Stiles Stilinski (
hypercompetent) wrote in
entrancelogs2013-12-14 10:00 pm
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"and i'm--losing my freaking mind."
who; stiles stilinski (of the FUTURE!!) and you!
when; december 15th--the end of the event
where; anywhere in the mansion
rating; probably r
summary; crazycakes stilinski returns from the not so distant future, not so pleasant side effects included.
[ It's hard to tell the difference between waking and sleeping nowadays.
It's been a year since the core mission. A year. Stiles Stilinski was one of the main planners behind it--it was his baby, fostered in dark rooms around Wonderland, just trying to keep away from the Jabberwocky long enough to fling it into the Core and be done with it for good. He'd had a lot of hope for what could have happened when it was over--as bleak and as miserable as things had been, he could only imagine that Wonderland might be able to fix itself as time passed without the Jabberwocky there to render it apart.
And in what seemed like just seconds, anything he was holding onto--any hope, any optimism, the plan, his friends, Castiel--Meg--Allison--Derek, they were dead, and he didn't even have threads to hold onto them by, no hopes that they'd come back. He stopped functioning, like it was when his mom died, and when the Jabberwocky attacked the section of the mansion where he'd been staying, that had held his and Derek's stuff, he'd practically let it rip him into pieces.
By the time he came back, something wasn't right. There was this need, this deep ache in the bottom of his bones to find the Queen of Hearts, who'd been missing for so long, but it's hard to focus on that, hard to focus on anything, because everywhere he turns, there are ghosts of people he loved. Words melt off pages, panic seizes around his chest and clutches and he sees visions, screaming, blood, Derek, his dad, his mom, hands reaching into the darkness, grabbing at the vestiges of his sanity and eating them whole, until he's left quivering in the dark, screaming for people who aren't real, against forces that are trying to render him limb from limb, things he can't see.
There's no sleeping. Horrific nightmares catch him when he closes his eyes. His hands move on their own, scrawling on the mirrors, the walls, anything he can get his hands on wake up, wake up, wake up wake up--
And it's in one of those dazes that he does.
When Stiles' eyes open, he's staring at Wonderland--rather, the Wonderland of the past. It's...cheery in here, there are Christmas decorations, and confusion and horror flicker across his exhausted face as he looks across the hallway before he hears it again ("Look what it could have been without you, look what you did, look what you always do"--) and his hands clutch up to his ears, knotting fiercely in his dark brown hair, until he slams into the wall beside him in the main hallway and lets out a strangled scream. It can't last, it has to end eventually, he's going to just--he has to just wake up-- ]
{this is a catchall log! ie: if you don't want to respond to this prompt you don't have to! on the 15th it will be difficult to get stiles away from derek. on the 17th through the 19th, it'll be a little easier. His sanity will slip between the three days, more lucid on the 17th and less on the 19th. By the 20th, he'll have holed up in his room, uninterested in anything and anyone. 21st-23rd on the other hand will be mostly spent with pack or people from the future, and he can easily be pulled away during these three days, with a fairly decent level of lucidity. The 24th is his and Derek's day alone. }
when; december 15th--the end of the event
where; anywhere in the mansion
rating; probably r
summary; crazycakes stilinski returns from the not so distant future, not so pleasant side effects included.
[ It's hard to tell the difference between waking and sleeping nowadays.
It's been a year since the core mission. A year. Stiles Stilinski was one of the main planners behind it--it was his baby, fostered in dark rooms around Wonderland, just trying to keep away from the Jabberwocky long enough to fling it into the Core and be done with it for good. He'd had a lot of hope for what could have happened when it was over--as bleak and as miserable as things had been, he could only imagine that Wonderland might be able to fix itself as time passed without the Jabberwocky there to render it apart.
And in what seemed like just seconds, anything he was holding onto--any hope, any optimism, the plan, his friends, Castiel--Meg--Allison--Derek, they were dead, and he didn't even have threads to hold onto them by, no hopes that they'd come back. He stopped functioning, like it was when his mom died, and when the Jabberwocky attacked the section of the mansion where he'd been staying, that had held his and Derek's stuff, he'd practically let it rip him into pieces.
By the time he came back, something wasn't right. There was this need, this deep ache in the bottom of his bones to find the Queen of Hearts, who'd been missing for so long, but it's hard to focus on that, hard to focus on anything, because everywhere he turns, there are ghosts of people he loved. Words melt off pages, panic seizes around his chest and clutches and he sees visions, screaming, blood, Derek, his dad, his mom, hands reaching into the darkness, grabbing at the vestiges of his sanity and eating them whole, until he's left quivering in the dark, screaming for people who aren't real, against forces that are trying to render him limb from limb, things he can't see.
There's no sleeping. Horrific nightmares catch him when he closes his eyes. His hands move on their own, scrawling on the mirrors, the walls, anything he can get his hands on wake up, wake up, wake up wake up--
And it's in one of those dazes that he does.
When Stiles' eyes open, he's staring at Wonderland--rather, the Wonderland of the past. It's...cheery in here, there are Christmas decorations, and confusion and horror flicker across his exhausted face as he looks across the hallway before he hears it again ("Look what it could have been without you, look what you did, look what you always do"--) and his hands clutch up to his ears, knotting fiercely in his dark brown hair, until he slams into the wall beside him in the main hallway and lets out a strangled scream. It can't last, it has to end eventually, he's going to just--he has to just wake up-- ]
{this is a catchall log! ie: if you don't want to respond to this prompt you don't have to! on the 15th it will be difficult to get stiles away from derek. on the 17th through the 19th, it'll be a little easier. His sanity will slip between the three days, more lucid on the 17th and less on the 19th. By the 20th, he'll have holed up in his room, uninterested in anything and anyone. 21st-23rd on the other hand will be mostly spent with pack or people from the future, and he can easily be pulled away during these three days, with a fairly decent level of lucidity. The 24th is his and Derek's day alone. }
cccccccc:
and he looks different, god does he look different. haunted and thin and scared. terrified. and maybe that's just allison projecting the same look she saw in isaac's eyes, when he had her shoved up against the wall, his hands crushing the bones in her arms, but he's there and he's lunging at her and she tenses, at first. can't help it. but just as quickly as she does the tension is gone because it's stiles. it's just stiles. so after just the briefest moment of hesitation, her arms go around his middle - the hesitation only because they're not really at hugging. she's not really a huggy person, besides with scott (and isaac, a bit, before he disappeared). but there's something in the way he clings at her that makes it a little easier to just melt into it. ]
Hey- [ which, all things considered, this is a much better alternative to her last reunion. so much that she ends up tightening her hold on him a little, tucking her face into his shoulder a little. ] Hey, it's okay.
♥
When he pulls away, he's trembling. A part of him had been expecting her to be see through, for his hands to just pass by into the open air, until something is laughing, taunting, and he takes a step back. In the present, he's not much of a toucher either--that's always been Scott's thing--but it's such an overwhelming concept, that wherever he is has these people that died, that he has to keep reminding himself that everything's okay. ]
Allison, I'm sorry. [ He says, choked up behind a lump in his throat--it's all he's been able to say since he's arrived, because that's all he can feel. Guilt, sorrow. Anger. His hands come together, a nervous gesture, twisting and pulling and he drops his shoulders a little, confidence gone from his posture. ] I'm so--I'm so sorry, I'm sorry.
♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥
he pulls away from her and he's trembling and allison doesn't know what to do. she's done this already with isaac, but whatever she did with isaac was so wrong it terrifies her. what if she sets stiles off like she did isaac, what if she says something and whatever mental wall stiles has built up to keep himself here comes shattering down? all she wants to do is fix this, fix stiles, but all she's managed to do so far is nearly die. is watch scott deal with that, from her, and the guilt weighing on her for that - the guilt she's feeling just looking him in the eyes, it's killing her. ]
Stiles. [ her voice is soft, calm. she tries to make it light, like she could even be smiling, but with how much that darkness in her chest has grown over the last hour or so, she's not sure it will happen. so she just keeps going, reaching out to set her hand over his, where they're bunched together. trying to get him to look at her, see her as she is now, and not how he remembers her. ] Whatever happened, whatever you think you did- it wasn't your fault.
[ she has no idea what she's talking about, is putting pieces together from what she remembers of isaac, what she's seeing in stiles. whatever they think they did...
and then allison forces herself to smile. small, reassuring (hopefully). ] We're fine.
backtags forever cries
He squeezes the hand in his for a second, then pauses, suddenly switching his grip to look at the top of her hand. It's not hard or anything, but there's something missing.
She's not wearing her ring.
Neither was Derek.
It clicks. It's a moment of clarity in a sea of confusion and hurt, and Stiles stares at her hand, then lifts his head to look at her, then at Scott beside her, and then back down, and he mutters, softly at first, just enough to fill the space-- ] This is the past.
[ And--boom, there's the panic, the blurring vision and it feels like Stiles is drowning again. He slumps against the wall and takes a deep, shuddery breath, withdrawing in on himself and trying to keep it away, just so he can figure it out, so he can try to understand who, when--how, how this had happened. ]