Confessions of A Sassy Manboy

Twenty-one year old graduate who often writes poetry while sipping Starbucks.
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  • coffeeinallcaps:

    (ノ◕ヮ◕)ノ*:・゚✧

    (via hales-emissary)

    AH YES, FIRST SON STILES STILINSKI.

    "Stiles," Derek says, "oh God, Stiles."

    He’s shirtless, and Stiles would wonder why, except he’s too exhausted, too dehydrated, too terrified to speak. What matters is that Derek is here, he’s here, it’s over, it’s over, Derek is—

    "I’m here," Derek says, "Stiles, I’m here, it’s okay, I’m here," and he sinks to his knees, takes Stiles’ cuffed wrists between his warm hands, then reaches for Stiles’ shoulder, the cut on his cheek, the bruise on his forehead, quick investigative touches that are too reassuring, too comforting to bear, and Stiles can’t help it— he presses his face to Derek’s naked chest and sobs.

    OR, ALTERNATIVELY:

    "Derek?" Stiles whispers, voice rough. "What are you— what is it? What’s going on?"

    "Ssh," Derek says. "Go back to sleep." He checks the window again, checks the door, checks his earpiece. His movements are fluid, efficient, and when he finally lowers his gun and says, "Don’t worry, everything’s fine. False alarm," Stiles doesn’t doubt him for a second.

    "Come back to bed," he says sleepily, patting the mattress. "It’s lonely in here without you."

    (Not sure whether this is a dream or not; if so, Stiles wakes up with a jolt, half-flustered by and half-impressed with the amount of detail his subconscious provided, the dark swirls of the tattoo on Derek’s back, the way he’d almost been able to smell Derek, feel the combined heat of their bodies as they moved together. The next morning when Stiles passes Derek in the hallway, he feels his face heat up. “Morning,” he says, ducking his head, and Derek - straight-backed, immaculately suited up, not a tattoo in sight - says, “Morning.”)

    (出典: blaineswolf)

    tacolol:

    totallynotmisha:

    2002bape:

    YOOOO SO LOOK DA FIRST TIME I EVER GOT ON DIS RIDE I WAS WITH A WHITE FAMILY AND U KNOW WHITE FOLKS CRAZY SO DEY DONT FEAR ROLLER COASTERS OR DEATH IN GENERAL. AFTER ABOUT 10 MINUTES OF TELLIN DEM DAT I DIDNT WANNA GET ON I FINALLY SAID YES CUZ I AINT NEVER BEEN NO BITCH AND I DIDNT PLAN ON STARTING THAT DAY. WHEN DA ENGINEER SAID “PLS LEAN BACK AND KEEP THE BACK OF UR HEAD PRESSED AGAINST YOUR SEAT” AND I SAW EVERYBODY STICK DA BACK OF THEIR HEADS TO THE CHAIR I KNEW DAT I MADE DA WORST DECISION OF MY LIFE CUZ I EVEN SAW SOME BLACK FOLKS LISTEN AND U KNOW DAT WHEN BLACK PEOPLE LISTEN A WHITE LADY’S ADVICE , ITS DA REAL DEAL. SO MY FIRST MISTAKE WAS REFUSING TO PRESS MY HEAD AGAINST THE SEAT… THE RIDE TAKES OFF AND MY DOME SLAMS AGAINST THE CHAIR WHILE MY NECK SNAPPED… UNCONSCIOUS INSTANTLY.. WHEN I AWOKE FROM MY 3 SECOND SLUMBER WE HAD REACHED DA VERY TOP OF THE RIDE WHERE THE RIDE MAKES A QUICK PAUSE… WHEN THE RIDE MADE THAT PAUSE I OPENED MY EYES CAUSE I THOUGHT THE RIDE WAS OVER AND WE ALL MADE IT SAFELY. BOY WAS I WRONG… I OPENED MY EYES AND DA ONLY THING I SAW WAS A 300 FOOT DROP STRAIGHT TO DA GROUND SO I SAID “GOD YOU CANT LET ME DIE LIKE DIS”. I THINK I SUFFERED A HEART CONTUSION CUZ MY HEART JUST COMPLETELY STOPPED BEATING… AND THAN THE RIDE TAKES OFF AGAIN… WE MAKE THE 300 FOOT DROP AND I SCREAM MY LUNGS OUT AS IM SCARED TO DEATH BECAUSE DA ONLY TIME A HUMAN SHOULD BE DAT HIGH IN DA AIR IS WHEN THEIR SPIRIT IS BEING SUCKED INTO HEAVEN BY DA GRACE OF GOD.. SO WE SAFELY MAKE IT TO DA END OF DA RIDE AND WHEN WE GET OFF I STUMBLE OUT OF THE SEAT CUZ MY LEGS WENT NUMB AND ALL THE AIR WAS SUCKED OUT OF MY BODY SO I COULDNT TALK EITHER.. DA FIRST THING THESE CRAZY MOTHERFUCKERS TELL ME IS “HEY MAN LETS DO THAT AGAIN THAT WAS WICKED”. I LOOKED AT DEM AND I REALIZED DAT DIS WHITE KID DAT I BEFRIENDED WAS ACTUALLY SATAN. I NO LONGER HAVE ANY WHITE FRIENDS.

    please read this whole thing.

    the caption makes this post

    (元記事: cali-cocaine (dutchsterから))

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