Tag: lovely

athosds:

this was meant to be a full comic page, but i hated the first part uvu basically it’s that derek died and stiles couldn’t deal with losing him, so he summoned derek’s ghost and his ghost was his wolf, and then magic and stuff happened and derek turned human and alive and there were no consequences for any of it and everyone lived happily ever after (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ 

(also thank you to becca for listening to me moan about this comic, i love you :3)

writing-prompt-s:

ravenschmaven:

writing-prompt-s:

A young gay dragon has to explain to his parents why he is only kidnapping princes

He doesn’t have to explain. They love and support him and want him to feel comfortable, so they, too, begin looking for princes.

His mother, known for destroying kingdoms in a single breath, risks that reputation to find her son a mate.

His father, feared for snatching whole cities up in his claws, risks thatreputation to find his son a love.

They check every castle, every citadel, but the boys are all off. Too mean, too soft, too quiet, too loud, and the parents hate the idea of telling their son that they can’t find him anyone.

And then, as they’re about to leave, a voice. It’s a boy, barely an adult, with dark skin and bright eyes and a soul brighter than dragon fire.

“I heard you’re looking for a prince.”

“You are not a prince. Where is your castle, your court? Nobody worships you.”

The boy smiles, and holds out his hand. “I am the prince of woodlands, of brooks and bays and rivers and fields. My castle lies all around, my court are the animals who fill the earth, and the mortals worship for me is unending.” A breeze picks up, and in his hand forms a flower.

The parents look at each other, and nod once.

It is time to bring this Woodland Prince home.

Awhhhh ❤

kedreeva:

For Cat C, who answered my call for Sterek prompts!

Prompt: Stiles so convinced he’ll screw up a spell that he’s flailing and unable to focus to DO the thing, until Derek kisses him to distract him

———

You can do this, he told himself, hands trembling as he traced off the first rune, light welling under his bloodied fingertips. The rune flared and then fizzled, misformed, and he tried again, willing his body to cooperate. You have to do this.

Without meaning to, his gaze flicked up to Derek, flat on his back and bleeding all over the darkened cement. His breath caught, his heart hammering in his chest as his vision went a little fuzzy with the rush of adrenaline and fear.

“Stiles,” Derek said, and it lacked his usual ire.

“I’m- I’m here,” Stiles replied quickly, scooting closer on his knees. “I’m trying, but I just…” He trailed off, not sure how to explain that he had done this a thousand times with Deaton, but never in the field. Never when it mattered.

Shoving those thoughts aside, Stiles focused again on the runes on his skin, heart still too fast and his mind screaming his fears at him. Too much blood. Too many wounds. Not enough time. You’ve never combined runes before. You can’t.

He didn’t realize he had stopped, shaking too badly to do anything, until Derek laid a hand over his. When he looked up, he caught Derek’s pale gaze and everything seemed to slow down a little. Derek smiled, and tugged Stiles forward as he struggled halfway to a sitting position. Stiles closed his eyes as Derek’s lips pressed against his cheek, and then Derek flopped back to the ground with a pained grunt.

A kiss for luck. How many times had Derek done that while he was learning? This was new, but it was the same- another learning experience. Another challenge.

Stiles opened his eyes. He had stopped shaking.

“You’ve got this,” Derek mumbled. “C’mon.”

Stiles let out his breath and drew in another before slowly tracing over the first rune again. It lit green as he poured his will into it, wanting to heal, wanting to mend. It stayed when he drew it off his skin, shimmering and bright while he traced the second rune, and the third. He twined them together almost blindly.

“Derek,” he said loudly, and Derek’s eyes cracked open again, burning red as his body tried to heal through the effects of the infectious bites. At least he was still alive. At least Stiles still stood a chance at saving him.

Without further hesitation, Stiles pressed the rune set into the worst of the wounds, the light twisting and fragmenting before it began to seep outward, blurring the edges until it was a blanket of light instead. The wound consumed the light, the energy, the power of the rune and Stiles watched as it began to heal, finally. After a moment, the others began to follow suit, slowly but surely knitting back together.

Stiles slumped as soon as the last of the light had faded. Derek had still lost a lot of blood, and he would be weak for a while, but the worst of it was over. They were going to be okay.