That original Derek pic demanded a complementary piece, so here they are!
Derek’s hell is dark and made of memories, of the crushing weight guilt, pressing in on him. It’s made of shadows that drag him down, down, down, crushing him, drowning him.
Stiles’s hell is made of light, not because it’s any less painful, but because he’s becoming weightless, becoming nothing. He’s losing himself, adrift and dissolving, consumed by the cold fire of the Nogitsune.