“If I meant asshole or jackass I would have said that. I just think you’re a dork. Why are you so harsh on yourself?”
❝ I‘m not harsh on myself, i’m just accepting the truth. ❞
“It’s a stupid truth, then. Here comes the nurse. I’ll wait for you over there.
There’s a lot you aren’t /aware/ of. You’re too busy getting high.
Yep. You caught me. I’m a total and complete pothead indifferent to the rest of the world. How’d you know?
*smugly* Empath. Is /that/ what wolfbane does? Good to know.
No, ugh, you’re giving me a headache with the sarcasm you horrid boy.
I wasn’t previously aware that sarcasm had positive connotations.
There’s a lot you aren’t /aware/ of. You’re too busy getting high.
Oh my god stop taking drugs Isaac!
Fuck are you, my mom?
No, ugh, you’re giving me a headache with the sarcasm you horrid boy.
I don’t really like that I feel like I have to act insecure about my writing in the tumblr roleplay community.
“I don’t even know you and I can tell you are a dork.”
❝ Most would use the term, ass-hole, or jack-ass;
but that works, I guess. ❞
“If I meant asshole or jackass I would have said that. I just think you’re a dork. Why are you so harsh on yourself?”
Just the periodic reminder, since I got so many new followers lately (fifteen in a week is a lot for me)
“She purchases sweaters and then I have a choice, but my choice was to gladden her by wearing the sweater she purchased.” [x]
[text] There’s a stupid amount of noise for it being this time in the morning.
[text] Fuck. It’s the afternoon. Why is it the afternoon?
[text to: sexy nerd] there is actual sunshine today
[text to: sexy nerd] that is having an effect on my decision making
[text to: sexy nerd] bask like cat[text] move the screen by the window?
[text] NO! You’ll get a glare.
[close the curtains and pretend it’s dark
[text to: sexy nerd] abandon computer and go outside!
[text to: sexy nerd] not all of us abhor sunlight
[text to: sexy nerd] vampire boy 🙂
thenogitsuneandstiles-deactivat:
Stiles was slammed against the wall, the fiery red headed girl he didn’t even know the name of smashing her lips to his. How had he ended up here? He didn’t know. He remembered being angry that Lydia had dissed him (once again) and walking into a bar, talking to a cute girl, they had danced after a few drinks…
And now he was up against a wall, their bodies pressed together, lips molding into each others and somehow, he loved it. Because he wasn’t worrying, or even caring frankly, about the other red head who had consumed him. Right now, at least, he probably wouldn’t know who she was if she walked up to him.
He pressed his lips against hers, instantly losing his nervousness, along with his carefulness. Stiles reached his hands down to the hem of his shirt, hooking his fingers on it and pulling it up and over his head, surprisingly not feeling any self doubt about his body.
“Oh, god,” she rasped, hands sliding over his torso. “You’re just — you — ” She kissed him again, hard and fast with teeth and tongue, and stopped, gasping in breaths. Then she twined her own shirt up just beneath her breasts in a kind of makeshift bra and pressed herself against him again, kissing his throat and down his shoulder.
A throat clearing from behind them startled her into a yelp. A burly sort of fellow, so broad he looked squat, folded his arms at the end of the booth and lifted one eyebrow. “Don’t do that kind of thing here, kids,” he said gruffly. “Go on. Get out of here.”
A blush the color of strawberries brightened Stiles’ cheeks. He nodded obediently, grabbing his shirt off of the ground, keeping his eyes locked to the floor as he awkwardly stepped past the bouncer. He silently asked himself how long the guy had been standing there.
He looked over his shoulder once he was past the buffed up man, looking for the red haired girl behind him. He saw her, the sides of his lips turning up into a half-hearted smile.
Summer scrambled out of the booth hastily, face burning. Trying to reorient herself in the crush of the club, her gaze crossed Stiles’, and embarrassment cramped in her middle. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled, then dragged up her courage and stepped closer to say it in his ear. “I’m /so/ sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
