there weren't nearly enough of them

anonymous asked:

Lydia comes running when she hears Stiles screaming over the phone and comes running to his house. Turns out his screaming weren't for reasons she thought.

It’s early morning when Lydia awakens due to a familiar scream. She jolts up in her bed, still half asleep, and questioning the boundaries between reality and dream. The scream echoes throughout the house once more, however, and Lydia instantly goes on alert. 

Spending the night at her boyfriend’s house had become a pretty normal thing for them. Normal enough that Sheriff Stilinski set an extra plate aside for Lydia nearly every morning. Of course, Stiles groans when his father starts spouting out small talk, his cheeks tinting red from the embarrassing stories. Honestly, it’s probably one of her favorite parts of the day. 

But today, her morning started out much less pleasant. Rubbing sleep out of her eyes, Lydia bounds up from her place nestled underneath the covers and hurries out of the bedroom, stumbling as she pulls Stiles’s sweatshirt over her head. She then rushes down the stairs, footsteps pounding in beat with her heart. Skidding into the kitchen, her socks slip on the tile, but she soon regains her balance. 

“Stiles!” She shouts, maneuvering around the corner through the doorway. He’s staring at his laptop, entranced. 

“Are you okay?!” Lydia gasps, grabbing his hand and checking for injuries worriedly. “Why did you scream?”

The answer is not what she was expecting, to say the least. She though she’d see him bleeding out on the ground, mauled by a werewolf with that loud of a screech, but that’s not even close.

Stiles clutches Lydia’s arm like a lifeline, practically jumping out of his chair. “This is it, Lydia! It’s the new Star Wars trailer. Oh my god, I think I might pass out! I need to watch it again!”

Lydia pulls back. “Are you serious? I thought you were dying!” She purses her lips at him angrily.

“Well, I mean, I am technically dying. Dying of excitement!”

She glares at him. “You woke me up because of a movie trailer.” 

“It’ s not just a movie trailer–” Stiles pauses, noticing the look on his girlfriend’s face. “Uh, I’ll make you some breakfast?”

“Pancakes. And coffee.”

anonymous asked:

Enjolras and Grantaire are assigned to a class project together. E makes them meet nearly everyday to work on it. R thinks E is just really worried about him dragging down their project grade, which may be how it started, but after the first time, E was just really super interested in R's opinions on /everything/. After turning it in for full marks, and it isn't until R get's his usual "Coffee?" text at two pm sharp, that it occurs to him that maybe those coffee meetings weren't purely business.

Oh, but Grantaire would totally be oblivious enough to ignore Enjolras’ text, thinking that Enjolras must’ve forgotten to turn off his automated text thingy, and gets all sad thinking about how of course all the Coffee? texts Enjolras has been sending him for the better part of the month have been automated texts. So he sits at home and puts on sad music and mopes around a little.

He’s flopped facedown on his bed about twenty minutes later when someone knocks on his bedroom door.

“Come in!” Grantaire yells, voice muffled by his pillow. His sister probably wants him to turn his music down. “You can turn the music down,” he says preemptively, and turns over to glare at his sister when the music gets turned off completely. 

“You’re not Elaine,” Grantaire says dumbly, because wow, Enjolras is not Elaine.  

“You didn’t reply my text,” Enjolras says, shrugging and settling down on Grantaire’s floor, right next to the bed, like it’s something he actually does now, go to Grantaire’s room and sit on his floor, “so I brought you coffee.” He holds out a cup to Grantaire, and then, belatedly asks, “You’re not busy, are you?”

Grantaire blinks at him. “No,” he says slowly, because the project is over but Enjolras is still here and Grantaire has no idea why. 

“Great,” Enjolras says with a grin. “Would you like to take a walk to the park with me, then? We could go on the swings.”

Grantaire stares. “You hate swings.”

“You seem to like them enough,” Enjolras says with a shrug. “I thought I’d give them another chance.” He gets to his feet and offers Grantaire his hand. “C'mon.”

Grantaire takes it. 


“Etta would want us to be together, you know? She would want us to survive this. I just… I love you.”

twenty-five days of peter and olivia
↳ day twenty-one - most emotional moment

sagitariusistheboss  asked:

White people didn't make racism Racism can be done by any race like this blog for example it's racist towards white people and since you're probably not white that makes you racist and if any other race had set out on the exploration instead they would have found other races and killed or enslaved them because they were different don't try to pretend like we all weren't ignorant stupid motherfuckers back then We were and there's nothing we can do about the past

White people started it, educate yourself. Also, no. Other countries actually did not go out on conquests nearly as often or as brutal as Europe did for the sake of enslaving people and making their race seen as “better.” Stick to reblogging porn because you’re obviously not intelligent enough to hold a conversation that doesn’t involve a penis.