching for something before he dropped his head again, a contemplating look on his face.

The silence was suffocating to Peter as he had gotten used to the boy's constant chatter. A loud boisterous noise, something he had long missed since the fire.

Stiles' eyes set as if he had come to a decision. He opened and closed his mouth, not quite sure what words he was gonna say.

He sighed in defeat and slumped his body as he opened his mouth to speak.

"The problem with the Ghost Riders isn't the first time I've been forgotten," his voice was thick with sadness but he continued on. "No, the first person to forget me was my mother."

Peter turned sharply, Stiles never talked about his family before, not that he could remember anyway.

"You see, she got sick when I was 8, FTD or frontotemporal dementia, the front part of her brain was showing signs of atrophy. It affected a lot of things, her behavior, her movements...."

He gulped and took a deep breath. "Her memory." His eyes were tearing up now and becoming unfocused as he continued on.

"By the time she died, she had no idea who I was. From then on my worst fear was being forgotten."

They both paused for a moment, Peter not quite sure what to say to that, if he were to say anything.

Stiles just scoffed. "It's a cruel irony that that's my punishment for trying to protect the only family I've ever known."

Peter had known plenty of cruelty himself but none quite like that. He never feared losing his family before the fire. He didn't know to be scared of something, that to him, seemed like an impossibility.

While he doesn't know for sure, he has to assume that losing his family after fearing that loss, would certainly be devastating.

He bowed his head in a nod before looking out the world around them and speaking what he believed to be truth.

"The regular world is already a cruel place, but oftentimes the supernatural world is even worse."

The small sarcastic smile on Stiles' face stung.

"You could say that again...." His voice was swathed with fake lightness.

"I'm sorry." And Peter was. He may not remember much about this boy but he remembers what grief is, what it feels like, what it smells like, the very scent that permeates around this boy like it's stuck to his very soul.

Stiles tilted his head toward him but he didn't quite look at him yet. His eyes radiating a soft knowingness.

"I know..." The defeated smile on his face, spoke of his appreciation towards the packmate that tried their best.

They both looked away and stood silent for a few moments before Stiles straightened his posture and blew out a big breath, obviously sick of the silence.

"You know, my mom's the one who gave me my name," he said in an attempt to change the topic.

"Stiles?" Peter was certainly curious as to what would inspire such a name.

"No, that's the nickname I chose after she died. Before she died I went by 'mischief', because that was the closest I could get to my real name when I was young," he stopped for a beat, a silent smile slowly forming on his face.

"She loved calling me mischief, said it suited me well for all the trouble I got up to," he chuckled minutely. As did Peter, he didn't remember much but he got the feeling that such a statement was very true.

Stiles' smile saddened as he continued. "After she died it just hurt too much to hear it, so I had everyone start calling me Stiles instead."

Mischief certainly suited him but Stiles was okay too. Both were quite unique.

"Certainly a unique name. Though I'm struggling to think of a name that sounds similar to mischief." The closest name Peter could think of was Mitch but for some reason, he doubted that was the name he was looking for.

"You probably won't, no one's called me by my real name in years," Stiles voice tinged with amusement at how absurd that was. He looked through his own memories seeking a moment in which his true name was said but he couldn't think of any.

His thoughts were interrupted by a single crow, it stood with its head toward the moon, alone in its company as it watched two other birds fly off in the moonlight. The single caw that rang from its beak broke Stiles out of his reverie.

It was just a noise, a common noise that comes from birds, one he hears all the time, but somehow Stiles felt as though it meant more than that.

"And now no one ever will." He spoke as he stared at the bird, the smile having slipped off his face.

Peter had never wanted to strangle a bird so much but instead he sighed as said, "We'll find something, we just need a bit more time."

Stiles mouth was a firm line now, his head once again facing down.

"We don't have time. You're forgetting me a lot quicker than you want to admit but we both know that it's very likely you won't remember me at all by tomorrow."

And it was true Peter had long since forgotten what it was like before the Ghost Riders. He had forgotten ever meeting Stiles in the train station they were held in as well as when they found him afterward. He had slowly been losing all his memories of Stiles for the past two months, the earliest he could remember Stiles was from just the past 4 days.

He might not remember this boy but he knew he was pack. He could feel it in his wolf, that this boy was important and needed to be saved. He just needed more time. Hopefully before the boy left of his own accord.

"We can still fix this..."

Stiles scoffed in disdain at the situation he was in. "No, we can't. But I appreciate your optimism."

Peter had been called many things before but an optimist wasn't one of them. Yet, he could see the boys perspective and how hopeless the situation must look to him.

Stiles set his shoulders straight with a determined look on his face. "If you're gonna forget me anyway I guess I might as well tell you who I am."

Peter dared not interrupt, he could feel that this was something important. Important to who, he didn't know but that didn't make it any less important.

Stiles voice was steady as he spoke. "My name is Mieczyslaw Stilinski. My mother is Claudia Gajos and my father is Noah Stilinski. My dad is the sheriff and my mother was an art and music teacher. They moved to Beacon Hills, California when they were in their twenties and had me two years later."

Peter certainly wouldn't have guessed that name. He also wouldn't have quite believed that the sheriff was Stiles' father. Peter could only guess that he looked more like his mother than his father.

Stiles continued, this time his voice was shaky and unsure. "That's who I am, or at least, who I was," his voice quieted, "And who I'll never be again."

Peter didn't know what to say. So he said the only thing that he could.

"I'm sorry..."

Stiles finally turned to look him in the eyes. A soft smile graced his lips. "Don't be. I'll still be Stiles, I just won't be their Stiles."

He shrugged his shoulders, "Mieczyslaw Stilinski might die soon, but I have it on good authority that he'll be happy to do so in the memory of his pack." The look in his eyes conveyed how sincere he was.

Mieczyslaw might be erased forever but to be put to rest in the heart of a man he called pack was one of the best ways to do it.

Stiles turns and stands as he says "I don't think I can be here when he does, though." His voice was barely above a whisper but the determination in his tone conveyed that it was final.

Stiles slowly walked back to the door while Peter could do nothing but watch. He paused when he pulled it open. "Goodbye Peter."

Peter just sighed and slumped his shoulders in defeat as he said, "Goodbye Stil-....no," he corrected himself, "Goodbye...Mieczyslaw."

The genuine smile he got in return was one he hoped not to forget. He simply smiled back and didn't stop smiling even after Stiles had long since gone from his sight.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Somewhere in the distant woods, a long anguished howl resonated throughout the town. A wolf had just lost its mate.

The next day, Derek had just barely risen from his slumber. He had a coffee cup in his hand and a piece of bacon between his teeth. He was rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as his uncle walked into the kitchen.

"Heard you howl last night," he walked over to the coffee machine. "Why so loud?" He questioned over the sound of the coffee maker.

Derek swallowed his bacon before speaking. "I don't know," he shrugged nonchalantly but there was a sadness in his eyes and a pang in his heart as he thought back to last night.

oneshot btw

3 hours of animating. 10 frames per second and 20 frames. Only a few will know the origins of the guppie moff

Anyway…my first time trying to draw light…I actually…kinda like it? I dunno-have been working on this for way too long, so I may have been staring at it for too long too-

Also, I am in a good warzone mood rn, soooo maybe more cute stuff will come, heh.

God, I gotta draw abstragedy too sometime...

(Am I the only one who struggles with Jax’s expressions? Also also: holy I just realized the difference in the quality of my art. Like, I'm comparing this to my 2-month-old drawings, and... I would say I got better. Wait why am I rambling-)