deanleysen:

coffee-and-yoga:

hanari-502:

not modelling just casually getting my ass kicked

Ridiculously Photogenic Karate Dude

I like this.

Just to nitpick a bit: it’s Ridiculously Photogenic *Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu Dude

And this picture’s even better when you realize he’s the one doing the ass-kicking. He’s got the other guy in what’s called an omoplata (shoulder lock with his leg.)

faelan01:

j2asndh:

faelan01:

j2asndh:

atlasofprejudice:

Europe According to Germany (2009) from the Atlas of Prejudice book by Yanko Tsvetkov presenting the Mapping Stereotypes project.

Vampire Land XD better than diaper changers, that’s for sure

and look how much the West culturally appropriates the vampires. tsk tsk. 

ahahah the difference is that we don’t whine because of something like that, we like that something of our culture is shared around the world. Why can’t some people undersrand this? You know, that today we all live in an international context and that countries are not generally closed to the outer world? Why do these people understand that returning to how it was years ago is simply ridiculous?

I am going to go with; they never went outside their bubbles? Among other things. *puts a garlic necklace on, eats some goulash dipped pizza, and worries about the gas in Eu*

mr-tom-hiddlestoned:

let’s play “how many times can my OTP look at each other like that without kissing until I throw a chair at my TV”

medleypond:

  [x]

lessonslearnedddd:

please just dont ever stopppppp (x)

cracked:

And god forbid you want to see those genius gay characters smooch.

6 Insane Stereotypes That You Still See in Every Movie

helenish:

Look at these two stayin’ alive motherfuckers, completely 100% believable and realistic as high school juniors, not as a couple of guys recruited straight out of college into undercover police work, walking back from the gym, Stiles saying,

"Hale’s involved, I know he has to be—I just need to figure out how to get close enough to figure it out—" and Scott’s going to worry about him, that maybe he’s getting in too deep, and he’ll be right, because Stiles has already brought Derek lunch, just coming by to see him at his studio, where Derek makes meticulous models of half-burnt houses, cuts up musty books he buys at library sales into wolves, spreading oak trees, creepy art work Stiles doesn’t really get, but he knows what it means when Derek looks up at him, puts down his x-acto knife. 

He kisses Derek—has to, to get close enough to be invited to meet Derek’s friends, get a look at the inside of his apartment—but he doesn’t fuck him. That’s crossing a line. He thinks about it, what it would be like to take Derek to bed, but he doesn’t do it. He tells Derek he wants to take it slow, if that’s okay. Derek smiles at his feet and says yeah, sure, okay, if that’s—yeah, of course.

Derek finds out the worst possible way, of course, probably when he gets kidnapped and it’s Stiles who shows up and gets him, wearing jeans and an agency windbreaker, grim and angry and cutting the ropes on Derek’s wrists, and then the part where Stiles shoves him down hard behind a table and shoots someone—

"I thought—" Derek says, numbly, sitting numbly on some concrete steps where someone else in a uniform told them to wait, "I thought you were a social worker."

"Yeah, I’m—not," Stiles says. He’s all banged up. There’s a cut on the bridge of his nose and his knuckles are scraped raw. 

"You didn’t want me to know?" Derek says, and then he sees Stiles’ face and he knows, he knows what it looks like, his family, the connections to the Argents, all the deaths, he knows. "Oh," he says.

"It wasn’t like that," Stiles says.

"You were using me to get closer to—or. You thought I had something to do with it," Derek says, his voice wavering, breaking.

"Derek, I’m sorry," Stiles says.

"That’s why you wouldn’t—" Derek draws in a short, hurt breath. "I believed you, that stupid fucking story about how badly you’d been hurt," he says. "But you just didn’t want to fuck me because it would have screwed up your case."

"Derek—"

"Fuck you," Derek says. Stiles watches him walk away. Two weeks later there’s a box on his desk at work: a sweater he left at Derek’s once when the weather turned unseasonably warm, the whisk Stiles bought for him at a stoop sale when they were out one Saturday, just walking around. It was 75 cents. That’s it, that’s everything. Stiles never stayed over, never had a toothbrush, never left any other clothes. 

He keeps the whisk—something like a reminder to be less of an asshole. He clips the newspaper articles about Derek’s gallery shows, keeps them in a neat little stack tucked into a book.

He thinks about what it was like, kissing Derek, the way Derek would sigh and shift towards him and open his mouth, how badly he wanted to fuck him, how he’s a lying sack of crap. 

A year after that Kate Argent breaks out of prison. Stiles is working a 36 hour turnaround in New Orleans and doesn’t even hear about it until he gets back, and by then Derek’s been gone for 12 hours, the back door of his studio hanging open, cut paper littering the floor, fluttering out into the alleyway behind the studio in the late afternoon dark gold sunlight, where they used to sit on crates and drink beers, where—
They find him, of course they find him, three awful days and a hundred bad leads later, Stiles running on fumes and the nap Scott forced him to take on the lumpy break room couch. Derek is slumped on the floor of the warehouse when they find him, eyes closed, and it takes an age for Stiles to slide down on his knees next to Derek, to put his hand on his shoulder and turn him over, expecting—when Derek opens his eyes, Stiles can’t hold it back, the audible sound of relief.
"Did he say it?" Scott wants to know at the debriefing. They let Derek take a shower in the locker room and now he’s wearing agency sweats and a t-shirt he’s pretty sure belongs to Scott, eating takeout from the italian place around the corner.
"Say what?"
Scott sighs. “He was supposed to say “We have to stop meeting like this.”“
"Why?" Derek says.
"You know what, fine," Scott says, aggrieved. "I give up."
*
They let him go and he goes straight to the studio, even though it’s nearly nine at night. Stiles is there, straightens guiltily. The floor is clean, the broken pieces of a few of Derek’s works stacked neatly on a table in the corner.
"I thought you’d be a few more hours," Stiles says, his hand tight on a the broom handle. "I wasn’t—I didn’t want you to come back to it—"
"We should stop meeting like this," Derek says.
"Okay," Stiles says. "Sorry, I’ll just—I’ll go."
"Wait," Derek. "I meant—"
"Oh," Stiles says. "Oh, were you doing Scott’s shitty line?"
"Yeah," Derek says. There’s a long, weird, silence.
"I dunno," Stiles says finally. "I think maybe that line only works if then the credits roll, like, immediately after."
"Probably so," Derek says. He gets the dustpan out of the closet, and they sweep up the last of the paper together, move the table back against the wall, tape up the broken window pane, working in companionable silence.
"Thanks for finding me," Derek says, quietly, smoothing down the last piece of masking tape on the window, glancing up at Stiles to find him leaning against the wall, smiling a little.
"Anytime," Stiles says.
ROLL CREDITS.

colethewolf:

So, where is Sterek headed?

Well, despite how murky the outlook for Teen Wolf gets at times, I believe Sterek has been blessed with a beautiful slow-build. I’m not sure if Jeff originally had plans for Sterek when he wrote seasons one and two, but it’s safe to say he took the idea and incorporated it into his plans. Season three is all the evidence we need. The relationship between Stiles and Derek is like never before.

There’s no denying that Sterek is the only pairing in the entire series that has taken on a slow-build. Big staples in Sterek’s developing relationship appear to have been cleverly placed throughout season three. For example, Stiles comforting Derek, Stiles being the one to learn about Derek’s past, Derek canonically being shown to care about Stiles, Derek as the ‘king’ on Stiles’ chessboard, etc.

Of course, the future for Sterek is unknown. It’s Teen Wolf. Anything could happen. But I believe that all roads for Stiles and Derek end up at one final destination…one where they end up together

Hope can be hard to hold onto, especially with all the punches the fandom has to endure. However, if there’s one thing regarding Teen Wolf to hold onto hope for…it’s Sterek.

Hold onto every bit of hope you have. Stay loud. Stay vocal. Celebrate the amazing ship of Sterek. Keep yourself focused on Sterek being endgame. All the right puzzle pieces are falling into place. 

HW