rule 63 doodle dump!
rule 63 doodle dump!
well I was raised up like a snake.
you were raised to leave me bait
I always, always take.
Scott gets paired with Allison.
Allison is—she’s cute. When she smiles, everything about her face is warm and open, and Scott can’t help mirroring the expression. She’s wearing jeans and a t-shirt when they first meet, hair pulled up in a messy bun, comfortable. She holds her hand out for Scott to shake and he takes it.
“Scott,” he says.
“I know,” she says, letting her hand slip from his. “You’re the new guy, right?” She leans in, stage whispering, “Mm, fresh meat,” and shocking a laugh out of Scott.
“Yeah, well.” Scott dips his head down and rubs the back of his neck nervously. “Be gentle with me?”
“But that’s no fun,” she says, and it’s so obvious that it fails at being anything approaching sexy, but Scott thinks that’s the point. His stomach does something strange and fluttery anyway.
“You two are already sickening,” Erica calls, draped across one of the prop couches.
They’re scheduled to shoot some tame looking couple-y shots—“To build your story,” Lydia tells him, rolling her eyes— because Neckz ‘n Throats is apparently also invested in something resembling plot to go along with all of the dominance play. Deep down, people want to be made to believe it. Or so Scott has been told.
Allison sneaks up behind him when he’s getting something to drink. He hears her coming, but still acts surprised when she grabs his wrist and says, “Come with me if you want to live.”
Allison laughs a lot, and it makes Scott laugh, too. She wraps her arms around Scott, pulling him into a tight hug. She tugs at his hair, and at the neck of his shirt, pretending to bite him. Scott picks her up a few times, carrying her like a princess while she pretends to swoon.
The video of them is fifteen minutes of them chatting on a love seat, Allison’s legs draped over Scott’s thighs.
“You like big guns? That’s— is that, like, a euphemism or—” Scott says, grinning, closing his eyes automatically when Allison leans in to brush away a fallen eyelash. She’s been touching him a lot. Quick brushes of her fingers smooth out a wrinkle on his shirt or brush something off of him, sometimes just to touch.
“That’s good. You tried,” she says, rolling her eyes, but she’s smiling back. “But no. My family is big on self-defense, you know. In case the world ends or someone tries to steal my fries. But, uh, I like archery better than the—better than guns.”
“Archery?” Scott tips his head to rest against the back of the loveseat, watching her, and forgets for a moment what it must look like.
“Yeah. Like,” Allison says, holding up an invisible bow and arrow, firing it off into the distance. “Like that.”
“So, you’re like, lethal. You could just totally— you could totally wreck me.”
Allison drops her arms and leans in close, close enough for Scott to feel her breath against her lips, and says, “You really have no idea.”
I lived. I loved. I was here.
FBI Stiles AU
The FBI is on the hunt for a serial killer who tags his victims’ bodies with triskelion tattoos. Agent Stiles Stilinski is lead investigator but gets kicked off the case when his superiors find out about his history with one of the suspects. Ignoring orders, Stiles turns to Scott to help him clear Derek’s name and stop the real killer…
Cut me down
But it’s you who’ll have further to fall
Ghost town, haunted love
Raise your voice
Sticks and stones may break my bones
I’m talking loud not saying much
- David Guetta Feat. Sia
What if Derek is four years old when he meets Stiles, who is six and mischievous and knows all the best places to find bird nests and salamanders. And what if Stiles smells funny, like sweet dust, and wears funny clothes like the ones in the oldest pictures in Derek’s mother’s photo album, the ones that are all in shades of brown and no one is smiling. What if Stiles looks funny, too. Pale and kind of see-through.
What if Stiles is a ghost.
What if no one else can see Stiles, has ever been able to see Stiles—not even his own family could see him after he died. No one could hear him or feel when he tried to touch them, and it scared him, being dead, because he was so alone, even when the rest of his family was right there, even when he sat in his empty chair at the dinner table and watched them eat. What if sometimes he crept up to his room at night and lay on his old bed and pretended he wasn’t dead. And what if eventually his family moved away and he couldn’t follow, couldn’t take even one step off the property. What if they just left him behind, all alone in the house, because they didn’t know he was still there, and they took his bed, too.
And what if when the Hale family moved in they painted a symbol above the doors, just a simple little protection, and now Stiles can’t go in the house at all.
Stilinski Family Tree
→ Catherine Stilinski: Charismatic × Witty × Loving
Mother of Stiles and wife of the Sheriff. She hoped that she would live a long life together with her family but life had other plans. Catherine tried her best to keep her illness a secret for as long as she could but at some point her symptoms became a lot harder to hide.
red right ankle makes me really emotional and i imagine waiting for injuries to heal isn’t as bad when you’ve got a good distraction