I think I’m going to write a book called “‘Four Hours Is Definitely Enough Sleep’ And Other Lies I Tell Myself”
so i was in the bus with this granny by my side when we spotted two girls kissing by the bus stop. the granny turned to me and said “these girls are so pretty. at their age i was pretty ugly. well, maybe that’s why i had to marry a man” i almost died omg
when something good happens to your otp
when something gReAT happens to your otp
A fanfiction made with Gifs alone.
Let the KCfanficweek spam begin!
im really fucking sarcastic for someone who’s about to start crying most of the time
silk/skin; songs for when klaus and caroline have angsty, long d r a w n o u t makeup sex—- the kind where the sex and the afterglow are almost indistinguishable.
hair. sweat. hands.
the slow kisses, the shallow breaths, the swallowed moans. she does not look at him (she will not) but a touch, a whisper, a press of lip against collarbone and she finds she cannot look away, not from that long, lingering look he is giving her, something like the pounding of blood in her ears; not from his hair curled and damp down his forehead; not from the way his lips shape around her name, over and over, restless, wanting, like the call of ghosts—a little sad, a little unreal.
but he offers up his wrist like he is something to be devoured, what’s left of him free for her to plunder, to take. she watches him like he is a figure fast disappearing in her rear view mirror, a sort of careless resignation: to the fact that this will always be the way that it is, and that she thinks it enough. it has to be. but she likes that, this urgency of forever. It makes her a little more reckless, a little more alive, a little more inclined to reach for him, touch her lips to his wrist. and with a bite of her teeth she breaks his skin, and then his heart.
this mix is for the devil spawn melissa, to add to her probably-ever-growing pile of presents because it’s her BIRTHDAY and the entire universe (including me, unfortunately) loves her.
So my roommate’s boyfriend just moved into a house with all 11 members of my University’s American Football team.
For clangwee. Because the reader knows Miguel Syjuco, and the cineaste knows Martin Syjuco. :)