graveyard heart

      “Either that, or                          it’ll get both of us killed.”

                             "Would death really be so bad?                                    I've heard the pearly gates look                            extra pearly around this time of year."

"Actually — you know what? Nevermind.  No, this isn’t some kind of cruel joke, —  and I completely understand why you’d  think that, but — GOD. I’m just way too  much of a bitch, right? That even after  everything that’s happened, I don’t have  a heart? No, Isaac didn’t put me up to  this, these are my own, genuine words.  ——— Maybe I shouldn’t have even said anything at all.”

"No offense, but we've never really been very ---- buddy-buddy. And, yeah, you  have been a bitch, but I'm under no delusion that that's who you are. Entirely. We're all bitches deep down, right? The bitch is  within us. Dwelling in our briny depths,  seeking refuge until the perfect moment  arises and then ---- WHAM. The bitch  strikes! Kills its unsuspecting prey and,  wow, this analogy got way out of hand.  I'm deflecting. Really badly. Just... have you looked in a mirror, Erica? You're kind of ---- you know, you. I'm. Me. So the doubt isn't totally unfounded."

“ Don’t you think you’re exaggerating    JUST a little bit? Or a lot, maybe? ”

                              "No. Not at all.                       Okay, well. Maybe slightly.                              But only slightly."

+ spookywolfsbane

   ”I think that’s possibly the    dumbest idea I’ve heard     in my entire life.”

                               "Dumb? Maybe. Guaranteed to                    work? Absolutely. Take my word,                                        trusting me on this is gonna be                             the best decision you've ever                                                   made."

  ’ ♔ —— :

❝I suppose you’re going to tell me Clooney was.❞        The tone has changed again, something         small and lighter than before. It was like         they were back to challenging each other.         Sarcastic comment after comment.

                                  "Actually, I rather liked Keaton."

           this ---- is normal; this is how the                           two of them work. conversation                   flows with more fluidity when there                                  is more ribbing and less sadness.                  it's a defensive front that stiles                       refuses to examine further.

                                    "Bale just didn't do it for me.                                                      Not a big fan of his, in all                                                     honesty."

"Oh no, I hear what you’re saying — Don’t worry. Hear you loud and clear. I’m just choosing to ignore it.”

                         "You know, bad things tend to               happen when people choose to                                 ignore the things I say."

                      ❝ And by that time you’ll have been                              abstinent for so long that you’d have                             no reason to object. Besides, the judge                              will take one look at me and you’ll                             have to do the walk of shame out of                             the court room. Do you ever think                             out your insane scenarios, Stilinski? ❞ 

                      ❝ But it’s such a cute name.❞

                           "The more cruel you are to me,                                            the more likely I am to ensure that                the Valedictorian spot goes to me.                               Keep testing me, Martin, because                                        you're one step away from me wiping                                                   the floor with you."

  ’ ♔ —— :

❝Never saw Daredevil. I was told     it was a waste of my time.❞        There were some things Derek         didn’t do. Brown nose and suck up.         yet it seemed that he was doing          exactly that with Stiles. He sighed,         letting his eyes flick over the other.

❝It’s going to be the worst movie of all time.     For one, they believe that detective Batman     is going to satisfy the masses when they all     went gah gah over Christian Bale’s batman,     He was, and always will be, the best Batman.     And while we’re at his, Christopher Nolan will     have forever made the best Batman movies.     DC is just trying to make something they have     no real footing on because they want to compete     with Marvel.❞

                                    the melancholic atmosphere is                            disrupted by the breath of amused                                             air stiles dispels. every word out                                of derek's mouth is painfully accurate,                                     and he gives a stilted nod as he rolls                         his eyes. a hand passes over his face,                                                   coming to a limp rest over his mouth.

                         "I think we've found some common ground,                                                       man."

                  stiles presents his hands in a sign of                              surrender, then, letting the mood pass         into something more light. banter is                              easy, banter is good. it makes more                                                 sense.

                                        "----Except Bale was not the best Batman."

(   Yeah,  of course you can come in,   Derek snarks to himself,      watching flatly as Stiles brushes his way inside.   He should      be expecting it, really, when Stiles makes a comment about           that     &  he SHOULD have had some kind of response.

          Unfortunately, Derek’s just not that smooth.  He manages to           steel his features into a completely blank slate,   which  is a           reaction  in and of itself,   his  lips pressing into a thin line of           mild irritation. Playing it off nice and easy, he decides not to           even bestow that with a response.   Derek  knows  what will           happen if he insists that he doesn’t have a kid.   )

        ❝ I did have a childhood, you know. ❞

                                         ( now there's an outlandish idea: derek hale with                        a childhood. stiles tries to picture a young derek                           with his sisters and his parents hallowing out                                       pumpkins, and stops the thought where it stands.          otherwise it becomes too much of a saddening                                     weight in his gut, and this is not the time for                          sadness. this is the time to bug derek about his                                        daddy kink while trying not to focus on the fact that           they have. a date. this friday night. stiles has to                             physically shake that one off and force himself                                            to stay attentive. right. pumpkin carving. )

                             "Oh yeah!"

          ( abruptly turning he deposits the pumpkins next to       the bag and snatches it back up, tongue poking out                     as he digs around in it to pull out the little plastic light     up skulls, and the movement sensory hand that does ----              well, stiles doesn't really know yet. but he's sure it's gonna                                        be cool? )

                                 "I got you some other stuff, too. From the dollar store.                                             I'm on a budget, dude. It's the thought that counts."

(   spookywolfsbane.   )

                 ♔│█║ ☓☓

(   His first thought upon seeing Stiles at his front door is      It’s definitely not Friday and the  second  is prompted     by allowing his eyes to fall to the pumpkins grasped in     either of  Stiles’  hands.   There’s a plastic bag looped     around the inside of his elbow, too, & he’s not curious     at all to find out what’s in there. Really.   )

     ❝       It’s October first, Stiles. ❞

                 (   As if he doesn’t know. Still, Derek can’t exactly fault him;                       he’d expressed his own fondness for Halloween only                       hours prior. But    pumpkins? Already?   )

                    ( LET IT BE WIDELY KNOWN that it is never                                   too early to begin the halloween preparations.                        people start selling christmas shit in, like, august ----                 so if stiles wants to buy some damn pumpkins                                   and fake skeleton hands, so help him god he is                              going to do just that. in fact, he does. is. tenses                                      are relative. stiles knows they've got plans for                  friday, but. well, this is a chance too good to pass                                 up. the bag rustles when he brushes past derek                                                into the loft to toss it onto the counter. thank the                         lord it's not holding anything too fragile. then, like an excited child                                         he turns back to derek, picture of self satisfaction.                                                      and... wait for it.......... )

                 "I know how hard being a single dad can be, Derek,                        so I figured it might be a good idea to go ahead and help          you bring a little spooktastic goodness to your loft."

                ( stiles' grin is nothing short of smarmy as he brandishes                             the pumpkins. they're on the smaller side, but they have                      potential. for decorating. which stiles is going to make derek                                              help him do. )

                                                       "Ever carved a pumpkin?"

       THOMAS knows the feeling of being sat down without anything being explained to him. In the center of his gut anger stirs and impatience bounces his knee, hands hanging between his thighs as he surveys the police station he’d been dropped into. Dirt covers his face, but the constant grime is familiar and his fingers don’t even twitch to reach up, wipe it from his cheeks.           They’d been told this was a rescue. That their situation, their torture, the experiment was over. If that wasn’t convincing, they’d been given a show of lab-coats dragged away in handcuffs, women and men carted away for kidnapping and scientific experimentation on humans. Children, no less.          The extent of explanation that he’d gotten was that he was going home but it’s not like he knows what home is. They’d given him nothing else but this police station, which he’s been sitting in for two hours. Waiting. Was this supposed to be home? That’s it? Is he waiting for transportation to an orphanage? Is he waiting for his ~parents~ to pick him up?         His foot taps, jaw tight.

         it comes as nothing short of a shock to stiles when his dad delivers the news. stiles has ---- he's seen the sonograms, okay, he knows that his mom had been carrying twins, himself and some unknown brother. but for as long as stiles has been alive, he's never once set eyes on him. the other ---- his twin ---- has always just been some fairytale creation that sometimes sparks this wistful look in his father's eyes. stiles has never understood. how can you long for something you'd never truly known? the scientists had come and taken thomas away before he was even a month old, promise of "the greater good" like knives on their tongues.

         sometimes, like the tragic excuse of a person he is, stiles is glad it wasn't him they'd taken.

         and ----- maybe stiles isn't shocked, per se. he'd always assumed this day would come. it had to; something had to give eventually. the day is here, though, and stiles is at a loss for what he's supposed to think or do. wandering into his dad's office where his ----- god, his brother is sitting looking for all the world as if he's been through hell, and there's a funny notion, maybe they have stuff in common already ---- looking lost and a little more than hesitant is probably the wrong way to go about things. his dad is off taking care of stuff right now, so it's just stiles, and the mirror image of himself covered in grime. 

       all stiles can do is stare, surveying him with careful eyes. there's something resentful in the line of his body. they may be related by biological ties, but this kid is no more his brother than derek hale is. blood a family does not make.

       "Do you make a hobby out of sitting around looking like you're two steps away from ripping someones arms out of joint? 'Cause I gotta tell you, man, it doesn't look too good on you."

“I just thought you could improve your GPA if you read more. There are only so many references you can use for the scientific terms of Botany. Did you get my notes for Malia? I sent them over last night.”

                        "My GPA is in perfect shape, no need to                                 be concerned. I got 'em, haven't gotten                  the chance to give them to her yet."

     ❝ i can assure you, i would definitely        believe you. there isn’t much i haven’t        seen at least once. ❞

                                 "I was possessed by a demonic fox                   spirit. Killed one of my closest friends                                and a lot of no names. Your turn."