My SCP Foundation/Teen Wolf Crossover comic….
Oh god okay so. Everyone knows I’m obsessed with TW right? Okay so
I’m working on this idea where Peter gets caught by the SCP Foundation (undead werewolf, holy crap) and Peter, knowing he can’t escape by himself, outs Derek (Born werewolf), Scott (bitten werewolf), Stiles (in this AU Stiles is -magic-) and Lydia (immune). Basically I wanted to do a comic of them doing video interviews with the SCP doctors/scientists.
I have SO MANY IDEAS. Like…Normally they only refer to things in containment by their number designation but Scott doesn’t respond well to that so they call him ‘Mr. McCall’ whereas Stiles is sarcastically hostile either way so they use his number, not his name. ANYWAYS, this especially sucks for Lydia (they like to test her immunity by exposing her to other SCP) and Derek (who refuses to reveal anything so…extra testing.)
ANYWAYS. I will keep working on this and my other TW comic. Hopefully I will finish eventually. :D
To learn more about the SCP Foundation, go to the wiki! Beware, it’s creepy and has creepy photos and stories…
For the people who missed the Livestream in the wee hours of the morning! :)
I just started using TVPaint and WOW, SO THIS IS WHAT IT’S LIKE TO USE A REAL ANIMATION PROGRAM. It’s like I’ve been animating with 10 pound weights on each finger and now that I’ve taken them off I can fly. So this is my first tvpaint experiment, 212 frames, 24fps.
PERFECT
Teen Wolf AU: The Four Horsemen
Death never really gets attached to any one form. There’s been too many, too many names answered to, too many souls shared. Death is constant.
She was a woman last time, with warm green eyes and a strong fist. He’s a boy now, too young and too old all at once. He takes a breath, takes in his own scent. Death has touched him before, scarred him too deeply to ever heal. Death has consumed this boy, and now he’s consuming Death.
Stiles. That’s his name.
He stretches his limbs, splays his fingers, feels bones and sinew and muscle pop and roll and groan trying to accomodate him, his body not quite big enough to hold all that he is, all that they have become.
He licks his lips, tastes blood and pine and apple. He shouldn’t be here, not like this. Something’s called him. Stiles cocks his head to the side, still as he listens.
No. Something’s called all of them. He can feel the others, lurking, lingering, waiting for him to be ready.
Famine and Pestilence will take their time, creeping in to claim his attention with steady commitment, but they’re never in a rush to finish their work. When he comes, it’s usually as a mercy.
He can feel War, though. He can feel the burning heat, the fury and anger and conviction, so close, too. He can feel War’s need like a physical touch, demanding his attention, and never really happy when he gets it.
It’s been a long time since he stood on the same ground as any of them, since he didn’t only follow in their wake. He sighs, thumbs rubbing against fingertips, feeling the ridges of his new-old identity. He examines his hands after a moment, looks at the long, elegant taper of each finger.
These hands will be strong enough, he thinks. These are capable hands.
Flames lick up his spine and he knows War is coming to find him. He rolls his neck and looks around, sees keys lying on his desk and something like a smile curls on his face. He picks them up, twirling the ring around his index finger.
Maybe this time, he’ll find War first.
War’s eyes shine out from a face Stiles knows. He takes a breath and smells smoke.
“Derek,” he says, the name tumbles from his mouth, both the truth and a lie.
“Stiles,” says War, cautious as he eyes him. His gaze lingers, like he’s remembering something. Maybe he is. “You smell… like you belong to me.”
The words make Stiles shiver, make him quake right down to his core. “Sometimes I do.”
“No,” he says, and Stiles can hear the command in his voice, the conviction that sets generals to his bidding. “The boy, he’s mine.”
Well, isn’t that new? He leans against the side of his Jeep, letting amusement grace his face. He can feel it suits him, suits Stiles. “I’m pretty sure he’s mine now.”
Derek snarls, launching himself forward, knocking Stiles to the ground. He’s expecting it when it comes but it still makes Stiles’ heart thunder in his chest. Derek’s hands are rough as he pins him. They’ll leave bruises on his skin, but Stiles laughs up into Derek’s furious face.
“If you want me, you can have me.” It’s the truth because it’s always the truth. “I always let you.”
“You defy me,” says Derek, hisses it out as his teeth scrape the tender skin of Stiles’ neck. Stiles isn’t sure which you he’s talking about, or if it even matters.
“So? You’re reckless and greedy and young. Why should I indulge all your whims? You’re a child,” he reminds him, even as he winds his legs around Derek’s hips.
Derek thrusts down, and Stiles feels the lengthening of Derek’s teeth against his throat, the sharpening of his claws as they dig into his wrists. Stiles arches up and sighs.
“That’s it,” he urges, “Take what you want. I’m giving it to you.”
“Not everything, you won’t give me everything,” Derek growls, breath hot on Stiles’ skin, mouth roaming with unchecked desire.
Stiles hums, neither denial nor confirmation. “I’ll give you what you need.”
Derek’s mouth finally meets his in a hungry crash. Stiles licks into it, chases the taste of ash and iron, moans when Derek’s hips roll against his. Stiles has wanted this. He missed this, always needed this. He’ll let his blood burn with Derek’s anger, with his desire. He’ll give him everything this time.
It’s what Stiles wants.
What if Stiles is doing research & he finds a message board & asks some questions & some dude PMs him & is like ‘hi here is stuff I know’
And they chat and Stiles gets help from him sometimes & they actually become internet bros.
And the guy doesn’t give out his real name of course & neither does Stiles…
But the guy’s name is really Sam Winchester. What if, guys.
WHAT IF.
canon in my brain.
THIS IS SO TERRIBLE IT WOULD ONLY END POORLY. WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME.
Stiles would finally be like…IM me bro, & give Sam his screenname. & they would talk non supernatural things more & more often.
And one day Sam would like, mention Stiles’s parents or Stiles would mention just his dad & not his mom or SOMETHING & he’d say like “Yeah…My mom died awhile ago.” And its a hard thing for him to type, even now. And Sam would just be like.
“Mine too.”
Dudes standing up. That’s the level of creativity we’re dealing with here.
I’m sorry I called you a bad show, Teen Wolf.
