Colethewolf

Anonymous asked: Yeah, MTVs definitely been holding out on us with the Stiles promo. I'm not starting any Scott v Stiles wank (they're both awesome and flawed in their own ways), but MTV seems to be dangling the Stiles over the fandom like a carrot.

Because Stiles is obviously about to tear shit up this season. Brace yourself.

2 notes | 15 minutes ago

The full Teen Wolf season 3 trailer comes out tomorrow. MTVteenwolf said we can expect pain and also Stiles.

Yes, that’s right. Bring on the Stiles. We can handle that.

6 notes | 18 minutes ago

“Trust me,” Stiles said.

And Derek did.

(Source: papaderek, via kikky84)

476 notes | 31 minutes ago

Anonymous asked: thehomosexuallyfrustrated(.)tumblr posted a Sterekish gif an hour ago!! Hot

I saw it. LOVE IT

1 note | 32 minutes ago

Anonymous asked: It actually looks like Hoechlin is gripping Dylan's hood to keep his arm there, cause it's quiiiite a stretch :)

Just like:

This cast kills me. I swear. I fucking love them

47 minutes ago

821

twofacedjanus:

TYLER’S ARM IS ALL THE WAY OVER THERE ON DYLAN’S SHOULDER ASFDHSFKJBVL

rrrowr:

#Dear diary #today I went to threaten Scott’s best friend to help me #and he made me try on shirts #I know that doesn’t sound like a big deal when you write it down #but it was in front of a stranger #and the only one that fit was all colorful #you know I can’t wear colors diary #my wardrobe has to be black and gray like my soul #frowny face

This makes me laugh hysterically every fuckin’ time it comes up on my dash.

(Source: kimlennox, via kedreeva)

47,988 notes | 1 hour ago

my-inner-mechanisms:

OH MY GOD. NO. I’M DONE.

I AM LITERALLY SCREAMING RN. OMFGGG

(Source: stereksextape, via flawlesscosmicbeing)

406 notes | 1 hour ago

Anonymous asked: I just realised Dylan sings the words 'I missed you' in New Girl. Exactly what he said he wants Stiles to say to Derek. Ima just gonna pretend Stiles sings it to Derek, and Derek gives him that confused look of his whenever he's around Stiles and says 'Shut up'.

9 notes | 1 hour ago

ussavengers:

teen wolf characters
» derek hale

(via ss-tilinski)

97 notes | 1 hour ago

985

wolfiery:

“Where is he?” Stiles says levelly with intensified anger into his cell phone, hearing the cackling female alpha on the other side.
“Better get home before dinner. My dinner, I mean,” She laughs at that, as if she told an amazing joke and Stiles needs to be the one to appreciate it. But he can’t really process it when the threat of his dad is hanging in the air, his blood chilling with complete worry. Scott’s next to him, gives him another unsure look, another thing he can’t confirm for Stiles.
He loses it, throws himself in the Jeep and laughs while driving. He hates all of it, the alphas, werewolves, this mess that swallowed him whole.
Stiles rushes through the front door when he gets home, breath panting, lungs aching, heart churning. He can hardly move, can hardly breathe and he feels like he’s the one that needs saving, his worst panic attack yet. He moves through it anyways because it’s his dad and who cares if his eyes were blurring in sight.
It was happening again. His dad is getting caught in the crossfires, and it’s not one he can control.
He goes mad in his search, neck craning to look at every room for his dad, chest heaving and finally reaches his dad’s bedroom door and stops. Every part inside of him seems to halt, every single part, and even the beating of his heart stills. His mouth drops open by instinct, but it’s not awe he’s feeling, it’s not even shock. It’s not hypervigilance and he doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to describe it as anything except pure loss.
His first thought is that none of this is real. That the alphas captured him and have given hims some magic potion thing to make him hallucinate his worst nightmares.
He snaps into this headset for a while, heart seeming to calm down at the notion that it’s all mythical. Maybe it’s even further than that — maybe Stiles got bitten by a mountain lion, is lying in a coma somewhere and all of this isn’t real.
But if it’s not real, it still feels like it’s in his grasp. The crimson walls and the warm-toned lights and the lack of anybody insight except for the horror before him. There’s no one here.
No one but his dad, lying on the ground. It’s too vivid for his liking but the picture isn’t as bad as the smell. He can seem to taste the iron of blood in the back of his mouth by the sight. There’s so much blood. There’s claw marks draping across the stomach of the Sheriff and Stiles laughs outright at it for a moment, albeit insanely. He steps forward, his mind still playing to the trick that all of it’s just a game and maybe it’s time he played.
But he reaches his dad and his fingers hesitantly move forward. His dad’s eyes are closed but Stiles might think he’s still breathing. He brushes at his dad shoulder and he feels it so suddenly hit him, the warm red liquid on his fingers, the quite literal blood on his hands and he’s going to be sick, he’s going to lose this mind, because this honestly can’t be happening. He can’t lose another —
Stiles thinks he should do something, should move, should help but it’s all his fault and it feels like he’ll break anything he touches. Oh god he’s alone and the alphas got to his dad and he can’t protect anyone. And he could get over anything with time but not this, not the one person he would die for over and over again if that’s what it took. Not the one person he tried to keep in the dark to protect, no matter how much it hurt him.
That’s his fucking dad.
Scott is behind him suddenly, screaming at him suddenly but Stiles can’t really make out the words, only sees Scott putting pressure on his bleeding dad’s stomach.
And then, the room spins and there’s the sound of an ambulance arriving and he feels like that sound should fade too but instead it bursts in his ear, shakes him alive and it’s still moving so fast. And all that he can think is is that it’s all his fault.

740

monopolizeme:

Dry leaves crunch beneath Derek’s boots in the quiet stillness of the Hale property, and he allows the noise, allows his presence to be known.
“That you, my sourwolf?” Stiles calls out sweetly, craning his neck to the side. He’s laying on the ground, amongst damp foliage and cracked gnarled branches, fingers thrumming against his stomach.
“What are you doing out here?” Derek asks. “It’s dark. Come inside.”
He makes his way down the sharp slope, boots digging into the soil, and then there is the cold press against his knee as he crouches behind Stiles on the ground.
Stiles’ mouth pulls into a grin. He raises his left hand and wiggles his fingers up at Derek’s face. “It’s always dark for me, remember?”
Derek scowls, his brows drawing tight as he thins his mouth.
“Hey, stop that.” says Stiles, tilting his head to the side, his pale white-blue eyes soft in the dim moonlight.
“Stop what?” Derek says gruffly, fingers curling beside Stiles’ face, not quite allowing himself to touch as he wants to.
“That grumpy thing,” Stiles says, nuzzling the back of his head against Derek’s thigh. “I know you’re doing it. I can hear it. You’re guilt-tripping yourself as you always do. And you don’t have a reason to. Not in this case, at least. It wasn’t your fault and so you can go about guilt-free on this one.”
Derek cups his hand around the hard curve of Stiles’ jaw, not meaning to but he needs to touch Stiles, feel that he’s real, that he’s still alive as the memories flood behind his eyes, thick against his tongue and he struggles against the tremor that racks through his arm - crumpled limbs strewn about a limp twisted body, and blood, so much blood, rank upon his tongue from just the scent of it and Stiles’ chest, not moving, not breathing in that steady heady rhythm and flesh so cold and his eyes -
“This wasn’t your fault.” Stiles says softly, dragging Derek from the onslaught of images breaking behind his eyelids.
Stiles’ skin is soft and warm against his palm and this is real, this and Stiles smiles when Derek worries the pad of his thumb against the corner of Stiles’ mouth.
“And if I know you, which I’d like to say that I’ve gotten to know you very well over these past several months,” (and Derek rolls his eyes at this, the way Stiles winks lewdly at him and waggles his brows at the insinuation) “you’re finding some reason to berate yourself over my, well, condition. And I’m fine so don’t even go there. It was an accident. Things happen, and all that.” He makes a careless swirling motion in air, fine-bone fingers curling and arching, catching the shadows and slices of light against his pale skin.
Derek thinks, You don’t mean that, and almost says it aloud.
Instead he sighs, gazes down at Stiles’ upside-down face, the tiny pricks of his feathered eyelashes and their sharp contrast against the milky film covering once dark brown eyes. They’d be flickering up at Derek now, laughter dancing and swirling in the flecks of amber that used to stand out so brightly.
“Now, c’mere,” Stiles says, patting the earth beside him. “The ground is hard and cold and absolutely wonderful so I think you should come join me and warm me up.”
His teeth gleam in the encompass of his face, smooth skin speckled by small moles, each of which Derek has memorized with his teeth and tongue; and the upturn of his nose and red lips, and Derek mutters something beneath his breath.
“Don’t you dare make a Spiderman reference,” he says, right before he descends slowly, hand pressed against the side of Stiles’ face and kisses him, upside down and open and warm and Stiles releases a muffled laugh into his mouth.
“Oh, this is good,” Stiles mumbles against Derek’s lips, tilting his chin up to press deeper into the kiss. He bends his arms upwards and back so that he can thread his fingers through Derek’s hair. “This is so very, very good. And you’re giving me stubble burn on my nose, which is awesome and will be hella fantastic explaining to everyone-“
He’s cut off though, as Derek bites at his bottom lip with a soft growl and drags blunt fingernails up Stiles’ stomach, exposing the skin to the cool night air.
Stiles shivers.
“Get down here already so I can kiss you properly.” He mutters, tugging on Derek’s hair a little too firmly.
And Derek allows himself to laugh softly, smiling against Stiles’ open grinning mouth, pushing aside the seeingless eyes that forever haunt him in the shadows of his mind.

sassyfrowns:

dylanobrienonline:

Dylan as Stuart Twombly in The Internship. [new stills!] [x]

I AM GOING TO HAVE TO SUFFER THROUGH A VINCE VAUGH/OWEN WILSON MOVIE FOR YOU
AREN’T I?
FUCK YOU AND YOUR FUCKING FACE

(via maichan808)

1,677 notes | 2 hours ago

(Source: neptunepirate, via sterekmess)

1,018 notes | 2 hours ago

467

stiles-wtf:

mmm i’m so fucking love my kinks, that i can’t… and i try to draw few kink in one sketch)
tattooStiles!kink + milk!kink