hatteress:

“Hey can you order- whoa, are you okay?”

Derek’s standing in the middle of the kitchen, staring down at the phone in his hand like it’s about to sprout tentacles and attack. When he looks up, it’s with a face that’s Seen Things, Man - capital letters and all.

“I-” Derek stops, seems to gather his courage. “I picked up the wrong flyer.”

Stiles frowns. Then he notices the crumbled mess of paper in Derek’s hand. It’s black with red font which, granted, is actually the new local pizza joints branding.

It’s also the branding of the BDSM Dungeon Erica and Boyd had checked out on the weekend (it was on the job okay? Vampires are serious business. Stiles absolutely hadn’t trawled leather works sites with Erica for three hours afterwards, at all.)

“Um,” Stiles says.

“I made it through the whole order,” Derek says, voice haunted. “He only stopped me when I said I wanted grated cheese.”

Stiles doesn’t even want to know what his face is doing right now. “Because he realised you had the wrong number?”

Derek clutches at the bench, like it’s the last thing in his universe that makes sense. “Because he wanted to give me his.”

mallory-taylor:

So I can’t process my feelings right now,

I just seen “Star Trek: Into Darkness” and just as Benedict Cumberbatch jumped off a ship in a high-tense part of the movie someone in the audience yelled “GOD DAMMIT SHERLOCK NOT AGAIN, DO YOU EVER THINK ABOUT JOHN.”

xrosemaidenx:

GHOST WRITER YOU ARE THE COOLEST. My childhood.

kogla:

I got you, my angel! 

cathyworld:

casual reminder that… derek and stiles have each other’s phone numbers

#NO NO NO WE NEED TO BACK TRACK #LIKE HOW DID THIS CONVERSATION GO DOWN?! #was it derek? #was it some gruff approach of #’now give me your number before you go inside there’ #and stiles’ incredulous response of ‘what? no way.’ #and did derek roll his eyes and his whole head and just grab stiles’ phone from his fingers #all clutched protectively to his chest as if derek were about to crunch the plastic into pieces? #or was it something casually spouted out by stiles#a ‘dude #gimme your phone i gotta put my number in there.’ #and did derek look at stiles as if he had lost his mind or told him to take off his shirt AGAIN #and did stiles just shake his head and mutter something under his breath #and just tug at derek’s coat #a silent ‘just give it to me stop acting like a five-year-old’ #and did derek just stare at stiles as he punched in the numbers #with that open naked expression of his #and did stiles delay giving it back so that he could look through derek’s contact list #and these are THINGS that need to be shown (via mydearsourwolf)

rubygreybeard:

Been feeling a bit Good Omens-y recently.

kennedyclintonkat:

mishasassbutt:

crackedchassis:

Forget all the hunters in Heaven. You know who Metatron had better watch his ass over? JIMMY FUCKING NOVAK.

#get him jimmy #stab him in the face with your righteous christian fury

metatron walks into a random office in heaven and sees a dozen desks situated in a half-circle facing the door. it’s odd, though, because the large leather swivel chairs all have their backs situated to him.

“hello?” he calls out, hesitantly.

as one, the chairs swirl around, and metatron feels himself pinned with the righteous, furious gazes of ten people, all with their fingers steepled before them, all glaring at him.

metatron’s head turns slowly from left to right, taking them all in, feeling his spirits sink as his eyes slide past the cold fury in the faces of ellen harvelle, bobby singer, rufus turner, jo harvelle, linda tran, jimmy novak, mary winchester, jessica moore, sarah blake, and victor hendricksen.

the silence hangs heavy for a moment.

bobby’s gruff voice breaks it.

“heard you were fuckin shit up and messin with my boys.”

deeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaadpool:

I AM LITERALLY SCREAMING