Scott Wilson is in this ep of x-files. WHY YOU GOTTA HURT ME LIKE THIS NETFLIX
The accuracy is overwhelming.
Some new Teen Wolf jewelry designs! Aw yis!
Copper Emissary Necklace | The Alpha’s Revenge Necklace | Wolfsbane Bullet & Arrow Necklace | Copper Wolf & Nemeton Necklace | Copper Triskele Pendant | Howling Wolf Zipper Pull | Sterek Necklace | Three Arrow Bracelet
I’ve also got a couple of these Werewolf Hunter Necklaces back in stock if anybody was waiting for those. I only have two for now but if those sell I’ll probably make more.
I’ve been busy. :D I’m about to reblog the giveaway/discount post too, whooo!
My friend just messaged me freaking out cos her favorite porn start tweeted her back and I’m like I KNOW THOSE FEELS.
I AM SO GLAD I HAVE A RL FRIEND WHO UNDERSTANDS ME.
cosmo tips: spice things up in the bedroom by shoving a jalapeño up your partner’s ass
forget coffee shop AUs there need to be more random diner in the middle of nowhere at one in the morning AUs
This is 100% something I can get behind because honestly, it seems more familiar to me than coffee shop aus. I’ve never spent much time in coffee shops, because them shits are always busy and in my face and let’s be real—there’s not many non-chain coffee shops anymore. Also they close early.
But diners, man. The comfort and familiarity of a diner that’s been part of a town’s history forever. The kind of diner your mom went to after prom, the one your granddad goes to on Sunday mornings, the kind you show up to now, when you’re a little bit drunk, a lil bit sad and a lot in need of a huge stack of pancakes.
Derek probably would do well working at a place like that. Bob, the guy who runs the place, hires him to do general grunt work. Derek gets there early in the afternoon, handles the unloading from the trucks that bring all the giant tubs of oil, the sacks upon sacks of flour. Derek gets dirty looks when he balances the eggs on top of a box filled with tomato paste, like they’re going to slide off and smash but everyone eventually learns that Derek never even lets them tremble.
After that’s done, and everything’s put away, he gets to work on the pots and pans. He’s responsible for getting all the stuff from breakfast clean and ready for the evening rush, and it’s grimy, tough work but he likes it. It’s satisfying, somehow, watching the crusted bits and slick oil disappear under his hands, watching everything disappear into the soapy water and come out sparkling and clean.
When he finally stacks everything in its place, he changes up his apron, and heads out to help the waitresses. Lorna always gives him a slap on the ass as he passes, and he’d bitch about it more if she didn’t always set aside food for him, leftovers and things customers sent back, perfectly fine and untouched. Derek follows her direction, clears the plates and wipes tables, replenishes the salt shakers and napkins.
The same regulars always turn up for dinner, and they start greeting Derek, same as they talk to Lorna and Bob. He likes it, appreciates the tips they leave him but generally sticks them in Lorna’s purse when he passes. He doesn’t work here for the money, more for something to do.
After ten is when the teenagers start showing up. Bob shuts down most of the kitchen, keeps a griddle going for pancakes, keeps a fryer warm for fries. They show up in clumps, little clusters of excited, happy bodies, warm from parties and football games. Derek doesn’t mind them, but he doesn’t linger with them either. They make him feel lonely, mostly.
Scott and Stiles come in sometimes, chattering loud about school and lacrosse. The others cycle around them, sometimes Lydia, frequently Isaac and Allison. Their eyes had widened in shock when they first saw him, made him feel self-conscious with his stained smock and arms full of glasses but now they barely pay him any mind. He does the same, moves around them as little as he needs to.
Sometimes though, sometimes Stiles comes in on his own. It’s always late at night, late enough that there’s only a few drunks left, sobering up after the bars. Stiles gets his own table, spreads out maps and papers. Lorna usually leaves him alone, gestures at Derek to bring him his plate, to refill his glass.
"Thanks, man," Stiles says, rubs his eyes tiredly.
"What’s all this?" Derek asks, sometimes, points to whatever Stiles is working on. Sometimes Stiles answers glibly, sometimes with a dark, bitter comment. Either way, he rebuffs Derek’s help, and Derek accepts it, pours him more water and walks away.
This time, though, when Derek moves to take his pie plate, Stiles’s hand shoots out. His eyes are red when they meet Derek’s, not alpha red, just bloodshot and exhausted. ”What do you know about leylines,” he asks, hopeless and frail.
Derek pulls out the chair across from him, settles. ”I don’t know much,” he says, cautiously. ”Only what I’ve heard from my parents, but,” and he takes the map from Stiles, pulls the pen from Stiles’s mouth and makes some marks.
Lorna brings him a grilled cheese sandwich sometime later, slides it by Derek’s elbow so as not to disturb the papers.
"Sorry," Derek says, blinking at her. "I’ll get up, Bob must be—"
"Don’t worry about Bob," Lorna says dismissively. "That old fart takes advantage of you as it is. You talk to your friend."
Derek waits for Stiles to protest, to speak up against the word friend but Stiles says nothing, steals a triangle of Derek’s sandwich and flips another page in the book.
Derek kicks him out when he starts drooping, herds him to the jeep over Stiles’s many protests. ”Sleep,” he says. ”You’re not going to do any good like this.”
"I need—" Stiles says, and then stops, scrubs his palm over his face. "Yeah, okay. You workin tomorrow?"
"Yeah," Derek says. "I’ll be here."
He goes back inside, shuts off the glowing OPEN sign, and walks Lorna to her car before taking his own advice and heading home to sleep. His muscles ache pleasantly and he smells like warm food and old papers. He wonders if Stiles will really turn up tomorrow, alone, looking for him.
oh god i just pictured stiles 100% convinced he’s killing people and him begging scott to kill him.
oh god why did i do that.