#(and BEFORE anyone is like ‘it’s just to get people talking about the movie’

[yawping-poets-society]

we don't talk enough about cameron's first real scene, where he talks to neil outside his dorm before todd arrives. in case anyone doesn't know what i'm referring to, here's the dialogue from the scene:

Cameron: Hey, Neil, study group tonight?

Neil: Yeah, sure.

Cameron: Business as usual, huh? [turns to leave, then] Hey, I heard you got the new kid. Looks like a stiff. [laughs at his own joke] [Todd enters] Oops. [Cameron leaves]

so let's talk about it!!

cameron opens with the study group question. this is pretty straightforward to me-he knows he's none of the poets' favorite, and certainly not charlie's. neil is his foremost supporter, pretty much the only one who sticks up for him, so this makes sense. he's checking with neil, his 'in' to the group, to make sure he can hang with these guys. he wants to be part of their circle so badly, and that's pretty clear from the get-go.

and then he hits us with this whole "stiff" business. this is a major thing i've seen people use to justify their hate of cameron and i really struggle with that.

because, well...this is SO undeniably awkward. neil tells todd just a moment later not to mind cameron because he was "born with his foot in his mouth." so off the bat, that's not something you say about someone who's consistently rude or who you don't like. that's neil sticking up for cameron. he's saying, sorry todd, he means well, or at least, he doesn't have any ill intentions. cameron's just not got the best grasp of social cues, that's how he is. this is a pretty valid explanation in and of itself, but if you'll walk with me a little further, i've got a deeper theory about why cameron makes this comment.

more than just it being awkward, this casual friendliness, haha, new kid, a mild insult said with much bravado...this isn't really cameron as we see him for the rest of the movie. though he does remain relatively awkward, it doesn't really match his character of being cautious and trying to not stand out, to fit into the group (as we see in his first line). so how to explain this action (because i don't believe the explanation is just: cameron is being an asshole/being awkward)?

to me? this is what cameron thought charlie would say. isn't that almost exactly how charlie always talks about cameron, after all? for a great example, see later in the same scene:

Charlie, about Cameron: What's his specialty, bootlicking?

so maybe cameron believes that this is how friends treat each other. or at least, how they talk about other people to entertain their friends. charlie, while not a stellar student and clearly not liked by the administration, is the class clown, which makes him popular with students at welton. thus, cameron is probably jealous of charlie. he probably wishes he was more like charlie-confident, funny, well-liked, etc. and again, he clearly wants to be friends with neil, and part of their larger group, very, very badly. all of this to say:

i don't think cameron meant what he said about todd.

he's trying to get a laugh out of neil. so what does he do? he does what he thinks charlie-neil's funny best friend-would do. it's not a nice thing to say, but to me, it really just reads as someone who is trying to guess what the appropriate, funny thing to say in a situation is, but doesn't actually know. cameron might not have even really thought the 'stiff' joke was funny. but he thought neil would find it funny, which is really the whole point. cameron is, at the most fundamental level, an unpopular kid who wishes he was well-liked, and is fumbling around blindly trying to find his way there.

[sturniqlo]

「 ✦ BOYFRIEND OF YOURS? ✦ 」

summary: chris keeps his promise to your dad and visits the office, and chris notices the little nerd who is utterly in love with you.

cw: name calling(?), jealousy

word count: 2.7k

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PART TWO

it was 10:29am and you stood in front of the high ceiling windows of your office and just watched the city and everyone going about their day. you saw a mom and her two kids enter the indoor play place that wasn't too far from the office building, a few random teenagers skipping school, something you wish you would've done, many people walking their dogs. it was funny just how many dogs ran into each other and stared at one another, or just barked.

you were having a bit of trouble trying to understand the plot to the a new movie that was in the talks. you had many jobs here, you went to meetings to discuss new movie and show ideas, you helped with editing, you even went to a few shootings to supervise, and the most important of them all was having the final say in approving a movie or show.

the guy, peter ray, who pitched the idea sure that the movie would be a number one hit in theaters and across the nation, but you just didn't understand it. he wanted the movie to end on a cliffhanger and not have an actual ending. but you didn't like the idea of that.

not at all.

why make a movie and leave it on a cliffhanger with no part two to it? you knew that it would get bad reviews and not do well due to the word that will be surfacing around social media. it's a no. either he comes up with a good ending, or it's a no.

you turned around from the window and made your way to your desk. picking up the phone you rang your assistant. “hello ms. y/n. everything okay?” you hated when people called you ms.celestine, you preferred your name. “hi, franny. everything is fine. is there anyway you can contact mr.ray and have him come down here? a meeting is needed.”

you heard some shuffling in the background and the sound of a printer beeping. “yeah, of course. i'll get to it right away.” she chirped, franny was always in a good mood even if it was a shit day and you had lost your patience and accidentally lashed at her. but you always apologized right away.

“thank you.” you said before cutting the call. you sighed, leaning against the backrest of your office chair. your phone that was set faced down on your desk buzzed

franny

mr.ray has agreed to come to the office. your meeting is at 11:30. anyone else's rather than mr.ray and his team i should contact ghat should attend the meeting?

you

no, no one else. thank you franny!

your father was tucked away in his office on the top floor, the very top floor. the last you heard from him was that he was doing some last minute deals and arrangements to set you up in the near future when you become ceo. even with the many, many times you told him you could handle it when the time came, he wouldn't budge.

deep into thought, there was a soft knock on your door. who could it be? you thought. “come in.” you mumbled, straightening your posture. as the door opened, you were met with oliver, an intern who was only two years younger than you, he had a shy smile on his face and gently closed the door behind him, pushing his glasses up his nose.

“sorry if i interrupted anything.” he blushed, he always did when he talked to you, or even looked at you. there was this one incident where you were trying to pass by and placed your hand on his bicep, the poor boy nearly creamed his pants. “you didn't, glad you took me out of my thoughts, though.” you chuckled, clearing your throat right after.

“what is it that y’need?” you asked, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before signing a form. “i was wondering if you'd-” a knock interrupted his sentence. “sorry, just a minute.” you told him. “come in!” you said out loud to the person who knocked.

franny walked in. “hey, i just came to drop these off. i-” she put a stack of papers on the corner of your desk, she then saw oliver and cut her sentence short. “oliver, is it okay if you step out for a minute? i have to talk to ms.y/n alone.” she gave him a lip tight smile.

oliver frowned and blushed. “oh- yeah, sure. i'll just talk to you l- later.” he scurried out.

“may i?” franny pointed to the chair in front of your desk. “go ahead.” you nodded. “so, mr.ray just called me back and he was kinda… mad. he really wants you to approve his idea, but i'm with you. a movie ending on a cliffhanger with no second part is kind of pointless—to me, that is.”

you sighed, you knew he'd have a hard time accepting the fact that you were on the verge on rejecting his idea. “i knew he'd be pissed. and yeah, a movie with no ending is fucking pointless. it's either he comes up with an actual ending to the movie or i'm going to have to say no. and he's grateful that i'm still giving him a chance. if it were my father, he'd shut the idea right down the minute he knew the idea for the end.”

franny nodded as you spoke. you and her had a great relationship. on days she wasn't needed in the office or random weekends, you two would go out for brunch or a coffee run and talk like friends. just like you and your dad, you separated your outside friendship and work relationship. in all honesty, she was like the sister you never had.

“i'm ready for this week to be over. want to hang out at my place saturday night? i could really use a gossip night.” you cracked a smile. “im there. i'll bring our favorite.” there was this one pizza place near your condo and if you could, you would eat it everyday for the rest of your life. “deal, i'll get the wine.”

you two chatted for a while more until franny had to go and take care of something. “good luck with peter, y/n.” she said before she left your office.

it had been a few weeks since he had last seen you. him and your father have exchanged a couple of emails here and there and eventually set up a date to where chris would visit the office.

and that was today.

he stood in his bedroom, fixing the collar that stool out from beneath his prada sweater. chris was excited to see you again even if he tried to avoid the thought of you for several reasons.

the night after the party, he thought about you in that dress all night. a little too much. you were definitely something.

he got into his car and began to drive to the office.

when chris arrived at the parking garage entrance, the garage door opened automatically and was met with a parking garage he had never seen before. the wall were a bright white, the floor wasn't the usual concrete floor, it was a sleek black one that the light reflected off of.

there was a booth up the makeshift hill with a man in a black suit. chris stopped the car and rolled his window down, lowing the music. “good morning, sir. you must be—” he took a look at a paper that was stuck to his laptop. “- chris sturniolo.” chris nodded. “that would be me, yes.”

“good, there's been a parking spot reserved for you. number three. it's just straight ahead near the elevators, and two cars that are hard to miss.” his arm directed into the direction of the spot. “thank you.” chris responded, slowly driving away.

it was true, the two cars parked in spots one and two were hard to miss. parked in spot one was an all black rolls royce, and parked next to chris, in spot two, was a white range rover. he turned into spot one, the only spot left. chris’ guess was that spot one and two were reserved specifically for you and your dad, but that was just a guess.

locking his car, he headed to the all glass elevator and pressed the up arrow. waiting a couple of seconds, the elevator dinged and the doors opened. inside, the small space was filled with classical music and shiny numbered buttons.

he pressed one.

as the doors opened back up again, he was met with a beautiful lobby. it was filled with natural light and beautiful structures. “good morning.” the lady at the front desk said. “hello, i'm here to meet with mr.celestine. i'm chris sturniolo.” he rested an elbow on the counter. “ahh, yes. i'll be right with you, mr.sturniolo.” she smiled, picking up the phone near her desk.

as she waited for her call to be answered, chris looked around the lobby and noticed that the tvs were playing their newest movie, violet, a thriller movie. he had watched it and thought it was an incredible movie. the actors, some of which also worked with his company for pr, were incredible.

“hey, it's pam from the front desk. mr.sturniolo has just arrived at the lobby. could you please take him to mr.celestines office?... thank you.” she returned the phone to its original spot. “alright, i have someone coming down to take you up to mr.celestines office. feel free to take a seat or have something from the snack bar.” she pointed over to a small room across the desk.

“thank you.” chris nodded, making a beeline towards the room. the room was quite big, almost like a mini kitchen. there were various vending machines—free vending machines, a see through fridge with various foods and snacks, and a table with even more snacks.

chris grabbed a bottle of water and scoped out the table of snack, he picked up a pack of skittles and put them in his back pocket. walking out of the room, he smiled at the lady sitting at the desk and made his way to one of the couches.

he waited a couple of minutes, finishing his water and candy. someone finally came to get him. “mr.sturniolo?” chris hears someone call out for him and he turns around.

“that's me.” he gets up. “great, i'm oliver. i’ll be taking you to mr.celestines office. follow me.” chris nods and follows behind him. in the elevator, chris speaks up. “so, how long have you been working here?” he looks over at the boy pushing his glasses up his nose.

“oh, i'm an intern. i've been here for almost a month.” the elevator door opens back up. “right this way.” oliver steps out first and points his arm to the right down the hall.

as they walk through the hallway, chris notices the many movie posters along the walls and various news headlines about celestine studios. movie of the year, #1 high grossing movie, celestine studios makes history winning all 6 nominations in one night, highest ranked movie, celestine studios has the most perfect scores on rotten tomatoes, and there were many more.

“impressive.” chris mumbles to himself, continuing to follow oliver. “here we are.” oliver announces as they stop in front of. door at the end of the hall. plastered on the wall is a golden sign that says ‘MR. CELESTINE: CEO’.

oliver picks his fist up and knocks on the door. they wait a few seconds before a voice is heard from behind the door. “come on in.” oliver opens the door and lets chris walk in first. “mr. celestine, mr. sturniolo is here.” your dad looks up from his laptop and claps his hands. “wonderful! thanks you, oliver. you're dismissed. chris- have a seat.”

oliver closes the door behind him and leaves. chris walks up to your dads desk and shakes his hand. “mr.celestine, it's nice to see you again.” he sits. “nice to see you too. so, what do you think of my building so far?”

“it's wonderful, really.” chris nods.

the two talk for a while, asking each other questions. “let's go visit my daughter, shall we.” you dad say, starting to get up from his chair. “sure.” chris hides his excitement at the mention of you. the two make their way down to the floor you're on.

“good afternoon, mr.celestine.” franny spots your dad and chris. “good afternoon, franny. this is mr. chris sturniolo.” your dad points to chris standing next to him. the two greet each other with a smile. “where is my daughter, we'd like to talk with her.”

“oh, she's in the fifth conference room. but, she's currently in a meeting with mr.ra-” he cuts her off. “thank you, franny.” they two walk away. as they approached conference room five, mr.celestine doesn't bother to knock and barges right in.

“—i'm sorry peter, i've given you options but you're not cooperating with me.” you look up and spot both your dad and chris. chris had never seen this side of you, obviously, in a business setting. “dad? excuse me for one second.” you excuse yourself, standing up to walk up towards the both of them.

chris looks over at the man sitting at the other end of the table who looks frustrated. “what's up… im kind of in a meeting.” chris could tell that you were frustrated as well. “hon, chris is here. remember at the party the other night? ‘said he was going to stop by.” you didn't remember. “oh- yeah. how could i forget.”

“just finish this up and meet us for lunch.” your dad patted your shoulder before turning around. “c’mon chris, let me show you some set mock ups.”

you went back to your meeting. “so, are you going to consider my options?”

finishing up the meeting that went well for you and not so well for peter ray, you were making your way to your office to wind down for a bit after that meeting. as you stepped out of the conference room, oliver spotted you. making his way over to you, chris got to you first .

“hey, doll.” he smirked. “hi, chris. nice to see you again.” oliver stopped a few feet behind the two of you, and chris spotted him, looking back into your eyes. “meeting went well?” he crossed his arms. “so-so.” you nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“how's lunch sound- just me ‘nd you? your dad had a last minute meeting. told me to hang with you, said you fun to be around.” oliver, just a few feet away from you two, was red in the face with fists by his side and storms off. “boyfriend of yours?” he nods at oliver who stomps to his mini office. “who?”

“glasses over there. looked like he wanted to kill me for talking t’you.” he chuckles. “oliver? no, not my boyfriend. he's a sweet kid though.” you had noticed here and there the lingering looks he gave you as you walked by him, or the fact that he did anything you told him to. you could ask him to step on a million thumbtacks and he'd do it.

“mm.” he nods, rolling his lips inside. “so, lunch?” he asked again. “uh- yeah. sure, let me just put this in my office.” you refer to your laptop and notebook in your arms. “of course. i'll come with.” he followed behind you. as the two of you walked by oliver, he sent him a petty wink.

“so, this is your office?” he says as you two enter the room. “yup, like it?” you ask smiling as you place down the items on your desk. you round the corner to grab your phone from the drawer. “yeah, s’nice.” he nods looking around before putting his eyes back on you and noticing that you're reaching for your wallet. “ah- ah. lunch is on me. leave that here.”

“you sure?” you look at him, opening the drawer to put your wallet in there. “i'm sure.” he confirms. “c’mon, i made reservations ahead of time. you like sushi?” chris asks, his hand hovering over the small of your back as you two walked out of your office. “love it.” you giggle.

chris turned his head and saw oliver glaring at him once more. chris only shrugged at him and waved to him.

he's going to be seeing chris a lot from now on.

☁️ . . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ authors note ࿐ྂ

boring chapter :/ i promise we're getting closer to the juiciness😛

[paperbackpanic]

Hiii, if you’re still open to requests, may I suggest either Tim/masky or EJ (or anyone you prefer really) with a super femme S/O who’s just really crass. Like they love all things cute and pink but they’ll take every opportunity to say the most outrageous thing they can think of

EJ and Masky with a hyper fem s/o who says outrageous stuff

A/n: hii!! Omg I loved this request specially because I'm kinda like that? I mean my mouth sometimes runs faster than my mind and I end up saying outrageous things but it is not, like, on purpose most of the time and I really like dressing super fem! I also really love writing for EJ and Masky :D. Sorry for the long rant I'm kinda lonely and need to run my "mouth" out a bit, anyway I hope you enjoy!!

A bit of a content warning for NSFW and generally gross topics but nothing too explicit.

Eyeless Jack

🎀 honestly you too contrast so much is kinda comical. EJ is the dark serious silent type and you are a cute and pink agent of chaos who honestly can talk a lot, specially considering you take every opportunity to say absurds.

🎀 Is pretty hard to surprise/get him off guard but when he first meet you he was pretty surprised, he thought you would be the shy "feminine energy" super polite girl you being really crass caught him a lil bit off guard

🎀 He isn't bothered by the things you say, he honestly find the fact that you're crass quite interesting

🎀 Yap sessions Yap sessions!! You'll let all of your wildest thoughts run out of your mouth and EJ will sit and listen. He won't judge but sometimes a thing you said will generate a long philosophical discussion about why you think that and he usually says something like "you do/say that just because you like to go against the norm or is it something deeper?" to start it off

🎀 You asked him once if his semen could be dyed with food dye BEFORE it came out of his body. It technically can? But like only because you can "tint" the urethra a bit with the dye but it involves a catheter and he's not going to put one in his dick because you want to see how much food dye would take to make his cum neon green. No matter how much you tried to convince him he won't budge ☹️☹️

🎀 You know that scene in some random old movie that I don't know the name with Marilyn Monroe that goes something like that:

"I know more than 200 ways to kill a man"

"You could glue a jar filled with rats to someone's face and then light a torch on the bottom so it would start to heat up and the rats would try to run away by chewing the person face off ☺️"

"201"

That's you two.

🎀 The only time when he will ask you to shut up and be polite is when you need it for your safety. I mean not everyone likes crassness and the most violent creepypastas would kill you without a second thought if you irritate them too much so he'll make sure you know beforehand when it's dangerous for you to be your true self

🎀 As I said in previous headcanons Jack doesn't really see stuff so he doesn't have a solid opinion on your style of clothing, he likes the texture of it though. Ruffles are great to run his hands through

🎀 Over time he just kinda stopped listening your crassness like, not in the literal sense but sometimes people around him point out and he's just "oh I didn't notice" he just filtered out that what you were saying was crass and just registered "my s/o is talking"

🎀 Overall a pretty good relationship, you two balance each other very well

Masky

🎀 He doesn't really like people who are crass or being crass himself. He's too old for that, but he will put up with you out of love.

🎀 Overtime he grew used to how you are, but that doesn't mean he wouldn't look at you like you're insane when you say something particularly out of pocket. Like creeps usually do stuff that's not really polite or demure but they don't typically say stuff out loud (or at least they shouldn't)

🎀 Your cute style is really a pro in his list on why he put up with your bullshit. It might not look like it but he has a soft spot for cute things

🎀 yapping with him might be a little difficult, he will listen to you of course he's not a bad boyfriend but he will shut you down pretty quickly if you're trying to convince him of doing some weird experiment or saying something particularly absurd.

🎀 He will use stuffed animals, cute clothes, nice dinner dates etc. to bribe you to be at least less crass when the situation call for it. You will shut up and be polite and not crass if he just asks nicely but you can't help but exploit him a little on this aspect and I can't blame you

🎀 if you ask him, he will gladly give you some lessons on good manners. He likes you however you are but this is something he thinks you can work on...

🎀 shuts you up with kisses. I will not elaborate

🎀 He has a secret ranking of most outrageous stuff you said to him/near him is only 5 itens long but he likes looking at it from time to time when he's missing you.

🎀 Assuming the Creeps exist in the same universe as us and not in a separate one: you told him about Twink Masky. He did not like it. It was funny

🎀 Despite everything he loves your personality, even if your crassness can be considered a "flaw"

[night-night-stories-before-bed]

The Devil’s embrace is warmer than fire.

Warning ⚠️; Depiction of PTSD, nightmares, panic attacks, trauma.

Pairing; Nogitsune!Stiles/Male!Creature/Reader

Summary; You meet Stiles at the University as your roommate. A very traumatized roommate that you quickly grew fond of and soon became protective of. And Stiles welcomed your embrace in his nightmarish nights.

Note: I got that idea after seeing a post saying something like “What if Stiles was left with powers after his possession or transformed into a Nogitsune and so Incame up with this!

Credit @cafekitsune

Starting University was a stressful period for anyone, but for someone like you, inhuman? It was worse. Not knowing who would be your roommate or even if you'll be compatible. Your biggest fear was being paired with another creature and fighting for the room. You didn't have the resources to get your own place nor the possibility to explain why you would need to change room.

But you were lucky and ended up with a human.

Stiles was one hell of a phenomenon. Full of energy, extraverts and as bright as a sun, but you saw through his act and quickly realized he was wearing a mask. His eyes, his smiles never reached them and the dark circles under them immediately told you your roommate experienced sleepless nights. And he was so reactive. The simplest sound was enough to make him flinch and tense like a deer caught in headlights. Stiles had been through some bad shits, it was obvious the moment the two of you met. Yet, he was still so welcoming of you and so happy to have a roommate. He spoke of movies and cinemas nights, going out for pizza and beer or even gaming together.

He won your heart just like that.

You thought your years of University would be easy, comforted you were to share your room with a nice guy like Stiles. Someone you could grow close to and call a friend. It would be nice to have someone with who going out and having fun. Someone who wouldn't judge you for what you were.

You were wrong and the first night proved it without a doubt.

You were woken up by the sounds of painful whimpers and hushed begging. You groaned, opening your eyes and searching for the source. In the dim moonlight coming from the window, you saw Stiles trashing around in his beds. All his blankets were in the ground, but he still fought like the devil was after him.

- “Please no… Derek!” Stiles whined and flinched in his sleep.

- “Ow, Stiles, wake up man. You dreaming.” You groaned, burying your face in your pillow as to dim the sounds.

But he didn't wake up.

So you got up and leaned down above him, gripping Stiles’s shoulder and shaking him. He woke up, scared and before you could react, punched you in the face. You fell on your ass, holding your chin, shocked. As for Stiles, you heard him panting and whispering how sorry he was. In his voice, you heard little sobs.

You said nothing, just sat next to him and held him until dawn. Until he finally calmed down.

But each night was the same thing; nightmares and impossible to wake Stiles up without him trying to defend himself. He never spoke about what happened to him and you understood. Who want to share their trauma to anyone? Especially when it was clearly still fresh. But it wasn't long before you learned he had encountered creatures like you and fought them. How in hell was Stiles still alive, you didn't know, didn't ask. How were you supposed to explain he talked in his sleep? How he cowered and begged Derek or others to help?

Stiles was pathetic and you pitied him. No human should have to go through whatever he did and be left alone after.

And as days passed, you began to notice little changes in Stiles. The way he smelled was changing just like the world around him. Things began to happen, chaotic almost like fighting in the corridors, students insulting the teachers and so on. You saw Stiles’ skin becoming paler and he had a harder time feeding. But then, he would get better after touching certain people while helping them.

But the nightmares didn't get better, in the contrary.

So one night, you made a bold move.

As Stiles trashed around, you woke him up by throwing a tennis ball at him to avoid being hit. Poor Stiles screamed and sat, shielding his face with his arms and panting like a dog. It broke your heart. You grew fond of Stiles and became close friends with the eccentric young man. But as Stiles looked at you, you joined him in his bed.

- “H-hey! What are you…” Stiles began, but you shushed him and wrapped your arms around his torso.

As you lay down, you pulled Stiles against your naked chest and shivered as you felt how cold his skin was. Ice cold and he was shivering like a leaf. You pulled the blankets over you two and grunted as you ordered dered him to go back to sleep. Of course, Stiles argued, tried to make it seem like he was fine, but you just wrapped your arms tighter around him. After a few minutes of rent, Stiles relaxed and even snuggled closer. His breath against your neck made you shiver and you closed your eyes.

- “I know what you are.” Stiles whispered, shivering lips brushing against your warm skin.

- “I swear if you are quoting Twilight, I will carry you to the nearest lake and throw you in it.” You groaned, trying to play it off, but your heart raced in your chest.

It wasn't possible, right? You were careful and never let anything show. So how? How could Stiles know and show no fear? Anyone with more than two brain cells would run away from you, not let you hold them like that.

- “It’s fine, I am not scared. I know you won't hurt me and I won't tell anyone.” Stiles added with a sigh. “Not the first one I meet.”

And with that, your roommate fell asleep in your arms, leaving you confused as fuck. You didn't know how to react or what to do. Should you abandon the university and run away? Should things stay the same? You didn't want to go and leave, you had made friends and Stiles had become important to you. You were protective of the little human for reasons unknown, but his admission scared you.

Raising a hand, you brushed Stiles’s hair and smiled weakly as you felt how soft it was. You closed your eyes once more, burying your nose in it. You couldn't leave, couldn't abandon Stiles. So you would stay and see where things went.

And so began a new habit. Each night you would join Stiles in his bed or he would you in yours and you would keep an eye out in case he had a new nightmare. Funny enough, Stiles never had one as long as he was by your side and you didn't know how to feel about that. It was proof he felt safe next to you, but you weren't used to it. You were a monster, something humans usually called the Devil, so why did Stiles feel safe with you?

It didn't make sense, until it did.

Alone in your shared room and bed, Stiles began sharing memories of the past years. You learned who was Derek and his pack and all the adventures Stiles went through. May they be happy or painful, Stiles shared them with you. You were horrified upon learning Stiles was possessed by a Nogitsune. You never met one but knew what they were capable off.

It explained the nightmares.

It explained everything.

Why his scent changed, why everything weird and chaotic happened around Stiles. The Nogitsune had left its traces on your friend, slowly transforming him. A shiver ran down your spine at the realization. Stiles wouldn't be human for long and no one had told him, leaving you to announce the bad new, but how?

To thank Stiles for his trust, you shared with him facts about your nature and answered all his questions. God did he have an endless list of them! His questions kept coming and you even wondered if you had made a mistake, but each time you looked down and saw the twinkle of joy and curiosity in his eyes, you knew you made the right choice.

You softened by his side, for once not feeling disgusted by what you were. Stiles took care of you as much as you took care of him. He helped you study, and was there for you when instinct became too strong and overpowered you. You never hurt him, on the contrary. You grew more protective of Stiles as days and weeks passed and before you realized it, you began seeing him as your mate.

Mate.

A simple word that carried so much weight and duty. Like telling him the truth about his transformation.

It was a hard conversation filled with denial and screaming and tears from both of you. You hated being the one to announce the news and seeing the hurt in Stiles’ eyes. Each tear he shed broke your heart even more. But in the end, Stiles couldn't deny the truth and you promised him it changed nothing between you two. You didn't fear nor was disgusted by him. That night, Stiles cried himself to sleep in your arms.

You didn't say anything about your feelings, didn't act different by fear of breaking the friendship you had with Stiles. You couldn't bear the thought of losing him just because of something out of your control. But Stiles proved to you he was more observant than you ever thought. You came back to your room one day only to find both bed pressed against one another and Stiles sitting there on the phone. He was speaking to his father while taking notes in one of his school books.

- “Of course, I am coming back home for Christmas, but I already told you I wasn't going to be alone.” Stiles said as he rolled his eyes. “I want you to meet my boyfriend. Yeah, boyfriend! I told you years ago, but you said I wasn't gay because of how I dressed!”

Stiles laughed, a soft snort, as his smile grew upon seeing you. He waved his hand, signalling you to come closer. And you did, not in control of your body. You slowly got onto the bed and lay down next to Stiles before his hand fond your hair and stroked it. All tension left your body and you were able to breathe again. You closed your eyes, snuggling closer and wrapping your body around Stiles. You heard him chuckle and he gently scratched your neck, sending little shivers down your spine.

- “What can I say? I found a diamond and I am not going to lose it.” Stiles replied to something his father said. “He’s keeping me safe, so you don’t have to worry about it.”

You smiled, face buried against his tight.

He had noticed the way you acted, the way you always put yourself between him and any other creatures you might encounter. You didn't thought he would realize what you were doing, but that was underestimating Stiles.

Your boyfriend…

Such a strange but welcomed realization.

The travel to Beacon Hills, California, was a nice one but you weren’t impatient to do it again. You were growing nervous with each passing hour, not knowing how Stiles’ father would be toward you. You barely heard anything about the man except from the stories Stiles shared and you were conflicted about how to feel toward him. Then there was Derek’s pack. You were going to walk on their territory without warning.

Would they smell how Stiles’ scent had changed?

Naturally, your boyfriend picked on your nervousity and tried to help calm you down. Listening to him rambling about everything and anything was a nice distraction, but a short one.

It wasn't long before your mind turned back toward the future and what could go wrong. An angry pack of werewolves weren't easy to deal with and maybe Stiles wouldn't be enough to keep the peace. Worse, maybe he would get hurt trying to or they would turn against him because of his transformation. But you wouldn't let anything happen to him, never.

All those worries in the end were useless.

Everything went more than fine. Noah Stilinski of course gave you the talk, but it was expected. Not only was he a sheriff, but Stiles was all he had left. It was only natural he would want to protect his son. Besides that, you enjoyed meeting him. He didn't ask questions about your nature, but you knew he knew you weren't human with just the way he had looked you up and down. Maybe he had expected it too. Stiles didn't seem to surround himself with normal people after all.

No, the only rough meeting you had was with Derek and his pack. You had expected it, but it went smoother than you thought. They all gave you threats of course, as if you had the intention of hurting Stiles or breaking his heart. The worse had been Derek and the way he had looked at you, his eyes turning red at some point.

It had been Stiles who had calmed him, but for once he didn't see what you did.

Possession, jealousy… guilt. So many emotions in Derek’s eyes and you knew why. He had his chance,lost it and now you had what he desired but couldn't have.

You had Stiles’ heart.

Knowing it, you felt a sense of pride. You were proud that Stiles had chosen you as his mate, even tho he wascould have found so much better. You stayed close to him, arms wrapped around him knowing damn well what you were doing. Not just putting your scent on him, but showing off. And trying to cover his true scent, wanting to protect your boyfriend’s secret.

Derek caught on it, but not Stiles and your poor boyfriend kept wondering what the fuck was going on.

And the day passed slowly for you, but not for Stiles. You watched as he enjoyed every second of the reunion, as if he was back home. Yet, you could tell something was wrong about the interactions. It was as if Stiles didn't belong among them anymore and you wondered if they had caught on about Stiles. But bless his heart, your mate never realized anything and didn't had his heart broken. And a part of you hoped it was you who was the problem and not Stiles, but every fiber of your body screamed for you to stay close to Stiles, you couldn't leave him alone.

That night, as you laid in bed with Stiles, you tried to be a comforting presence to him. While he was clueless about what was going on, your mate still was worried about what was happening to him. He wasn't fully human anymore and yet not a Nogitsune yet. He was trapped between two natures, two worlds and it scared him. You shared his feelings, but tried to make him feel better.

- “Whatever the future hold, we are going to face it together. I promise.” You swore, face buried in his hair.

Stiles nodded, his face buried against your naked chest while his fingers grabbed onto you for dear life.

- “Maybe it would be better to not come back here… or rarely.” Stiles whispered and you shivered, knowing he was abandoning his home.

- “I will keep you safe, even if its mean fighting your friends.” You replied and Stiles shook his head.

- “I don’t want you too. Besides, I’m going to join the F.B.I, I told you. I won't have time to come back here often, so better start now and let Derek and everyone get use to it.” Stiles sounded determined, but you heard the small hesitation in it.

You wrapped your arms tightly around him and kissed his head, smiling as you saw how courageous he was being. You could imagine the pain the decision put him through, but also understood you couldn't change his mind.

- “And I’ll be by your side every steps you'll take. We’re in it together, forever, no matter what.” You said and you felt Stiles’ smiling against your skin.

It was a promise, an oath and you were going to keep it. You knew the future was going to be complicated and painful, but it was worth it. A life time with Stiles was more than worth it.

[da-extroverted-introvert]

Are we even friends? (tasm!Peter Parker x reader)

Fandom: The Amazing Spider-Man, Marvel

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Word count: 2.66k

Warnings: angst, death mention, grief

So I had a burst of inspiration and wrote this. I haven't seen the Andrew Garfield Spiderman movies in a hot minute so things may not be entirely accurate but please just roll with it. Working on a part 2 already, hope you enjoy. Please leave feedback!

Dividers by @lavendergalactic

Despite the gnawing feeling deep in your gut, you bring yourself to unbuckle your seat belt and walk out of the car.

You sit in the car and take a few deep breaths. You clutch the bouquet of flowers in your hand, trying to will yourself to step foot out of the car. Even after three months, this is hard to do. It’s like the first time all over again. The grief hits you just as hard as the day of the funeral.

You walk through the long, long aisle of headstones and grave markers. A bunch of people long gone who you’ll never know. It breaks your heart to know that to other people visiting loved ones, Gwen Stacy is just another headstone. Another person nobody will know again.

You finally make it up to Gwen’s grave. You kneel down and gently set down the bouquet. You stay kneeling there, just staring at your best friend’s name.

You take a deep breath before you start speaking.

“Hey. It’s me again.”

You pause for a moment, almost as if you’re expecting a response, even though there hasn’t been a single response throughout the many times you’ve been here.

“My grades are doing really good now. Applied for a few scholarships, and I actually think I might get into an Ivy League.”

You smile gently, knowing Gwen would be so proud of you. Whenever you doubted yourself, she would always encourage you. You remember the countless nights of her helping you with homework, telling you how much you’ve improved. She even said she was positive you’d get into the same school, becoming roommates and actually living together. Like sisters.

“Everyone in school misses you. They still talk about how amazing you were. How smart and how nice.”

Just yesterday you were walking down the hall past Gwen’s locker. There’s still plenty of pictures and decorations commemorating her. It gives you hope that Gwen will not be forgotten for a long time.

But you also think about the looks you get when you walk by. The sad, pitiful looks. You hate those looks. You also think some of those odd expressions are looks of confusion, as it was so weird to see you without Gwen Stacy right in front of you. You’ve always been Gwen Stacy’s best friend. People don’t know how to react seeing you without her.

“Uhmm…Peter misses you.”

You always choke up a bit at this part.

“We all do, of course, but especially Peter. I try to visit him every day. He doesn’t really talk to me though.”

Not that he talked to you too much before Gwen died, but you still felt like mentioning it.

“He just kind of sits in his room all the time. He hasn’t been in school much.”

The few times he has shown up in school, he just kind of ignores everyone. He must be getting tired of those pitiful looks in the hallways too.

“I’ve tried looking out for him. Like…like you would’ve wanted.”

God, you hate this. You really hate this.

“He just won’t let me in. I know he’s not going out as Spider-Man anymore, but he’s just not doing anything. He just sits in his room all the time. Not talking to anyone. Not even May.”

If he isn’t even talking to May, why would he talk to you?

You take a deep breath and finally stand up fully, your legs aching from kneeling on the hard ground for too long.

“I’m actually headed to his place now. I know he probably won’t talk to me, but I’ll still try. For you.”

You try to keep the tears back.

“Even if he doesn’t talk to me, May still lets me hang out. You know she makes the best food.”

You stare at her name again, not wanting to say goodbye again. But you know you have to.

“Anyway, that’s all. Thought I’d keep you updated. I’ll visit same time next week.”

You can almost hear her say goodbye to you. But you know it’s in your head. So you finally turn around and go back to your car, preparing for yet another uneventful visit to the Parker residence.

You knock on the door, preparing to put on a happy face in front of May. She’s such a sweet lady, you don’t want her to worry too much about you. She already has to worry about Peter, and you don’t want to put any extra stress on her shoulders.

Sure enough, May answers the front door with her signature sweet smile.

“Hey there, sweetie! Come on in, I just put on a pot of coffee, you must be freezing out here.”

She ushers you in and you revel in the warm atmosphere of the home.

“Thanks, May. I appreciate it.”

She dismisses your statement with a wave.

“Think nothing of it, hun.”

You sit down at the coffee table while May gets the coffee ready. While she does, you look around the home, which you’ve done countless times at this point.

Your favorite thing to look at is the picture on the wall of Peter. He must’ve been young, maybe sixth grade. In the picture, he’s at a science fair, holding up a nice red ribbon with “1st Place” written on it. May and Ben are standing proudly behind him as he smiles brightly at the camera. It makes you smile, seeing him so happy. But you also get sad, wishing he had some of that childlike joy back in his life.

May brings comes back in the room with two cups of coffee in her hand.

“Here you go, should warm you right up.”

You accept the cup with a smile, embracing the warm feeling on your hands. The warmth spreads when you take a sip. The coffee is nothing special, just as generic as any cup of coffee, but knowing that May made it for you and how happy she was to see you makes it taste better.

“Peter’s in his room if you want to say hi.”

She didn’t need to tell you where he was. You knew.

“Okay, I’ll go see him.”

You take a final sip of coffee and walk to Peter’s room.

You contemplate knocking on his door. You know if you knock that he probably won’t answer you, but if you just walk in, he still won’t talk to you. So, knowing the answer will be the same either way, you just walk in.

It looks like Peter hasn’t moved an inch since your last visit. He’s just laying on his bed, covered in blankets, head turned away from you. You know he’s awake though, you can tell by the way his body slightly tensed at the door opening.

“Hey, Pete.”

You speak gently, almost like you were afraid to scare him off. You close the door as softly as you can behind you.

“Missed you at school. I had the teachers give me your assignments so I can give them to you.”

No response. As usual.

You don’t know how to speak to him. You never really did. Neither of you really spoke to each other before he started dating Gwen, and when they did start dating, there was only small interactions between you. But still, you liked those small interactions. They were nice. Made you feel like you were sort of friends. But now that Gwen is gone, you don’t know where you stand.

Even so, you still try. You know that’s what Gwen would want. She wouldn’t want the love of her life wasting away like this.

“Have you eaten at all today?”

No answer.

“I know you’re, like, superhuman and all, but even so, you need to have some food in your body.”

You lick your lips and sigh, getting a little bit frustrated. It’s the same thing every day. You talk, he lays there, then you go home. You don’t feel like your presence is helping him that much, but if you don’t make an effort, you know you’ll feel guilty.

“How about some pizza? I can order one and it’ll be delivered in no time.”

As expected, no response. God, this boy is so infuriating sometimes.

“I know you hear me. Your spidey-senses kind of force you to.”

It’s still weird that Peter’s Spider-Man. You only found out about his secret by accident. You just walked into Gwen’s room, without knocking of course, as best friends do, and there you saw a surprised Gwen and Peter in his suit, mask in hand. That was a few weeks before the accident.

“Come on, Peter. You need to eat something. We can’t have you wasting away in here.”

“Why do you care?”

Even though his voice is raspy and not at all loud, you still flinch. That’s the most you’ve gotten out of him in three months.

“I, uh, what do you mean? Of course I care.”

“Why?”

His voice is a little louder this time.

“Because, we’re friends, Peter. I care about you.”

He sits up in his bed and faces you. You can finally get a good look at him. His once bright eyes, full of joy and mischief are dull and bloodshot.

“Since when? I mean, we barely talk.”

You don’t really know what to say, because it is true, you never talked with Peter as much as you would’ve liked to, but you still kind of thought those small interactions amounted to a friendship.

Just as you try to speak again, he talks some more.

“We both know the only reason we ever hung out was because of Gwen. And she’s not here now. So, please, just…”

He moves his arms around, trying to get his frustration across.

“Leave me alone.”

When he says this, he looks dead into your eyes, which are slowly but surely filling up with tears. You try not to let them fall.

You’ve been wishing for Peter to say something to you for months now, and now that it’s happened, you just want to curl into a ball on the ground.

Not wanting to be in the room with him any longer, you turn around and face the door. You put your hand on the doorknob but before you twist it, you turn your head towards Peter.

“I know you never really thought of me as a friend, Peter. A part of me always knew you just putting up with me for Gwen’s sake. But I always respected you, Pete. You were kind, funny, cool. Never mean.”

A couple of tears drops fall despite yourself.

“I remember when there was that Homecoming dance. You and Gwen were going together but I didn’t have a date. I was fine staying home, but you felt bad and invited me to come with you guys. You didn’t have to, nobody was forcing you, you just offered. Gwen didn’t even have to ask you to, you just did it.”

You wipe your cheek for a moment, still trying to keep eye contact with the boy in front of you.

“It was small things like that that made me like you. You’re such a good person Peter. I mean, you’re fucking Spider-Man, of course you’re a good person.”

You take one final big breath.

“So, you may not consider me a friend, Peter Parker, but you are mine. You are my friend. And I don’t have many of those, so, I’ve got to look after you.”

You finally twist the doorknob and open the door.

“It’s what Gwen would’ve wanted.”

With that final sentiment, you walk out of his room and speed past May, who is clearly worried about the tears on your face, eager to leave this house and go home to cry.

You spend the rest of your night watching movies in your room. You’re laying on your bed in your pajamas, bowl of popcorn in your lap. You glance at the opposite side of the bed. The side Gwen would sit as she laughed at the movies with you.

You try to focus on the movie, trying not to think about Gwen so much, and also trying not to think about your fight with Peter.

Was it even a fight? Neither of you yelled, but he did make you cry. He said some hurtful things. Things that were partially true. But you still didn’t want to see him. Seeing him hurt you a lot. All you can think about was the way he looked at you, with annoyance, frustration, anger. You felt bad for him, you know he’s grieving too, but he just made your blood boil and your eyes well up with tears.

Despite this, you know you’ll still visit him tomorrow. Because Gwen would want you to. Because that’s what friends do.

You hear a knock on your bedroom door.

“Come in!”

Instead of your mom or dad like you expected, none other than Peter Parker walks through your door.

He’s actually dressed in New clothes, as opposed to the weeks old clothes you saw him wear earlier. His eyes look like they’re filled with guilt.

“Hey.”

You’re not used to seeing Peter Parker in your room. He only showed up a few times when he crashed yours and Gwen’s movie nights.

“Hey.”

Peter looks at the ground nervously, hand reaching to scratch the back of his head.

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I have been an absolute jerk to you and you don’t deserve that.”

You nod slowly, processing his words.

“You’re grieving. I get it. It’s okay.”

He quickly shakes his head.

“No, no, it’s not okay. I know I’m grieving, but you are too. I’ve just been shutting you out when all you want to do is help. It’s not right.”

You have no words. You certainly weren’t expecting this, but maybe you should have. It is Peter, after all. He’s a superhero. Always trying to make things right.

“You have always been nice to me, and you never gave up on me, even when I completely shutting you out. I haven’t been a good friend to you, and I want that to change.”

Hearing him actual say that he wants to be your friend warms your heart more than it should.

You give him a slight smile.

“You can start being a good friend and have a movie night with me?”

At first, Peter looks shocked that you’re willing to just forgive him so quickly. But then the expression on his face soon turns jovial as you shoot over on the bed, allowing him to sit next to you.

You smile as you press play on the movie you were watching. You can feel Peter’s eyes on the side of your face, but you ignore it until you know he’s watching the movie. Both of you just sit and watch, hands leisurely grabbing popcorn from the bowl between you. It almost feels normal, natural.

It actually feels like you have a friend again. Not that he can ever replace Gwen. And you know you could never replace Gwen in Peter’s eyes either. But both of you are filling the space that Gwen’s death left. It makes things easier for the both of you. It’s nice knowing that you have each other during this difficult time.

After a while, when all is calm between you and Peter and the movie is almost over, you turn to look over at Peter.

“You know, I visited Gwen’s grave today. I visit every week. You could come with me if you want.”

Peter is still for a moment, eyes locked on the screen in front of you. You wish you didn’t bring it up, knowing that Peter is just now starting to talk about Gwen’s death, and now you may have pushed too far too fast.

But then he looks over at you, a sad but gentle smile on his face.

“Yeah. I think that’d be nice.”

[visceravalentines]

drowning is only as hard as you make it

bo sinclair x gn!reader

2k words. weird melancholy freak behavior. author's thinly disguised smoking fetish. established relationship (lol). Ambrose is lonely. that's it that's the fic.

He always manages to find you.  Every time.  It’s not a game anymore, not really; there’s no use keeping score when only one side is allowed to earn points.  There are no rules, no satisfaction in the victory.  You’d make your way back to the house even if he never showed up.  Today you’re not even hiding.

The row of vacant windows across the street catches the last lazy rays of sunlight.  A few eager fireflies pantomime shooting stars just above the freshly cut grass.  He mows the lawns regularly, every last one of them, dripping sweat in the sticky air.  You think it’s nonsensical.  He doesn’t care what you think.  At least it smells nice.  Nostalgic.  Painful.  

On an evening like this, there should be kids out.  Riding bikes, running through the neighbor’s yard.  Parents watching from their porches.  People chatting, relaxing.  Hell, maybe a dog or two.  But there is only you, and the fireflies.  

The heat of your cigarette creeps dangerously close to your fingers but you wring one last pull off the thing before you crush it against the step.  Scorch marks dot the woodgrain like initials carved in a tree, only better, because they’re anonymous.  Could've been left by anyone sitting sulking on these stairs and pondering ways to disappear.  Plausible deniability.  

Too bad you're the only one here.

You set your hand on the pack beside you, work another one out with your fingers without looking.  It’s all reflex.  It’s all muscle memory.  That’s all you are anymore, something that survives without thinking about it.  

In that shadowy place called Before, you only ever smoked on rare occasions. At parties or bars, always with friends, always a little drunk. You'd never admit it aloud but a part of you used to pride yourself on your restraint–you could stretch a single pack out over a month or more, until the tobacco had gone stale and the cigarettes tasted like dusty paper. Until it was less of a treat and more like a chore to get through the last few.  

Now you drop butts through the grate of your days like maybe you can fill up the emptiness with smoke.  

You sigh and light up, take a drag and let it sweep you up above the gutters.  You imagine the town might almost be pretty from up high.  Hard to tell from here.  

“Didn’t know this house had a chimney.”  

Some part of you remembers what it felt like to flinch when he got this close.  Another part remembers the way you buried your face in his back before he got up this morning.  You exhale nice and slow.  “Thought you knew everything.”  

“Now, we’ve talked about this.”  He leans against the rickety railing, white paint flaking off at the slightest disturbance.  “You know nothin’ good comes from thinkin’.”  

As a matter of fact, you’ve talked about everything already, but that’s never stopped him before.  You’ve heard all the stories sixteen times, could recount his childhood from memory one miserable year after another.  You know where he got that scar.  He knows all about your first kiss.  Eighth grade was hard for both of you for vastly different reasons.  He’s never been to your hometown but he could probably find your old house.  You’ve never met his mother, but you hate her just the same.  Favorite movie, worst fear, where were you on 9/11?  In a zombie apocalypse, he’d choose an ax.  You’d take the shotgun with exactly two shells.  It’s almost romantic, except, well.  

“Hey.”  He slams the heel of his hand against the railing and somewhere along the line, the wood splits with a crack.  “What’d I just say?”  

You look up, jarred loose from your spiral, and he’s shaking his head.  

“Damn fool.  Gimme those back.”  

He reaches out a hand and you slip one last smoke from the pack before you give it to him.  

“Lighter too, baby, c’mon.”  

You hesitate for a second, long enough he has to flex his fingers to make the point.  You hand him the lighter, keep the spare cigarette, tuck it behind your ear.

He peeks into the pack and his lip twitches. “Fuckin’ glutton.  This was full this mornin’.”  

“Sorry,” you deadpan.  

“Sure y’are.”  

You’ve had this conversation too, in just about every house on the street.  You wonder if he ever feels crazy, playing it all out over and over again.  Probably not. He's composed of repetition, a record that skips in the same place every time it's played. You feel crazy, fucking listening to it.  

You watch him work a cigarette loose, watch him hold it in his lips, watch the tendons flex across his knuckles as he lights up. For all the fucking smoke he blows, you still think he looks damn good as he exhales up towards the fading sun. One of life's little cruelties. 

“Y’know, supper ain't gonna make itself,” he says casually. Like he’s trying to piss you off.  He probably is.  

“You sure?” you shoot back, like you’re trying to piss him off.  You definitely are.  

He chuckles, unbothered. “I dunno, baby. Been wrong before.”

“Yeah?  Tell me more.” You're bold these days. Stupid. Dangerous, and not in the same way as the surgeon general's fine print. Dangerous in the present moment. Shaving seconds off your life like taking a pocketknife to a good chunk of wood. But games are more fun with two players. 

He doesn’t want to play, though.  Probably worn out from mowing all those fucking lawns.  He shrugs.  “Nothin’ more to tell.”  

“Pantry’s empty anyway,” you mutter.  The grocery list on the fridge has wrapped back on itself twice over.  He’s been cagey lately, reluctant to venture into town.  You’re down to canned goods old enough to read chapter books.  

“Guess we’ll starve.”  

“Guess so.”  You flick your rapidly shrinking cigarette and watch the ash fizzle frantically down and disappear. The chorus of crickets crescendoes to a dull roar in the silence.  

“You like these, huh?”

You're not sure what he means for a second before you realize he's talking about the cigarettes. You take another drag like you have to mull the taste over, really consider the question. He’s not a patient man, but he waits for your answer.

“Yeah,” you say finally on the tail of your exhale. “Best ones in a while.”

It’s the truth.  He's got his own brand and you like it too, but he's a fucking skinflint, and he only buys himself a pack when he's really hard up. Most of the time he scavenges off corpses and out of glove boxes. And you live off his scraps, so. 

Regretfully, you stub yours out as the flame hits the filter. Your throat is raw, tongue wrapped in the taste of tobacco. Everything in this town is racing to kill you and you wish something would win already. You can feel him watching you, now and always. 

“Somethin’ you need, sugar?”

“No.”

“Hmm.”  

He exhales with relish.  You think about the taste of smoke on his tongue and tobacco on his fingers and you grit your teeth.  He’s a vice in every sense.  

“You pissed at me?”  

What kind of question is that?  You peel a chunk of paint off the stair near your shoe.  “I’m always pissed at you.”  You mean it and you don’t and you’re braced for retribution either way, but none comes.  

“Fair enough.”  

You steal a wary glance in his direction.  He’s covered in flecks of grass.  He shed his overshirt in the heat of the day but it’s back on now, unbuttoned, the tee underneath smudged with green.  He lifts his hat, rubs his brow with the heel of his hand, tugs it back into place.  His face is a little sunburnt in spite of the thing.  

“You wanna fight?”  

You stop breathing for a second, sit very still.  He looks down at you, cocks an eyebrow.  He’s really asking.  

You think about it, really think about it.  Broken skin, broken glass.  No neighbors to scandalize.  You shake your head.  “No.”  

He shrugs, goes back to staring holes in the house across the street.  You almost want him to be disappointed, but his face is placid, expression impassive.  “Alright then.  ‘Nother time.”  

You furrow your brow, look at your shoes.  You pick at the paint, feel it slip beneath your nail like a splinter.  You’d bet five bucks you don’t have that he’ll be back to repaint these steps within the week.  It makes you want to rip them apart so he’d have more to do.  You’re not sure if he’d take that as a gift or as sabotage.  You’re not sure how you’d mean it.  

“How ‘bout we head inside, feel each other up?  See what happens?”  You look at him sharply.  He’s really asking.  “We can do it how you like it.”  

How you like it.  How do you like it?  Does he know?  Do you?

Your expression must be a funny one because he grins.  “What?  You a prude all the sudden?”  

No.  No, but.

You find the words wedged behind your teeth.  “You a gentleman all the sudden?”  

He snorts.  “C’mon now.”  He gives the railing one last yank, almost pulls it loose.  As he rounds the steps he drops his spent cigarette and crushes it underfoot.  “Scoot.”  

You make room on the stair and he sits down heavy beside you, takes up more than his fair share of space, same as always.  He smells like sun and sweat and grass and smoke.  His sleeve rides up and exposes the pink of his wrist.  He pulls it down without thinking about it.  You almost–almost–pull it back up.  

“I’m just tryin’ to figure you out.  Don’t know what the fuck you want.”  

Now that's a dumb fucking thing to say. You want a thousand things.  A meal.  A clock that works.  Cable TV.  An article of clothing that doesn't reek of mothballs and someone else's fear. A normal conversation with a normal human being. Half a goddamn hour to yourself without the urge to lock the doors and set the house on fire. 

Anything.  Anything.  

“A light,” you say bitterly. 

To your surprise, he digs the lighter out of his pocket.  Holds it up to show you, like a peace offering.  He moves his boots down a step, pats his thigh.  “C’mere.” 

You straddle his lap and it’s like you’re walking in and out of a room at the same time.  Your hands find their place on either side of his chest and he’s warm to the touch like a dog lying in the sun.  His fingers play at the small of your back.  You can escape into the maze of abandoned homes or the pattern on the ceiling but you can’t slip away from those eyes at this distance.  They catch you like barbs on wire, as distant and cold as the sky.  

This is how you like it.  His head tipped back, looking up at you.  You run your thumb along the edge of his jaw and he almost–almost–smiles.  

He plucks the cigarette from behind your ear, flips it in his fingers.  You open your mouth.  He sets it on your tongue.  He flicks the lighter, brings it close, and when you breathe in you feel it–the poison of this place, yellow-green, permeating your lungs and all the rest of you.  No use in pretending.  No use fighting the current.  Drowning is only as hard as you make it.  

You wonder if he knows you’d come home even if he never came to find you.  Maybe that’s why he comes anyway.  Maybe that’s why you keep hiding.  So you both have something to look forward to.  Games are more fun with two players.  

It’s not worth thinking about.  Nothing good comes from thinking.  

You start to exhale and he tugs you close, sucking the smoke from your mouth, because he never can let you keep anything to yourself.  Maybe you don’t even want to. 

Your lips touch.  Tangerine thrums behind your eyes.  You’ll go to bed hungry tonight and so will he.  One shotgun, two shells.

“Don’t say I never gave you anything,” he murmurs.  

You’re already working his shirt off his shoulders one-handed.  “Nothing I want.”  

He laughs once, almost breathless, leans back on the stairs so you have to lean with him.  “C’mon now.”  

You toss the cigarette into the dirt to free up both hands.

[anotherrosesthatfell]

do u think its possible to write how each ELA ship or character spend their valentines

I'm sucks at romance so here we have my writing partner do it for me. HP 💀💀

Let's start off with characters

Palette

Likely the one to receive a lot of chocolates and cards. He doesn't spend his valentine with anyone because he sucks at romancing unless they like his loser attitude.

Mercilux

Lux would hold a banquet for couples or anyone who like to come for Valentine's day. Meanwhile for Merciless, he would spend his time making Lux's favorite sweet before giving it to her. This couple would exchange silly gift and slow dance together.

Goth

Due to popularity online, Goth would receive a lot of 'Happy Valentine' from fans. Unfortunately never once from Palette because he is clueless of her feelings towards him. Goth likely be one of the people to give Palette a box of chocolate and a card but instead of giving it in person, she just send it in the rest of the delivery then spend her day alone with her parents.

Drop

This little girl likely to stream. She makes otome game so she might as well use this day to promote merch, discount and etc... other than that, Drop would spend her valentine with family.

Nightkiller

.... Moving on.

Dream

Likely to spend his valentine eating ice cream. He would ask Hope to be beside him but things between them are very awkward. If he were to spend his valentine with anyone other than Hope, he would give the person a bowl of ice cream then both binge watching horrible telenovela.

Hope

Doesn't even know what is valentine. Just normal Monday. If Dream ever invite Hope, she would come and pretended to be oblivious at the sign.

Dustberry

Dust would sneak out from her work then went to Blue house. These two would bake brownies together before settling down to watch movies together.

ErrorInk

.... We do not talk about Error. Ink wouldn't remember that it was valentine since after divorce, Dream wasn't there to remind Ink.

Horror

The valentine's day is one of the day Horror get a break from work. He likely to spend his time, cooking with the supplies he got from corrupted Nightmare and eat dinner together with his family (Papyrus and Aliza)

Afterdeath

It would be a silly date between these two. I see Geno the one who makes silly jokes and teasing while Reaper pretend like he doesn't enjoy it but secretly he does. These two would cuddles together if alone. If with Goth, they went for a family day.

That's all from me, sincerely HP

[monaisme]

Thanks for the tag, @joyful-soul-collector!

Get to know your mutuals!

What's the origin of your blog title? Hubby started calling me Mona as a nickname shortly after we were married after the Mona Lisa and a really bad experience with our wedding photographer. She told me that smiling too big would ruin our photos because the obvious gap I have between my front teeth. It was one of the happiest moments of my life to that point and afterwards, I'd do this small, closed-mouth smile instead. After a while, it felt like the nickname fit more than my actual name and so... Mona is me. (I should get on adjusting that so it's more readable!)

OTP(s) + Shipname: I'm fairly certain Irondad is going to be my ride or die. Tony Stark and Peter Parker were forever meant to make each other better-- in a strictly familial sort of way.

Favorite color: Today? Brown.

Favorite game: I'm an Octordle fan. Google it. I'm currently trying to beat my best score of 52.

Song stuck in your head: huh? I do not have a song stuck in my head at this exact moment. Odd.

Weirdest habit/trait? I talk to myself. I got into the habit when I first started writing and it MAY have crossed over into my everyday. Oops.

Hobbies: Writing, word puzzles... I'm about to start playing around with watercolours to see how I do with them.

If you work, what's your profession? I used to work! I worked at Home Depot as a head cashier, so retail... and I loved it. Well... I loved the people. Management was a collective of abusive, power-tripping assholes. Except for Patrick. I miss Patrick.

If you could have any job you wish, what would it be? I'd kill to be a high school English teacher. It had been the dream. Anxiety decided that it was not in the cards.

Something you're good at: I'd like to think I'm good at writing, but I know that it's a work in progress. I am a good storyteller, though. And I'm good at making people feel comfortable.

Something you're bad at: Staying organized... and keeping focused.

Something you love: My kids. My husband. My sisters. Naps. Terry's Orange chocolate. Homemade beef stew.

Something you could talk about for hours off the cuff: My family. My favorite books/movies.

Something you hate: Bullies. Being intentionally obtuse. Cilantro. All this trump shit.

Something you collect: Books and movie ticket stubs.

Something you forget: My wedding band! All the time! It goes off so I can use hand lotion or wash dishes or whatever and then it's three hours later, I'm driving somewhere, and my ring finger is bare! I'm the worst! Hubby just shrugs and announces that he's out with the girlfriend instead of the wife... which is cool, because I've heard she can be a real bitch. 🤭

What's your love language? Words of affirmation/ acts of service/ physical touch.

Favorite movie/show: The LOTR trilogy, all things Star Trek

Favorite food: Santa Lucia's pepperoni pizza

Favorite animal: Dogs... and anything tiny, soft, and safe enough to be cuddled.

What were you like as a child? Weird. Creative. Eager to please. Things were sometimes difficult growing up, so I tried to be whatever it was that whoever needed me to be. Most of the time, that meant being an entertaining distraction.

Favorite subject at school? English. ugh. Soooo amazing! And I was so fortunate to have some pretty incredible teachers.

Least favorite subject: Math. It hated me just as much as I hated it. Absolutely 100% reciprocated.

What's your best character trait? Honestly, I love just about everyone... or I try, at least. I swear, I should've been a hippy!

What's your worst character trait? I'm a little (a lot!) scattered some days. It drives me (and some others) nuts.

If you could change any detail of your life right now, what would it be? Oof. I can only pick one thing? My health?

If you could travel in time, who would you like to meet? I don't know that I'd like to meet anyone new? Getting to spend some time to visit with my grandfather before the Alzheimer's would be priceless.

Now tag as many mutuals as you want!

@sarah-sandwich, @vankaar, @imbecamiel, @itsmechara426, @ctrsara, @turtle-of-winter, @iamsailornerd, @yes-i-am-happyaspie, @snarkythewoecrow, @justme--emily,

Get to know your mutuals!

What's the origin of your blog title? When I was in middle school, someone told me "you dress so goth, but your personality is so happy. You're like a really cheerful grim reaper. A joyful soul collector." And that's been my username for most everything ever since!

OTP(s) + Shipname: Oooh, right now it's Jayvik, and tbh I can't think of another one, this is one of the first ships I've been really really into tbh. Other dynamics focused on my blog have actually been more platonic, like Irondad

Favorite color: Red!

Favorite game: Dungeons and Dragons! Both as a player, and DM!

Song stuck in your head: The Challenge - EPIC

Weirdest habit/trait? I download thousands of still frames of tv shows that I love so I can make memes out of them. But I have to sift through and delete all the pictures that are blurry or unnecessary, which takes hours. I think it's super fun because I'm autistic and really enjoy sorting stuff lol

Hobbies: Writing, playing DnD, making memes, and hanging out with my friends!

If you work, what's your profession? Not so much a profession lol, I work at a toy store. It's a part time job while I'm in college, studying to be a radiologist!

If you could have any job you wish, what would it be? Realistically? Radiologist. But ANY job I wish? Professional DM or Professional DnD player, like the people on Dropout or Critical Role haha

Something you're good at: I'm good at writing stories! I can write them well and write things that make people feel deep emotions, and I like that.

Something you're bad at: Recognizing when someone doesn't want help haha. I tend to try and fix things or help people when they just want to vent, and it ends up frustrating for both of us.

Something you love: I love stories. Any kind, I love so so many

Something you could talk about for hours off the cuff: My favorite shows and stories, my dnd campaigns and characters, my stories and ideas

Something you hate: Fascism. Bigotry. Willful ignorance. Fearmongering. Propaganda.

Something you collect: Dice!! I'm a dice goblin for sure haha

Something you forget: I often forget chores unfortunately

What's your love language? Physical touch and acts of service

Favorite movie/show: Ooh right now it's definitely Arcane haha

Favorite food: Sushi!

Favorite animal: Cats!

What were you like as a child? In a word? Unwell haha. I'm a good bit better now, still struggling with a lot, but better than I used to do

Favorite subject at school? English, I was always good at that class

Least favorite subject: Chemistry. I hate that shit so much lol

What's your best character trait? I think that I'm kind and willing to stand up for others

What's your worst character trait? I can be disrespectful to some types of spirituality unfortunately. It just doesn't make logical sense to me. I have two friends that are fully convinced that a cursed doll gave some youtuber testicular cancer. And I just can't see the logic or critical thought in that

If you could change any detail of your life right now, what would it be? Mmm. All of fascism shit is definitely damaging my calm so I'd love to change that specifically

If you could travel in time, who would you like to meet? Harry Allen. Google him he's a badass transgender cowboy

Tag as as many mutuals as you want!!

@sb-essebi @glitternightingale @blatterpussbunnyfromhell @captainhollowstories @kydrogendragon @misforvendetta @poetryinmotion-author @bocularteletheric @kai-ovillager @thatoneneuvichiliauthor @4amarcanethoughts @alexspearsxoxo @kotonni @buckybucananbarnes @kakesuwolf @martybaker @patheticjayce @sleepycrowhours @aixabi @up-the-bracket @snoopyviktor @emdashflower @humanshapedstress @hellsalore @juuzousmom @softandslow @fangirlshenanigans04 @batmans-attic @lvrstrsh @bluemoyai @tearexxwrites @bodyofvvater @lifeandeathepub @areesespiece @lancesblueazaleas @monaisme @milkywaysipper @carmendyy @tseecka @heazueken @tophat-69 @velocitychroma @prjctdiva @gremlinofchaos @ourvectorviktor @kenjinx @jxmimac @gh0stedvhampir @voxconcordia @arcaneheraldslawyer

ngl I tried to tag ALL my mutuals that I have, but this was how many it allowed me to do before it made me stop lol so here's as many as I could fit!

[ct-multifandom]

I don’t usually make posts like this, but I’ve been seeing a lot of anti-intellectual junk lately, and I really think we need to put the word “pretentious” up on a shelf until people learn what it actually means.

It doesn’t describe someone who likes artsy-fartsy deep meaning media. People who are pretentious are fake. They’re posers trying to be sophisticated and unique, not like other girls. They pretend to only like stuff they think will make them sound cool when they talk about it. They want to act like they know something you don’t, and they want attention for it.

By definition, if you genuinely enjoy something, you can’t be pretentious. If it resonates with you, and you analyze it, and you don’t care what people think, that’s the polar opposite, actually. If you love obscure experimental prog music, if you watch underground high concept indie films through English teacher eyes, if you spend hours in a modern art museum reading each piece as a vessel for storytelling, if your backpack’s full of poetry books that inspire you, if you play underrated games that were someone’s passion project, if you have an interest in studying the classics or the masters, you are not pretentious.

Of course, some people just don’t like some stuff, and that’s fine, but that’s not what this is about. Don’t let anti-intellectuals shame you for enjoying things just because your interests are inaccessible to them, because they refuse to be brave and put effort into critical thinking. You’re not stuck up for refusing to overlook the craft of artists.

[cuntycassandra]

People who are censoring Emma Corrin at the Nosferatu premieres are the worst!

I’m not going to comment this on the Instagram post I’m referring to, because I’m not going to instigate anything hostile on that platform specifically because it’s not worth it, but to whoever you are, you’re so frustrating.

For anyone confused, here is what Emma wore to the Nosferatu premiere in London a few nights ago. A gorgeous Victorian-nightgown esque dress that compliments the one they’re seen wearing in the trailer. (Also their makeup was chefs kiss, 10/10, no notes.)

Today I was just checking my Instagram, and I came across an account that decided it was up to them to dictate how this wonderful actor was perceived on the red carpet…for a film they play an important role in…

First of all, what on earth is this? In the world we live in, in the situation the western political scale is falling right now, do you seriously deem it appropriate for you to pick and choose how this person is allowed to be perceived on a red carpet event for a movie they worked hard on??

Do you seriously think it’s appropriate for you to censor someone’s body, which is their form of expression and statement, because of a personal, borderline outdated, opinion? If Emma’s style choice is not to your taste (which is a bigoted take anyway because a quick scroll will show you the shirtless Bill photos on this account, so wonderful, you’re just ignorant), then…crop Emma out if that’s something you don’t want on your blog? Like I’m sorry there is absolutely no need for this. It’s so, so, so disrespectful.

I completely understand that this account belongs to a person, and they are within their right to decide what they do or don’t want on their blog (even if I disagree), HOWEVER, there are ways to do it without being deemed oppressive, condescending and bigoted. Cropping Emma out removes them from the focal point, again something I don’t agree with, but it doesn’t shove negative attention onto their choices either. Highlighting it with an ugly photoshop is not only rude, but actually insulting, and seems as though you’re purposefully forcing Emma’s look into the spotlight.

Let’s zoom in on that comment a little more, as well.

‘With a little help from me to Emma Corrin’ a condescending insinuation that you think they need your help, in need of your assistance, which immediately puts them below you. When, if I recall correctly, this is Emma’s livelihood and daily job. They seem to be quite well versed in how to rock a red carpet.

‘Just disrespectful 😒’ - how so, to who and to what? Just say you feed into the over sexualisation of breasts and go. Be honest about your bigoted view, don’t sugarcoat it with the essence that you’re ’doing them a favour’. Nobody else at the premiere seemed bothered, everyone was happy and taking photos and there wasn’t a hint of awkwardness to pick up on.

The second photo was at the Berlin premiere, but shows equally, if not more, nipple. (Which weirdly the poster I’m referring to had no issue with that outfit, but the London one? 🤔

Oh and also? Don’t put Emma’s name in the hashtags if you’re so damn scandalised by their attire.

And before anyone comes for me with ‘you’re overreacting’ or ‘it’s not that deep, don’t freak out’, it actually is that deep. This is disrespectful at best and hateful and oppressive at worst, even if the original poster didn’t intend it that way. It’s essentially saying ‘I’m taking away your self expression because it doesn’t fit with I deem acceptable for someone with breasts’.

In this vile world where women/afab trans people in general are consistently being oppressed, ordered around, abused and more, seeing someone be blatantly so rude like this is just…gross, especially around such an anticipated movie and with a wonderful cast. Please try and do better in the future, there’s no need for this.

Also. Here’s those shirtless photos of Bill, in case anyone wanted evidence of that. (Who is also slaying may I say!)

[delightfuldevin]

Been seein some rather cold takes about Daisy lately…

I’ve seen some people say that she has no personality outside of fanon, but that’s just not true. There is a very very common misconception among the fandom (at least that I’ve noticed) that if a character doesn’t appear in a “mainline” game, then they have no personality. But I’d argue that the spinoffs actually offer waaaaay more in terms of looking into character personalities. And no, I’m not talking about the RPGs ala M&L and Paper Mario as those are obviously full of personality (and Daisy isn’t in those). I’m talking about the Party, Kart, Tennis, and other sports games.

Yes, Daisy hasn’t appeared in any mainline game since her debut, but she’s been in nearly every sports game and her traits, stats, abilities, victory/loss animations, and various other tiny details add up to her personality. The fact that she’s nearly always yelling or just speaking really loud in general (noticeably more than any other character), the fact that she constantly feels a need to say her name and make herself known, how she loves flowers and considers even a small patch of flowers worth protecting, how she’s easily bored by tasks that don’t excite her and isn’t so reliable for them. She tends to jump around a lot, and spin and dance around when she’s excited! She’s apparently a rather fast runner and that is considered her specialty! These are all traits that are displayed in the spinoffs, and there’s probably soooo many more that I just can’t remember right now.

Now, I do think her tomboyish nature is probably fanon, as I don’t really remember seeing anything to show that she acts that way in the games. I think people probably think she’s tomboyish due to how loud and energetic she is. But hey, there’s plenty of fanon for just about any character from any fandom out there. And what’s so wrong with that? Isn’t the whole point of making fanworks to expand on the framework already provided by canon? If we want to stick to what’s actually “canon” then nearly everything the fandom has created would have to be tossed, because there really isn’t much to work with. Fanworks and fandoms thrive on what fans can create based on the canon work, not just sticking to it perfectly.

It’s fine if you think the “fanon” Daisy outshines the “canon” Daisy and you dislike that. But to say that she has no personality aside from fanon interpretations just tells me that you have a very narrow idea of what counts as “canon” in an already rather simplistic world. The Mario games are very simple and straightforward without much consistent lore that actually makes sense cohesively, but the characters are what keep everything tied together despite that. The characters are nearly always consistent, and that includes Daisy. Even when the setting is completely different and some random new villain shows up with some random new power source to steal or species to torment, our same well-known lovable characters will be the center of the story and that’s what makes it fun!

[kennys-parka-jacket]

alright, gonna get something off my chest. Then i'll watch Youre Getting Burgers

[luvevee]

Personal bitching but I'm unfollowing/blocking anyone in sight that posts about f/naf. Idc if you just got into it or it's a niche you've liked for a while, it's a literal dumpsterfire all the way to the core and I'm not tolerating it around me after 7 years of encouraged braindamage from the creator/fanspace surrounding it all ✨

[ricky-olson]

me in the theater watching michael have a nightmare about getting stuffed and william getting springlocked while new fnaf fans scream in horror

[medicinemane]

Love the hatred of pronouns, just too fucking funny

Also love the statement "I don't have DNA, I have USA" cause... where to even begin with that one? Unfathomable, so silly, if some of the shittiest people on earth weren't the ones saying it I'd love it cause of how entertaining it is

Anyway, fuck pronouns, never use pronouns, never use 3rd person, never use nouns. If you're referring to stuff that's some woke bullshit so get it out of here

[darlingofdots]

the vast majority of fanworks are bad, and that's fine, actually. they are bad for the same reason that the average number of legs for a human person to have is less than two: statistics. like with all endeavours and especially creative ones, most people who write fanfiction or draw art of their favourite characters are bad at it. if you line up all the crochet projects in the world, most of them will be, well, bad. some are bad because they're the first thing a person ever made, or the second or third or tenth, and this kind of thing takes practice. others are bad because the person who made them is just not very good at it. maybe they just learned how to make granny squares and they're perfectly happy to never expand or improve on that. most people who dance or bake or garden or braid hair are not amazing at it! and you'd never go to your kid's dance recital or eat your friend's homemade carrot cake and expect the same experience as you'd have at a professional ballet performance or award-winning bakery. And that's if we assume there is an objective measure of Good Art, which there isn't! Some art is just "bad" because you don't like it!

I think though that specifically with fanfiction, we sometimes forget that when we read a book or watch a movie, dozens of people have looked at it and given feedback and made changes and done quality control before the final product reaches our shelves or screens, and that's not counting the original writer's learning process and past experience. A published book is not anyone's first crochet project, even if it is their debut novel. But with fanfiction, the barrier to entry is so low (on purpose! this is a good thing!) that we do get to see a lot of wonky granny squares, and on sites like AO3 they're sitting on the same shelf as the hand-made silk lace wedding dress and you can't always tell just by looking at it which is which. The consequence of this is that we encounter fic that we think is unpolished, has bad punctuation, is out of character, and we are tempted to think "well, this is awful! how dare this person put this wonky granny square on the same shelf as the lace wedding dress!" But that's not how fandom is supposed to work! That wonky granny square is somebody who is really excited about this TV show they just watched and they are reaching out into the void to share their excitement with you. To scoff at them for not making a lace wedding dress is really, really rude. Even if they did make a lace wedding dress, maybe it's just really not your style, or you think they should have used a different pattern, and it's still their wedding dress. You don't have to wear the dress and you don't have to read the fic.

We all know that there is some fanfic out there that is incredible. I think it's important to talk about that! But the vast majority of people who post their writing online are just sharing their little hobby projects that they make for fun and I also think it's important to remember that.