Texting French people in English is so fucking confusing; what does “No it’s ok !” mean in response to “is it worth coming now? I wouldn’t get there til an hour after it starts.”
TFiOS: A Summary
THEY STILL LOOK LIKE BROTHER AND SISTER TO ME, WHICH GIVES AN ENTIRELY NEW MEANING TO JOHN WATSON’S FREAK-OUT
Anonymous asked: (pssssst let's talk about derek hale secretly a virgin)
I know it will surprise you, but I have a lot of feelings about Derek Hale: Secret Virgin.
Because Derek’s not really a virgin. What he and Kate did, what he and Jennifer did, that can count as sex. He looked it up online. The website he found said that you could even think of kissing as having sex, if you wanted it to.
He is still sort of a virgin, though, because none of it was the kind of sex that he daydreams about. When he’s jerking off, he thinks about pushing into someone’s mouth, or putting his mouth on someone else. He sucks on two of his fingers or licks at the seam of them when they’re pressed together, and thinks *it would be like this, it would be something like this*.
The problem is that he has no idea how to get to a place where he would get to do that. Obviously he could just go out and find someone to fuck at a club. He’s flirted with people, and he knows he could probably buy someone a drink and get them to come home with him. But he doesn’t really want a one-night stand. And even if the one-night stand turned into something more— how does he know that they’re not evil? He doesn’t want a replay of his previous relationships.
Which is really the saddest part of Derek Hale: Secret Virgin — he doesn’t know how to meet someone who’s a) into a long-term relationship, b) not an evil murderer, and c) won’t die in a bloody scene that involves at least one of his family members.
He does try one speed dating event, but it doesn’t go well. Life in
the HellmouthBeacon Hills being what it is, “doesn’t go well” means “ends in a war with dark elves.” Maybe even worse than that, no one he likes ranks him high on their cards. This is probably mostly because he has to wolf out and claw a dark elf to death, but Derek knows that it’s also because they can all see how— how weird he is, how kind of twisted and small he is inside, how he can’t even figure out how to date someone.
Jerking off ought to be enough. It’s not all that different to do things with other people, and he knows his body really well, he has fantasies all built up in his head. Sex with another person would probably just be awkward — just in general, but especially if he nearly cries again, he still winces thinking about how understanding Jennifer was — and not worth it, in the end. Especially when they inevitably attempt to kill him and raise a horde of demons or whatever.
(And of course he can’t tell anyone in the pack about it— he’s already an outsider, a weirdo, and they all think that he must be sexually experienced. He wants to impress Scott, make him proud, he can’t tell him that he doesn’t even know how to date.)
THIS IS EVERYTHING TO ME DO YOU UDNERSTAND
all I want in life is to read about vulnerable Derek Hale
Void Dylan causes a ruckus [x]
ALTERNATELY, and I know I keep telling this story but it’s Just So Good For Me––
Stiles is an asshole who’s been around every block in this town, but once in a while he’ll quirk one corner of his mouth up and quote Camus––”I saw it on Jeopardy,” he always uses as an excuse, playing with the brushed chrome lighter he keeps in his jacket and propping his long, lean self up on whatever wall or doorway or stairwell is nearest.
And the thing is that Derek hates Stiles, hates him and how effortlessly cool he his and his easy lifelong friendship with Scott McCall, into whose warm regard Derek desperately wants to turn but can’t begin to. Derek hates how Stiles wears sunglasses at night or indoors, hates his terrible clothing that should be baggy but instead clings to his shoulders and hips. The thing is that Derek can’t fucking stand Camus, but the Hale family is––huge, and embarrassing, and they have Stupid Gameshow Night at least once a week, which means Derek knows that Stiles didn’t hear that quote on Jeopardy, that at some point, for some reason, Stiles cared enough about school or someone or something to read the shittiest book on the face of the planet, and remember it well enough to quote.
"That kid really grew up to be a douche bag," Laura huffs, shoving affectionately past Derek towards her car. "It’s too bad, his mom was so nice."
"Yeah," Derek says, swallowing his protests down, because Stiles is such a douche bag, and he can never let Laura know about the one time he caught Stiles in the bathroom on the second floor, face in his hands, his whole lanky frame shuddering as he drew in a harsh sob, and how he’d let Derek rub his shoulders and tell him when to breathe.
Dylan pretending to be drunk
EXCUSE ME, EXCUSE ME––
Stiles doesn’t have a drinking problem, he has a drinking solution, fuck you very much, Scott McCall. Anyway, it helps him get to sleep, and as long as he’s functional enough to get himself to second period calc, he doesn’t see what the big problem is anyway.
"Everyone has nightmares," Scott says to him finally, sounding frustrated. "Everyone we know. You’re not––you think you’re alone in this? You’re not alone, Stiles, you’re not––special––"
Stiles stumbles back from him, feeling blackened and hollowed out, somehow––he knows Scott is trying to be understanding, but instead he feels like someone’s lit a match in the pit of his stomach, burned his heart and lungs all through. “You don’t think I fucking know that?” he says, and turns away.
"Stiles," Scott calls after him, "Stiles, come on."
But Stiles can’t, he’s done, he’s done with people he cares about making decisions for him when they don’t know anything about him anymore, when they’ve given up on him. He already knows that he’s not worth––look, he doesn’t need to see Scott’s face to know his forehead’s wrinkled up in disappointment and Stiles––just––he can’t do it, anymore, to know he’s put it there, but he can’t start dreaming again, either. He can’t.
"Where’s your Alpha, Mowgli?"
ALL THE CROSSOVERS PLEASE. (Although tbh I think Dean would go with a Julie of the Wolves reference for Stiles’s maximum humiliation, which would then be turned around on him when Sam––and Stiles, because you know Sam and Stiles would get along like a house on fire––realize he’s not only read but remembered pertinent details about Julie of the Wolves.)
so I fell a couple of days ago and I think I really managed to wrench something in my back because it still hurts. TRAGIC!!! on the plus side I also cut open my hand during this fall, but managed to get all the blood out of my white shirt, so I am at least 50% competent adult.
The Rihanna song I listen to a lot is S&M and I hate it and I love it so much :( :(
RIHANNA 4 LYFE! I listened to that song non-stop when it first came out because it was so catchy, even though I was completely shocked by the lyrics. (Ah, 2010. It was a different time. Lady Gaga hadn’t even given birth to herself yet! Fifty Shades of Grey was still a Twilight fanfic!) I mean, you could write at leeeeast a hefty academic article about––excuse me while I put on my ~*professor voice*~––a) the song’s place in the development of the dichotomous nature of sexual mores in the American music-industrial complex and b) the sociological implications of that song’s fundamental misunderstanding of kink culture. But personally I HAVE NO INTEREST IN DOING SO, I just want to dance!
I just listened to this song literally 22 times in a row.
This day started so well – my lesson plans worked out! I deep-cleaned my bathroom! I bought some hummus! But now I am in the middle of a mild-but-extended anxiety attack and I’m simultaneously freaking out and deeply bored with myself: c’mon, brain, if you can’t stop being sick then just pick one kind of sickness, you are so dumb. Why is my heart pounding this hard? Why is it so hard to breathe? I’m literally sitting on my couch and listening to Enya. UGH.