asacrificialheart-blog

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question:

Is there any known way to cut the posts when replying via mobile? I thought I used to be able to but now I can’t remember how. 

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goingtosave:

For a second, there’s the smallest part of Scott that wants to accept. He thinks that may mostly be because the offer must mean Sam really isn’t leaving to get away from him forever, right? Unless it’s a bluff, knowing Scott won’t take him up on it, but Scott tries to be optimistic.

He stares straight ahead for a moment, before slowly shaking his head. 

“You know I can’t leave.”

Sam nods because even before he’d offered, he knew what the answer would be. But he also wanted to put it out there, to make it clear to Scott that if he chose to leave, to get away from all this bullshit, he’d always have a place with Sam.  They’re brothers. That’s what they’re supposed to do.  “I’m gonna call you and text you and Facetime you so much, it’ll still be like I’m here annoying the crap out of you,” Sam promises. 

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volatilehearted:

By the time Scott gets there, Stiles has definitely gotten himself naked. He’s also gotten a good headstart on getting hard, so seeing Scott naked and shadowing the doorframe is a welcome sight. Stiles even gives off his own faint growl, murmuring, “Fuckin’ good.”

He’s so ready to have his ass torn up, in part because Stiles knows Scott won’t actually use more roughness than Stiles can handle. It’ll be just enough, the perfect edge, like it always is.

Scott is on Stiles in a minute, but despite his promise of tearing things up, he’s careful not to put too much of his weight on the other while he leans down to kiss and suck at Stiles’ neck, teeth dragging lightly over pale white skin with Scott’s need to mark and to claim. “Tell me how much you want it,” he murmurs against Stiles’ skin. “Tell me you need it.” 

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volatilehearted:

Almost self-consciously, Stiles lifts one hand to touch his cheek after Scott’s done. This results in him scratching faintly at his jawline and the sort-of stubble that is, indeed, lining it. “…huh. I wonder if I just stayed in here long enough if I’d get to like thirty. Actually that sounds awful, let’s skip.”

He looks down at the egg he’s currently sort of squatting in, and makes an unsure sound. “…uh. Gimmie your hand and maybe. I’m not making any promises. I’m probably just gonna bust through it by mistake.”

“Yeah, one hundred percent, let’s not do that.” Because just waiting for Stiles to get back to 18 is the worst thing ever. Scott doesn’t think that he’d survive waiting until thirty.  But luckily, Scott knows that as impatient as Stiles is, he’d likely never last that long either, so. Moot point. He holds his hand out for the other, letting Stiles take it in an effort to climb out without completely decimating the rest of the egg shell. Not that Scott really cares either way. It’d make for easier clean up, sure, but Scott will gladly pick egg shells out of his toes for the rest of eternity as long as it means that he gets to have Stiles again.  He doesn’t even flinch at the sight of Stiles’ wiener anymore.

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when you accidentally disappear again. whoops! 

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volatilehearted:

Bingo. Date night is going to come early–or maybe it’s just them that’s going to come early, since Stiles refuses to give up the idea of date night. Either way, he makes an eager, excited sound, and kind of lunges towards their bedroom, perfectly happy to let Scott take care of the baby’s bedtime this once.

That’s because he has to get into their room and strip down, so that he is as ready and waiting for Scott as he can be.

Scott is so very grateful that their daughter is as willing to go to bed as Scott is to put her there. He barely gets her in her crib and tucked in before she’s tugging her favorite blanket closer and rolling over, eyes already closed. She coos up at him as he wishes her a good night with a kiss pressed against the forehead and he backs out slowly, turning the night light on as he goes. And then it is on. He’s sure Stiles can hear him as he comes back down the hallway to their bedroom and he’s kicking his clothes off as he goes, so by the time he throws the door open, he’s standing there butt ass naked, hands on his hips.  “I am gonna tear your ass up,” he growls, and there’s a hint of red in his gaze, of want and need because it’s been so dang long.  And then, Scott pounces. 

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volatilehearted:

“How is it even better than Christmas, you have me all the time, you’ve had me for years, you get new stuff at Christmas.” Stiles doesn’t actually put too much of a fight about the concept; he’s starting to slowly pick up on how Scott seems to feel about him, starting to realize it isn’t that different from how Stiles feels about Scott.

He tries to focus on shredding the egg, pushing out pieces of the shell with more and more strength as time goes on and he starts breathing air instead of egg goop again. By this point, he’s kind of relying on the idea of Scott helping him clean up the shards of the shell, half-laughing as he manages to sit up, his butt still hidden by his egg. “…You think? Do I look older? More refined?”

Scott huffs out a laugh and reaches out to poke Stiles’ cheek. “You’ve got that patchy hair thing going on,” Scott says instead, and he finally, reluctantly, pulls away from the egg to grab the pants that Scott’s had waiting since Stiles went up in a puff of smoke. “You think you can manage to climb the rest of the way out without completely demolishing the rest of it?” He asks, gesturing the egg, because that would make clean up so much more easy. Of course, he knows that’s asking a lot of Stiles who isn’t exactly... the most graceful being in the universe. “Do you need help?” 

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goingtosave:

Scott cringes when Sam says this isn’t about him, because it sounds like an added insult, and he’s oversensitive right now. What he says, though, is, “you never even told me you changed your mind about living with Dad.”

In San Francisco. Which is at least only a long drive away instead of a long plane ride. It feels like Sam decided it was too close.

Then he’s in the middle of saying, “you’re already somethi–” when Sam asks him to go along. That shuts him up entirely, and he stares at his brother with wide eyes. 

“…Are you serious?”

“I mean, yeah.” At least they’d start on even footing if they went together. Sam could enact a very strict no supernatural stuff rule, which honestly, Scott probably needs if only for a break from all the bullshit he puts up with on the daily, BS that is likely going to follow him if he stays in the great state of California. “Syracuse is just... something that kind of happened, Scotty. But it feels right. It feels like that’s where I need to be.” He imagines he’ll at least feel more at home there, all the way across the country, than he ever would living with their father anyway.  “I don’t know what’s right for you. But if you aren’t sure and you wanna come with me, then do it.” 

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ooc.

even though i hate it, the best part about going to the gym in the morning is that i have time to do my replies before i have to get ready for work :D 

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goingtosave:

As usual, Scott’s guilt complex rears its ugly head once again. He keeps trying to stomp it down, allow himself to be upset over this because doesn’t he deserve a little selfishness once a year? It’s what Stiles tells him, anyway.

He just feels like such a bad brother. But maybe he is, maybe that’s part of why Sam is leaving.

Very quietly, just above a whisper, he ends up asking, “what did I do wrong?”

“Scotty,” Sam groans and he drops his head back like this is the worst thing ever and maybe it is. It sucks though because Sam doesn’t have the same guilt complex that Scott does, not even close, but when it comes to his brother, he always ends up feeling guilty. Right now, that feeling is pretty much maxed out, like Sam’s not sure it could get any worse. “This isn’t--. This isn’t because of you! If they had the same program out here with the same kind of reputation, I’d stay.” He’d been just as surprised about getting in to Syracuse as anyone else, had mostly only applied on a whim but once he realized it was an actual thing, he couldn’t turn it down. “I just. I wanna make something of myself, you know? I wanna be able to get a job where I can help take care of mom too and I want... I want to actually be something,” which is telling enough that Sam mostly feels like he’s nothing here.  “Come with me,” he offers then. “Take a year off, come with me, reapply to somewhere out there.”

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lcbrat:

He’s aware that it’s a scholarship, but Duran still isn’t swayed by the explanation. He’s not going to show it, because he can also see it’s important to Sam. Plus, it’s not like he’ll never see Sam again. It just hurts that Sam doesn’t want to be in Beacon Hills anymore, especially when Duran can’t go visit him as well. All of it hurts too much, and he’s not sure any conversation will be helpful.

“You’ll call, won’t you?” He asks, putting on a smile. It’s fake though. “You’ll call and text when you can? Not every day, but only if you want.” He wants to tack on how he feels, again, but Sam doesn’t need to be overwhelmed. “And hey, I’ve got your back. I don’t like it, but I can tell you want to go, so I support you.”

“Dude, I’m gonna call and text you so much you get tired of me,” Sam promises and he moves to sit by Duran because he really does like him. “We can skype too, if you want. You’re gonna get so sick of seeing my face and hearing my voice it’ll be just like I’m still here,” he promises. And he means it. Sam isn’t overly earnest about many things, but in this moment, it’s clear that he means it, that he wants to make this work out. “I’ll even write you like, legit letters if you’re into that kind of thing.” 

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volatilehearted:

“Ohhhh Goddddd, I can’t wait, I want date night now.” Stiles is immediately squirmy, not doing anything at all to lighten the load of that look when Scott aims it back at him. “It’s been a century, Scotty, I ache for you.”

He really doesn’t seem to have any sense of what’s appropriate to say around the infant.

“Stiles,” Scott hisses and he moves to try to cover Callie’s ears as much as possible as he rounds into the bathroom, but despite chastising the other, there’s something else in his voice as well.  Something that clearly says Scott feels the same way, but there’s not much he can do about it while holding their daughter. “Let me... let me at least get her cleaned up and put to bed.” Because Callie’s tired, he can tell by the drooping of her eyelids and she’d had a bath the night before so she really doesn’t need one now. “Just... go wait for me.” 

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volatilehearted:

“They knew. They know? Whatever. I mean, they don’t have our address yet, but they know. They supported this.” Stiles glances back to Scott, then, something so sharp in the expression, like he has to reinforce the idea that this is the right call, and everything Scott’s done to himself isn’t.

Of course they supported it, because not everyone hates Scott McCall as much as Scott McCall hates himself.  Still, he wishes he’d had a chance to say goodbye. It’s a strange thing, leaving his pack behind. It’s not something that really registered when he’d set out to get rid of the Nemeton, but he’d convinced himself he was doing it for them, so they could all continue to live and hopefully without the kind of suffering they’d endured while he’d been around.  This is different though. This is leaving them for him or, well, for Stiles, but it feels selfish and that’s something else he’s going to have to contend with in the coming weeks, probably.  “... you sure you don’t want me to drive? If we switch off, we could probably be there by morning.”  

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volatilehearted:

Stiles can just about feel Scott’s giddy excitement the moment he makes the decision to hatch. He’d make fun of it, but honestly, he’s kind of giddily excited too. It’s boring in the egg, even when he has Scott to talk with him.

So it’s much better to just keep working on busting his way through to get back to where Scott is. He’s always a little wobbly as he does this, like his muscles have to remember how to really work after any amount of time baking and forming and curled up in the same uncomfortable position. Thus, he can’t just bust out of the egg like the Kool-Aid man. He has to do it the long way, the hard way, the way actual birds do it, more or less.

By chipping bits and pieces away with his claws.

Eventually, he gets enough of his eyes and face revealed that he can see Scott there, eagerly waiting for Stiles’ emergence. “…yo. You know, you always kind of look like this is Christmas.”

“Dude, shut up, this is better than Christmas,” Scott says and it’s clear by the earnest look on his face that he means it. Because even though Scott’s never admitted so much outloud, he’s pretty sure that everyone in the entire galaxy knows that the one thing in the world Scott loves more than anything else is Stiles.  He has to practically sit on his hands to keep from reaching out to just shred the rest of the egg, to let Stiles do it on his own because Scott never knows exactly what the best way to go about it is. He is vaguely aware that he should get up and get Stiles some pants because when he finally stands up, Scott’s going to get a face full of dick, but it hasn’t fully registered just yet.  “I think you actually cooked a little longer than normal, actually.”