tsuminubiaru

4

The Stilinski Timeline

“I saw an MRI that looked exactly like my wife’s…and it terrifies me…”

Inspired from the quote above (and the many events in 3b), decided it was high time to create some sort of family history of the Stilinski’s. Try to catch some of the symbolism I put in :)

For Science!

a collab by grimm & tsumi.
explicit.
36000 words.
sterek.
based off this fic idea.

From his textbooks, Stiles had gotten the impression that vampires had a weird, stretched out look to them — slightly too-long limbs and pale skin. This guy, though, he looked human, broad-shouldered and clearly muscular even under a loose sweatshirt. He wasn’t pale at all, his skin lightly tanned, hair dark, eyes pale. They narrowed at Stiles and Stiles froze as the man looked him up and down, clearly judging him. He must have passed the test, though, because the man kind of shrugged and said, “Take off your clothes.”

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4

“I care. I care to the point where impaling you with my claws would hurt me as well.”

Merry Christmas, tsuminubiaru!

Stiles is freezing cold, his fingers are stiff in Derek’s hands, his cheekbones have dots of red, but the rest of his face is pale; his lips look alarmingly blue and they tremble when Stiles attempts to speak. His teeth chatter, his words are slurred.

Derek can make out the Derek? Stiles barely manages to let out because of the rolling sounds between clacking of teeth, because he’s more familiar than he wants to admit with the way Stiles says his name.

“You’re so fucking stupid, Stiles.”

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tsuminubiaru replied to your post: 

Sorry for the reply spam (I’m on my phone and the reblog doesnt work for some reason) OTL

Posting because you are slaying me with your Titanic AU ideas. I dare you all to read this without dying for the fic.

This is all I ever wanted to read as a Derek stan and bottom!Derek enthusiast. The idea of Derek sacrificing his life for the family business, resigned to a life with a woman when he’s gay and then meeting Stiles, who turns his apathetic life upside down and shows him the world (ie the D) is all I want, please and thank you. 

PS: We’re getting the alternative happy ending, where Derek is actually a werewolf who doesn’t suffer from hypothermia, jfyi.

Merry Christmas, tsuminubiaru!
Merry Christmas! Hope you enjoy! ヽ(・∀・)ノ Tags: Secret Santa Fic, Angst, Feels, Family Feels, Mourning, Comfort

Rating: T

Words: 2,352

*****


Anniversary

“Get off of my property, Stiles.”

“Technically, it isn’t your property anymore.”

Fresh snow crunched under Stiles’ feet as he approached the fallen log Derek sat upon. It was hard to believe the frozen shell of the Hale mansion had ever housed life; Stiles quietly mused that he could almost say the same thing for the man who sat staring at it.

“Do not. Test me,” Derek replied curtly, his teeth grinding as he stared resolutely at the dilapidated house.

Stiles sighed, his cheeks puffing briefly as he let the breath out in a cloud of condensation. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Derek’s brow furrowed even deeper as he took his eyes away from the house and glared over at Stiles, who stood only a few feet away from him. Stiles’ brow lifted questioningly, but he didn’t speak. “That’s it? You’re going to let that go? Are you feeling okay?” Derek asked, giving him a once-over before looking back at the house.

“I can’t be respectful on a day like today?”

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(inspired by snow angel.)

“Hello boys. Nice night for revenge, isn’t it?” There’s snow beneath their feet, the skies dark and clear, a glittering blanket of stars above their heads to match the diamond-strewn ground. Air crisp, clean, light breeze pushing past their faces. A beautiful night. “Well. I suppose it could be a little more dramatic, dark clouds and lighting and all that, but you can’t have everything.”

Crowley shrugs, like the Earth’s lack of regard for dramatics and grandeur is just one of those things you have to work with. He doesn’t seem bothered by the cold, familiar three-piece suit immaculate as always, not a hint of blue to his face or the faintest shiver running through him. “I hope you like the pretty picture, regardless.” He’s calm, collected, smiling his normal, oily smile – as if there isn’t a dead body at his feet, sprawled out in the snow, blood frozen in red crystals around the stab wound to the heart that mars its rumpled shirt.

That’s Cas, lying there, in the snow, dead. Dead. Decked in Christmas lights, flashing blue and red and yellow and green, a cheap halo around his head. Crowley’s sick idea of a joke, making the sight surreal, almost comical, a newspaper cartoon.

For some reason, that makes everything worse.

It takes Dean a moment to process that; Castiel, snow, dead, Castiel, dead, blood, dead. It doesn’t make sense in his head, a set of concepts that just won’t mesh no matter how hard he tries. After everything, after the Apocalypse and Lucifer and Heaven and leviathan and Purgatory, after all that, Castiel’s dead in the snow with a hole through his heart, and it’s a sight that somehow just… shouldn’t be. Can’t be. Doesn’t make any sense, and maybe if he stares long enough it’ll disappear, a mirage of the cold.

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anonymous asked:

I'm 110% ready for your teen wolf/titanic reel wolves submission. I. CAN'T. WAIT.

I’m so excited about this project, anon!

Was planning the whole thing with tsuminubiaru last night and we came up with some awesome plot points. We don’t want to follow the movie to a dot, so expect some surprises, which I guess is good? :D She’s amazing and her art is so inspiring, I’m so lucky to be doing this collab with her. Can’t wait to share the result with all of you. <3

Have any of you seen tsuminubiaru’s  Incoming Call? Because Holy shit… it is just… there are not words to express - my vocal cords are broken and I’m here sitting just gaping like a fish… Wow, this is so amazing ~ Anyway I decided to write a ficlet for it because it was just so good.

Incoming Call

“Come on Stiles, pick up, pick up,” Scott cursed as he ran towards the high school.

It was always the high school, too. Shit always happened at Beacon Hills High School - at night - when the fucking building was supposed to be locked - so people couldn’t get in and get murdered by some supernatural freak-show. But y’know, shit happens (and Jeff Davis is the writer).

After five more rings the phone went to Stiles’ voice-mail, “Hello you’ve reached the voice-mail of Stiles Stilinski for sarcasm press one, for help about a supernatural fiasco press two, if you’re dying in some horribly tragic manner and need to be saved press three and if you just want to leave a message wait for the beep.”

“Shit,” Scott cursed and ran faster towards the school.

Earlier, Stiles had said he was going to hang out with Lydia after school to work on the bestiary so Scott had ignored the flurry of phone calls and texts that had descended upon his phone an two hours ago from Stiles, thinking it was just his friend calling to ask inane questions about werewolves.

It hadn’t been until an hour ago, when he had gotten a frantic call from Lydia saying she had tried to call Stiles and he hadn’t picked up and she was getting a bad feeling - that Scott had begun to worry.

After calling Stiles himself and receiving no response, Scott called the pack to ask them to help him find Stiles. It took a little convincing because a few of them said that he had probably just turned his phone off or left it somewhere - there’s no need to get so worked up over Stilinski.

And for a moment Scott had hoped that they were right. After all there hadn’t been any Supernatural creatures roaming about, murdering people for a few weeks now…

The hope that nothing had happened and that Stiles was just ignoring their calls dwindled down to ashes when Scott reached the Stilinski house to find Stiles’ room a mess (more of a mess than it normally was). The window was shattered, there was what looked like scorch marks on the wall and there was mountain ash scattered all across the carpet.

The worst part - he could smell Stiles’ blood and Peter.

Shit.

Stiles was in trouble. And all those calls, two fucking hours ago, had probably been Stiles trying to call for help. After all it’s not like he can howl or scream for the rest of the pack.

So now Scott was running towards the school as fast as he could after having Danny trace where Stiles’ phone was.

When Scott finally reached the school, the front doors were wide open, like an invitation.

“Stiles?!” Scott shouted. 

The call echoed down the hallway but there was no reply.

Figuring it couldn’t hurt, Scott dialled Stiles’ cell again. Down the hall, he could hear a faint howling - Stiles ringtone for any of the wolves in the pack. His friend thought it was funny.

Sprinting down the hall, Scott sped around the corner, slammed into a locker and kept running towards the sound of Stiles phone.

Scott’s claws and fangs came out the closer and closer he came to the boy’s locker room where the sound of Stiles’ phone was coming from.

“Stiles?!” Scott called out again  as he burst through the door to the boys locker room. The thought that it might be a trap didn’t occur to him. He just wanted to find his friend.

“You’re too late Scott,” a voice drawled from the shadows behind a set of lockers.

“Peter,” Scott snarled at the older wolf, “What have you done with Stiles?! Where is he?! I swear if you’ve hurt him I’ll-”

“You’ll what, Scott?” Peter snapped, “You’re nothing more than a freshly turned pup. You’ve been a werewolf for only a little more than a year. You’re not a threat to me.”

“We’ll see about that,” Scott smirked, “I distinctly remember killing you once before and if you’ve hurt Stiles in any way I’ll have the pleasure of doing it again - though this time I’ll make sure it’s permanent.”

Peter stepped out from behind the lockers, “That’s not how I remember it. From what I can remember it was my darling nephew who slashed my throat and Stiles who set me alight.”

Scott took a step forward, “So that’s what this is? Revenge?! For killing you?! But you were killing people!”

“WHO DESERVED IT!” Peter roared, “In case your poor teen-aged mind can’t remember, THEY MURDERED MY ENTIRE FAMILY!!! MY WIFE, MY DAUGHTER, MY SISTER, HER HUSBAND-”

“And then when you finally came out of your coma you killed your own niece!!!” Scott shouted back. 

“Laura was never supposed to be the next Alpha. The position should have transferred to me but obviously I was to scarred and burned to be considered as the Alpha - but I’ve always been the Alpha one way or another,” Peter smirked as his eyes flashed Alpha red.

Scott gaped, “But that’s not possible - How?”

“Magic,” Peter smirked, “Now, if I were you, I would run along. Stiles wasn’t looking so good the last time I saw him.”

“What have you done to Stiles?!” Scott roared and took a menacing step forward. 

“Nothing he didn’t want deep down. After all there’s only so many times one can take being pushed to the side and being told to stand behind others because they are too weak,” Peter drawled.

"What did you DO?!

"Gave him the Bite of course,” Peter grinned, “That fiery little spark is mine now. If the bite turns him, which I think it will, he will be my pup. And if for some reason it doesn’t turn him - oh well, one down.”

Scott’s eyes widened, “No…”

“Oh, yes. After all, I owed the little Spark a little payback.” Peter waved nonchalantly, “Goodbye, Scott. The next time I see you, Stiles will be tearing out your traitorous throat.”

Peter sauntered past the dumb-struck Scott, “He’s in the showers by the way - wasn’t looking too good.”

“Stiles,” Scott whispered, paying no mind to Peter’s exit, as he dashed forward to the showers.

And there he was - his best friend, lying on the cold tiles and curled up in a ball. there was a large gash on his forehead and a puddle of blood behind his head.

Scott rushed forward but he couldn’t see any bite marks.

And then he saw it. There, on the back of Stiles’ neck was a claiming bite…

Peter had bitten Stiles.

Stiles was going to turn… or die.

  1.  tsuminubiaru said: this totally rocks my socks off like it is. I imagine I will be drooling mindlessly when I see it in color. holy cow. how long did it take you if I may ask?

 

That’s kind of a tricky question… I’ve been having some problems with my hands due to my job lately, so I’m not as fast as I normally am.  I think I spent at least a good hour on the basic rough, and the inking took me several days this past week, spending about 1-3 hours give or take.  For stuff like this, the inks always take me the longest.  I struggle with trying to figure out contrast and balance, so I end up doing a lot of trial-and-error.  I’ve been reading comics a bit in my downtime, so I was definitely aiming for a nice, dynamic pic :D  I’d guess this was at the very least, six hours of work but possibly more.

 

Thank you <3