#sera salvatore
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1:1 WOLF MOON ( pt. 2 )
FATAL ATTRACTION - a stiles stilinski story
summary: after a lot of research, a lot of arguing, and a run in with a mysterious stranger, stiles and sera come to the conclusion that scott is a werewolf. sera struggles with this fact while simultaneously trying to keep them from finding out her own secret.
WARNINGS: none
series masterlist
5.5k words
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After practice, I headed straight to my shift at the hospital - an internship I got thanks to Ms McCall.
I was eternally grateful. Not because I had an affinity for medical care, but because a girl needs to eat. And nowadays I would rather suck my blood from a bag rather than a jugular; morality and all that.
The boys shot me a text saying that they were going to pick me up when I was done so we could continue last night’s target of finding the body, or at least just Scott’s inhaler - collateral damage.
I easily spotted Stiles’ Jeep, skipping over to hop in after watching Stiles kick Scott into the backseat.
“Man, that’s so unfair! Why does she always get to ride shotgun?” Scott protested, now sulking in behind us.
When I got in Stiles put his hand on the headrest of my seat to turn back to Scott, “Because it’s her seat.”
I stayed silent, my satisfied smile spoke for me.
My seat. It truly was. I was in this passenger seat more than anyone else so we dubbed it so. It was such a known rule that Stiles had even started to enforce it.
As we drove, Scott noticed me keeping my bag securely on my lap, rather than chucking it to him.
“What’s in the bag?” he pointed to my heavy-looking, extremely full bag.
‘Dinner,’ I wanted to say. But I didn’t. “Oh, just homework,”
Then Stiles looked over too, “God, your teachers must hate you.”
~
“I don’t know what it was.”
Me and Stiles wanted to go over Scott’s sudden, unnatural aptitude for lacrosse.
“It’s like… I had all the time in the world to catch the ball.” It seemed as if it didn’t make sense to him either.
“And that’s not the only weird thing…” his tone almost sounded worried, meanwhile Stiles was just intrigued. “I can hear stuff I shouldn’t be able to hear… smell things.”
“Smell things? Like what,” I inquired with a short laugh - I was trying to make light of the situation, but the more he spoke the less funny it became. Maybe it was all just placebo after thinking he got bit by a wolf, that’s what I’d go with.
Scott sniffed the air, “Like the mint mojito gum in Stiles’ pocket.”
Stiles scoffed, reaching down to prove him wrong, “I don’t have any mint mo-” and there it was. The half-wrapped stick of gum lay on his palm.
“Ew,” I muttered, trying to divert my feeling of unease.
“I’m scared that I’ve got some kind of infection from the bite or something,” Scott rambled like he was scared he was dying, although he seemed far from it, “like, what if my body is just flooding itself with adrenaline before I go into shock!”
Noticing the smirk grow on Stiles’ face as I waited for his witty remark.
“You know what, I actually think I’ve heard of this,” he stated as if he was suddenly a biology expert. Scott looked over with hope.
“It’s a specific type of infection,” his hand on his hips as he stopped in his tracks, feigning seriousness.
“Are you serious?” Scott questioned, knowing it was probably one of his jokes, but he was too desperate to care.
“Yeah,” Stiles nodded and I rolled my eyes, obliging him since I was curious about where this was going. “It’s called… lycanthropy,” he stated solemnly.
I fought the urge to sigh, or even laugh, but I waited for Scott’s reaction first. Seems like we were on the same wavelength here… except my concerns were a little more real.
“What’s that?” Scott asked, his tone building in worry, “Is that bad?”
“Oh yeah,” Stiles agreed quickly, shaking his head, “the worst.”
Scott got just a little more pale as Stiles carried on. “But, only once a month.”
“Once a month?”
“Mhm,” I stepped in, donning the same earnest expression as the boy to my left, “on the night of the full moon.” I felt Stiles’ eyes travel to me and out of the corner of mine I caught his smirk, a silent communication as to what we would do next.
We turned back to Scott and howled in sync, I put my hands around my mouth to amplify the dramatics before we both burst out laughing at Scott’s unimpressed look, him moving forward to push us.
“Not funny, guys, there could be something seriously wrong with me!” Scott stomped on the dry leaves and we continued walking.
“I know! You’re a werewolf!” Stiles put his hands up and growled like a monster.
Again, Scott’s only reply was a glare. “Okay, obviously I’m kidding.”
“I’m not,” I mumbled softly toward the ground, but they both turned around and questioned if I said something.
“What?”
“Nothing,” I looked up and shook my head innocently.
“Look,” Stiles always tried to lighten the mood, “just saying, if you see me in shop class trying to melt all the silver it’s ‘cause Friday’s a full moon,” he ran with the joke, reaching back to tap me on the arm to ask if I heard that one. I didn’t want to laugh, but he was just too good.
Scott just ignored us - he had learned that was best sometimes - instead, mentally scanning the ground. “I- I could’ve sworn this was it.” he squatted down to examine what wasn’t there further. “I saw the body, the deer came running, I dropped my inhaler.” He started to root around in the leaves, retracing his steps.
“The killer might’ve moved the body?” I speculated, because he was right, it was gone, I couldn’t even smell blood anymore.
“Well if he did I hope he left my inhaler, those things are like 80 bucks,” he grumbled saltily.
Over the noise of our banter I must’ve missed the sound of footsteps because, in a moment of silence, I picked up another heartbeat, turning to the side to see a tall man dressed in all black staring ominously in our direction. My arm outstretched to hit Stiles and my leg to kick Scott, but before they could complain, they saw him.
Scott shot to his feet as the man started to walk over.
“What are you doing here?” his voice boomed as he approached, clearly scaring the two boys on my either side as I heard their heart rates pick up and Stiles’ hands fidgeted frantically.
We obviously didn’t answer quickly enough because he spoke again, “Huh?”
I waited for Scott or Stiles to reply first, but they were frozen, I sighed.
“This is private property,” the man warned, the dark tone in his voice unsettling.
Then I smelt it… Wolf.
I stepped up, putting on my best, well-practiced innocent face, and looked up at him. “Oh! We’re sorry, we had no idea. We were just looking for something my friend lost,” my wide eyes sparkled, but he didn’t seem to fall for it, instead, his eyes lingered threateningly on me for a few seconds longer than they did on the boys.
A moment of eerie silence came over us before he swiftly took something out of his pocket and threw it into Scott’s hands. His inhaler. Then, without another word, the man walked away, but not before giving me another creepy death stare.
When he was a few paces away and the boys were still a little too shaken to talk, I broke the tension and chuckled. “Well, he was creepy,”
If my suspicions were right, I knew he heard that.
Stiles spun on his heel to face us his hands jumping up and he looked at Scott as if he was stupid for not reading his mind. “Dude!” he took a step closer so he could talk quietly, “That was Derek Hale! You remember right? He’s only like a few years older than us.”
“His family all burned to death in a fire like 10 years ago,” he continued, but I wasn’t listening. I checked out the moment he said ‘Derek Hale.’
So I was right.
The Hales were a notorious werewolf pack down here on the West Coast, but I had no idea they were still around! I had also heard that they were a different type of wolf… stronger, as they were not bound by only turning on a full moon. But I didn’t exactly know how ‘different’ they really were.
And if that was true about the Hales… then I was correct about Scott.
~
I stayed up the whole night thinking.
Was I a bad friend for not telling them what I already knew? For making them figure this out for themselves while I could easily explain? Yes.
Was it selfish of me to keep such a big part of my life from them when they were the two most important people in my life? Also yes.
But all of this was for their own good. At least that’s what I kept telling myself to distract from the constantly looming cloud of guilt that hung over my head.
Matters only got worse when Stiles messaged me in a panic. A confirmation. They found animal hairs on the body. More precisely, wolf hairs.
~
The next day I got into school considerably late and very sleep-deprived - because despite what the fairy tales say, vampires still need their beauty sleep.
I was practically dozing off in third-period Chem without Stiles there to keep me awake since the team had a mandatory practice before the big game this week, so I excused myself to go to the bathroom and wander around the halls.
“Now listen, McCall. You’re gonna tell me exactly what it is and who you’re getting it from because there is no way you’re out there kicking ass on the field like that without some sort of chemical boost.”
I stopped my stroll around the halls at the sound of a familiar voice from around the corner.
“Oh, you mean steroids! Are you on steroids?”
Then Scott.
I poked my head out around the corner - Jackson had definitely noticed something was up and Scott wasn’t doing a very good job at keeping it a secret. This wasn’t good.
Crash. “What’s going on with you McCall!”
“You really wanna know?”
Uh oh.
“Well so would I! I can see hear and smell things that I shouldn’t be able to see hear and smell! And I-”
“Woah woah woah,” I ran over, replacing Jackson’s hand on Scott’s shirt with mine and pushing Jackson away, standing in between them.
Jackson looked furious, if he were in a cartoon smoke would be coming out of his ears. I stared him down.
He scoffed and took a step back, “You need your little friend to come rescue you?”
I quickly shushed Scott before he made the situation worse.
“Goodbye, Jackson,” I gave him a fake smile and waited for him to leave.
When he kept his eyes on us as he walked away. “I’m onto McCall. I’m gonna find out what it is you’re taking and I don’t care how long it takes.”
Once he had turned the corner I focused my attention back on Scott.
“Thanks, Ser-”
My hand took hold of his collar once more and did the same move Jackson had just done, another crash as he hit the lockers, his eyes wide and confused. “What were you thinking!”
“What do you mean!” he was incredibly confused.
I sighed, realising he doesn’t know what’s going on at all, so I let go. “You can’t just go around telling Jackson Whittemore this stuff! I know you’re scared but he is the last person you should trust.”
The way his expression dropped told me he knew I was right. But our little interaction was cut short by Coach screaming that their break was over.
“Listen,” Scott started as he stepped back towards the door of the locker room, “I’ll see you later at the game.”
“The game? I thought Stiles told you-” but he left before I could finish my sentence.
~
“Stiles!” I hurried over to where he sat on the bench, his leg bouncing frantically as he chewed on his bitten fingernails.
His head flicked in my direction, a look of relief on his face, “Sera! I haven’t seen you all day,” he stood up quickly and put his hands on my shoulders to make sure I was really there.
“I came in late,” I brushed it off.
“Have you talked to Scott?”
His head shook vigorously, “He wouldn’t listen. I’m waiting for him to come out so I can try again.”
Just as he said that I saw Scott walking out onto the field and we both approached him, trying to stop from going out onto the field.
“Scott!” Stiles shouted, his voice breaking as he practically bashed the helmet out of his hands.
“Look! I’m playing the first elimination guys, can it wait?” Scott threw his hands up in annoyance, completely ignoring our desperation.
“Man, just listen!” I put my hands on Scott to physically bring his attention to us.
Stiles spoke and he spoke fast. “I overheard my dad on the phone. The fiber analysis on the body came back from the lab in L.A. and they found animal hairs on the body from the woods!”
But Scott was already leaving. We chased after him, no longer bothering to keep our voices hushed.
“Wait! Just hold on!” I reached to grab his sleeve but he was too far, “You’re not gonna believe what the animal was!” Still, he didn’t look back.
Then it was just me and Stiles again. Scott was long gone, but I still finished my sentence, quietly as if only to myself, “It was a wolf.”
For the entirety of the game I could not tear myself away from Stiles on the bench, I simply sat down on my haunches beside him. The more I watched Scott the more my nerves started to skyrocket.
If he was good last time, he was phenomenal now. Before, it was unusual. Now it was plain unnatural the way he swerved and dodged, moving with agility that wouldn’t be out of place in a superhero movie. He even did a whole ass flip over three of the players, that was the kicker. I looked up to Stiles who was already looking back down at me, sharing my loss for words.
Once the game was over we were too lost to join in on the cheering. I knew what was up, and it scared me to know that Stiles knew it too.
Was it so crazy to say that Scott was a werewolf?
~
“So… what exactly are we looking for again?” my eyes wandered over to Stiles at his computer while I lay on his bed, filing my nails.
He was practically buzzing after popping a couple Aderalls the second we got back from school. “Something… Anything!” His hands continued their frenzied typing, the clicking of the keys becoming a soothing background noise.
This was more or less me and Stiles’ typical Wednesday night - him doing whatever at his desk and me simply just being there so I didn’t get too bored sitting at home alone. To be fair, we usually didn’t have the constant impending sense of doom over the fact our best friend might be a freaking werewolf.
But even though we were both here, we hadn’t directly discussed our thoughts or theories, we didn’t really have to. But my anxiety was starting to escalate. “Okay, Stiles!” I speak louder - I had been saying things here or there but he’d been too in his own world to hear.
Finally, he spun his chair around and looked at me with wired eyes, “Hm?”
“What are we doing? What are we thinking?” I longed for a peek into his brain on a regular day, but today I really wanted to delve into those spinning cogs.
He paused to find the words. “We are thinking… There is something seriously up with Scott, and dare I say it- something not even human,” a sigh left his lips that he had bitten to pieces. The way he said ‘we’ instead of ‘I’m thinking’ was almost a plea for agreement, to tell him he’s not going crazy here, and if he was, at least I’d be crazy with him.
I nodded. “Yeah…” it was hard for me to know how much I should or shouldn’t say, or what I could say. Because I knew a lot more than I was letting on, and it was a shitty move - but the more he figured out about Scott… the closer he got to knowing my truth.
Silence hung in the air for a minute before he called me over with a wave of his hand.
“Come, look at this,” he swivelled his chair back around to sift through the myriad of tabs he had open that made his computer run slow and make an awful whirring noise.
My feet carried me to stand behind his chair, bending down to have a look at the screen.
‘Lycaon’
‘Wolfsbane’
A bunch of gory, ancient images littered the screen as he pointed out key phrases from each website.
And then, finally, the word ‘WEREWOLF.’
He must’ve noticed my wide-eyed muteness as he prompted a response out of me.
“Well?” he waited. “Listen, I- I know it sounds crazy, I know that. But… tell me this doesn’t make perfect sense?”
“You’re right,” I admitted candidly. He was.
“Look I’ve texted Scott… I figured he’s the one with all this he should be here to hear it.”
I was left to wonder how Scott would react to all of this; but the fact Stiles had accepted it so quickly was a wonder in itself. Secretly, I think he loved it all a little too much.
Knock knock.
When two loud bangs came from the other side of Stiles’ door he practically jumped out of his skin, luckily I was behind him to hold his chair upright, puting my hand down on his beating chest that he clutched with his own.
I tiptoed toward the door, reaching for the handle, but it opened before I got there.
There he was, his trademark crooked smile plastered on his lips as he could tell from our faces that he had scared us.
“Get in here!” I beckoned.
That’s when Stiles scrambled up to drag Scott in by the collar and pushed him back to sit on the bed while he paced around the room, finally sitting down in his chair.
“I’ve been reading,” he spoke at the speed of light as I took a seat next to Scott.
“For hours,” my hint of sarcasm didn’t seem to be appreciated, so I let him continue.
“Websites, books, all of it!”
Scott chuckled, “How much Adderal have you had today?”
“Unimportant.”
I turned to whisper one last thing before I shut up, “A lot.”
“Remember the joke from the other day…? Not a joke anymore.”
Scott looked clueless.
“The wolf– the bite in the woods!”
Still nothing.
Stiles shot up out of his seat. “Do you even know why a wolf howls?” His hands were flailing about like they always did; sometimes I genuinely thought he moved faster than me, and I have super speed!
“Should I?”
It was a rhetorical question.
“To signal its location to the rest of a pack! So if you heard a wolf howling that means there could’ve been others nearby, maybe even a whole pack of ‘em!”
The poor guy had not taken a break since 3 o’clock. I got up and stood at his side, placing a hand on his shoulder for him to take a breath, “Shh.”
“A whole pack of wolves?” Scott asked, now intrigued.
“No…” Stiles had finally calmed down a tad, “werewolves.”
My insides physically churned upon hearing him say it out loud. Scott however, did not look impressed. He stood up and grabbed his bag, ready to walk out, “Man, are you seriously wasting my time?”
Stiles was about to step forward, but I took over, moving my hand in front of him to signal I had got it, and my other one a bit rougher to Scott’s to stop him from leaving. “Look dude, I saw you on the field today, Scott. What you did today wasn’t just incredible… It was impossible.” My eyes softened, trying to reason with him.
He was about to retort when Stiles jumped back in, “People can’t just do that overnight! You flipped over 3 guys, Scott,” Stiles almost laughed, “Since when have you been able to do that, huh? I mean- your speed, your reflexes! And there’s the vision and the senses,” he listed everything off on his fingers.
“And don’t think I didn’t notice you don’t need your inhaler anymore!”
“Okay, dude! I can’t think about this now, we’ll talk tomorrow.” He somehow brushed off everything thing we had said as if it was the latest school gossip.
But I was now consumed by the same fever as Stiles, scampering up to him and taking him by the shoulders, raising my voice to their volume. “Tomorrow?”
“What!” Stiles added.
“No!” our pleas ping-ponged back and forth rhythmically as we begged for him to just listen. “The full moon’s tonight! Don’t you get it?”
“What are you guys trying to do!” Scott pushed back, but there was nothing in our eyes other than concern for him… and Allison.
“Everything in my life is somehow perfect, for once! Why are you trying to ruin it?”
I could physically feel the shift in the air as Stiles raked his fingers through his hair, taking in a lungful of air. “We’re trying to help,” his sincerity was like a pang to the heart.
“You’re cursed, Scott.”
That somehow hurt even worse.
It was a fact. But I found myself longing again for just a glimpse at what he really thought. Did he think his best friend was a monster? Did he think less of him? My questions were inherently selfish; I didn’t care what he thought about Scott - not nearly as much as what he thought about me. Because imagine how he would feel discovering his other friend is even more cursed, riddled with a dark history of deceit, horror, and even murder.
But this wasn’t about me. “Scott, he’s right,” my face turned just as solemn.
“You’re not only about the risk of you physically changing… it’s also when your bloodlust will be at its peak.”
Ah, my old friend. I was one to talk.
���Bloodlust?” his repetition was incredulous.
“Your-” I cleared my throat and tried again. “Your urge to kill.”
Scott practically seethed as his eyes flicked between us, “I’m already starting to feel an urge to kill, Sera.”
But before I could offer a witty retort of my own, Stiles had begun reading a passage from one of the books on his ransacked desk, “‘The change can be triggered by anger or anything that raises your pulse,’” he snapped the book closed and I half-flinched.
“Alright? I haven’t seen anyone raise your pulse like Allison does. You gotta cancel this date.”
Scott knew he was right, but I could hear the anger raising his pulse right there and then as Stiles shot towards his bag, scrambling around to get his hands on Scott’s phone to do it himself. “Screw it, I’m doing it myself.”
The next few seconds seemed to play in slow motion.
Scott’s voice shouted louder than I’d ever heard it, his actions much more aggressive as he practically flung Stiles against a wall in protest for his phone. A fist aimed at his best friend’s face, and his arm swinging back to push over the chair.
Too fast for either of them to notice I ran forward and intervened, pushing Scott’s now heaving figure away from a shellshocked Stiles. No one spoke.
Until Scott.
“I’m sorry.”
He didn’t sound sorry.
“I gotta get ready for that party.”
Tension in the room hung heavy, it was safe to say that was an unexpected turn.
And me? I was still stuck worrying that either of them had noticed the speed at which I got to them or the strength at which I countered Scott.
But when I finally came to my senses, I knew there was only one thing I could do.
Wordlessly I put my arms around Stiles, his naturally finding their place around my shoulders as I listened to the sound of his breathing.
Whatever was going on with Scott, I would take care of it.
~
The best way to stop Scott from doing anything stupid tonight was to keep an eye on him in person. He was with Allison at Lydia’s party, which naturally had half the entire school there even though it was announced just yesterday.
Which in turn meant that it might be a little more difficult to spot him than hoped.
Since I had come with Stiles I was immediately roped into one of his and his nerd friends’ conversations about something I had no clue about - it sounded like a foreign language. He could tell I was a little out of place, so he stuck by my side, his hand snaking around my waist as nothing more than a friendly gesture.
While we waited for a gap in conversation to seek out Scott, one of the jocks from the lacrosse team ‘bumped into me,’ a typical cocky grin on his lips. “Sorry, babe.”
It was so insincere I almost laughed in his face.
“Come here, I’ll get you a drink to make up for it.”
Gross. Stiles noticed the interaction and audibly scoffed, but I ignored him.
“Ew?” I said simply in the guy’s face, pushing him away with my fingertips and shooing him off.
This little interaction made the boys we were standing with suddenly aware that I was in fact a girl, and a popular one at that, turning them all even more awkward in the blink of an eye - Stiles found this incredibly stupid.
“Hey,” my demeanour screamed boredom and he must’ve noticed. “You go have fun. We can find Scott later, we’ve got plenty of time.”
My eyes lit up. ‘Thank God.’ “Ugh, you’re the best, Sti,” I grabbed his hand with both of mine and walked away, dropping it when out of reach. “Love you, man!” I pointed a finger at him before turning and skipping away.
There was a collective gasp from those boys, so shocked that Stiles could get a girl to say she loved him.
Poor losers. They’re lucky Stiles was a little nerd at heart because he was way too cool for them.
Outside seemed like my best bet to have some fun. Everyone was dancing, drinking, making out. This was my scene. You never outgrew a high school party (unless you were my buzzkill of a twin brother); just because you’re dead doesn’t mean you have to stop living.
I found some guy to dance with to kill my time, sipping a drink out of a red solo cup, all the while keeping my eyes peeled for that pesky little werewolf on the prowl somewhere.
And as we moved, there he was. He still looked very much human, and Allison didn’t look horrified, so it seemed as though we were all good.
The night moved quickly, 40 minutes had felt like ten and now there were even more people to block my watchful eye.
I could smell dog - or wolf rather - over the alcohol and teenage B.O., so Scott must be nearby.
But as soon as I told myself not to panic, my phone rang.
STILES…
Stiles
SCOTT
MISSING
CAN’T FIND HIM
GET OFF THAT DUDE AND COME
“Shit!” I cursed under my breath, causing the guy I was with to give a dumb ‘huh?’ which I waved off, excusing myself and running back into the house.
I soon found Stiles who was standing at the front door, keys in hand and ready to hit it.
But when we got to Scott’s house he had already left out his bedroom window. He would be back, there was no point in chasing him - not on a full moon, not out there.
Stiles went to sit on the bed while I paced, putting a hand on my forehead.
“Listen,” he stayed calm in an effort to soothe my nerves, “he’ll be back soon. I can take you home and I’ll come back to wait for him, I know you haven't been sleeping well.”
I spun on my heel to look him in the eyes, sincere enough to make my hand drop-down. “It’s fine you don’t-”
“Come on,” he stood up, not letting me finish and I didn’t want to argue - he was right, I was stressed, tired, and could not pull another all-nighter due to supernatural stress.
I was an overthinker in life, that was only amplified with being turned.
“Okay…” I admitted defeat, a once-in-a-lifetime thing to hear from me. Stiles even raised his eyebrows in shock that he didn’t have to do any more convincing.
“Thanks,” I paused, looking up at him. Maybe this was his way of making it even after I saved him from Scott earlier; he was the only one who ever saw that I needed saving sometimes too.
~
Late-night rides in Stiles’ Jeep were always a comfort. Music on, but not blaring, yet loud enough for me to sing along - quiet enough to hear my soft melodies over the recording.
I got him to drop me off down my road (as usual), using the excuse of ‘not wanting my brother to see me sneak back in.’
But the walk up to my house felt like a walk of shame. Every time I lied it felt worse. Especially to him.
After opening my door I sped straight up to my room, my swirling thoughts refusing to quiet for one second. I felt so alone in this fabricated life I had made spun. I couldn’t tell Scott or Stiles what I knew, and they were the ones fucking involved!
So I did the only thing I could do and called my brother.
“Damon?”
Immediately, he could hear something was up. Yeah, he was a rude, stone-faced, ladykiller (literally), but I saw his true heart of gold, just like when we were kids.
“Sera? Hey, what’s up?”
Where do I start?
Werewolves. My best friend being one of them. Thinking there might be more.
It was a long conversation.
~
After getting everything off my chest and a nice glass of bourbon, I slept like a rock.
In the morning, Stiles had finally managed to find Scott, picking me up on the way, but I wasn’t much entertainment. I was still half asleep, leaning my head against the window while I yawned.
“You needed that sleep, huh?” Stiles teased, wanting me to admit he was right to send me home last night.
My pride was too strong, but I did crack a smile, “Shut up.”
And soon, we saw a familiar, shirtless frame, wandering alone down where the road met the trees - did he have any idea how much of a werewolf cliche he was?
The car stopped beside him and he saw us, stopping to get in, looking downright shaken.
When he unlatched the door to my side he opened his mouth to tell me to get in the back, but Stiles interrupted before he could.
“Nuh-uh,” he shook his head, hands still gripping the wheel, “you know the drill, climb through,” he nodded toward the back.
My smile widened. It had become a given.
Scott went to protest that he had just been gallivanting through the woods for a night, but Stiles cut him off with another noise, pulling a disgruntled sigh out of Scott as he dove over the middle console.
The drive was unusually tense. A strong vibe of ‘I told you so’ came off both me and Stiles that coerced Scott into silence who now felt bad for the way he reacted yesterday, because we were right.
After about 3 minutes, he finally spoke, “You know what worries me the most?”
Stiles craned his neck back to see his friend curled up against the metal frame, his face unmoving as he was still angry. “If you say Allison I’m gonna punch you in the head.”
“She probably hates me now,” he whined, not listening.
“I doubt that,” I interjected, “But you might wanna come up with a pretty amazing apology.”
“Or you could tell her the truth,” Stiles shrugged as we both cast looks at him to tell him that was stupid. “And revel in the fact that you’re a freaking werewolf!”
“But really, we’ll get through this,” he continued, not only looking to Scott but to both of us. “If we have to we’ll chain you up ourselves on full moon nights and feed you live mice. I had a boa once, I could do it.”
There he was. His tone was lighter again as he reached down into his bag to chuck Scott the shirt he brought for him since we were headed straight for school. It was Stiles. He couldn’t stay mad for too long, not at something he found as awesome as this.
It left me with a glimmer of hope.
ੈ✩‧₊˚
a/n: things are getting tense… check the series masterlist at the top for other parts x leave liked and comments !
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#stiles stilinski#stiles stilinski x reader#teen wolf#x oc#fic#fluff#angst#smut#crossover au#slow burn#tvd#the vampire diaries#salvatore#damon salvatore#stefan salvatore#sera salvatore#klaus mikaelson#derek hale#derek hale x reader#isaac lahey#scott mccall#the originals#tyler lockwood#vampire#werewolf
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HI GUYS SHOP IS OPEN IN MY KO-FI, PLEASE CHECK IT OUT!! REBLOG AND SHARE ARE REALLY APPRECIATED!! THANK YOU SO MUCH!!
#resident evil#rebhfun#re#chris redfield#claire redfield#jill valentine#carlos oliveria#luis sera#leon s kennedy#ashley graham#ada wong#jack krauser#albert wesker#mother miranda#salvatore moreau#donna beneviento#ethan winters#mia winters#karl heisenberg#lady dimitrescu#alicina dimitrescu#sheva alomar#rebecca chambers#eveline#key chains#re7#re8#re4#re5#re3
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Friend: I dare you for another fanfic!
Me: * counting the ones whom already started* yes?
Friend: Resident evil otome game version.
Me: which part?
Friend: All.
Me:
#resident evil#leon s kennedy#leon kennedy#chris redfield#albert wesker#luis serra#luis sera navarro#jake muller#karl heisenberg#claire redfield#jill valentine#carlos oliveira#charles ashford#rebecca chambers#ethan winters#mia winters#sheva alomar#fanfiction#video game#alcina dimitrescu#salvatore moreau#donna beneviento#mother miranda#zombies#zombie apocalypse#bow#fanfic#otome game
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Salvatore Quasimodo, E' subito sera
#salvatore quasimodo#è subito sera#poesia#citazione libro#citazione#libro#letteratura#solitudine#vita#dolore#condizione umana#umanità#uomo#poesia del novecento#novecento italiano#quasimodo#cuor della terra#trafitto da un raggio di sole
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#resident evil polls#resident evil poll#resident evil#resident evil damnation#resident evil infinite darkness#steve burnside#leon s kennedy#leon scott kennedy#leon kennedy#luis sera#luis serra navarro#chris redfield#ethan winters#salvatore moreau#carlos oliveira#infinite darkness patrick#vee's random thoughts go brr#vee's resident evil works
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"Solitudini" di Salvatore Quasimodo: Un Viaggio Poetico tra Isolamento e Consapevolezza. Recensione di Alessandria today
La poesia di Quasimodo esplora il senso di solitudine esistenziale, con immagini evocative e riflessioni profonde sulla condizione umana.
La poesia di Quasimodo esplora il senso di solitudine esistenziale, con immagini evocative e riflessioni profonde sulla condizione umana. Recensione:“Solitudini” è una delle poesie più intense e riflessive di Salvatore Quasimodo, autore profondamente legato ai temi della solitudine e del dolore esistenziale. In questi versi, il poeta descrive un momento di isolamento interiore, dove si confronta…
#Abbandono#Analisi#buio#Case#di#dolore#Donne#ermetismo#esistenza#esistenziale#Fugacità#introspezione.#isolamenti#Italiana#Letteratura#lumi#Meditazione#morte#Nebbia#Nobel#Pensiero#Poesia#Premio#Quasimodo#Raggio#Ricordo#SALVATORE#Sera#Significato#Sole
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Me stesso
Errando per la via
cerco me stesso
in una sera d’autunno.
(Salvatore Di Dio)
#senryu#poesia#poetry#my poem#photography#art#fotosalvatoredidio#photosalvatoredidio#me stesso#via#ricerca#my self#way#research#sera#autunno#evening#street photography#autumn#Poesia Salvatore Di Dio#spilled thoughts#spilled words#spilled quotes#fotoecitazioni
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나의 여행스케치
사진 배경 : 경기도 구리 한강시민공원 코스모스축제
사진 저작권 : jongseong Lee
영상 저작권 : jongseong Lee
음악 : Que Sera
아티스트 : Salvatore Adamo
When I was just a little girl
I asked my mother
What will I be
Will I be pretty
Will I be rich
Here's what she said to me
Que sera, sera
Whatever will be, will be
The future's not ours to see
Que sera, sera
What will be, will be
When I grew up and fell in love
I asked my sweetheart
What lies ahead
Will we have rainbows
Day after day
Here's what my sweetheart said
Que sera, sera
Whatever will be, will be
The future's not ours to see
Que sera, sera
What will be, will be
Now I have Children of my own
They ask their mother
What will I be
Will I be handsome
Will I be rich
I tell them tenderly
Que sera, sera
Whatever will be, will be
The future's not ours to see
Que sera, sera
What will be, will be
Que Sera, Sera
#Salvatore Adamo#Que Sera#여행#스케치#여행스케치#스토리여행#한국#경기도#구리#한강#시민공원#코스모스#축제#코스모스축제#꽃#Lee jongseong#구리한강시민공원
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"Chi vive in baracca, chi suda il salario
Chi ama l'amore e i sogni di gloria
Chi ruba pensioni, chi ha scarsa memoria
Chi mangia una volta, chi tira al bersaglio
Chi vuole l'aumento, chi gioca a Sanremo
Chi porta gli occhiali, chi va sotto un treno
Chi ama la zia, chi va a Porta Pia
Chi trova scontato, chi come ha trovato
Na na na na na na na na na na
Ma il cielo è sempre più blu!!!"
.«C’è qualcuno che vuole mettermi il bavaglio. Io non li temo. Non ci riusciranno. Sento che, in futuro, le mie canzoni saranno cantate dalle prossime generazioni che, grazie alla comunicazione di massa, capiranno che cosa voglio dire questa sera. Capiranno e apriranno gli occhi, anziché averli pieni di sale, e si chiederanno cosa succedeva sulla spiaggia di Capocotta.»
Rino Gaetano, all'anagrafe Salvatore Antonio Gaetano (Crotone, 29 ottobre 1950 – Roma, 2 giugno 1981), è stato un cantautore italiano.
Incompreso fra gli incompresi, specie per i suoi contemporanei. Definito un “autore di canzoncine ironiche, scherzose e scanzonate” da Maurizio Costanzo, presentatore televisivo iscritto alla P2, da altri liquidato come un paladino del non-sense e marchiato come cantastorie di infimo valore. Criticato, deriso, maledetto. continua:
https://www.kulturjam.it/arte-musica-e-spettacolo/rino-gaetano-genio-buffone/
La canzone profezia di Rino Gaetano, “La ballata di Renzo” anticipò la sua morte:
https://www.ilriformista.it/la-canzone-profezia-di-rino-gaetano-la-ballata-di-renzo-anticipo-la-sua-morte-109071/
Quel giorno Renzo uscì,
Andò lungo quella strada
Quando un auto veloce lo investì
Quell'uomo lo aiutò e Renzo allora partì
Per un ospedale che lo curasse,
Per guarir
Quando renzo morì, io ero al bar
Bevevo un caffè
Quando Renzo morì, io ero al bar,
Al bar con gli amici
Quando Renzo morì, io ero al bar
La strada molto lunga
S'andò al san Camillo
E lì non lo vollero per l'orario.
La strada tutta scura
S'andò al san Giovanni
E li non lo accettarono per lo sciopero.
Quando renzo morì, io ero al bar
Bevevo un caffè
Quando Renzo morì, io ero al bar,
Al bar con gli amici
Quando Renzo morì, io ero al bar
Con l'alba,
Le prime luci
S'andò al Policlinico
Ma lo respinsero perché mancava il vice Capo
In alto,
C'era il sole
Si disse che Renzo era morto
Ma neanche al cimitero c'era posto.
Quando renzo morì, io ero al bar
Bevevo un caffè
Quando Renzo morì, io ero al bar,
Al bar con gli amici
Quando Renzo morì, io ero al bar
La Ballata Di Renzo
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=872Yrl2wB8c
Rino Gaetani la sera del 2 giugno del 1981 la passa nei locali della sua Roma. Due sere prima l’ultima apparizione televisiva, a Crazy Bus, dove canta E io ci sto e Scusa Mary, estratti dall’ultimo suo album. Tornando a casa perde il controllo della sua Volvo 343 grigio metallizzato. Si schianta contro un camion sulla Nomentana, all’altezza dell’incrocio con via Carlo Fea. Quando arrivano i soccorsi è già in coma. Viene trasportato al Policlinico Umberto I dove vengono riscontrate fratture e ferite gravi. Una grave alla base cranica. L’istituto non ha un reparto attrezzato per le urgenze. Il medico di turno prova a contattare altri ospedali: il San Giovanni, il San Camillo, il CTO della Garbatella, il Policlinico Gemelli e il San Filippo Neri – e quindi tutti i tre della canzone di dieci anni prima. Nessun posto disponibile.
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‘Everyone stands alone at the heart of the world, pierced by a ray of sunlight, and suddenly it’s evening.’
— Salvatore Quasimodo, from "Ed è subito sera" in Ed è subito sera (and suddenly it is evening) (1942 by Mondadori) (via Alive on All Channels)
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FATAL ATTRACTION MASTERLIST
summary: Sera Salvatore moved to Beacon Hills for a break from the supernatural. But her life was once again turned upside down when she and her two best friends get thrown head first into a world of werewolves and mystery. But it’s hard for her to protect her friends when a single werewolf bite is what could kill her for good…
( you can also read this on my ao3 or my wattpad )
CHAPTERS:
PROLOGUE
1:1 WOLF MOON ( pt. 1 )
1:1 WOLF MOON ( pt. 2 )
└──────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────┘
#stiles stilinski#fatal attraction#teen wolf#crossover au#tvd#the vampire diaries#derek hale#scott mccall#isaac lahey#sera salvatore#damon salvatore#stefan salvatore#tyler lockwood#klaus mikaelson#stiles stilinski x reader#vampire#werewolf#supernatural#slow burn#fluff#angst#smut#full length fic#the originals#vampire!oc
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[CLOSED] Last Pre-Order/Interest Check Form
Hello! Here's the last Pre-Order/Interest Check Form for the Key Chain/Stickers.
i'll be closing the form at 31st July 2023. Thank you so much for showing your interest!
Update: the form is now closed, thank you for showing your support! We've reached a good goal, I have to apologize with the short notice instead following the intended deadline, I'll be opening it again in the near future, thank you so much! 🙇❤
#rebhfun#resident evil#re#Carlos Oliveria#Jill valentine#Luis sera#Leon S Kennedy#Ada Wong#Ashley Graham#Eveline#Mia Winters#Ethan Winters#Salvatore Moreau#Donna Beneviento#Sheva Alomar#Rebecca Chambers#Claire Redfield#Chris Redfield#Karl Heisenberg#Jack Krauser#Albert Wesker#Alicina Dimitrescu#Miranda#Mother Miranda#my art#keychain#stickers#interest check
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Chapter 21 - I miss you
Bonnie can't seem to shake the eldest, Salvatore. He is everywhere. Glaring from behind her. Not that she minds, but still. It's obsessive.
“Why are you following me?” she turned to him at the top of the stairs, her green eyes sparkling. “Cause.” “Cause?” “I miss you.”
#bamon#bamon shippers club#bonnie bennett#damon salvatore#bamon fanfiction#my otp#ao3#fanfiction.net#Spotify
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Ninna nanna per Giovanni.
Pensa agli alberi
quando c’è il vento
alle loro cime giocate
con dolcezza improvvisa
pensa alle foglie
finalmente lavate
della polvere estiva
ai castori
nelle loro tane lontane
sotterrati in vera compagnia
alle carovane dei pionieri
protese alle avventure
pensa alle care voci
della sera
al suo buio stellare
e all’effetto volatile
che fa nella tua mente giovane
nei tuoi pensieri innocenti
nelle tue sane paure
meraviglie incancellabili
mai progredite
e da sempre esistite.
- Salvatore Toma
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Carl Gustav Carus (1789-1869) / Faust in his study, 1852
* * * *
‘Everyone stands alone at the heart of the world, pierced by a ray of sunlight, and suddenly it’s evening.’
- Salvatore Quasimodo, Ed è subito sera, 1930
#suddenly#myth reading#Salvatore Quasimodo#quotes#my favorites#words and writing#time and space#Carl Gustav Carus#Faust in his Study#about art
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" È fondamentale interrogarci su quanto la paura stia deformando la nostra vita e le nostre scelte, e se quel che temiamo di perdere valga veramente la pena che proviamo nel chinare la testa, nel rinunciare a seguire quello che crediamo giusto o che desideriamo. Il personaggio principale di Storia di un impiegato, l’album di Fabrizio De André dedicato ai movimenti giovanili che dal ’68 alla fine degli anni settanta hanno scosso la vita politica italiana, è un uomo che si pone queste domande in ritardo. L’album è uscito [il 2 ottobre] 1973, ed è stato il primo in cui De André abbia dichiarato il proprio orientamento politico; prima di allora le sue canzoni erano uno splendido riflesso del cantautorato francese, elegante e popolare allo stesso tempo. Adesso l’autore genovese affronta direttamente il tema della rivoluzione giovanile, della lotta al sistema: il protagonista dell’album è un uomo ordinario, che non si trova a vivere la sua vita dove vuole che sia, ma dove la pista della proprietà e dei ruoli l’ha portato. È la paura ad aver costruito le sue scelte, e nulla di quello che vive è realmente frutto di una sua decisione. È un uomo realmente così distante dalle nostre esistenze? In quale rigagnolo galleggia la realtà di questo trentenne e fin dove tiene nascosta la faccia, a rischio d’annegare?
Da quanti anni il suo e il nostro mondo s’è ristretto nel bugigattolo dell’ufficio, tra la scrivania ingombra e il muro dall’intonaco ingrigito? Con quanta cura, la mattina, scivola fuori dal letto per non svegliare la compagna? (E una sveglia non gli serve da anni: ormai è la ripetizione di ogni cosa a farlo alzare puntuale.) Quante volte ha fissato il suo volto allo specchio, controllato la rasatura, indossato la camicia stirata la sera precedente, la solita giacca, il solito nodo alla cravatta? Potremmo essere noi. Fuori il Maggio francese non vuole smettere di riscaldare l’aria: da tempo le donne hanno strani monili tra i capelli, sorridono con tranquillità e guardano negli occhi gli uomini. L’impiegato di De André le osserva sulla metropolitana, tiene le mani raccolte tra le cosce, le spalle curve, conta gli anni che lo distanziano da quel mondo: e non ne trova molti, ma ne trova abbastanza. «Eppure i miei trent’anni sono pochi più dei loro», pensa, e questo non gli dà alcun sollievo. L’ufficio è ancora al suo posto, nello stesso quartiere di sempre, allo stesso piano del medesimo edificio. Sarà così anche negli anni successivi, per ogni singolo giorno della sua giovinezza, inoltrandosi nella maturità, fino a costeggiare la vecchiaia: allora la gita sarà finita ed ecco il momento di scendere al molo. Avrà una buona, sicura vecchiaia. È questo che si dice salendo le scale e incrociando gli sguardi dei colleghi. Qualcosa da condividere con i figli, quando ne vorrà avere. Ha ottenuto un buon posto di lavoro. L’ha ottenuto molto presto. Di che dovrebbe lamentarsi? Mentre regola l’altezza della sedia e dispone le pratiche sulla scrivania, mentre comincia a «contare i denti ai francobolli», sente cantare in strada, oltre la finestra dell’ufficio. Un corteo, colori, slogan e intorno la cinta scura della polizia, gli scudi e i manganelli sollevati, le spalle affiancate e i fumogeni. Guarda i manifestanti e pensa che soprattutto le donne, coraggiose e indipendenti, sono bellissime. Prova a immaginarsi in mezzo a loro, e si sente ridicolo: in piazza dietro la muraglia di caschi, schiacciato dai corpi di chi fugge alle cariche. Sarebbe letteralmente «fuori luogo». Nessuno tra quei ragazzi lo conosce e poi, come dovrebbe vestirsi? In mezzo al corteo sembrerebbe un infiltrato della Digos. Ovviamente verrebbe licenziato: come fare a lasciare il posto di lavoro per un motivo simile? E come spiegarsi, più tardi, con la compagna? "
Salvatore La Porta, Less is more. Sull’arte di non avere niente, Il Saggiatore (collana La Cultura, n° 1134), 2018¹. [Libro elettronico]
#Less is more#letture#leggere#citazioni#libri#saggistica#Salvatore La Porta#cantautori#Fabrizio De André#Sessantotto#concept album#1968#giovani#contestazione giovanile#contestazione studentesca#movimento studentesco#politica#impegno#musica d'autore#Storia di un impiegato#maggio francese#Nicola Piovani#Canzone del Maggio#La bomba in testa#Al ballo mascherato#Sogno numero due#Canzone del padre#Il bombarolo#Verranno a chiederti del nostro amore#Nella mia ora di libertà
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