#venoar

❝  haven’t you learned by now  ----   ?  ❞   he starts,  an all too confident smirk forming over his features,  misplaced given the close call.  he’s always doing this,  putting himself into situations where he could so easily lose his life,  yet there’s no other way he knows how to be.  it’s been this way since he was a kid;  always throwing himself into the fire,  constantly feeling like it’s the only way to prove himself.  it never ends,  it only gets worse,  but he keeps convincing himself that what he’s doing is right.  it’s all he’s ever known.   ❝ i’m too stubborn to die.  besides,  i’m not done savin’ the world yet. ❞  it’s spoken as a joke,  but there’s truth to it,  a never-ending responsibility that diego is always telling himself is his.   still,  despite his desire to maintain a nonchalant confidence,  he hears the worry in his voice.  and for her,  he’ll soften,  taking a deep breath and moving his hand to rest gently against her elbow.   ❝  you’re not losin’ me.   not tonight,  not ever.   ❞   words are genuine,  real  ----  until a second later,  when he feels himself being too vulnerable.  ❝ wouldn’t want you to have to miss me,  anyway.  ❞  

❝  just as easy to pretend you didn’t see anything, ❞   she insists,  her voice steady and quiet as she tugs her bag over her shoulder.  it’s filled with batteries,  snacks,  electronics that she definitely doesn’t need,  but wants to ensure she has before anyone else gets their hands on them.  that’s how she intends to survive all of this  ----- -  stealing what she can,  hoarding it all,  ensuring she has more than anyone else,  because she can’t trust anyone else to SHARE with her.  ❝  take some for yourself,  for all i care.  no one else has scavenged this place yet.  you and i could be the LUCKY ones,  ❞  she insists,  an attempt to make her feel as if it’s okay.  

try to remember a time before him,    and  it’s  like  walking  blind  in  the  dark  ;  reaching  out,     stumbling  wide-eyed,     everything  grasped  you  know of   ;  muscle-memory,   an  idea,   truths  that  may  be  lies.   You  don’t  know /   or  maybe  you  do  ;   but  what’s  the  point  when  this  is  your   here and now.    With  him  as  you  sit  with  your  back  against  the   couch,  books   that   were  excuses  laying  around  you  like  broken  birds.  It’s  close  to  midnight  now  and  music  still  plays  from  a  phone  running  on  30%.  You’ve   certainly  opened  up  your  space  to  him,   didn’t  you?  How  could  you  not  when  this  boy  set  an  unseen  campfire  that  may  just  be  set  in  a   chest  so  afraid  of  becoming  cold.

    what  was  she  supposed  to  say  ?      yes,      mom,      i shoved theo.      well,      it was certainly a starting point---the truth,      and perhaps better than keeping her lips still for much longer.      she can’t lie,      no.      not perfect shirley    &    not to her mother.      her state of quiescence wronged her,    however,      allowing contemplation to fade way to the thought of letting a little white lie fester from within.      she knew better though.      her and theo’s particular incident would not even stand as the topic of conversation if it were not for one single solitary fact,      their mother already knew.      lying would be pointless.      “ ---i didn’t think i pushed her that hard. ”      once shirley started she resembled a leaky faucet,      continuing to pour out on a tangent.      “ she just mad me so mad, mom. you wouldn’t even believe---you should have seen her! ”      she should have seen you.

meme.   @venoar.   accepting.

❝     you know i know you can hear my heartbeat,  right?   or did you forget you’re a werewolf?   i can imagine that’s pretty hard to do.   props to you if you managed that.   ❞     

he’s still alive.  sadly.   but that doesn’t mean he’s not pretty badly.   he’s still annoyingly human and still unable to heal from wounds anywhere near as quick as his were-friends are able to.   unlike them,   he has to receive actual medical treatment every time he gets hurt on one of their monster hunting adventures.  whether that medical treatment is an actual doctor or nurse or stiles sitting in his own room with a first aid kit trying to sew himself up with trembling hands is irrelevant.   it’s still medical help.

long pale fingers are pressed against his now ruined over shirt that’s applying pressure to a bloody wound on his stomach,   attempting to hopefully stop the bleeding so he doesn’t actually die here.   though,  that doesn’t sound that bad.   there’s worse ways to go.   like drowning,   like being burned alive,   like——   alright,   not helping.   he should focus on actually helpful things.  not on the various painful ways to die.    he sighs,   shifting a little in his spot,   pressing the shirt harder against the injury.   thankfully,   they’re just from the claws of a beta,   not an alpha.  he so can’t deal with becoming a werewolf right now,  his life is as stressful enough as it is.   

he’ll take the question as her very hale way of asking if he’s okay,   even if that’s not her intention.   god,  do these guys have something against acting like they care?   are they all subscribed to emotional constipation weekly?