argentum verbena aconitum

i won’t be posting here anymore!main blog here, art blog here.if you just want to track my...

Sun, 02 Dec 2012 00:24:16 -0500

i won’t be posting here anymore!
main blog here, art blog here.
if you just want to track my art, it’s tagged as “spkart.”

red, violent red

Thu, 09 Aug 2012 21:48:16 -0400

red, violent red

Photo

Wed, 25 Jul 2012 11:02:00 -0400

but you won’t have to be anymore.

Sun, 01 Apr 2012 22:48:12 -0400

but you won’t have to be anymore.

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Sun, 29 Jan 2012 03:15:00 -0500

scott/allison drabble.The worst thing about being a part of the pack is the drama.It’s like The CW...

Sun, 29 Jan 2012 02:07:00 -0500

scott/allison drabble.
The worst thing about being a part of the pack is the drama.

It’s like The CW with claws and teeth, 24/7. What was already a twisted mess of tense, hormone-addled relationships is made worse through pack dynamics, and lately, they can’t go a day without someone losing blood.

Okay, maybe that’s an exaggeration. But Allison can’t bring herself to care right now. Right now, she’s standing between Jackson and Scott, a palm pressed to each of their chests, hoping that the reminder of her presence will keep them from changing shape and tearing each other to pieces.

“Jackson, you need to calm down!” She catches his eye, but he’s not listening, eyes still burning golden bright, chest rising and falling impossibly fast. It’s unusual for Jackson of all people to be so reckless and lose control this quickly, but considering it’s Scott, Allison isn’t that surprised. She turns to her boyfriend, who’s looking at her, heart rate already slowing under the palm of her hand. His eyes say sorry, but the hard line of his mouth lets Allison know that he and Jackson will probably settle this later. She sighs and admits defeat. Jackson huffs, a strangely canine sound, and turns away from them both, as Allison drops down to sit on the couch. She never thought she’d be here.

Here is sitting in the middle of the sitting room of the newly-remodeled Hale house, waiting on the rest of her werewolf boyfriend’s pack to get back from grocery shopping. Sometimes Allison can’t believe this is her life.

Scott draws her out of her thoughts by reaching down to brush a strand of hair behind her ear, and she glances up at him, a question. She doesn’t really know what she’s asking, but Scott sits beside her on the couch and laces their fingers together, and she’s struck by the fact that this is the boy who gave her a pen on the first day of school, who set the broken leg of a dog she had run over. It’s just Scott.

Sometimes she can’t believe this is his life, either.

Scott smiles at her like he’s still apologizing, and she leans into him just as she hears Stiles and Derek burst through the front door.

Fri, 27 Jan 2012 16:43:09 -0500

don’t you know? the sun’s setting fast.

Fri, 27 Jan 2012 16:43:03 -0500

don’t you know? the sun’s setting fast.

Fri, 27 Jan 2012 16:42:35 -0500

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Fri, 27 Jan 2012 16:42:28 -0500

set alight | an allison/scott ep. o1. human qualities -...

Fri, 27 Jan 2012 16:41:00 -0500

set alight | an allison/scott ep.

o1. human qualities - explosions in the sky
o2. time flies - lykke li
o3. no signs of pain - azure ray
o4. heartlines (acoustic) - florence + the machine
o5. sit down by the fire - the veils

i know this is lame, but i wanted to get it out of my ‘wip’ folder. numbers are individual dl links.

in which everyone gets drunk and there is essentially a begrudging puppy pile. When Stiles finally...

Wed, 25 Jan 2012 17:49:21 -0500

in which everyone gets drunk and there is essentially a begrudging puppy pile.

When Stiles finally gets back to their exceedingly crappy motel room, stumbling around in the dark, he finds Jackson, Lydia, and Scott piled up in one of the tiny beds as if they were huddling for warmth. It’s a testament to how drunk he is that he doesn’t even bat an eye, only flops down face first onto the other bed in the room.

The sound of Derek’s words over the phone pound against the inside of his skull, and even with his eyes closed, he still feels like he’s spinning. Even when he hears a shuffle from the pile of bodies in the other bed, he doesn’t bother moving. The whiskey was a bad idea — Jackson’s bad idea – and has he mentioned how much he hates Jackson? Jackson, who has complained for almost the entirety of this road trip; Jackson, who wasn’t invited, but invited himself. Jackson, the owner of the hand that’s drunkenly waving Stiles over when Stiles finally opens an eye to the darkness.

“Get over here,” Jackson says, but his voice is muffled and sounds strangely dreamy, as if he’s not quite awake or conscious. Honestly, Stiles is surprised heis conscious, let alone able to string a coherent thought together.

“You’re,” Stiles starts, but he catches Jackson’s eye and loses his train of thought. Jackson rolls his eyes in a familiar gesture, and sighs as he sits up in the bed, an admirable feat considering Lydia’s limbs are wrapped around him like she’s trying to squeeze the life out of him.

Stiles turns his face back into the softness of the bedsheet.

“You’re an asshole,” he mutters. “I don’t want to be anywhere near you and, and—“ Stiles fumbles—“your assholeness,” he finishes lamely.

Jackson grunts in response before saying, surprisingly clearly, “I will forcibly remove you from that bed if you don’t get your scrawny ass over here,” in a low voice that Stiles really only obeys out of habit. He rolls over and slides down the side of the bed, before pulling himself up by the nightstand in the space between himself and Jackson. Jackson manages to catch him as he trips into the side of the bed, hauling Stiles up and into the mess of limbs so that he lands somewhere between Lydia and Scott, the other boy’s knee slamming painfully into his back.

Stiles groans, and Lydia and Scott only stir, apparently more drunk than Jackson, who is still staring at Stiles.

“Asshole,” Stiles huffs again, before hissing at the protest his back makes to him crawling up next to Scott.

“You’re an idiot,” Jackson murmurs, and Stiles releases a half-laugh, eyes closed.

“You’re the one who forced me over here for this weird, messed-up werewolf orgy. Just letting you know, this is probably illegal,” Stiles says, barely a whisper. He thinks for a moment. “Not to mention, you forced yourself into what was supposed to be a Scott-and-Stiles Adventure. Like Batman and Robin. We were gonna take turns being Batman this time…”

Jackson is quiet in what Stiles assumes is a stunned silence because did that really just come out of Stiles’ mouth?

“And that’s why you’re an idiot,” Jackson says. Stiles can see one of Jackson’s wide palms resting on Lydia’s hip, and it strikes him how small she is. How small they all are, even. Just then Scott nuzzles into the space between Stiles’ shoulderblades, and he decides not to have an existential crisis when he’s in bed with his best friend, the girl of his dreams, and the biggest asshole he knows. It’s too weird. It’s all too weird, and Stiles can see that, even through the alcohol.

“Fine,” he says. “I’m an idiot. Doesn’t matter anyways.”

“It matters, dipshit, because if you’re a part of this pack, you’re not allowed to just disappear.”

Stiles’ lips move soundlessly, as he tries (and fails) to process. He squints over at Jackson, but it’s useless in the dark, and he can barely keep his eyes open.

“We’re supposed to stay together, that’s what Derek said,” and Jackson sounds just as spent as Stiles feels, voice trailing off at the end of his sentence.
Derek’s words spring to the forefront of his mind again, the way they sounded when he spoke them coldly through the phone.

You can’t be this reckless, Stiles. It affects more people than you realize. I don’t understand how you could’ve missed this.

When Jackson slides his arm over Lydia’s body to rest his hand against Stiles’ side, Stiles doesn’t even argue. Jackson falls asleep almost immediately, and Stiles is not far behind, lulled by the stillness.