picture prompt meme.

[chatona]

the picture prompt meme

I — Comment with your character.
II — Others will leave a picture (or two, or three...)
III — Reply to them with a setting based on the picture.
IV — Be aware that this meme will likely be image-heavy. That's kind of the point.

Link to an image: <a href=IMAGEURL>TEXT</a>

Embed an image in your reply: <img src=IMAGEURL>

You can control width and height of your pictures: <img src=IMAGEURL width=500> OR <img src=IMAGEURL height=INSERT>

Comments

[efferous]

[ex_question191]

Hey. Hey, I gotcha.

[ stiles wraps an arm around cora's shoulders, even though he's shaking too, the adrenaline a crazy burn in his veins, throwing the whole world into sharp relief. it makes him feel like he can do anything — even slide another arm under her knees and lift her. he stumbles for a moment — she's not, like, unduly heavy, but he doesn't train with more than handweights — and then manages the short distance to his jeep, the door swung wide open, the dash lights still on. ]

It's okay. You're gonna be okay.

[ he sighs unhappily, murmurs, pitchy: ]

Oh, mother of god.

[ he puts her gently in the back seat, brushes hair off her face. this whole magic thing is just — he's supposed to be the druid-in-training, right? researching all the celtic stuff, getting herb garden tips from deaton. but whatever happened here is way, way beyond his knowledge. ]

[ it had all happened so quickly, he's still not sure — she'd been just a little ahead of him, both of them running, and the circle had flared bright when she'd stepped into it, and she'd crumpled. it had felt like his stomach had dropped past his balls. ]

[ now she's feral with the full moon, and her skin is cold to touch. he climbs into the back seat with her, tugs the door closed, and tries to arrange them so he can wrap around her, tuck her up in his arms to get warm. ]

Hale. Hale. Cora, c'mon, hey. You're with me, right?

[efferous]

[ she can hear him, albeit distantly, words muffled as she slips in and out of complete awareness in intervals. there's a light sheen of sweat coating her paling skin despite the coolness of her flesh, but stiles — he's blissfully warm to the touch. she curls into him as though she can sap the heat from him through touch alone, overlooking the searing pain that shoots through her spine each time she dares to move.

you're with me, right? she hears near her ear, and cora somehow musters the strength to lightly scoff in reply. ]

No.

[ her tone would be more wry if not for the tinge of roughness in her voice, strained and hoarse — if not for the flicker of gold that illuminates her eyes in response to the pain.

she makes a sound in the back of her throat, choked and annoyed. the wolf inside of her wants to flee, to mar his flesh and rip it into shredded pieces. the girl inside of her craves much of the same, to push him away and lick her wounds in private. her hands raise to wrap around his forearms instead, torn between drawing him impossibly closer and weakly shoving him off. she settles for pressing her fingers into the area to distract from the pain with enough pressure to pepper the skin with bruises, digging into him like he's the only one grounding her. ]

You're wasting time.

[ by watching over her and her current condition rather than dealing with the threat at hand, she means, but the move to disentangle herself from his grasp is a futile effort and she falls back with a sharp breath, back draped against him. ]