queerly-it-is
queerly-it-is:

The house is quiet behind them and the yard’s full of sunlight and early afternoon air. Stiles is getting cooler, slowly, against his side.
Scott’s not crying, not yet, he doesn’t want— Stiles shouldn’t hear him crying when he goes.
He takes whatever pain is left, old bones and weary kidneys, and Stiles sinks into his side a little more. He’s so light, like brittle paper, one good breeze and—
"You’d better not be miserable," Stiles says, all breath, like he’s half-asleep. "Want you to go have fun and… just be awesome. Be a superhero."
He laughs into Stiles’ hair, a sharp noise behind it. “Promise,” he says, way too thick to sound normal.
Yellow stripes of sunlight move in a slow march up the steps, the occasional shadow from a drifting cloud. It’s a nice day, and Scott’ll probably be grateful for it at some point.
The grip Stiles has got on his hand is looser now, looser than it was ten minutes ago, than ten minutes before that. The seconds between the breaths are getting longer, waiting for something to fill them.
"I love you," he says, against the parchment-dry top of Stiles’ scalp.
Stiles’ body twitches with his snort, little quakes of laughter. “I know,” he says, and that makes Scott grin even if his eyes are burning. He wants to say there’ll be no one to make him watch that damn movie every Sunday anymore, but the idea hits him like a mallet and he can’t.
He folds Stiles’ hand gently into his lap when it goes slack all the way, breathes against his temple in wet and messy huffs. He listens for that slow rhythm in Stiles’ chest, and there’s just the birds and the air. Nothing’s moving in the world now, there’s a pause while Stiles gets to where he’s going.
Scott kisses his cheek, blinks away the blurry streaks. He tries to smile, because Stiles would want him to.
"See you soon."

queerly-it-is:

The house is quiet behind them and the yard’s full of sunlight and early afternoon air. Stiles is getting cooler, slowly, against his side.

Scott’s not crying, not yet, he doesn’t want— Stiles shouldn’t hear him crying when he goes.

He takes whatever pain is left, old bones and weary kidneys, and Stiles sinks into his side a little more. He’s so light, like brittle paper, one good breeze and—

"You’d better not be miserable," Stiles says, all breath, like he’s half-asleep. "Want you to go have fun and… just be awesome. Be a superhero."

He laughs into Stiles’ hair, a sharp noise behind it. “Promise,” he says, way too thick to sound normal.

Yellow stripes of sunlight move in a slow march up the steps, the occasional shadow from a drifting cloud. It’s a nice day, and Scott’ll probably be grateful for it at some point.

The grip Stiles has got on his hand is looser now, looser than it was ten minutes ago, than ten minutes before that. The seconds between the breaths are getting longer, waiting for something to fill them.

"I love you," he says, against the parchment-dry top of Stiles’ scalp.

Stiles’ body twitches with his snort, little quakes of laughter. “I know,” he says, and that makes Scott grin even if his eyes are burning. He wants to say there’ll be no one to make him watch that damn movie every Sunday anymore, but the idea hits him like a mallet and he can’t.

He folds Stiles’ hand gently into his lap when it goes slack all the way, breathes against his temple in wet and messy huffs. He listens for that slow rhythm in Stiles’ chest, and there’s just the birds and the air. Nothing’s moving in the world now, there’s a pause while Stiles gets to where he’s going.

Scott kisses his cheek, blinks away the blurry streaks. He tries to smile, because Stiles would want him to.

"See you soon."

hydrae

hydrae:

where you been, cain?
where you been?
where’s your brother?
(x)

HI LONG TIME NO ART??? i’ve been alternating between doing art for BBP or being super artblocked, and i’m only just getting through it fjhkjdsfds and my laptop kinda crashed and burned, so this is the first thing i’ve finished on my new computer \o/

i’ve been enjoying season 4 of teen wolf a whole lot and i wanted to get something done in time for the finale. the song that plays over the final scene of 4x11 is “cain” by cousin marnie and it really made me want to draw scott & stiles

daenerystormboern
cocastiel:

mellro:

edwardspoonhands:

karenhallion:

miss-nobody13:

itsprongs:

Oh god guys. JK Rowling is a genius, and so is this person.

the thing I love about this fandom is that there are 7 books and 8 movies to observe. so every once in a while some blessed soul finds a piece of information that makes all the magic resurface again

Mind. Blown. 

Oh Lord…it’s a metaphor too. It’s symbolic of Neville holding on to his past, the horrors of what happened to his parents, of being a passive vessel for that atrocity. As if the terrible thing kept happening and would never stop happening. 
When he moves forward and becomes part of his own story instead of the story of his past, his strength surges. 



TEAM NEVILLE FOR LIFE

It also shows that if you give a kid the wrong tool, he may be a genius but he’s never going to be able to build something with it.

cocastiel:

mellro:

edwardspoonhands:

karenhallion:

miss-nobody13:

itsprongs:

Oh god guys. JK Rowling is a genius, and so is this person.

the thing I love about this fandom is that there are 7 books and 8 movies to observe. so every once in a while some blessed soul finds a piece of information that makes all the magic resurface again

Mind. Blown. 

Oh Lord…it’s a metaphor too. It’s symbolic of Neville holding on to his past, the horrors of what happened to his parents, of being a passive vessel for that atrocity. As if the terrible thing kept happening and would never stop happening. 

When he moves forward and becomes part of his own story instead of the story of his past, his strength surges. 

TEAM NEVILLE FOR LIFE

It also shows that if you give a kid the wrong tool, he may be a genius but he’s never going to be able to build something with it.