what if shinies were considered bad in the wild since it meant they will get killed easier, which would explain why there are so hard to find…



oh my gosh ;____; oh my GOSH


posted 3 hours ago with 11 notes
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Vampire Kisses

"You can do that harder," Scott breathes out, very slowly.

He remembers, in rare, quiet moments, how it had been with Allison. Right in the beginning, too-eager. Wanting everything, all of her, all at once. They hadn’t really made love until right before the end, and Scott had lost a piece of his heart forever. Then there was Kira, who Scott was slow with, too slow and too careful. Too late, in some respects. He blames himself, but his permanent, most trusted friend in New York City would laugh if she knew.

Now there’s Derek, and the two of them, he and Scott, they’re somewhere in-between. They don’t go fast or slow, just exist. They’re not committed but they are together. Scott believes they are. He shows up at Derek’s loft unannounced, kind of a lot.

Derek’s not too rough in bed, Scott’s learned, but he doesn’t hesitate.

And Scott enjoys sex with Derek. He makes sure Derek knows this, appreciation taking the shape of quiet, throaty moans and filthy compliments, requests whispered hotly against the calloused skin of Derek’s palm, the heel of his hand. A soft, inner wrist where Scott can feel Derek’s pulse under his tongue.

He gives Derek control. It feels good to let go.

He likes how Derek’s beard abrades his chin and neck. Scott can keep the marks if he chooses - an alpha can slow the healing; Scott remembers a lesson spilled harshly from the same lips that tease him gently now. “Harder,” Scott repeats. Then adds, “Please?” It’s that little concession-not-plea that makes Derek laugh.

Derek’s laughter is… recherché, but not entirely rare, not something to be locked away and stored in memory and cherished but precious nonetheless, as often genuine as it is derisive, more so the former in Scott’s regard. “What?” Scott arches a brow, corners of his lips twitching upward as he props himself on his elbows, gazing down through his eyelashes at Derek. “Hm?”

"Nothing." One of Derek’s shoulders rises, a hint of a shrug and Scott tries to identify all the muscles that dance on his back. Trapezius, infraspinatus, latissimus… “You’re just so,” Derek starts, stops. Asks, “You really want me to go harder?”

Scott groans, hands sliding down Derek’s sides to still his faintly rocking hips. “My neck,” he clarifies. “I want… you can bite me harder.” It gives Derek pause.

Thing is, they’ve got this unspoken rule, agreement, thing where they don’t act like animals in bed. Occasionally, Derek gives himself over to a quiet growl, but it’s always more human than wolf, and Scott far prefers the soft moans Derek offers up when he loses it - wordless vows, promised to the fading marks on Scott’s throat. How Derek’s breath catches when he’s about done for.

"You want me to bite you?" Derek pushes himself halfway up, and Scott squeezes Derek’s waist with his thighs to keep him close, straight white teeth leaving impressions on his own bottom lip as he looks into Derek’s eyes.

"Not bite-bite me," Scott amends, tilting his face to the side. He lifts a hand, cards his fingers through Derek’s hair and Derek’s eyes fall shut again, lips slightly parted, face a portrait of bliss. Scott’s opposite traces the waistband of Derek’s briefs, black. Scott likes him in black, how it makes his skin look by contrast, matching his hair. And Scott’s noticed the favorable glances he earns when dressed in lighter colors, has traded out several black tanks for pale gray.

He wears his white Henley more often than before, so the sleeves are slightly frayed where he curls his fingers to tug them down over his hands. Hands which are currently busy, fingers kneading Derek’s shoulder blades. He attempts to explain, “I know you could. I want to feel that.”

"Yeah?" Derek dips his face down again, brushing his cheek against Scott’s. "What if I don’t want to hurt you?" he murmurs.

"You won’t," Scott assures him, with confidence. And Derek’s hand smooths around, palms his nape, drawing Scott toward him and tipping Scott’s head back at the same time. Scott’s eyes fix on the ceiling, a point he’s well familiar with, having lain underneath Derek more times than he can accurately recount.

When Derek’s teeth close around the flesh where Scott’s neck meets his shoulder, Scott draws in a sharp breath and holds it. Derek’s lips follow, softer, then his tongue, pressed tight against skin, creating pressure. Derek sucks, hard, and it feels like a bite, except instead of frightening Scott it takes him to half-hard in the same amount of time it takes Derek to leave a mark Scott can’t see - but he feels it, throbbing, hot.

Derek makes a lower, more thoughtful sound than before and puts his mouth to work again. This time, Scott arches off the mattress, and when Derek’s finished Scott can feel his own heartbeat pulsing there. "Mm," Derek hums. Again, Scott requests, harder. He doesn’t remember pushing Derek’s boxers halfway down.

The body above him has always been the source of some frisson, for Scott. Derek is finely sculpted and Scott appreciates the male and female forms equally. He’s still getting used to certain things, and the way they make him feel, like Derek’s strength, his size, how he moves. Other aspects come easily, as natural to Scott as breathing, like lifting his face when Derek bows his own to kiss Scott’s lips. Canting his hips up when Derek slides his hand under Scott’s ass. He remembers hating Derek, learning to trust him, liking him, now wanting him. All the time.

"Are you okay?" Derek’s voice brings Scott back two hours later, lets him know he’s gone silent on his side of the couch, and closed his eyes.

Derek’s hand is on his knee, squeezing gently. Scott smiles. “Yes.” A wide, bright if slightly sleepy smile this time. “I’m okay.”

On his back, prone and exposed to willing teeth. He’s more than okay.

The hypothetical story of Chris Argent, who does not give a fuck what you think


I did in fact actually write up that trans headcanon for Chris Argent.  It is approximately six thousand words long, which was not the intended effect, but I apologize for nothing.

(I may have accidentally gotten myself to the point where, rather than ‘wouldn’t it be interesting if?’, I’m going to just continue to interpret Chris Argent as trans whenever not specifically proven otherwise.)

WARNINGS FOR: transphobic language (a few disparaging remarks, one brief tirade from an OC), and also Gerard Argent’s version of supportive parenting, which looks suspiciously controlling and abusive.  Also your general terrible decisions such as trying to chest bind with an Ace bandage (do not do this!!!!!), having sex with extremely drunk people to avoid awkward conversations (this is dubcon, do not do this either), and self-prescribing and altering dosages of black market hormone supplements.

ETA—also canon-typical violence and some messy killing and setup to interrogation/torture of OCs.  Which you’d think I’d think to mention.

Titled in the style of The Hypothetical Story of Derek Hale, Who Never Takes Off His Shirt.

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posted 7 hours ago with 79 notes
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Lupita Nyong’o’s photos and outtakes from OscarWrap Magazine (November 26, 2013)






Dear White People Official Trailer 1 (2014) - Comedy HD

all I see is black people talking about this. white people. go see this movie. you need to see this movie.

I want to see this movie.

Utena & Anthy + Holding Hands

I hate pastel edits. They rarely even look good on white characters and they’re a fucking tragedy to anyone with even slightly darker skin, let alone black characters.