calloused: ғᴀᴏʟᴀᴅʜ (30.)
ᴅᴇʀᴇᴋ ʜᴀʟᴇ ♔ ([personal profile] calloused) wrote2019-01-19 03:09 pm
Entry tags:

▶ ic contact



Derek Hale. Leave a message.

( video / text / voice / action )

confiscated: (⇀ jaded glass)

[personal profile] confiscated 2020-08-13 06:13 am (UTC)(link)
you are also technically kind of my bitch, if it helps
only it's socially acceptable to let you rail me

provided you can find and catch me.
it's ok if u don't think u can
we can just let u rail me without the foreplay
confiscated: (⇀ read through the words)

[personal profile] confiscated 2020-08-13 06:16 am (UTC)(link)
suit urself
i guess i'll just go to bed.
confiscated: (⇀ than life lost)

[personal profile] confiscated 2020-08-13 06:21 am (UTC)(link)
hey, at least give me to the count of 69

takes a few seconds to strip it all off and hide
confiscated: (⇀ from calloused hands)

[personal profile] confiscated 2020-08-13 04:07 pm (UTC)(link)
[Derek arrives and the treehouse is predictably empty, but it lingers with a few clues of what Tate was doing precisely leading up to that arrival. His sweater is on the bed, still faintly warm - scented of him with Derek's underlying tones on account of how he was wearing a stolen henley below it. Which is discarded to the side, headed down the steps to the loft where at the top sit the rest of his clothes.

A can of still fizzing soda is on the counter in the kitchen, next to a half-eaten sandwich. Beady eyes peer out from under the sofa, a little black claw reaching out if Derek should come near enough - batting at his bootlaces before clicking in a silent chirp. Probably trying to tell him what he can't see or sense - that Tate's standing unseen in the corner, a wisp of energy, watching Derek with wide brown eyes.

When Derek's across the room proper, that's when Tate does the most cliche thing he can think of and bats a book of the ledge next to him. Poltergeist style. Then he moves out of the way to go stand elsewhere.]