my sister’s bf referred to eating cheese as “mousing out” and i’m so utterly charmed by that. can we all agree to adopt that into language.
taylor price
d e v o n

tannertan36
we're not kids anymore.

Product Placement
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
sheepfilms
Jules of Nature
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
Game of Thrones Daily

Love Begins

⁂
Acquired Stardust
No title available
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
almost home

@theartofmadeline

roma★

Andulka
No title available
seen from Brazil

seen from United Kingdom

seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from Türkiye

seen from Germany
seen from Germany

seen from South Africa

seen from Türkiye

seen from United Kingdom
seen from Iraq
seen from Türkiye
seen from Switzerland

seen from Greece
seen from United States

seen from Malaysia

seen from Italy
seen from Türkiye

seen from Germany
seen from United States
@thoughtofhobi
my sister’s bf referred to eating cheese as “mousing out” and i’m so utterly charmed by that. can we all agree to adopt that into language.
I just want to love and be loved. why is lunch twelve dollars now
you will have coworkers more incompetent than you could even dream of
❝TRY HARDER FRESHMAN❞
pairings: freshman!sukuna x third-year!reader
synopsis: Freshman Sukuna thinks he can charm a third-year. You say no. He’s stunned, frustrated… and somehow more obsessed than ever.
@claudrina
“You’re a freshman.”
You say it like an accusation.
Sukuna just smirks.
He’s leaning against the wall outside your lecture hall, hands shoved in the pockets of his hoodie, earbuds still dangling like he pulled them out at the exact second you appeared. He’s big for a first-year tall, broad, sharp-eyed with a streak of troublemaker energy that practically radiates from him.
But still.
“A freshman,” you repeat.
“Yeah,” he drawls, “and what? You gonna arrest me for it?”
You raise a brow. “Shouldn’t you be in, I don’t know, Intro to College Skills?”
He grins, teeth flashing. “I’d rather be here.”
“Harassing an upperclassman?”
Y Tu Mamá También (2001), dir. Alfonso Cuarón
Pieces of People - Part 1
Summary: Vampire y/n returns to Mystic Falls after finding out her friend Stefan Salvatore has gone off the rails with blood, what she doesn’t expect to happen is find out her deep rooted connections with the Michaelson family, in particular – Elijah.
Word Count: 926
Pairings: Elijah Mikaelson x Reader, Damon Salvatore x Reader, Klaus Mikaelson x Reader
Warnings: just ya basics
A/N: hopefully this will turn into a series (?)
MASTERLIST FOR THIS STORY,
MASTERLIST
The air of Mystic Falls would always feel a little heavier and a little thicker than anywhere else. All other times that y/n had stayed here she had found herself muddled in some kind of supernatural drama usually started by her good friends the Salvatore brothers. Although, it seems they had already found a problem for themselves before she had even arrived.
The young woman strode boldly down the barren streets, the sky but a navy pulse above her, her blood-red heels clicking as she walked, her legs flicking in and out of her tight woollen coat.
Burying her chin and lips into her tall collar she allowed her mind to wander back to the Salvatore brothers. From rumours she’d heard, Stefan had gone off the rails again and they both were once more fighting over a girl – Elena Gilbert. She knew people closely in Mystic Falls, people who never left, and from them, she had heard whisperings of Klaus Mikealson, hybrids and of course, The Originals.
That was, in fact, the reason why she was here, the reason why she was walking up the stone steps to the Salvatore home. Y/n had questions, and simply not enough answers to keep her satisfied.
But maybe, just maybe there was more to it than that. Maybe after all these years she simply couldn’t sit by and listen to rumours of her friend ruining his own life, maybe she heard of the doppelganger and the worth of her blood and cared a little too much about strangers to see them turn into a blood bank, maybe she just needed to check in on her blue-eyed friend with self-destructive tendencies. So many reasons, such little time.
She lifted a hand to push on the familiar tall wooden door, but before she could even touch it she could already feel the resistance of something a little bit more than ordinary. There was a block on the door, she wouldn’t be able to get in until invited.
“That’s new,” She murmured softly before knocking clear and loud on the polished wood. Using her heightened hearing she concentrated until she heard whisperings from inside.
“Who the hell could that be?” y/n heard the familiar snarky comment of Damon ring distantly around her ears, she couldn’t help it, she began to smile.
“Don’t look at me,” She heard the half-hearted sigh of a voice far too familiar, Katherine? Then the door swung back, and warm light pooled into y/n’s vision slightly blurring the familiar face of the friend in front of her.
“Hello Damon,” She spoke softly, her head slightly cocked, “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”
It was only a few minutes later and y/n was standing in front of the snapping fire in the main room of the Salvatore mansion, slowly unbuttoning her jacket as the warmth of the fire spread across her skin.
“So, y/n, what brings you back into town?” Damon snarked, half-glaring as his nose disappeared into his whiskey glass.
“Why are you being pissy Damon?” y/n glared at the flickering embers before turning to the raven-haired man, “We were on good terms when I left.”
“I’ll take that from you,” A small voice spoke up, turning, y/n smiled at the inquisitive Elena who was holding her hands out for her jacket.
“Thank you, Elena,” y/n smiled at the girl as she handed over the folds of dark fabirc; she was after all the one that let y/n in, she then sipped from her own whiskey glass and eyed Damon with a raised eyebrow.
“You still left y/n,” He said suddenly, his voice overly serious, “Nothing can change that,” y/n didn’t move, she didn’t speak for a full minute.
“I’m sorry Damon, I really am. But, you should know by now what it means to be a Vampire, you can’t stay anywhere for too long…and…I used up all my time here,” It was a poor apology, but it’s hard to apologise for something that’s not your fault. Damon didn’t respond, his eyes fixed on his glass. “I heard about Stefan.” y/n eventually said, moving onto what she really wanted to talk about.
“Ah,” Damon rolled his eyes, “So you wanted to show up like the guardian angel you are and help him become ‘normal’ again…sounds like you,” A pause of silence, Elena had walked back into the room however remained behind the russet couch, her eyes touched with curiosity.
“Don’t talk to me like that Damon,” y/n murmured quietly, her eyes fixed on the glowing rim of her glass.
“Like what?” Damon spat.
“Like I’m not supposed to care,”
“You’re not,” Damon chirped sarcastically standing up, a forced smile on his lips, “That’s the price people pay when they walk out on their friends,”
“I didn’t walk out on you,” y/n muttered, hating how quiet her voice sounded compared to his.
“Then what the hell did you you? Why did you leave?” Damon shouted.
“Because I had too!” y/n yelled back, “Because Damon, I know it’s hard to believe but there are elements of my life that even you don’t know about, things I did and do still need to figure out!” A heavy silence settled on the room and Elena glanced between her friend and the mysterious young woman who was now trying to regain some composure.
“I am…sorry for leaving.” y/n said after a beat and Damon looked up into her eyes, “I really am.”
“Come on,” Damon murmured after a minute of heavy silence gesturing to the couch opposite his, “There’s a lot you need to catch up on.”
next part
"whats your 5 year plan?" buddy I nearly go insane thinking about what I should have for dinner
Yoongi as a museum curator (or when Yoongi gives us a fanfic prompt)
Jinmin complimenting each other♡
Faces in coffee.
𝓟𝓻𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓷𝓪𝓷𝓬𝓮
Summary: When the Mikaelsons return to New Orleans, Elijah is the only one determined to restore their lost legacy. However, a chance encounter with a beautiful antique shop owner turns out to be his greatest reward.
klaus mikaelson tumblr are we ALIVE or am i just a ghost haunting my childhood hotties
blink twice. like once. scream into the void. something.
because i am this close 🤏 to posting a multi-part klaus mikaelson fanfic series, and i need to know if anyone is still out there before i emotionally commit and start dropping chapters at 2am like it’s 2014 again.
this is a serious inquiry (it is not serious at all):
do we still read klaus fic?
do we still thirst over emotionally unavailable immortal men with trauma?
do we still follow long, angsty, slow-burn series that WILL hurt us?
or will i simply be whispering “always and forever” into the abyss?
about the fic:
klaus-centric (obviously)
set in the The Vampire Diaries / The Originals universe
multi-part because i don’t know how to be normal
angsty, romantic, dramatic, emotionally unwell
written with love, chaos, and unresolved mikaelson trauma
reimagined from a fanfic i wrote as a teenager TEN years ago, titled Battles, which i accidentally deleted off wattpad
based on ✨ vibes ✨ and memory ✨ so pls bear with me while i resurrect my own lore
if you are: still here. still feral. still emotionally attached to klaus mikaelson.
LIKE. REBLOG. COMMENT. POSSESS ME. i need a sign from the universe before i press post.
— tags because tumblr tags are basically summoning circles. pls let me know if i should add any
SABRINA CARPENTER references Sex and the Single Girl (1964)
Tumblr isn't social media, it's a habit. Like smoking. We're all gathering by the dumpster in the cold, reblogging posts.
getting fixated on something is funny because the first like week i have an insatiable need to tell everyone i know about it and spread the good word but by weeks 2 and 3 it becomes so intense and personal that even hearing it mentioned in public makes me sweat as if a dark secret was alluded to
tw/cw: none
prev / next
── ⭑ ☆ ⭑ ──
Chapter Nine:
"Pomegranate and Pine"
── ⭑ ☆ ⭑ ──
Carlisle regretted drinking the coffee as soon as it hit his tongue. After over three hundred years of never tasting human food or drink, he'd forgotten how vile it was. Instead of the tart warmth of the roasted beans and the sweetness from the sugar that he smelled, the only flavor that his tongue found was mud, all thick and bitter and heavy on his taste buds.
But through the mud, Carlisle tasted something lighter that was faintly familiar, like a distant memory from when he was human. Sweet-tart and floral; a pomegranate. Sophronia.