Good, Euphoric Even.
I'm Casey or whatever nickname we agree upon. I’m a panromantic ace who’s agender and currently prefers female pronouns.
You name a ship, I’ll probably ship it. I run way to many blogs and I’m into a few too many fandoms. I like to think I’m pretty chill, so questions about me in general or any projects I’m working on are always welcome.
Personal blog of twobreathsecho, footstepsinfire, luciferloyalists.
Teen Wolf + Scott’s favourite outfits (season 2)
WOLF MOON: Scott McCall + Space
Happiness isn’t a constant. You get fleeting glimpses. You have to fight for those moments, but they make it all worth it.
power rangers 30 day challenge
day twenty → favorite zord
make me choose: Scott or Lydia
I’m interested in a Skittles Winter Soldier AU, but not even necessarily a SHIELD one: I can see, just as easily, a canon-compliant story line where Stiles goes missing during the next catastrophe to strike Beacon Hills, presumed dead; in reality kidnapped by a shadowy organization of hunters far less honorable than the Argents. They use and manipulate and experiment. They get Stiles bitten, wipe his memories, spend the next few years turning him into their personal attack dog, half-rabid but obedient. He becomes a ghost, chained by ghosts.
He’s young and lean but what he lacks in brute strength he makes up for in utter ruthlessness and cunning. He’s relentless, as cold as ice and silent as snow, with the bitter blue eyes of a murderer. Stronger than any omega has a right to be, with how many of his own kind he’s killed, and the things they’ve done to him.
(how long is he gone? five, ten years, or decades, maybe? Like Steve Rogers, Scott and his pack are all young soldiers cheated by time; werewolves with their vitality and slow aging, a near-immortal fox and banshee, all standing guard over Beacon Hills with Melissa McCall a frail old woman and the sheriff already gone long before his time, weakened by grief when his son was never found)
Scott never quite gave up, he couldn’t, the only way he could physically survive was to believe that Stiles was out there, somewhere. And when he sees him again for the first time, a snarling wolf ready to tear him apart, he doesn’t even try to fight, lets Stiles pin him to the forest floor.
"Stiles," he says, eyes brown instead of red, and bright with tears. "Stiles, please-“
It’s enough to make the winter wolf speak, voice raspy with infrequent use as he crouches over his prey.
"What the hell is a Stiles?"