UPDATE: HAPPY HO-LIDAZE FRIENDS! I’m sleepy. And trying to draft!! WOOP.
YOU ARE THE REASON
todays bird

Andulka
Misplaced Lens Cap
trying on a metaphor

⁂

if i look back, i am lost
dirt enthusiast
Not today Justin

Discoholic 🪩

tannertan36
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
Mike Driver

No title available
ojovivo

titsay
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roma★
i don't do bad sauce passes
Cosimo Galluzzi

seen from Vietnam

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seen from Malaysia
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seen from Malaysia
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seen from Canada

seen from India

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@oncethestag
UPDATE: HAPPY HO-LIDAZE FRIENDS! I’m sleepy. And trying to draft!! WOOP.
Brows drawing together, Elijah takes a step closer and rakes his eyes over his mirror self, pressing his lips together. After a moment, he reaches forward and presses a finger into his counterpart’s shoulder. Simply to check he was in fact there. “… Dark magic indeed.”
It was little more than a tap. Not uncalled for, entirely. Yet Elijah found himself intrigued by the prospect. A doppelganger of himself was something of a witch’s trick. One that could feel him, a true flesh and blood phenomenon was unheard of. “Am I to assume you are Elijah Mikaelson, Original Vampire and patriarch of the remaining Original Siblings?”
I’d only give one piece of advice to anyone marrying. We’re all quite similar in the end. We all get old and tell the same tales too many times. But try and marry someone kind.
There it was, terrifying and beautiful all at once. Kol had a certain appreciation for the vampiric features Elijah was always so hesitant to reveal. Dark eyes, veins beneath them, framed with dark lashes. Lips making room for fangs, sharp and deadly. The dual sensations made his head spin - arousal, desire and yet, the deepest part of his primal mind, knowing fear as he was all but feasted upon by this beast.
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The heat radiating from his brother’s body was enough to burn him. The surge of it all the more terrifying as he felt the sinful urge to meld together, to bite into that flesh that was cruel enough to taunt him in such a way. Kol had learned from the best. Or the worst, at the present Elijah was hardly in the proper state of mind to pass judgement. Not when blood that smelled keenly of his own was pulled across his lips with the worst of intentions.
It made his eyes flash dark. Perhaps more so than he might have normally allowed. Black now, and wild. For a passing moment he considered the thought. Imagined what it would be like to puncture such a long neck and draw from those wounds the very life of his own body. The enigma of blood so similar, yet aged so differently. Blood that was both very much dead, and blood so alive it spoke in volumes, written in crimson. Again, Elijah let his hips dip, grinding harshly on Kol’s, needing the friction to combat the need to give in. To supply his demanding, now mortal, brother his every whim. To bite. Elijah’s jaw ached.
“Kol,” his voice was ragged, half broken for all the control he claimed. He hadn’t realized the younger tugging at the buttons of his shirt. The feeling, though direct, was so peripheral until the sting of warm hands slid down his ancient flesh. It was then that Elijah let out an audible moan, unable to stifle the surprise in it. He allowed himself to be touched, unused to the feeling of such familiar fingers ever playing gently. He supposed Kol had little choice in the matter. Mortal fingers were so much weaker than those of the millennia’s old vampire he had been before. Something in that thought was wildly amusing. As if Elijah could exact revenge for all the moments his brother had thought to be too hurried. There was very little he could do to protest now.
With that thought in mind, he captured Kol’s wrist, holding it as rigidly as he dared between two fingers with an all too knowing smirk. There would be time to drink. Elijah would gorge himself on his brother. The boy who had grown into a handsome man, who had too many tricks to ever feign innocence. “You are such a filthy boy,” his voice betrayed his arousal. His incessant need to let his hips rock gently into Kol’s, a rocking motion that he had willed his body to stop more than once and had found it refusing compliance. With one more fervent push of his hips, Elijah set Kol’s wrist above his head, holding down an arm that could protest little of his advances, though he imagined it had very few protests to make.
“Such a clever, filthy boy,” Elijah breathed, dipping his head to match and inhaling the scent of their mingled blood at the crux of neck and shoulder. It was a mistake, one that would drive him to madness, and did. He swallowed the taste of sweat. He swallowed any remaining fears, any regard for his life that Elijah might normally expand upon. It was an out of body experience, becoming as much Kol as he would allow. Becoming the antagonist to their games. His arms cradled either side of his brother’s head, locking the boy beneath his body. An anchor to him. “Where is it you learned to prey upon me, Brother?” It was teasing now, his bloodstained lips speaking hymns to the hollow of an open throat.
Strong teeth tugged at his brother’s skin, tempting them both. “What would you have of me? You wish for me to taste, but if that was all you had desired, then why here? Why wait in my bed, Kol?” Elijah was a madman, insisting on his own demise. He knew it better than he spoke of. He knew why Kol had waited, and even has his hand, pulled free from the cage he’d created earlier, trailed down the length of his brother’s squirming body, he had to hear him say it. He had to be certain. “Tell me what you desire, Kol. Tell me so I can please this human body.”
UPDATE: I might be getting a new job... I am so excited I am about to pee my pants.
Tristan and Elijah → 3x08 “The Other Girl in New Orleans”
Liv’s hand clenched in his while her teeth closed around her lower lip hard enough the pink flesh turned white. Oh, she was close. His praise sent a shiver up her spine, goosebumps covering her flesh. Hearing dirty words from someone who spoke so elegantly mixed with each brush of his lips sent her over the edge. With a sharp cry resembling his name, she met her release and fell slack against the mattress. Her breath came in short pants that caused her chest to heave with the effort. “That’s even better than my dreams.” She inadvertently let him know the sex dream she’d spoke of wasn’t her first involving him.
He was perversely proud of the sounds she made. No one creature had any right to sound as defiled and lovely as Olivia. And yet Elijah was smitten with them, vulgar little noises that he kept as his own, harboring them away for the days when he felt as though nothing was worth living for. Their fingers clenched tighter together as she rode out his tongue, releasing to his mouth like some manner of prayer. Some heretic blessing. He smiled into the wetness, lips moist from the effort of it. “Perhaps we ought to test the fantasy more frequently,” he mused, settling himself languidly between her legs, head set against the sweet pulse of her inner thigh. Elijah would be all too happy to oblige.
shoot me down but I get up
3x05 “The Axeman’s Letter” - requested by @theoriginalwinemom
Congratulations. You have survived the war. Now live with the trauma.
lorijenessanelson (via wnq-writers)
queenofthequarter:
The Originals + holding people by their necks
Holland Roden by Courtney Dailey
I do not look exactly like my father, but open me up and you will notice without a second look that his blood runs inside of me.
I act just like my father and I hate it (via idogotmoves)
Finn Mikaelson though.