mithzsha
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Colours by mithzsha
Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
27 Jul 2020
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Summary
There are colours.
And he lives in black and white.
Recent bookmarks
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“You better be ready,” Lydia says as she cleans dirt out from under her nails with an antiseptic wipe. Stiles can smell the lemon scent even from where he stands a few feet away. She’s probably going to end up covered in blood in a few moments, but she likes to be in control in any way she can, so he doesn’t tease her about this. “It’s time to start.”
“I’m ready,” Stiles says and he’s pretty sure it’s not even a lie. Hopefully.
Scott, Stiles, and Lydia each sit at one point of the triskelion that Lydia’s drawn on the tarp. The center is a tight knot of some language Stiles had never even heard of before this, written in ink in tiny writing. It’s beautiful and also makes him slightly nauseated. Lydia makes both cuts, so the blood drops from Stiles’ arm and Scott’s, too, into the center of the triskelion. There’s wolfsbane on Scott’s knife, not enough to make him sick, but enough to keep him from healing too quickly.
It’s a surprisingly simple thing, after that, for what they’re doing. Blood, a few words, and a little magic.
Just those things, and, for the first time in three years, Laura Hale gasps in a breath.
Or: Resurrected Laura!!!
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It’s been two days and Derek has apparently overcome his aversion to making himself comfortable in Stiles’ room. “Derek, that’s my shirt.”
“Yes.” He gives Stiles a look, your point?
Stiles grinds his teeth. “Why are you wearing my shirt?”
“I ran out of clean ones.”
Obviously.
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"Be cool, Dad, we've decided to con Grandma."
(Or, the one where the Stilinski men drag Derek to Thanksgiving dinner at Grandma's and she gets the
rightwrong idea.) -
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There’s a long pause, and then: “You’re not Erica.”
Stiles can’t help it. He snorts. “Yeah, no, dude, that’d be pretty difficult since I’m a guy.”AU where Stiles is an undergrad at UCLA and Derek works in the university library.
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For a moment he stops and breathes, slow, measured breaths that usually help him centre himself, control himself. It's like a full moon night, keeping himself entirely focused on his very own, personal brand of anger and hatred and disgust, and he taps into it now, hopes for the best.
It doesn't change anything.
Derek is cursed into humanity, and from then on lies a path towards self-discovery. And Stiles.