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[What's the complete worst time to text someone - some late night early morning hybrid hour, likely waking them out of a blissful sleep? It's something like that, where it's still dark out in the woods where Tate's been hanging out tonight on his own. He had his bag up on the platform, where he worked on the standing wall a bit before the sun went down. Things were fucking fine before he fell - he's still not entirely sure what happened but he knows he did hit his head and he definitely fucked his arm.
One of those healed, the other did not. He still had a dull headache and the sticky warmth of blood on his brow when he one-handedly texted Derek, rubbing his thumb over a cracked screen. His first time breaking a device like this, pretty cool. Would seem cooler if his arm wasn't, well. Whatever it fucking was.]
h h u h?
d e rkk
der ekk?
u awwakke?
phonnes brookee
ffuckk
One of those healed, the other did not. He still had a dull headache and the sticky warmth of blood on his brow when he one-handedly texted Derek, rubbing his thumb over a cracked screen. His first time breaking a device like this, pretty cool. Would seem cooler if his arm wasn't, well. Whatever it fucking was.]
h h u h?
d e rkk
der ekk?
u awwakke?
phonnes brookee
ffuckk
[ without a job anymore to look forward to at least a few times out of the week, stiles gets... very bored. very easily. sometimes he'll go out, try to find something to do, hunt for a job he'll probably end up hating, but his negative encounter with a cashier in a shop in down still kind of grates at his nerves, so more often than not, he's been spending a lot of time at home.
there's plenty to do. he could work on trying to manipulate some mountain ash. he could work on successfully replicating the formula for his adderall, considering he's starting to run low on his current supply and he doesn't have a backup that he actually trusts.
instead, he's lying on the couch, with a red face and watery eyes, and he texts derek two simple words: ]
I'm dying.
there's plenty to do. he could work on trying to manipulate some mountain ash. he could work on successfully replicating the formula for his adderall, considering he's starting to run low on his current supply and he doesn't have a backup that he actually trusts.
instead, he's lying on the couch, with a red face and watery eyes, and he texts derek two simple words: ]
I'm dying.
bbeacch
[Maybe this wouldn't seem so bizarre to text to Derek by now if his phone wasn't still obliterated from the accident in the woods, but he's running on fury and adrenaline after his run in with Kavinsky. He doesn't know where to go to cure the feeling in his chest, this twisting knot of agonizing upset. He's mad, he's - embarrassed, furious, spiteful... tired and exhausted, too.
He just focuses on getting to the beach, thumbing away the chipped pieces of his screen that come loose along the way.]
[Maybe this wouldn't seem so bizarre to text to Derek by now if his phone wasn't still obliterated from the accident in the woods, but he's running on fury and adrenaline after his run in with Kavinsky. He doesn't know where to go to cure the feeling in his chest, this twisting knot of agonizing upset. He's mad, he's - embarrassed, furious, spiteful... tired and exhausted, too.
He just focuses on getting to the beach, thumbing away the chipped pieces of his screen that come loose along the way.]
so i got my phone fixed
[As you can tell.]
but i also got something else. in the mail.
[As you can tell.]
but i also got something else. in the mail.
[ it's like. 10AM, almost 11. stiles has been awake since early this morning, when he got up with derek so they could feed the cat together before derek had to leave for work, like they've been doing ever since derek expressed wanting to have a better relationship with their new feline friend. he spent about an hour and a half after derek left just lazing on the couch in the living room, drifting in and out of sleep for ten or so minutes at a time.
and then he got a text. and then he checked the mail, thumping down the front steps in his pjs. and then he got a citation. his very first one, for shit he doesn't even remember doing. not that 'dissenting conversation' is unfamiliar where stiles is concerned, but he's been smart about it. he's tried to be better about watching his tongue, especially in public - but this is ridiculous.
stiles doesn't do anything about it at first. he opens the envelope, and he reads it, and he swears out loud in the silence of the den. throws the white and red paper down on the kitchen island and pours himself some cereal in a coffee mug because he's not really that hungry, but he knows he should probably eat something before he forgets and goes the whole day without eating anything at all.
he doesn't text derek until almost two, after he's showered and changed his clothes and tried to watch a movie and ignored the piece of mail he left on the counter in the kitchen. he can see the folded paper fluttering minutely every time a draft blows through the den, like it's waving at him. like, hey. i'm still here. you're fucked.
stiles pauses the movie he hasn't payed any attention to, and texts derek from the couch. he's mad, so his thumb and bumping against the screen a little to hard, but who's gonna tell him to calm down? no one. ]
If you have plans after work
You need to cancel them.
[ well that's not like stiles. he's not one to command derek to do anything. he asks, or he makes suggestions, and if he does give any kind of orders, it's because someone else is being stupid or reckless, or because he's trying to protect someone.
today, he's just pissed. ]
and then he got a text. and then he checked the mail, thumping down the front steps in his pjs. and then he got a citation. his very first one, for shit he doesn't even remember doing. not that 'dissenting conversation' is unfamiliar where stiles is concerned, but he's been smart about it. he's tried to be better about watching his tongue, especially in public - but this is ridiculous.
stiles doesn't do anything about it at first. he opens the envelope, and he reads it, and he swears out loud in the silence of the den. throws the white and red paper down on the kitchen island and pours himself some cereal in a coffee mug because he's not really that hungry, but he knows he should probably eat something before he forgets and goes the whole day without eating anything at all.
he doesn't text derek until almost two, after he's showered and changed his clothes and tried to watch a movie and ignored the piece of mail he left on the counter in the kitchen. he can see the folded paper fluttering minutely every time a draft blows through the den, like it's waving at him. like, hey. i'm still here. you're fucked.
stiles pauses the movie he hasn't payed any attention to, and texts derek from the couch. he's mad, so his thumb and bumping against the screen a little to hard, but who's gonna tell him to calm down? no one. ]
If you have plans after work
You need to cancel them.
[ well that's not like stiles. he's not one to command derek to do anything. he asks, or he makes suggestions, and if he does give any kind of orders, it's because someone else is being stupid or reckless, or because he's trying to protect someone.
today, he's just pissed. ]
hey i'm running an errand and
there's someone in the treehouse rn. don't go up til im back
u'll scare the shit outta her
wont take me more than half an hour
but i know u were gonna go fix the wall
so. don't.
there's someone in the treehouse rn. don't go up til im back
u'll scare the shit outta her
wont take me more than half an hour
but i know u were gonna go fix the wall
so. don't.
if i were to send nudes
what's. the norm. for this.
what exactly do you like, personally?
what's. the norm. for this.
what exactly do you like, personally?
i need to talk to you. about a couple of things. but first: thanks for helping Reggie out.
Edited 2019-06-20 18:35 (UTC)
hey, so
got a sec?
it's about tomorrow
got a sec?
it's about tomorrow
[He's been through this once already so it's not really new, but the nerves he has are on account of the situation that got him here. Swapping Doms, dealing with loose ends, forfeiting a sudden freeness automatically to appease someone whose opinion he thrives on. He needs to placate Derek the same way he placated Kavinsky if he wants his life to stay the way it is and not dissolve any further.
They're signing. A wad of paperwork gets flicked through with things omitted and added in lingo he doesn't pay all that much attention to. Aside from checking his consent, they still have a way of speaking only to the Dominant in the situation, perhaps expecting him to dumb it down for Tate like a Dominant should spoon feed their sub. Tate ends up rolling his eyes and looking away, only looking back when it's time to sign his name.
Three months. October 13th will be when their contract ends. Derek graced him with the non-suffocating option of not immediately going for something permanent, if only to provide the illusion of choice. Tate has no choice. He has to sign or else he loses Derek and he knows that, hence the signing. His dark eyes are thoughtful when he looks back to Derek, his expression betraying his idle boredom as things conclude. A license is provided for the two of them and Derek (and only Derek,) is offered a celebratory handshake.
Tate just sticks his hands in the pockets of his jacket and heads outside, itching for a cigarette and leaving Derek to further conclude any of the matters inside. He bunches up the license and jams it into the inner pocket of his jacket, to be forgotten about but carried on his person 'til death do them fucking part.]
They're signing. A wad of paperwork gets flicked through with things omitted and added in lingo he doesn't pay all that much attention to. Aside from checking his consent, they still have a way of speaking only to the Dominant in the situation, perhaps expecting him to dumb it down for Tate like a Dominant should spoon feed their sub. Tate ends up rolling his eyes and looking away, only looking back when it's time to sign his name.
Three months. October 13th will be when their contract ends. Derek graced him with the non-suffocating option of not immediately going for something permanent, if only to provide the illusion of choice. Tate has no choice. He has to sign or else he loses Derek and he knows that, hence the signing. His dark eyes are thoughtful when he looks back to Derek, his expression betraying his idle boredom as things conclude. A license is provided for the two of them and Derek (and only Derek,) is offered a celebratory handshake.
Tate just sticks his hands in the pockets of his jacket and heads outside, itching for a cigarette and leaving Derek to further conclude any of the matters inside. He bunches up the license and jams it into the inner pocket of his jacket, to be forgotten about but carried on his person 'til death do them fucking part.]
[Around the time this is going down - Tate sucks in a breath before sending out this text.]
is it ok if i bring company to the tree house?
you met peter before. he's cool.
is it ok if i bring company to the tree house?
you met peter before. he's cool.
[Been lots of texting going on this past two weeks but this - this text is probably the hardest to send. Tate's not seeking out advice and guidance, he's not trying to be reassured. He's trying to break the news of something without really doing it. But it'd be harder to do in person, so much stranger in person, that he has to do it this way. He doesn't know where to start. It's not a big deal, right?]
are you coming over tonight?
i forget if we made those plans or not.
are you coming over tonight?
i forget if we made those plans or not.
( Before he was Crested, before Tumenalia, he'd given Derek's offer real thought. Not just because of their night in the bar, but because he knows what it's like to be a lone Omega, and for Ethan, a lone Alpha. They'd formed their own pack, just the two of them, but it was enough for Jackson. Here in the city, he had Emma and Bellamy - and maybe even Octavia, but they weren't Pack, not with a capital P. He'd hurt Emma when he'd told her he didn't have anyone in the city, but he meant it how a wolf would mean it.
While every bone in his body is telling him to accept Derek as his Alpha, despite Derek's first round, there are still memories, and doubts holding him back. Emma had told him to not accept it just because he thought he had to. That's not a reason to do anything. Except, living here is having to, and he's sucking at it.
He still has no contract.
At least he's found an avenue he wants to pursue. It passes the time and occupies his mind.
Derek's offer still sits at the back of his mind. The sex is irrelevant, and he chalks it up to the festival. It's not the only sex he had, but it is the sex that doesn't make him throw up in his mouth. Eventually, he'll have to separate responsibility and the loss of control. But, this is only his second month. He doesn't know where Derek is living. He doesn't know if he cares. He likes him, more than he ever did back in Beacon Hills, but is Derek being more tolerable because he wants Jackson as his Beta? Or, because Jackson is better? Different? More deserving?
It's easy to forget how confident he had become in himself. In his relationship. In his life in London. He needs that again.
The question that is irking him is will being a part of a Pack help him towards that goal. )
Do you remember when I asked you for the bite the first time
You told me to meet you in your family's ( shitty, decrepit, all words he doesn't need to use adjective-wise in this moment, but they still sit there on the edge of his fingertips ) burned down house
Do you remember what happened after?
While every bone in his body is telling him to accept Derek as his Alpha, despite Derek's first round, there are still memories, and doubts holding him back. Emma had told him to not accept it just because he thought he had to. That's not a reason to do anything. Except, living here is having to, and he's sucking at it.
He still has no contract.
At least he's found an avenue he wants to pursue. It passes the time and occupies his mind.
Derek's offer still sits at the back of his mind. The sex is irrelevant, and he chalks it up to the festival. It's not the only sex he had, but it is the sex that doesn't make him throw up in his mouth. Eventually, he'll have to separate responsibility and the loss of control. But, this is only his second month. He doesn't know where Derek is living. He doesn't know if he cares. He likes him, more than he ever did back in Beacon Hills, but is Derek being more tolerable because he wants Jackson as his Beta? Or, because Jackson is better? Different? More deserving?
It's easy to forget how confident he had become in himself. In his relationship. In his life in London. He needs that again.
The question that is irking him is will being a part of a Pack help him towards that goal. )
Do you remember when I asked you for the bite the first time
You told me to meet you in your family's ( shitty, decrepit, all words he doesn't need to use adjective-wise in this moment, but they still sit there on the edge of his fingertips ) burned down house
Do you remember what happened after?
Edited (i want to murder html) 2019-12-05 03:38 (UTC)
i was going to ask yesterday but i didn't want to do it on fucking valentine's
but i think, if you still want to? it might be a good idea to go through with signing
if you want. whatever
but i think, if you still want to? it might be a good idea to go through with signing
if you want. whatever
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