never seen awful statues?? I think u are forgetting all of Michelangelo’s attempts at sculpting women, the big queer
Damn, how could I forget?
Dented oranges are my favorite type of breast
Michel-I’ve never seen a naked woman-angelo
he literally just sculpted a man’s pectorals and put lumpy lemons on them
I made myself sad imagining Stiles becoming a werewolf, and when he sees his eyes flash blue for the first time, he locks himself in the bathroom and curls up on the floor.
They’re just so blue. Painfully blue. Blindingly blue if you want to be ironic.
Scott and the girls all try to coax him out. The Sheriff and Isaac elect to leave him be.
And Derek waits.
He waits until the four teens have given up. Waits until they’ve fallen asleep in pallets on the living room floor. Lydia and Allison are still facing one another as though they’d drifted off mid conversation. Isaac is sprawled out haphazardly between his girlfriend and his alpha, body splayed like a starfish. Scott’s on the floor by the couch, one hand relaxed and half curled in front of him. Kira, who won the coin toss for sofa, has an arm hanging off the edge, knuckles brushing against Scott’s just so.
It’s quiet. Still.
Derek sneaks into to the kitchen, and he has to check a couple drawers to find the one with all the kitchen utensils. Derek’s the only one besides Isaac who grew up with siblings. He’s the only one who remembers three year old Cora becoming fond of locking people out of rooms when the Hale house smelled of warmth and supper instead of fire and ash. He’s the only one that remembers unfair advantages in hide-and-seek and "Laura it’s not fair if you lock me out!" and the answering laughter echoing down real, whole hallways.
He finds himself back at the bathroom doorway with an ice pick in hand. He can hear Stiles breathing inside, slow and steady like maybe he’s fallen asleep. Derek jiggles the pick a bit until the lock clicks open.
Stiles is sitting on floor, back against the tub and knees drawn up so he can rest his head atop them. Derek thinks he was probably asleep before, but he isn’t now. His wide, brown gaze stares unwavering into Derek’s. Bambi eyes peaking out of wolf skin.
The older man slides to sit next to him. Stiles doesn’t turn his head but keeps his gaze on him out of the corner of his eye like an animal that’s only very hesitantly letting you near.
Derek pushes at his own cuticles, picks at his nails. But he doesn’t speak, doesn’t say anything. Just waits, like he’s been waiting all day. His back protests the angle, but the solidarity is comfortable, even if the position isn’t.
Stiles opens his mouth a few times, like he wants to say something. He can’t at first, just shuts his jaw as his heart rate picks up at a steady pace.
Finally, he clicks his tongue against his teeth and says, “They’re blue,” with a little crack around the end.
Derek eyes his profile warily. None of the pack knew why Stiles had chose to sequester himself in this room, but he’d had his suspicions. The teen doesn’t meet his gaze now. Just gives a little look up at the mirror then goes back to plucking at the denim of his jeans.
"Can I see?"
Stiles head snaps toward him, and Derek raises his eyebrows in silent response. He tries not to let his eyes flick down to the boy’s mouth out of habit. Fails.
He’s surprised when Stiles complies effortlessly. He always knew Stiles would make a good werewolf. He’s almost too good, picking up control like it’s a skill he’s had hiding beneath his bed.
Derek thinks of himself. Thinks of Paige. Thinks of being alone and heartbroken with blue burning behind his eyelids. Think of his mother crouched down in front him with her hard jawline and soft smile.
With his heart lodged behind his adam’s apple, he reaches out and rests his hand on the side of Stiles’ neck, his thumb brushing the turn of his jaw beneath the ear. Stiles’ eyes (still brilliant, glowing blue) scan his face. Right eye, left eye, mouth, and back.
"Still beautiful," Derek says finally, "just like the rest of you."
derek “unnecessary parkour” hale
maybe his parents made him take dance lessons as a child because his paws were too big from his body and he was a clutz and had to learn how to move ~*~gracefully through the woods~*~. so now instead of expressing himself with words he does it through dance when he thinks no one is looking