Mieczyslaw "Stiles" Stilinski (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
useofcuriosity) wrote2014-03-23 02:41 am
useofcuriosity) wrote2014-03-23 02:41 am
PSL Box
Want to play a PSL or a Prompt? Me too! Lets DO IT. Give a prompt, a word, a picture. Or, start a scene with a fancy au. I'll tag you! It's neat! It's fun! GO JOE.
Examples:
Everyone shift to the left (your character is a werewolf? Now they're a banshee. Or a hunter. Whatever!)
Nogitsune Stuff
Grey's Anatomy Universe
Otherwordly
Did someone say Zombies?
Derek and his pack had gone off on their own about three months in. It hadn't been a good parting but it had been their choice and Scott hadn't been able to stop them. Honestly, he'd been surprised they'd lasted that long.
He'd deferred to Chris a lot because he knew how to survive, he taught them how to shoot, how to care for the weapons he'd brought and when he'd fallen trying to protect Allison and Lydia, it had been Lydia who'd finished him off.
Allison had changed after that, even more so than after her mother's death. It was like she'd lost everything that anchored her. Scott tried to help, but there was nothing he could do and when she fell to them, Scott handled it.
He didn't speak for two days after that, just focusing on getting them to safety. Lydia had turned into one of their best assets next to Stiles. When she was bitten, though, she took matters into her own hands and that was the last night either Scott or Stiles slept alone.
They adjusted though and still tried to keep some level of normalcy, but now...
Scott stood in the middle of a creek, pouring water over himself as he tried not to think about the morning. It had been a supply run and he and Stiles had gone, but by the time they'd made it back to camp...
Well, they'd taken care of their own parent respectively and buried them. Which just left him and Stiles. A werewolf who'd refused to kill anyone because there was always another option and his best friend...
Scott closed his eyes, hands running through his wet hair before he walked towards the bank and levered himself out of the water. Killing had become a way of life now and while he knew there was no other way, parts of him had died and were still dying with every familiar face he'd put in the ground.
He was careful coming back to the camp they'd made. There was no fire though, because it could attract attention and Scott dropped down beside where Stiles was sitting, his gaze shifting up towards the moon.
Another week before it was full...
no subject
So he was always thinking. He was always thinking, and it was always in his head that maybe they should've followed Derek and Cora wherever they'd gone. South America, maybe? The virus or...whatever had done this to the world, it was probably down there too. But maybe not. Maybe it wasn't, and if it wasn't maybe everyone'd still be alive. Melissa, Allison, Lydia, Argent. His father.
He didn't even know if he'd be alive, come next week or the week after. Scott...he had a feeling he'd at least survive this. If he'd be himself...that Stiles didn't know. Not really.
But he'd never seen a werewolf fall from the bite of a zombie. And that was another thing he couldn't get out of his head.
When Scott sat down, he looked up at the moon with him. "Where do we go now?"
Sorry for the late tag, my inbox apparently ate this and my brain sucks
He didn't want to think about that.
"But we need to keep moving, and maybe we'll find a place that's aafe, eventually. The problem was that they could only move so fast with no vehicle and the fact that Stiles was human.
Not that he wanted Stiles to be anything else. He didn't. He was capable of protecting them both.
"You should get some sleep."