kings & queens
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i wanted to do a full pack thing, WHICH I HAVE SOME REGRETS ABOUT bc oh god, but it was both terrible and fun. c: easily my favourite pack, i love them all so much (what do u mean allison’s dead, i can’t hear you over the sound of her being right there. POINTS, SEE? RIGHT THERE)
early mornings
pairing: malia/stilesi wanted to do something kinda punk au, so have malia and stiles in their first crappy apartment together, being ridiculous. c: also obligatory arm bands, tho unique to them, bc everyone getting mccall pack arm band tattoos is the dream, really. i hope you like it, kat. LOVE YOUR FACE
made for round three of the twrarepairexchange.
i am hopeful, should i be hopeful?
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it’s sciles day apparently! so i did a quick simple thing–which turned into unrequited/mutual pining skittles, my bad??? IDK WHAT THIS IS but \o/ oh well
we were built to fall apart, then fall back together
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terrible headcanon time that whenever scott and stiles die, they’d end up in the white room and allison would be there waiting for them, aH H A H A;;; i’ll just see myself out
i don’t know what i’ve been doing art-wise these past couple things but w/e!!! it’s simple and i’m mostly just fucking around to try and get out of this block i’ve been in;;;
we were built to fall apart, then fall back together
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terrible headcanon time that whenever scott and stiles die, they’d end up in the white room and allison would be there waiting for them, aH H A H A;;; i’ll just see myself out
i don’t know what i’ve been doing art-wise these past couple things but w/e!!! it’s simple and i’m mostly just fucking around to try and get out of this block i’ve been in;;;
Early morning dew soaked through the back of Scott’s clothes, cold, clammy prickles of grass where his jacket rode up. He stared up at the stars through the tree branches. They flickered, trying to fade away while he struggled to bring them back into focus. There was something happening. Something terrible. A woman was screaming loud enough to rattle his bones, and somewhere wood was cracking and guns were firing.
Just barely, he could feel Stiles’ fingertips against his, sticky with cooling blood. They twitched, as if trying to hold on. Everything drifted away, leaving just the feeling of Stiles’ hand. Scott stretched out his fingers, twisting them into Stiles’ while the stars finished tunneling out into darkness.
He sighed, and let the stars go.
Another pair of hands settled over theirs. Light came back, seeping through his closed eyelids to fill the spaces behind them with an even gray. The wet grass against his back was gone, replaced with something harder, and his head was pillowed on something soft. A drop of damp warmth dripped down his forehead.
Scott opened his eyes. The white room stretched all around, massive and unbroken other than endless columns and the tree stump they were on. Its ceiling was impossible close, or impossibly far, depending on how he looked at it.
Allison leaned over and smiled, cheeks wet. “Hi.”
“Oh my God—” He scrambled to sit up, almost knocking heads with Stiles as they rushed to hug her. Allison’s arms slung around their necks, dragging them in with a sob. Giddy laugher cut through the tears as they clung together, tangled tight as if something might rip them apart again.
The meaning of the white room, of Allison, loomed in the back of his head. It didn’t matter. They were together again. They’d figure out the rest.