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(Source: ckmeforme, via softersterek)

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"You gotta keep the step. You gotta limber up. You gotta loosen what you bolted down. You gotta use all you got. We know you’re tired, tired and scared. Happens to everyone, okay? Just don’t let your feet stop."

— Haruki Murakami, Dance Dance Dance (via whyallcaps)

(Source: stxxz.us, via perfectlytense)

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Derek Hale - episode five

(Source: wreckstiles, via bleep0bleep)

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I was tagged by eeames in the six selfies thing! I tag ALL OF YOUR FACES.

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sparklynature:

#WB2 No wonder my camera was having trouble focusing. Blinded by the Hoechlin.

sparklynature:

#WB2 No wonder my camera was having trouble focusing. Blinded by the Hoechlin.

(via queerly-it-is)

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Chris Argent + tight shirts

(via queerly-it-is)

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(Source: scottiles, via eeames)

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(Source: meagan-tandys, via bleep0bleep)

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Chris Argent + facial hair

(via bleep0bleep)

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wreckamic:

I am in love with Eartha Kitt!
We miss you.

(via adreamforthedead)

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make me choose
anonymous asked: tyler posey or tyler toechlin

(via bleep0bleep)

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Derek/Scott/Stiles, post IED fic

1800 wordsish. R rated. Someone just get Derek a blanket, please.

The first thing Derek does when he gets back to the loft is make a sign on an old piece of chipboard. It reads: ‘Dear assassins, fuck off: I’m human.’ He puts it against the window so that it can be seen from the ground, then he goes to bed. The night is quiet and dark. He feels as if he’s wrapped up in a blanket, as if he’s trapped within the confines of his body and can’t escape. It’s easier to get to sleep without his hearing. He tentatively puts that in the plus column, turns the pillow over to the cool side and digs his toes into the sheets, pressing himself into the mattress. He feels as if he’s going to float off if he doesn’t. He’s cold, but he isn’t used to wearing anything more than boxers in bed.

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shadowassemblage:

Punk’s not dead, just sleeping

(via bathsweaver)