hoechlin fans


I hate the way you talk to me,

and the way you cut your hair.

I hate the way you drive my car.

I hate it when you stare.

I hate your big dumb combat boots,

and the way you read my mind.

I hate you so much it makes me sick;

it even makes me rhyme.

I hate it, I hate the way you’re always right.

I hate it when you lie.

I hate it when you make me laugh,

even worse when you make me cry.

I hate it when you’re not around,

and the fact that you didn’t call.

But mostly I hate the way I don’t hate you.

Not even close,

not even a little bit,

not even at all.

-10 things I hate about you-


Ok so heres this story where Derek moved to Salem when he was a young boy with his family. They were well off as they could have been at the time and an affluent part of the community. They were all know for being devout but welcoming and compassionate, a trait not shared amongst the entire town. Even as children they would consider anyone a friend which is how Derek met Stiles.

The boy had trouble in school and lived on the far reaches of town in the woods.
Unlike the rest of the children, Derek never learned to keep away from those who were different and this hyper son of the sheriff fascinated him, a trait he never lost even as they reached maturity.

When he was old enough, his hand was arranged to be promised to a young womans whose family was the most respected in the colony. The tying of the two households would have brought prosperity to both, but knowing that despite all his efforts never warmed Dereks heart to it.

He would meet up with Stiles in the woods, despite their school days being long over and try to convince his friend that this was a good match, that it was what was best, though he knew he was only trying to convince himself.

In the end he never had to worry.

His familys home burned to the ground in a freak accident leaving only his two sisters and himself behind.
The Argents bought their land, for a pittance when they had nothing to live on and were forced to accept, scraping enough to build a small cabin with whatever they could salvage and the help of a few loyal townsfolk.

Stiles father died that year. While digging throught the remains of the Hale house. John had always had doubts that it was an accident, just as Derek doubted his blow to the head had been a pillar giving way.

Stiles changed after that, always a little bit of an outcast; he was rarely seen or remembered especially after the whispers began.

Derek in his grief had turned to god, trying despretely to make sense of all that had happened to them and to provide for his family. He wasn’t terrible at it, he had always had a good sense of people and wanted to help the good in this town get back to themselves and remember why they had come all this way for a fresh start.

But there was so much he could not reconcile. The loss of his family and the untimely death of the sheriff ate away at him. Each day the town seemed to become more and more on edge. They lost the harvest two years in a row. Their were more unexplained fires, sickness became rampant.

Instead of this tying them to their faith, eachday they seemed to be inching closer to losing it. Neighbour turned against neighbour. Accusations flying out left and right for all manor of indiscretions. With no sensible replacement for law enforcement, the few who stepped in were in it for themselves and the town unravelled that much further.

Derek was quick to try and put an end to the rumours when they started. Each new utterance becoming more and more damaging. Everyone was looking for someone to blame and their were few too voices going against the injustices.

The Hales distanced themselves from the town as much as they could, staying inside or relying on their meagre plot of land to carry them through another winter without help.

But they were not alone. Just as they were putting the last of their stores on the table for the evening meal, despite their careful rationing a figure appeared at their door, shutting it quickly against the late winter snow.

Derek rose from his chair but before he could protest, the intruders hood was thrown back and a brace of rabbits were thrown over the hearth. Dereks breath choked in his lungs and he held the gaze of the man who had turned the tide of their fortune, his amber eyes glowing in the firelight. A man he hadnt seen in months but felt the ache of loss from in this seemingly hollow spot beneath his ribs.

Stiles brought them to life, quite literally that day. With his skill in hunting and uncanny ability to forage enough food from the woods that his family forgot what it felt like to be hungry for the first time in years.

The man was still hyper, figitting in his chair with an abundance of energy but a more subdued quality about him. He rarely spoke of the town, but seemed interested enough when Derek told him stories of the day to day life of becoming a minister, this wry sort of half smile always on the edge of the other mans lips when he spoke of it.

It was a distraction.

Amber so golden it was hypnotizing.

Stiles breathed new life into him, challeged him. Made him stronger in his faith but also tested it more intensely than Derek thought possible.

Its shamefully why he was so slow to notice when it started.

The whispers, turned to rumours.

Rumours turned to trials.

Which turned to death.

And no one saw what was at the heart of it. No one saw straight through to the truth like Stiles did. Derek begged him to stay out of it. He couldnt explain himself. Couldnt quiet his conscience with the idea that if enough people heard the truth this madness would be put to an end…as long as Stiles wasnt the one who put an end to it.

He should have tried harder. He was selfishly protecting the ones he loved by keeping them away. Out of sight. He tried. Every day but his voice wasnt enough.

He should have tried harder.

He should have pushed more. He felt at a loss and no one would listen to reason and he was questioning every foundation he had built his life on. These people had abandoned them, god had abandoned them.

And all it took was one more whisper for his worldview to shatter so competely its like it never exsisted in the first place.

The day they took him….

Stiles smiled at him while awaiting trial, the black lurid ink on his skin hidden beneath the white of his shirt did nothing to give Derek pause. He pressed the palm of his hand to the swirling image on the centre of the mans chest like being pulled there by a magnet the skin beneath his hand hot the heart below banging out a rhythm too calm for what was about to happen. And Derek knew.

Three years into this madness and they had finially got it right.

And that night every last one of them paid for it.