@followedadifferentpath ; because you’re online and i lov u
“ Ne Kotori, phones are boring. ”





#interview with the vampire#iwtv#the vampire armand#assad zaman

seen from United Kingdom
seen from Russia
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Poland

seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States

seen from Indonesia

seen from United States

seen from Spain

seen from Türkiye

seen from Poland
seen from France
seen from Czechia

seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from China
seen from T1
seen from China
seen from United States
@followedadifferentpath ; because you’re online and i lov u
“ Ne Kotori, phones are boring. ”
@followedadifferentpath
“ -- hey. Hey. Wanna see a trick?”
My Tumblr Crushes:
failurefcther
duocorpora
ashxnfeathers
followedadifferentpath
whcwashe
ciacowboy
swcllowthis
delabor
choseachother
@followedadifferentpath
Second-choice last-night desperation ain’t a pretty thing, but it’s what Faraday’s got pressed up against him, long and lithe and frankly a little terrifying, and yeah, maybe he’s letting Red do pretty much what he wants. He doesn’t want to die with his dick out.
Red takes with a quiet confidence that doesn’t quite reach arrogance. He pushes Faraday down, he tugs at clothes, he shoves arms and legs until the position suits him, and he smiles this amused smile down at Faraday, underneath him, and tightens his fingers to forestall any answer to teasing question:
“No smart mouth, now?”
@followedadifferentpath from (x)
This one is new. Yet another curious addition to Stiles Stilinski’s list of supernatural friends. A skinwalker —— color him interested. The fox keeps the boy close to the surface, the lilt in his voice, the accent on the words — all Stiles.
Even if he knows it won’t fool Red (how quaint).
“What? Are traumatizing experiences reserved only to cool, silent types? I’ve been through some stuff too, y’know. I can play the damaged card.”
@followedadifferentpath
“You’re a weird one.”
He closes one eye and tips his head, sizing up the man like a particularly tricky pool shot. His finger drags lazy circles in the air, thoughtful.
“Did something a little hinky to that soul of yours, huh?”
TAGGED BY : @followedadifferentpath RULES : tag 10 of your followers that you want to know better ! TAGGING : @dirtypaw ; @wrxckage ; @tireure ; @guiltlxss ; @gotcompany ; @inscnus ; @neverthedark ; @notorator ; @xbitesback ; @padshiy
MUSE :
name: Hikaru Sulu / nickname : Ru, Roo / zodiac sign : cancer / gender : wolfboy / favourite gold, green, blue / average hours of sleep : verse dependent; usually 6-8 / last thing you googled : care for carnivorous plants / height: 5′10″
MUN :
name/alias : wasa / nickname : wasa / zodiac sign : capricorn / gender : lady birb / favourite colour : red / average hours of sleep : 4 / last thing you googled : chrome security algorithm / height : 5′3″
hc + Pack
HEADCANONS PLEASE ! ( always accepting )
Pack was fur warm, four paws and cold noses; a family where the forest met the mount that overlooked the sea and reached for the sky. Pack was a family bound by rules, bound by tradition, but blessed by Nature and the spirits that bowed their heads in thanks for the wolves with gentle touch.
Pack was a home, and something lost.
Lone wolves never last, and so the wolf wanders with an ache that bleeds the hope from him. He smiles, bright as the sun, and carries it with a desperation buried beneath skin and bones. There may be another, a guide — the sending wolf that walks him home, but even he gets lonely. He misses it; touch warm, fur soft, the bodies of a family nearby that promise safety in numbers and a love unconditional.
They walk together, after all.
As hope slips between the cracks of fingers, so do the memories of the years gone past. A seed of doubt grows, fed by the misfortune that comes with rarity, with a coat that shimmers with the sun, with a target that says ‘endangered’, ignored by that of poachers who see him ‘rare’. For hunt for some was a game; was a selfish thing.
He doesn’t think he’ll have it again, sometimes, in those nights where company is had by a moon always silent, by a wind always gentle, and by a guide always there.
But, there’s a flutter of wings.
A bond made. Touch. Love.
Perhaps he realises, there in the comfort of sheets and hands lazy, that a pack is something else now. Something like him, but not. Someone that understands. Perhaps a pack is a skinwalker. Maybe even a druid, and a hunter too.