#imsxmething

" —Stiles, I don’t even know what I did wrong.   It’d be a bit more helpful if you told me what   the problem is. “

Send me a ♤ and I will generate a number for what my muse will say to yours.

I am a proud Ravenclaw: always have been, and always will be.

In contradiction to that stereotype, I am so grievously behind on summer homework and can only hope that I can finish it in the next ten days. Which is also why I'm only on once a day right now.

I run on my school's cross country team as the #2 runner, though I am worried about injuries.

I LOVE PENTATONIX. And yes Scott and Mitch can hold their falsettos that long in "Problem." GO listen to a couple of their live performances and you'll see.

I am very tempted to write a Slytherin!Harry series but I need to nopity nope out of that mindset.

    “So, deadpools…”

 Lydia shook her head, drawing in a shaky breath. "Stiles, if you don't come with me, you're going to die." She didn't know how else to say it, so she figured straight to the point would be best. Lydia didn't know how she knew that. She had no idea how any of this worked. This time it wasn't whispering. It was a feeling coming from her gut.

     "I can get you to my car, and I can get you to the hospital faster than an ambulance getting here." Considering there was no cellphone reception anywhere near the area, it was the only choice they had. It was Lydia's turn to reach over and cup his cheeks with both of her hands. He already felt too cool for her liking. "I'll drag you out of here if I have to."

        Those words should have sent a panic alarm off within the boy -- a code red -- however it merely calmed him as if he were completely ready for fate to claim him as another tragic life lost. An unsteady voice cracked through the silence like thunder following the lightening. It was fitting he thought; the thunder had always chased the lightening never truly catching up -- lovers destined to be apart. "I'm not sorry -- for standing between you and it" strength was evident within his words no matter the weak delivery "please know that -- don't blame yourself Lyds."

      A lump had formed in Stiles' throat -- he at least had to try to make his way to her car though the outcome would be likely the same. "Help me okay?" shattered whispers left his cracked lips, the pinkness fading from his cupids bow with each moment. Holding a hand to his wound knowing it wouldn't make much difference Stiles heaved himself up against the wall. 

Memes yo.

Stiles flinched as Lydia ran her fingers against the gash etched into his ivory skin. Moving uncomfortably as he lay awkwardly against the brick wall.

                     ”Ahhh YES. Yeah, like — a lot… You need to go Lydia…