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November 05 2017

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An emissary’s main job has always been to keep a pack connected to their humanity. However, as a group of bold hunters learn the hard way after capturing feral werewolves living far away from civilisation, the Hale pack’s emissary has barely any humanity in himself to begin with.

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November 04 2017


Of course, Stiles calls Derek as soon as he can and leaves a voicemail informing him that, as part of his super cool new FBI internship, he’s going to be investigating him for murder.

“Also, you still run funny. Okay, bye!”

And of course Stiles shouldn’t be surprised when, two days later, he comes home from the third day of his internship to find the unidentified “mass murderer” in his cheap efficiency studio, lounging on his second-hand couch, reading his Criminal Profiling textbook.

“Seriously, dude?” He yelps, dropping his messenger bag on his foot. “I thought you had grown out of your bedroom creeper ways.”

“Being framed for murder brings it out in me,” Derek replies dryly, snapping the book shut. He stands up, strides toward him, and pushes the heavy book into Stiles’ chest. “And I don’t run funny.”


Derek has an honest-to-goodness beard now. With some gray hair. He looks much older than he does in the video the FBI has, and Stiles wonders if he would have recognized him if he didn’t know him so well.  

They’re sitting across from each other at the tiny craigslist table that serves as Stiles’ desk, updating each other on what they know of the investigation into the “bizarrely feral unsub in the wilderness of North Carolina,” aided significantly by the classified files that Stiles snuck out of the office yesterday.

Their knees keep bumping, and each time they do, their eyes lock for a quick second before they awkwardly shift away. Stiles loosens his tie and pushes the rolled-up sleeves of his buttondown shirt up his forearms, feeling hyperaware of Derek watching him, his still-ridiculous eyebrows bunching together. It’s kinda wild, really, just how familiar the swoop of nervous excitement in his stomach feels, along with the warmth spreading across his cheeks.

“I’m starving,” he says, hoping Derek isn’t paying too much attention to his heartbeat. “We should order some food.”


“Stiles,” Derek says, all serious-like, while they’re eating pizza.

“Derek,” he answers, aping his tone.

“Thank you.”

“For harboring your fugitive ass again? No problem, big guy.”

“For believing me. You didn’t question me when I said I was framed. You didn’t ask me if I did all the things they said.”

For a moment, Stiles is confused. It honestly hadn’t even occurred to him to question Derek’s innocence. “You are a lot of things, Derek, but a mass murderer is not one of them. It never even crossed my mind that you might be guilty.”

Derek pauses and looks down at his plate for a moment. “I know that you’re risking a lot for me, again. It…it means a lot, is all I’m trying to say.”  

He’s looking at him with a familiar unguarded expression, that mix of awestruck understanding and something else that has always made Stiles’ heart race and his stomach drop. “Hey,” Stiles shrugs, trying to sound nonchalant. “It’s what I do, right?  

Derek smiles softly, dipping his chin down while looking up at him from under his lashes. “Yeah. It is, isn’t it?”


A bit after midnight, Stiles starts to yawn.

“You should sleep,” Derek says, closing the file he’s been reading.

Stiles nods. “I do have to get up early for another day of trying to figure out how to get you off.”

Derek levels him with a silent glare.

“Trying to figure out how to exonerate you,” Stiles sputters, cheeks on fire.

“I’ll take off.”

“Derek, you’re wanted by the FBI. Do you really think you should be wandering around Quantico?”

“I can take care of myself, Stiles.”

“Yeah well, aren’t you here because you know you don’t have to take care of everything by yourself? Let me help you, okay?”

He stares at him for a long time before he answers. “Okay,” he agrees. “I’ll sleep on the couch.”

Stiles rolls his eyes. “Derek, that’s barely more than a loveseat and it’s incredibly uncomfortable. There’s plenty of room for both of us in the bed.”

Derek watches him like he’s trying to puzzle something out; he looks over at Stiles’ cheap couch, then at the comparatively spacious queen size bed in the corner. “Fine.”


Derek borrows sleep clothes, and Stiles tries not to let it show all over his face, what it does to him to see Derek in his baggy sweatpants and threadbare white t-shirt that’s a little too tight.

He switches off the lights and they lie in bed facing away from each other, each huddling close to their respective edge of the bed. Stiles has no idea how’s he going to sleep - he’s been imagining him in his bed for years now, but he never thought it would happen with Derek as a federally wanted fugitive just as he starts his FBI training.

In hindsight, he supposes, he probably should have figured something like this would happen, given the general fuckery of their lives.

But he finds that, despite the risks he’s taking and the danger they’re in, he’s happy Derek is here. Thrilled, actually. He’s missed him since the day he left Beacon Hills, even though he refused to admit it for a long time, scared about what his longing might mean.

And no matter how messed up everything is right now, it feels right that Derek is here, and he’s grateful to him for that, reassured that they’ll figure this out together.    

He rolls over. There’s enough moonlight from the window that Stiles can see the strong lines of his back, can track the muscled curves of his arm with his arms and wonder what it would be like to touch him.

“Derek,” he says quietly.

“Yes, Stiles?”

“Thank you.”

Derek rolls over to face him, bringing him closer to the middle of the bed, which suddenly feels much smaller. “For putting you at risk again because people can’t seem to stop wanting me dead?”

“For trusting me.” Stiles shifts so he can see him better. “For trusting me to help you. It means a lot to me too, that you’d come to me for help. I’m glad you’re here.”

Derek studies him for a long time, like he’s trying to decide something; even though it’s mostly dark, he knows Derek can see him perfectly with his damned wolf eyes, and it makes Stiles feel exposed and vulnerable.

Eventually, Derek slowly moves his hand to the center of the bed, palm up in a silent, gentle invitation.

Stiles accepts, slides his hand into his. Their fingers intertwine, fitting together perfectly. Derek’s hand is warm and strong, his touch amplifying the feelings of relief and calm that his presence brings. Stiles is rapidly realizing that he just might need this, might need Derek, and it’s equal parts terrifying and exhilarating.

And, judging the by way Derek’s stern expression eases in to calm repose, and the way his body visibly relaxes, he feels it too, and Stiles smiles, holds his hand tighter.

They fall asleep like that, anchored.







honestly “i’ll do whatever you want” “then perish” is the single most powerful exchange possible in the english language and it’s from some bizarre “hewwo” obama rp

And there was that other post where someone dreamt that Obama said “violence for violence is the rule of beasts” like what is it about Obama that makes people come up with such raw fucking dialogue for him

my mother had a dream where he lived in the forest and she had a cigarette with him and he said “to become god is the loneliest achievement of them all” and put it out and walked into the mist and i’ve never fucking forgotten that

I once dreamed that a giant meteor was headed for earth, and the government had set up loudspeakers throughout the cities so Obama could give a final address - I’ll never forget how strangely comforting it was when he said “there are places we’ve never been before. Some of us have never been to the Alps, some of us have never been to Marrakesh. The next life is simply another place we’ve never been before, and we’re all going to go explore it together.” 

I had a dream my family housed the Obamas for a weekend and one morning Obama made us oatmeal for breakfast and, looking at my disappointed face because I don’t like oatmeal, he said “regardless of what we taste, if we eat together, we are happy.”

Once I dreamt that Michelle Obama was running a campaign to give homes to all the feral pigeons and her husband came to my house and gave me a pamphlet that just had a picture of a pigeon on it and he looked me in the eyes and said “who would you be without them?”


hey the remember week or so after david bowies death where people on this site collectively started acknowledging the fact that he was a rapist and used his position of fame to fuck at least one 15 year old groupie , as well as having the “thin white duke” persona that he referred to as an “aryan superman” and made pro hitler and nazi comments (while defending this behavior since it was an act and blaming the worst of it on drug use)

like…….. i understand that a lot of people just dont know these things but i also get the feeling that some people are knowingly choosing to ignore it, so forgive me for not being really comfortable with people hero worshipping him

November 03 2017

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That time Hopper gave Eleven his bracelet/his daughter’s hair tie to wear at her very first dance (◕‿◕✿)

October 29 2017

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#Steve in the car # a blessing

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Bob Newby. Superhero

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Stiles’ version // Derek’s version

Your werewolf friend (or something) with the world’s worst luck is being hunted by the FBI and they’d prefer him dead to alive. What is the best way to protect him from being hunted and shot??

Option A: Wait for him to get horribly injured and then wrap his arm around your shoulder, hauling him out of the building into the custody of the EMTs waiting outside, who will probably notice his accelerated healing pretty darn quick, right before some overzealous officer tries to arrest him


Option B: Leap into his arms, protecting his entire torso with your whole body, making hysterical noises about your foot so that any nearby FBI agents will roll their eyes and forget to notice the strong and silent guy carrying you out of the building, away from all the guns and flashbangs and tasers. Wave your arms, making it harder for anyone to get a good look at his face. If it seems like he’s on the verge of setting you down and making himself into a more conspicuous target, pretend to faint. Do whatever it takes to get him outside the cordon around the building. You’re an intern, they expect you to act like an idiot. Get him beyond the flashing lights by hanging limply in his grasp, until he’s safely tucked into your rental car at a gas station half a mile out from the raid. You can stop pretending to cry, but buckle him in, make sure you hear the click. Give him some Twizzlers. Aim the car towards home. It’s okay. You got him out. He’s alive for another day.

October 28 2017

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Armageddon is one of the few DVDs I didn’t sell because Ben Affleck on the commentary track is relentless. Below is the clip of the commentary from where this tidbit of trivia came from. Please take a moment to witness the magic.

this is so fucking funny

“aim the drill at the ground and turn it on”

October 27 2017

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#this is totally were!stiles being interrogated by the winchesters #and he is giving no answers and no fucks  (via crusingthroughreality)


I really would love to see that crossover, repeatedly, in every possible position. Even if it would end in tears because let’s be real, everything the Winchesters touch ends in tears. Poor little shits.

“Look kid,” Sam says. It’s the third time he’s tried the good cop routine and Dean can hear it wearing thin. “We know you had nothing to do with the murders. But we also know you’re not the only werewolf in town.”

The kid tips his head and sucks on his lips, the total absence of fucks glaringly obvious. Dean is both frustrated as hell and grudgingly impressed because, hell, they’ve dealt with demons less sassy than this.

Sam sighs, and Dean has to cough into his hand to keep from laughing because that particular brand of exasperation is usually reserved for him. “Just be straight with us.”

For some reason, that’s hilarious. It takes a second before Dean remembers the dude they’d seen the kid with before they’d picked him up. Big, serial killer looking guy, sporting leather and a possessive hand on kid-snark’s back. Oh man.

Dean snorts and gives Sam patented ‘what? it’s funny’ shoulders when it earns him a glare.

“Trust me, dude,” the kid says. “I’m being as straight with you as…well, I was gonna say humanly possible but…”

A flash of canines has Sam rolling his eyes and sue him, Dean sorta wants to high-five the kid. You know you’ve been hunting for too long when you start rooting for your mark.

“You’re driving a stolen car,” Sam says. “You’re carrying a fake ID. Every word out of your mouth so far has been bullshit-

“Says the hunter posing as an FBI agent,” the kid says, tapping a nonchalant beat on his water bottle.

Sam pulls out bitch-face number eleven. “Is anything about you real?”

The kid grins and bobs his head. “My boobs.”

Dean laughs so hard he almost pulls something.


October 23 2017


ao3: and they were roommates
me, opening the fic up: Oh My God They Were Roommates

October 13 2017

fic rec friday


Random fics from the past few weeks. 

Throw Me to the Wolves by  skoosiepants | 13.4K | werewolf stiles

Stiles accidentally gets bitten, and everything goes to hell.

Brad The Douchebag Ex by  LadyDrace | 1.4K | fake boyfriends

Stiles and Derek bump into Stiles’ shitty ex while Christmas shopping. Derek isn’t entirely sure what’s going on, but when Stiles grabs his hand, he just kinda rolls with it.

Sweet Dreams ‘til Sunbeams Find You by  weathervaanes | 9.2K | kidfic

But that’s when it happens. Stiles is on a down stroke when Derek opens his mouth against Stiles’ neck and says, “What do you think about having kids?”

Money Honey by  paintedrecs | 2.8K | businessman derek

Derek’s a moderately well off businessman who has a soft heart, a rapidly emptying wallet, and a serious problem with dogs, panhandlers, and life in general.

Until Stiles comes along.

Survival of the Species by  Lissadiane | 19.3K | a/b/o

In which Derek’s pack is apparently stable enough to begin planning for the future, and somehow, the universe has decided Stiles is the perfect candidate to bear his alpha’s children.

In The Upper Story by  toraten | 15.3K

Stiles accompanies Scott to a werewolf tattoo parlor where Stiles finds an old friend.


The guy almost died in his arms that one time and Stiles saved him by using forbidden ancient Russian rune magic. That sort of makes them friends, right?

Unbroken by  Piscaria | 43.4K | werewolf stiles

When Stiles starts getting sick, he assumes his appetite loss and lethargy stem from the darkness the Nemeton left in his heart. But soon enough, even he can’t deny that he’s showing the same symptoms his mom had. When he’s forced to face the truth about his illness, Stiles finds himself making a choice he never thought he’d make.

Our Hearts Are Tigers by  skoosiepants | 7.5K | witch stiles

This is what Stiles figures out after a week of harboring Isaac: he’s kind of a dick, for a ten-year-old. 

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…and their Mother





one time alexander the great rode dick for 8 hours and then spent 8 hours the next day riding a horse, and that’s why i believe bottoms deserve more credit 

Except no, he didn’t. There is no evidence anywhere that says Alexander the Great was gay. What historical reference says that? His multiple wives maybe? His many children born to them? Or whatever delusion you’ve cooked up to pass your own opinion?

honey , i’m not spending an extra year in uni to get a classics degree not to respond to this directly 

i) alexander had one (1) unborn child at the time of his death, because he only, miserably, managed to knock up one of his three (3) wives after his boyfriend died 

–> had alexander produced more than ONE (1) child, the hellenistic age would not have been defined by the fallout caused by his generals warring to decide a successor, ultimately destroying his empire and arguably sending everyone from macedon to modern-day palestine into a cultural dark age 

ii) macedonian kings took multiple wives to secure succession, a political move that alexander resisted despite the urging of both antipater and olympias (i’ll let you google them on your own time) for almost an literal 


– > there’s an anecdote found in the curtius , your “historical reference” – you can google his dates – about alexander’s parents sending him a hooker because they were afraid he didn’t  … how do i say it nicely? wanna fuck women 

it’s absolutely true that you can’t say alexander was gay; that’s grossly reductive, because sexuality didn’t exist by modern definition in ancient times. more, alexander DID bone a woman, willingly, at one point – a satrap’s (google that) wife, named barsine, with whom he may or may not have produced a bastard child called heracles. getting dicked down doesn’t negate wanting to dick another down, an interesting concept that you would be familiar with if you took a quick jaunt out of that homophobic bubble wrap you’ve duct-taped yourself into. we also can’t FOR SURE 100% conclusively say that alexander and hephaestion boned; but plutarch, curtius, and diodorus are some notable biographers who delve into detail about alexander’s life-long, likely romantic connection to his right hand man, who he mourned so excessively at the time of his death that there was hardly a dime left for alexander’s own funeral. they didn’t make that shit up – you can google what source criticism is, but some of THEIR sources included ptolemy i soter and callisthenes – oof, more people for you to google! modern scholars from reames to borza to müller to green assume that he was getting dicked down for the above reasons, too!

at last, i shall acknowledge that my Humour Post refers to lucian (pro lapsu inter salutandum 8), who has some wink-wink-nudge-nudge content concerning who slept in whose tent when, but who wants to retread old ground? here’s another one of my favorites instead: 


323 was the year of alexander’s death (historical!), but even if lucian made all of this up, as this scholar seems to nudge at, it’s still quite telling that a cultural memory and historical tradition that the romans associated with alexander included his love of massive, throbbing cocks, non? 

people who share your dreadfully uninformed and outdated opinion include, if i’m not mistaken, a handful of stodgy greek lawyers, a man named william woodthorpe tarn, and helmut berve. tarn was an imperialist, and berve? a literal nazi.

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a conversation i saw on twitter about statues worth keeping reminded me of what is easily one of my favorites.

this is outside of the university of maryland’s student union building, a bench with a statue of one of UMd’s most universally beloved alumni, jim henson, conversing with kermit. people (usually incoming freshmen) will sit down next to them and have their picture taken. it’s one of the most pure and beautiful things on this earth.

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this statue INSIDE the student union of maryland’s mascot painted to look like kermit, on the other hand, is its exact opposite.

October 11 2017

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Hi friends. This is our new comics TEST. This one means a lot to us and we really hope you like it.

We put out a digital comic book today containing our stories TEST, ARK, and MIDNIGHT RADIO. It’s hi res, DRM free and pay what you want. You can download it at: Gum.co/theworld

If you would like to support us creating more stories like these, please consider buying a copy. If you can’t, no worries. Please download and enjoy the book!

Written by Ehud Lavski. Art by Yael Nathan. Contact: elavski@gmail.com

That was…..wow


Well. I need a full length novelization of this.

Just… wow

October 10 2017

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