Cosmic Funnies
gracie abrams
No title available
Jar Jar Binks Fan Club
tannertan36
bliss lane
No title available
taylor price
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
Game Changer & Make Some Noise
blake kathryn
titsay
No title available
RMH
No title available
No title available
★
Cookie Run:Kingdom Official!
Fai_Ryy
seen from Singapore
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Spain
seen from India
seen from France
seen from Poland
seen from Canada
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Brazil
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Philippines
seen from Türkiye
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Vietnam
seen from Mexico
seen from United Kingdom
@steteralltheway-blog
Watch: Kristen Bell opens up about the mental health double standard and how she manages her own struggle.
Follow @this-is-life-actually
Hit reblog on this so hard
SHOUT OUT TO KRISTEN BELL’S MOM THOUGH? WHAT KIND OF FANTASTIC SELF-AWARE PARENTING, WELL DONE MA'AM
Stiles taking care of Derek :> ♥
Jr Bourne and Ian Bohen live chat on Instagram Story (March 13, 2018)
From @veggiedayz: “Blackberry has a song he wants to sing for you.” #cutepetclub [source: http://ift.tt/28SdMmN ]
Kitten: *small mew* Cameraperson: *soft “ohhh”* Kitten: *BIG LONG MEOW* Cameraperson: *soft laughter* “What was that?” Kitten: *tiny mew*
the caption did not prepare me
the highest ratio of meow to cat that i’ve ever encountered
The Value of Silence
Peter had always been a grumpy sleeper, even when he was a child. Living in a large home with dozens of people bustling about at all hours of the day made him value silence as a precious commodity. Sleeping in without a child or wolf clambering into his bed and nudging his body until he finally dragged himself up was unheard of.
After the fire, he spent years wishing someone would do the very thing he’d always resented. While he lay immobile in his hospital bed he longed for the touch of a pestering cousin to grab his hand and tug him out from under the blankets. He wished he could feel a cold nose touch the back of his palm and hot breath against his face. When therapy dogs came to visit his stomach knotted so tight he thought he might die. He knew it wasn’t his family, but with his eyes forever closed it was almost easy to pretend.
The first time Stiles fell asleep on his couch after researching his little brain out Peter could hardly keep from laying down beside him. He kept his distance and watched Stiles slumber. His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm. His pink lips parted and his fingers dangled off the side of the cushion.
Peter pulled the throw blanket off the back of the couch and laid it down over Stiles’ body. He brushed his fingers through his hair and plugged his phone in to charge. Then he settled down on the opposite couch and fell asleep listening to deep breaths and slow heartbeats. Of all the sounds he missed most it was that of a calm and contented heart near to his own.
If someone was going to break through the wall he’d built so carefully around himself then, of course, it would be Stiles. Stupid, clever, Stiles. He had no tact, no grace, and no respect for personal boundaries. He was everything Peter missed about his family.
The first time they slept together Stiles fell asleep curled up next to him, naked and exhausted with water from the shower dripping down his back.
Peter wrapped his arms around his waist and held him close the entire night. He dreaded the moment he would awake and Stiles would no longer be there. That moment never came. When he awoke his bed was still warm and Stiles’ heartbeat still sounded in his ear.
“I’m surprised you’re still here,” Peter said, rubbing his eyes while Stiles looked up at him with groggy confusion.
“What, you don’t like to cuddle?” Stiles asked. He blinked and lifted his head from the pillow. His hair had dried and hung down over his forehead and past his eyebrows. Peter missed the buzz cut a little, but he preferred being able to run his fingers through the short locks atop Stiles’ head.
He chuckled and brushed his thumb over Stiles’s mole-ridden cheek. “I suppose with you I don’t. Anyone else would get bitten.”
Stiles grinned the widest Peter had ever seen on him.
They lay there with their foreheads pressed together for a while longer. Peter still valued silence but he’d found a new way to relish in it as he let Stiles breath lull him back into sleep.
In Sickness and in Fire
After a fight with an alpha from a rival pack, Stiles begins to turn. It doesn’t go as expected.
[Peter/Stiles, post 3B AU, friends to lovers, pining, lots of pining, full shift werewolves, fox Stiles, magical Stiles, Peter POV. Now that we’ve been unsworn from secrecy, I can post my We Heart Peter Exchange fic for Green! I’m still so pleased with how this fic turned out.]
When Peter arrives at Astrid’s Cafe, Stiles is already there, sitting at their usual Saturday morning corner table. It’s unexpected but not unheard of for Stiles to arrive before him, but this early, there are fewer customers and Peter’s sense of smell is unimpeded by others’ conflicting scents. Stiles is deeply anxious about something, the scent acrid and irritating to Peter’s nose. Even more of an indicator is the fact that Stiles’ laptop is out but shut off and the pile of papers and books is missing from the top of the table. By now, he should be in his own world either studying for a test or researching the newest issue plaguing Beacon Hills, but Stiles is only sitting there and staring out the window, his fingers tapping against the wooden table.
Peter watches him for a moment from his place in line before placing both his and Stiles’ order. Whatever is the problem, it’s likely that crepes and coffee will be needed to resolve it. At that moment, Stiles starts tapping out a classical tune that has Peter changing his order to one coffee and one hot chocolate, the latter being Stiles’ go-to for the worst of his problems. Once he has the two drinks in hand, Peter heads over to the table and slides into the booth across from Stiles.
He places the hot chocolate in front of Stiles, who takes one look at it and says, “You’re denying me coffee?”
Keep reading
So I saw this picture of this fox and all I could see was this picture of Dylan O'Brien and I put them side by side and now I’m dead.
this literally gave me chills.
I’ve never hit the reblog button so fast in my life.
Rapunzel was the best in this. The others were selfless to be sure, but he KNEW he was dying. 100% chance of death and he didn’t hesitate. That moment made the movie for me. That, and when bitchzilla took a nose dive out the window. :D
Dreamwalker
Stiles learns pretty early on that he's… a little different from the other kids his age. His dreams were always a little too vivid and real, and he could always remember them clear as day, like something that actually happened. And it wasn’t like they always came true, because he wasn’t some punk psychic. No, nothing like that.
It’s just, well, ever since he was about eleven, he’s been dreaming about a beautiful wolf with silky grey hair and vibrant blue eyes. Sometimes, he thought the wolf was supposed to be some kind of guide, like they show in the movies. Other times, he felt like maybe he was supposed to be guiding the wolf.
When Stiles was in high school, he stopped seeing a wolf and started seeing a man. He didn’t know why, but somehow, he just felt in his bones that this man, this stranger, was the wolf that had been with him in his dreams for almost five years.
The man was about as talkative as the wolf, that is to say none at all, but that was okay because Stiles talked enough for both of them. And he was definitely dreaming, because there was no other way the poor man would listen to him prattling on without stopping him. Hell, he even seemed to enjoy it sometimes, looking relieved at having company, even if it came in the form of an annoying teenager twitchy with too much energy.
After a few months, the man started responding to Stiles. He about jumped out of his skin the first time he said something, after so many years of silence. He didn’t talk a lot, just enough to say he didn’t find Stiles’ annoying when the teen had been suggesting he was with a self-deprecating smile. Then as time wore on, slowly the man was able to speak more to him, until they could have full on conversations.
It was nice, having a friend Stiles could talk to, especially after Scott started spending all his time with Allison. And his dream friend didn’t judge him, no matter what state he was in; whether he was flailing all over the place, crying over too-painful memories, or stressed over his mind and ranting over things Peter didn’t know about. It was refreshing, the way Peter would listen intently, giving Stiles his full attention, responding with advice when appropriate but never coming off as condescending. He loved talking with him, even if it was just a figment of a very lonely imagination.
Then, one day when Stiles was at the hospital with Scott to take Melissa lunch, he went wandering. He came across the long-term care ward, and like the snoop he was, he walked into the first open door he saw. The lights were off, a man sitting in a wheelchair by the window. He watched the man turn, slow, jerky movements; Stiles realized why when he saw the scars on his body, disappearing beneath his clothes. More shocking than the clothes, though, was that Stiles recognized him.
“You must be Stiles,” he rasped, and Stiles realized his dreams had been real after all.
@ruthless-rage
Awwww that’s it’s baby 😭😭😭😭
[Fanfic EN] Marvel Fans
When Stiles received the confirmation that he had got two tickets for the event, well…
“Stiles! Stop jumping and screaming if you’re not being attacked!” The Sheriff yelled from the kitchen.
Two tickets for the Marvel Convention! How could he not be excited? He had to call Scott right now!
“Sorry, buddy.”
“Really? Are you going to reject a Marvel Convention—MARVEL!—for a dinner with Allison and her father?”
“I’ve already committed to go and you know that I’m not in Mr. Argent’s good graces and if I cancel he’ll be mad and-”
“Okay, okay, understood. I’ll look for another buddy to accompany me to the MARVEL! Convention.”
He hung up the cell phone and resisted the urge to throw it to the ground because it wasn’t the first cell that was destroyed that month (supernatural’s fault, not his. Really.)
“Ok, boys and girls!” Stiles entered the loft with determination, brandishing the two tickets as if they were prizes. “I have two tickets for the Marvel Convention. Who will be the lucky one to come with me?”
“Sorry, Batman, I’m more of DC,” Erica answered. Boyd just shook his head, seated by her side.
“Superman is from Marvel?” Isaac asked and Stiles dismissed him just for that.
Lydia ignored him directly, and Derek grunted and frowned, a gesture that no longer impressed him at all, but that clearly said “no, stop bothering” (Stiles was already pretty good at deciphering the Browish language.)
Stiles sighed and sank down into the couch with his limbs outstretched like a puppet. “I don’t wanna go alone,” he whined pitifully.
“I’ll go with you.”
Stiles jumped off the couch at the sudden voice that sounded right next to his ear. He turned around (almost stumbling on his own feet) and, of course, there was Peter.
“Stop doing that, Creepy Wolf,” he said, rubbing his ear, a slight flush on his cheeks. “And what do you know about Marvel?”
“That Loki has serious Daddy issues and that Black Widow is very underestimated and I’m anxious to see the movie that they’re going to do about her.”
Stiles stared at him for a moment with his mouth hanging open. Peter had definitely caught up over the six years he had spent in a coma.
“You are a geek,” Stiles said finally and it wasn’t a question. “You come with me. And cosplayed.”
“Of course, sweetheart.” There was a smile on the wolf’s face as he scratched his chin in a typical villain gesture.
Until the day of the convention, Stiles regretted multiple times his decision to take Peter with him. It wasn’t that he didn’t like the Zombie Wolf. In fact, he was probably the one Stiles got along better (besides Scott) from the whole pack, which was the most disturbing; but spending a whole day alone with him… That was new and, well, there had been some flirting between them and sometimes he wasn’t sure if it was serious or just a game and this could or could not be a dat- whatever. During those days his mind went to places where it definitely shouldn’t be.
Finally, the day came and when he left home to meet the werewolf he regretted it completely. Peter was cosplayed as Tony Stark. Not with the full suit of Iron Man, but with a tight dark blue shirt that looked painted over his muscles, with a circle with real lights in the chest and a glove of Iron Man’s suit on a hand. Just like in one of the scenes from the movie that Stiles had seen so many times. And, worst of all, his goatee was totally identical to Tony Stark’s. Okay, Stiles had a thing for facial hair and for smart people with wit and for those who were able to appreciate sarcasm and-… he was doomed. It was obvious from the smirk on Peter’s face that he could smell his… uh… enthusiasm.
“Captain America, huh? That’s more for Scott. I think Loki would suit you better,” Peter said, leering at Stiles shamelessly up and down, appreciating the way the cosplay fit his body.
Stiles wasn’t sure if he was saying it because of his (nonexistent) Daddy issues or the wit and sarcasm of the demigod, but at that moment he only was aware that the suit he wore didn’t hide anything at all in his middle area. Yep, he was doomed.
Loved this little story!!!!
Peter constantly reaching out to touch Stiles, to lightly run his fingers down Stiles’ arm or gently squeeze his knee, just constantly assuring himself that Stiles is there. All because the fire taught him that nothing is definite and he’s constantly worried he’ll reach out and Stiles will be nothing but a flicker of ash on the wind.
this new (old) connection
For Stalion week 2014, inspired in part by doesitlooklikeiwantedtoknowthat’s fic in the theme that Stiles is in/connected to the Alpha pack.
Kind of prequel Stalion.
Stiles is running, running with the realization that guardians are parents and Mrs. Blake – the darach – is going to close the cycle with his dad. With Melissa, who is alone and unguarded on the roof. He’s trying not to think about Derek, passed out in the elevator but still breathing because Stiles had at least stopped long enough to check. He has to get to Scott, to warn him. Maybe the darach won’t take Melissa, maybe she’ll let Dad go after the trouble they put her through, since she could technically use any parent. Maybe…
And then he’s skidding on the roof, catching the slope of his best friend’s shoulders as he walks toward the figure silhouetted by city light.
“Scott, don’t go with him!” he calls, then stops. Everything stops, because his eyes land on the Alpha of alphas, the blind man they call Deucalion, and Stiles knows that face. His heart stutters and he chokes out a soft word that both wolves can hear clearly. “Duke?”
They all pause then, and because Stiles is watching he can see the way Deucalion’s fingers tighten around the cane momentarily as the man seems to look straight at him. “Świętomierz?” the man asks, tentative in a manner he had never heard from that unmistakable voice.
“Stiles?” Scott breaks in, looking between them with a desperate confusion. “You know each other?”
“Yeah,” Stiles swallows, licking his lips nervously. “…a long time ago.”
Deucalion moves then, rushing forward in a move that startles him enough that he yelps when the Alpha drops the cane in favor of pulling him into a tight embrace, nose buried in Stiles’ hair. Scott snarls threateningly, but Stiles holds up a hand, “Scott, stop.” The noise dies down immediately, but his friend still rumbles unpleasantly. “He’s not gonna hurt me,” Stiles finds himself saying, and tentatively hugs the man back. His heart beats a ragged tattoo in his chest because Deucalion squeezes slightly and loosens his grip, but doesn’t pull away.
“Your scent has changed,” the man murmurs, face still tucked against Stiles’ longer hair – about the same length it had been the last time they met, now he thought of it.
“Medication,” Stiles answers, “for the ADHD.”
Deucalion goes quiet, but Stiles could feel the hitch in the man’s breath. “And Claudia?” Right. Deucalion could smell that her scent wasn’t on him.
“Dead,” he mutters. “About a year after you disappeared.” He didn’t mean to sound accusing, he didn’t, but Stiles is becoming acutely aware of the situation once more. He was being embraced by an alpha werewolf while his best friend looked on and both their parents had been kidnapped. This wasn’t really the time for awkward almost-family reunions. Deucalion must sense his shift in thought, because the man pulls away until he stood with one hand gripped around Stiles’ upper arm, as if he can’t bear to let go.
“Przyjmijcie proszę moje najszczersze wyrazy współczucia,” he says in Polish, words Stiles hasn’t heard since the funeral and had hoped never to hear again. “But I suppose this is not the time or place.” Finally, the wolf lets him go, stepping neatly onto one end of the white cane to flip it up into his hand. “But if you come with us, I think we should take the time to talk, hmm?”
“Talk,” Stiles repeats, looking between Scott and the man he knew as a child. He thinks of Dad and Melissa, of Derek lying supine in the elevator, of Erica and Boyd’s bodies. He thinks of the darach and her sworn revenge, and how this new (old) connection could end well for all of them or very, very badly. “Yeah, let’s talk.”
-
Polish: “Please accept my sincere condolences.”
Hi :) Can you do a Steter post where Peter and Stiles are mates. Peter has known since he met Stiles (the bite scene in season 1), but decides to give Stiles space to grow, experience life yada yada yada. Stiles on the other hand wondered why Peter didn't bite him the way he did to Scott, he finds out about the mating thing and has been waiting for Peter to say something, he assumes its because he's underage and so he waits until he is 18 and still nothing! He decides to confront Peter
Thank you for the prompt! I hope you like it! :)
—–break—–
When Peter met Stiles the first time in the hospital, it waslike he’d breathed fresh air for the first time in years but also like someonehad just nailed the final nail in his coffin.
Suddenly things made sense. The scent that had beencirculating around and slowly driving him mad, distracting him from his plans,finally had a home. Stiles. His mate.
Stiles, who’d taught his wayward beta without any help.Stiles, who’d saved his nephew despite all odds. Stiles, who’d mocked himwithin the school, daring and stubborn even through his fear.
Stiles, who was just a teenager, fifteen years between them.Stiles, who was working to stop him. Stiles, who feared him, hated him.
Peter hadn’t meant to tear into the redheaded banshee sodeeply, hadn’t meant to leave her so wounded, but when he’d smelled Stiles’scent on her, he was ashamed to admit—even to himself—that he’d lost control.
Offering Stiles the Bite was a spur of the moment decision,and yet Peter had never wanted anything more in his life. He could feel Stiles’blood in his veins beneath his fingers, his scent almost overwhelming him. Hiswolf howled for him to claim but Stiles hadn’t given his consent and he couldnever take what his mate hadn’t offered. Not from Stiles. As far gone as hewas, he could never do that. He nuzzled the skin of Stiles’ wrist, longingaching within him, and he felt his fangs growing at the very idea.
“I don’t want to be like you,” Stiles said, even as hisheart skipped with the lie. Peter let him go reluctantly, knowing that theirpaths were set. Maybe another life, another time, another world…but not thisone, and that was the only thing that mattered. Peter hid his disappointment,turning and heading for battle.
That night, he burned again before his nephew’s clawsbrought sweet relief.
Keep reading
I just can’t get the idea of Reaper!Stiles out of my mind…so I wrote a snippet.
—–break—–
Stiles hummed to himself, watching the officers mill about the most recent murder scene within the small Beacon Hills. He’d reaped the souls of the tainted arsonists hours ago and was now just hanging around, silently judging the humans and their bad decisions.
He’d been working Beacon Hills for a few weeks now, what with the recent string of murders. The alpha werewolf involved was an interesting fellow which Stiles was secretly rooting for, although he really didn’t understand why no one had caught on to who it was yet. Not even the man’s nephew had put two and two together. He shrugged to himself, turning from the officers and stepping forward through space until he was at the hospital.
Peter Hale’s room was a sad place and Stiles wondered why it’d taken as long as it had for the man to go crazy.
“Good Morning, Mr. Hale,” Stiles greeted, even though no one could hear him. Stiles walked a different plane than the living, something beyond that only reapers, escorts, and souls could exist within. He could walk with the living if he wished, but Stiles had found it much more interesting to obverse than to directly influence things. Humans as a general rule were predictable, but occasionally people like Peter Hale popped up and Stiles was fascinated.
“The police found your presents,” Stiles informed him, taking a seat in the chair at Peter’s bedside that was never used. “So nice of you, serving poetic justice like that.”
Stiles could feel the anger and hurt that the werewolf emanated. He could also see the timer above him, knew that wolf’s time was short. Just a couple more weeks now. He hoped the wolf could manage to complete his revenge before his time came. Stiles didn’t like interfering with Fate’s decree, but he was known to use his own discretion at times.
“A little birdy told me a certain silverheart was on her way,” Stiles drawled, eyes flicking up as the nurse came in and opened the window in Peter’s room. Her timer was just a few hours shorter than Peter’s. Stiles wondered if Peter would cause her death. Maybe he’d even kill her himself. From what Stiles could read on the woman’s soul, she would deserve it.
“I’ll see you later, Wolf,” Stiles said, standing and stretching. “Souls to reap and all that.” He patted Peter’s scarred hand, smirking at the goosebumps that rose over the man’s skin before Stiles blinked and he was outside.
Back to work.
I couldn’t let Reaper!Stiles go. Part 1 is here. Also on AO3.
—–break—–
Stiles looked at Kate Argent and sighed.
“It really pisses me off that your timer isn’t shorter than Peter’s,” he grumbled, shaking his head. “Fate isn’t usually that much of a bitch. Normally Karma’s got that covered and you have the worst Karma of anyone.” He pouted, crossing his arms and looking around the Argent house, ignoring Kate’s conversation with her niece for now. “Fuck this shit,” he added, before stepping through space over to where Peter was climbing back into the window of his hospital room.
“Messy, messy,” Stiles said. “Too emotional. I don’t blame you, but you’ve got to keep a clear head if you want this revenge to succeed. Which I now know it doesn’t.” Stiles watched Peter clean up quickly before settling into the bed. He really did look exhausted. “Your life sucks, dude,” Stiles said, sitting beside him. “I might need to have a talk with Fate because this seems pretty unnecessary.” Stiles wondered what would happen if he revealed himself, stepping into the living plane, but he shook his head. He didn’t really want to deal with the paperwork his direct involvement would cause.
Keep reading
