#keeping tag

[postcambrian]

here is a chain message from me to you: "THIS IS A TUMBLR HUG!! PASS IT ON TO 10 OF YOUR FAVORITE FOLLOWERS AND DON'T BREAK THE CHAIN!! 💓️💞💖💕✨ Reminder: You are awesome; never let anyone try to convince you otherwise!! 😊❤️ thanks for being you !" now you know the truth and you may pass the contents of this message on to whomever it is you desire

💖💜💖

[kindahategreenberg]

My muse is dead. Tell me how yours is dealing with it.

He finds out second hand. By the principle who stands in front of the classroom with shadowed eyes and a soft voice. Stiles doesn’t hear most of it through the white noise of static in his ears. He hears car accident and didn’t make it and Coach Finstock. It tears a hole in his chest and Stiles can’t breathe, he can’t make his lungs work.

It’s Scott who takes him out in the hall, who reminds him to tuck his head between his knees and breathe. It’s Scott, who rubs a hand down his back and murmurs how everything will be okay, eventually.

It’s Scott, who faces down sobbing fury as Stiles’ voice catches in the empty hallway and rings true. I fucking loved him! And it’s not enough, those words aren’t enough for the fact that Coach had been his own little island of normalcy, despite how insane it was. How Stiles still laid awake months after that one night he slept in Bobby’s bed, and thought about how it felt to have big, warm hands on his shoulder.

Through it all, through all the madness and the dead pool and the world coming down around their ears, Stiles had clung to his stupid pipe dream. That he would turn eighteen and he would graduate and show up on Coach’s doorstep again. But this time would be different. He’d say the words and he’d ask him to go out for coffee, or breakfast, or something.

Now he was gone. He was gone, and it had nothing to do with werewolves or darachs or anything remotely supernatural. A car wreck. A drunk driver after a Friday night party had snatched away the only thing holding Stiles together by the seams.

Stiles sinks down to the floor, locking his hands over the back of his head as he puts his forehead to his knees.