#type: thread.

[condolesco-blog]

❝     YOU KNOW,   you don’t have to call me that every time you see me.    ❞

@mourneful

[condolesco-blog]

@softwoes sent: ‘hello darling, welcome home.’  from stiles to isaac.

❝     YOU’RE HOME EARLY.    ❞    suspicion laces your tone,  a single brow raised as you glance around the room looking for something that’s wrong.   something has to be wrong.   stiles is being nice.  too nice which means he’s clearly either done something wrong or he’s up to something.   you sniff the air,  checking for the lingering scent of smoke or something.   you glance back toward him,   eyes squinted  (an action you’ve picked up from him).    ❝    what the hell did you do?    ❞

[condolesco-blog]

@xenovair​ sent:  ‘you deserve a break.’  to scott.

❝     YEAH,  MAYBE.    ❞    maybe you deserve a chance to breathe.   maybe the boy who lays his life on the line day after day in a war he never asked for deserves some time to rest.   but that’s not how the world works,   that’s not how this town has ever worked.    you’re the alpha  (the true alpha at that)  and you always have to be in the battle,  you always have to be fighting even when your limbs are aching,  even when you’re bleeding out and feel like you’ve got nothing left.   they say the head that wears the crown is heavy,  and oh god,  your neck is aching,  dear boy.   

 ❝     but i can’t take one.   people are———  they’re hurting.  and they need help.  they need my help.   what’s the point of having this power if i don’t use it to help people?    ❞    you’re not just your power,   you forget this sometimes.   you forget you’re just a boy,  just a teenager trying to survive not atlas trying to shoulder the world.  sometimes you think everyone else has forgotten you’re just a child too,  they expect so much from you and you give them everything you have.   you wonder what happens when you give everything,   when you’ve got nothing left to give   (you’ll keep fighting,  a voice that sounds like your mother says inside your head,  you’ll keep giving them hope.  it’ll bleed from you.  but you’ll still be giving them hope).

❝     i can’t stop,  sierra.  i think i’ve forgotten how.    ❞

[condolesco-blog]

@softwoes sent: ‘can i hug you?’  from scott to isaac.

❝    WHAT?    ❞    you can’t remember the last time someone ask your permission to touch you,  let alone hug you.    eyes are widened,   the oceans of your hues swimming with confusion,  fear bleeding into them too.  what if it’s a trap?  don’t you remember your father?   the way he’d be kind for a moment so you’d let down your defences,  so you’d trust him,  then he’d hurt you.    don't you remember how he laughed?  don't you remember how pathetic you were?

don’t you remember that you can’t trust anyone?  your hands are shaking,   you can’t remember a time when they weren’t that you didn’t have a paint brush in your hand.   you inhale shakily,   hand lifting to rub at the upper arm of your other one.   you probably reek of anxiety,  of confusion,  of fear.   

but something inside your heart tugs the arm down,  something inside of you  (the empty part,  the part that wants and wants and wants despite the fact you know boys like you don’t deserve to be touched by boys like him,  despite the fact you know you’ll never deserve the love he hands out so freely)  is desperate to be touched,  to be held,  to feel loved,  even if it’s only for a fleeting moment,  even if it isn’t real.

❝     i,  uh———  sure.  i guess.    ❞    you wonder if he notices the way your voice shakes.  you wonder if he knows how much courage it takes to trust him.   you wonder if he knows how few times you’ve been held in the last decade.    ❝     if you want to.    ❞   

[condolesco-blog]

@mourneful​ sent:  ‘i am not your enemy.’  from aidan to scott.

❝     AND I’M NOT YOURS.    ❞     in an ideal world,   you wouldn’t be anyones enemy.  in an ideal world,  you’d just be a boy,  just a boy who loves his friends and his mother.  in an ideal world,  you wouldn’t be haunted by the looming threat of death every single day.   you look human,   but you’re not,  you haven’t been in a long time.  you allow your eyes to shine red,  but you keep the fangs and claws hidden,  mostly so you don’t scare him.   you’ve had too many people see the pointed end of them and they instantly think monster,  they instantly think threat.    

❝     but my friends don’t trust you.   so,   i need you to put away the knives and stuff,  okay?  i need to know you and your friends aren’t gonna kill mine.   we’re just teenagers.   we’re not monsters.   but——    ❞   you step closer,  hands raised in surrender,  a hopefully clear indication that you mean no harm.    ❝     we might need your help with the actual monsters.   we can be allies.  this doesn’t have to be a blood-bath.    ❞