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@haletheking
Find me on my new blog!
Hey all,
I know I haven’t been around here much lately, I’m sorry about that <3 I wasn’t planning on disappearing but my muse for Derek’s gone pretty quiet for now. If you want to stay in touch, thread with me, or just follow my writing, I’m spending a lot of time these days RPing as Daryl Dixon from The Walking Dead.
Come find me @boltsandashes!
Find me on my new blog!
Hey all,
I know I haven’t been around here much lately, I’m sorry about that <3 I wasn’t planning on disappearing but my muse for Derek’s gone pretty quiet for now. If you want to stay in touch, thread with me, or just follow my writing, I’m spending a lot of time these days RPing as Daryl Dixon from The Walking Dead.
Come find me @boltsandashes!
Until you heal the wounds of your past, you are going to bleed. You can bandage the bleeding with food, with alcohol, with drugs, with work, with cigarettes, with sex; but eventually it will all ooze through and stain your life. You must find the strength to open the wounds, stick your hand inside, pull out the core of the pain that is holding you in your past - the memories - and make peace with them.
Iyanla Yanzant
cagedshewolf:
Talia sipped on her tea as she listened to Derek explain the girl. “Really? Thats pretty impressive to have on hand. I would like to meet her and see if we can find anything.”
She could tell there was tension between the two.
Deaton nodded. “I can, I’ll tell her to come here. Keep you away from town for now until we know.” He said looking at Talia before leaving.
Talia looked over at Derek. “Don’t risk your life trying to bring him back here, it’s not worth it. Tell him I want to meet him.”
Derek nodded at the command, taking her words in. He wished he could say that Peter wouldn’t hurt him, but he’d dealt with his uncle long enough to admit that he never knew what to expect from him.
“I’ll be back soon,” he said, and then hesitated. “In the meantime...” He crossed a few steps to his coffee table and picked up his laptop, opening up a few tabs before setting it on the counter next to her. “That’s... Cora’s Instagram, Jackson’s Facebook. Just, if you feel like looking.”
He didn’t stop to see if she’d take the offer. She deserved the chance to see what her kids grew up like, but it might hurt to look. He just met her eyes for a beat, smiled faintly, and then headed out in search of Peter’s newest hideout.
A Little Darkness | Closed
fantasticalstiles:
“Look at you. You are so blinded that you can’t even entertain the thought that this is who I really am!”
Setting the bowl aside, Stiles stepped closer and narrowed his eyes.
“Because to you I’m just the human. The sidekick. Did you ever think I don’t want to be the sidekick? That I want to be powerful?”
His voice was a roar as he advanced toward Derek.
“I am powerful! Do you see all this? I did this! I did this magic, I DID THIS!”
He laughed and reached out, hand encircling Derek’s throat.
“And you brought me the final part of the spell. One werewolf heart.”
He gave what would have been a charming smile, if his eyes weren’t black and his skin covered in soot.
“So come here, little Derek. Let me have it. Let me have your heart.”
Have your heart.
Despite the blackness in his eyes, despite the threat, despite everything, somehow that’s what made Derek’s breath falter. He didn’t fight Stiles’ hand on his throat, swallowing roughly, eyes drifting pained and searching over Stiles’ face.
He knew that feeling, that need for power. The way the fear and the hurt built up and clawed through you until all you could think about was getting strong enough to beat down anything that might threaten you. He’d spent more than six years in that space. Constant fear, constant anger, constant need to be better, stronger, like that would help him heal.
How the hell had he missed Stiles sliding into that same place?
“If you need to do that,” he managed, voice strained, “then go ahead. But Stiles, it’s not gonna make you feel any better. It might help for a day, a few weeks, but that fear’s gonna start creeping its way back in. That feeling like it’s not enough, that itch to get stronger. I thought I needed to be an Alpha, then I thought I needed a pack, then I thought I needed to train them all to be soldiers and it never felt like enough. And, trust me, this won’t either.”
Elayne looked up slowly at the voice, noticing Derek was now staring at her. A blush rushed to her cheeks in embarrassment before she looked down slowly at her leg. It looked better then last night but it was still weak. She should have been more careful. Or maybe, less forgetful.
“Yeah. Yeah! Totally.” She said as she tried to pick herself up, not wanting to ask for help. In her eyes, she was already a pain in Derek’s side.
Of course, it didn’t really work. She winced when her body didn’t want to work with her, leaving her on the floor. Letting out a sigh, she looked up slowly at Derek before raising her hand up to him.
“Could you…help me up? Please?”
It was harder to press down on the smile this time, watching Elayne struggle and fail to rise up.
Stubborn.
He crossed toward her when she finally put out her hand, taking it and gently lifting her to her feet.
“Come on, back to the couch.” He resisted the urge to straight up lift her, bracing her arm over his shoulder and helping her hobble back. “What were you willing to risk your stitches to walk to?”
cagedshewolf:
Allison looked over at him from the dress rack. Her mind wandered as she mindlessly searched the dresses. It was when Derek came over to her that she snapped out of her deep thoughts.
She smiled softly at him and looked at the clothes in his arms. “Try on the suit and see how it fits.” Allison grabbed a dress and head back into the changing rooms.
It would take her a couple moments to change into the long dark grey gown. Without heels it pooled at her feet. Allison stepped out to look in a mirror, the back was opened all the way down her back and had thin straps on her shoulders. With a quick action she pulled her hair up to get a good look at the dress.
It only took a minute to change into the suit but Derek let himself linger in the dressing room, leaning against the wall and just... resettling.
His head was still a mess, the weeks of abuse and conditioning still scratching around under the surface. Being with Allison had helped, had snapped him back to himself, but that kind of trauma didn’t just go away and part of him worried that the second he got back into one of those auctions he’d snap back into that mindset –– wild, half-feral. Broken.
He needed to hold it together. Allison needed him to hold it together.
He sank his eyes shut and tilted his head back, pulling in a steadying breath. Her scent was mingled in the air, familiar and grounding. It took him a second to lock onto her heartbeat amidst all the other shoppers but when he found it he locked on, counted out a dozen beats, letting the rhythm settle him. He had an ally. He could trust her. She wouldn’t let him get stuck in one of those places again.
Calmer, he elbowed off the wall and stepped out of the dressing room. The sight of Allison startled him back to stillness and he tilted his head, scanning down her bare back to the pooled dress.
Clearing his throat, he met her gaze in the mirror.
“Can still fight in that?” he asked, voice a little rough.
“We really are resetting the mythology, essentially, of who Bumblebee is. And so, that seemed to us to be appropriate, to get the chance to hear what he sounds like… Dylan has that great quality in his voice of youthful exuberance, and also sort of trustworthiness. I think those are the two qualities that we wanted Bumblebee to have.” - Lorenzo di Bonaventura (producer) X X X X X
A Little Darkness | Closed
fantasticalstiles:
In the back of his mind Stiles knew fire was a low blow, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. He was too busy regathering ingredients and trying to redo the spell. Derek was unimportant in that moment.
Dropping the ingredients into the bowl, Stiles started chanting the spell once more. The words were thick and heavy on his tongue and he struggled to keep focus.
“What am I doing? What am I doing…”
A dark chuckle passed his lips as Stiles turned to face Derek. His eyes were still black, his hands clutching the bowl.
“I’m making sure that this side of me stays out. Forever. No more soft and fragile human. No more broken bones. No more plaid shirts and sneakers and crushes on stupid werewolves.”
He paused to glare at Derek.
“Just this…clear, unhindered, unaltered power.”
The mix inside the bowl went up in smoke and he laughed as he watched it.
The black of Stiles’ eyes made Derek’s heart clench, breath stuttering and hitching quicker. Everything about this moment was wrong. Stiles’ tone, his words, his tattoos shifting half-alive over his skin.
There were things in those words that sank in like barbs, hooking into Derek’s skin and tugging until he couldn’t even see the wounds under the mess of blood.
He shook his head, pulling in another acrid breath.
“Stiles wouldn’t talk like this. Stiles doesn’t want any of that.” He had to believe that. He couldn’t entertain the thought of this being Stiles. But then... “What are you, a spirit, demon?”
People who ignore you - until it suits them to talk you - aren’t worth your time or your friendship.
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When both your muses’ names start with D.
trust the instinct || closed
roleplay-junkie:
Stiles followed the other into the room, concern growing when he got a better look of Lydia. She was so pale and sweaty, the frown on her face signalling that she was in pain. It seemed like she was fighting, much like Stiles would expect from someone like Lydia. Frankly, even if her body had been to weak to accept the bite, he was quite sure she would have fought through that as well. There was nothing Lydia couldn’t do, not even in the uncharted territory of the supernatural world and it gave Stiles hope that he could figure it out too.
He still would have loved to sit down beside her bed and hold her hand until she woke up, just to make sure that she was alright and well to help her adjust to the new being she would soon turn into. Especially when Derek began to explain that her change was basically taking to long and despite him saying that she wasn’t dying, the teen could still sense a certain confusion coming from the other. Still, as long as he was sure that Lydia wasn’t dying, their mission had been a success and Stiles could rest peacefully.
“Good, that’s all we needed to know. Now let’s get out of here before a nurse comes to check on her”, Stiles said. “There’s nothing we can do until she wakes up anyway, right?”
Derek nodded reluctantly, letting his hand drop from the girl’s forehead and falling a step back. Part of him wanted to stay here, confirm what was happening with her. She felt off in a way that grated on his instincts and pulled at him at the same time.
But Stiles was right, waiting wouldn’t do anything at this point. She was going to turn on her own time, and staying here would only raise questions. And the kind of questions that a recent murder suspect would get from standing over an injured teenage girl’s bed? Were the last things Derek needed right now.
“Yeah, let’s go,” he agreed, and forced himself back to the door.
trust the instinct || closed
roleplay-junkie:
Lydia’s room wasn’t hard to find, at least not for Stiles who could probably navigate through those cursed halls with his eyes blindfolded. It was a little harder not to be seen, but by using the stairs Stiles managed to avoid the majority of the employee’s and made it to her room unrecognized. Once there, Stiles didn’t dare go in, instead looking at Lydia through the little window into the room. She looked pale, sickly so, and so strangely fragile. He’d never seen the girl look that vulnerable before and frankly, it scared the crap out of Stiles.
She had dark circles under her eyes and her strawberry blonde hair – the very one Stiles had admired a million times over – was full of dirt and glued to her face with sweat. Despite it all, she still managed to look beautiful and Stiles seriously began to wonder where his genetics had gone wrong and theirs (being Derek and Lydia, namely) had gone so very, very right. Luckily, Derek distracted him from said thoughts by appearing right behind him. “I see you freed yourself from the clutches of the cougar”, Stiles teased. “So…is she turning?”
Derek padded softly past Stiles, peering through the window into the room. The girl looked vaguely familiar, and it took a few seconds to click where he’d seen her –– in front of the movie rental store after the Alpha attack (Peter’s attack). She’d been shaken then but too smart for her own good, and Derek wondered if that had something to do with why Peter had targeted her now. The same way he’d spared Jackson that night.
Something else was still going on with Peter, some bigger play he couldn’t put his finger on yet, and that, like everything else these days it seemed like, made his gut twist sickly. This girl being attacked, that was his fault for letting Peter keep running unchecked. If she died here, that was on him too.
He shook his head.
“No way to know from out here.” And he pushed open the door and went in, not looking to see if Stiles followed. All his attention was fixated on this pale girl. Like another pale girl, seven years ago with knowing dark eyes and pained whimpers.
He swallowed, and forced himself to circle closer.
The room smelled of medicine and sweat, chemicals threatening to burn his nostrils on each inhale. But she didn’t smell like Paige had. There was no black blood choking up.
“She’s not dying.” He felt sure of that. With Paige, it’d been almost immediate, and Lydia had been bitten last night. If the bite were killing her, she’d be dead by now. Or close to it.
But she didn’t look like she was turning either.
Derek reached out and felt her forehead. Feverish, clammy. Her pulse thrummed quick and thready in her veins, and her body was definitely fighting something. Or fighting towards something, maybe.
“The change...” He faltered, brows pinching. “It takes longer with some people. Sixteen hours is longest I’ve ever heard of.” Most people were closer to four or five hours, but... “That must be what this is.”
He wished he could sound surer, but as much as he’d studied and knew the lore and grown up around werewolves, he’d only ever actually seen four people take the bite. An aunt when he was young, an outsider who’d petitioned his mom for the bite when he was in middle school, Paige, and now Stiles.
What he was seeing with Lydia didn’t exactly seem to fit any of that, but there were only two options and he was sure Lydia wasn’t dying.
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