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ok well we made it. this is more of the porn with feelings that has finally turned into porn. this is not porn, though. it's just kissing and feelings. i totally fucked up the read order last time. all the sorries. i'm pretty sure it's this part, then this week's snippet, then this, and finally this.

“I'm going to kiss you now, Klaus. Is that enough warning? Should I put my hand on your knee for a while? Maybe do the old yawn and stretch maneuver?”

He grinned at her, dimples stretching into deep, grooved lines. It wasn't that Klaus didn't smile often, but for all that he did, he rarely showed his teeth. It was a little bit silly, his big smile, less practiced. Less wary. His teeth weren't perfect or celebrity white, but they were pretty good for a guy who was born before flossing was invented.

Before he could return her volley, she leaned forward and kissed the smile off his mouth. He sucked in a surprised breath through his nose as he returned her kiss, even though she'd warned him. He was a little bit of a sloppy kisser, loose lipped and wet. She might have thought he wasn't interested if it wasn't for the careful, hesitant hands on her waist and thigh.

It had been months since he'd been so hesitant to touch her. Caroline was a touchy, huggy person by nature. It had felt good to not allow him permission at first. Not because she was punishing him -- or not entirely. It let her feel some small amount of control over her own life when she could give him a single glance and he'd obey. By graduation, though, it had stopped feeling quite so satisfying. After he'd returned from New Orleans the second time, his immediate acquiescence, and the disappointed little moue he tried to hide, made her feel downright petty.

He'd taken Rebekah and her to the Outer Banks for a week near the end of August. Caroline was so mad at Tyler and disappointed both Bonnie and Elena had decided not to go to college like they'd all planned; she'd let him take her hand to help her up off the sand and keep it as they'd walked back to the beach house. It wasn't until later, after pitchers of sweet, vivid sangria, after tender Scottadito and fresh, raw oysters with their iodine tang, after Klaus and Rebekah bickered and laughed all evening, the happiest she'd seen either of them, that she'd wondered where her guilt had gone.

She pressed forward harder and angled her head. He'd let his stubble go in the few weeks since she'd left for Whitmore with Rebekah. Other than a couple of day trips to D.C., Klaus didn't seem interested in doing much other than drinking, painting, and reading Jim Thompson novels, one after another. He certainly hadn't made any friends in town, the way Damon had ingratiated himself. She had a feeling he might have been shifting more often, but he hadn't mentioned it, so she hadn't asked. He smelled fresh and clean from the shower and the unscented soaps he preferred, but underneath that were fainter traces of green, summer forest and some raw and bloody and wild.

She scraped her chin along his and liked the way it burned so much, it made her feel wobbly. Her hands moved without her permission, needing the feeling of his skin to ground herself. Her right hand cupped around the side of his neck, her fingers creeping into his hair and up behind his ear. She steadied herself with her other hand on the center of his chest almost below his sternum. His skin shivered beneath her touch and finally came alive.

He'd never really used his strength on her. Even when he was furious, even the one time he'd hurt her, he'd held her. Shook her without squeezing until she bruised. He'd impaled her and bit her and dropped her on the floor like she was nothing, but he'd cradled her, held her like she was something precious he desperately wanted to keep, too. The closest she'd come to understanding was the night Rebekah saved her life. Even with a stake in her shoulder, Rebekah had lifted Caroline like it wasn't any harder to carry her than not to, cracked ribs with the strength of her grip, and moved so quickly, Caroline hadn't had the chance to see what was happening. She'd only heard the screams fading behind them, the squishing and popping of bodies rent, and a rumbling, menacing growl that should have terrified her.

He was gentler now than Rebekah had been, but he pulled Caroline hard enough to overbalance her as he sat up. She collapsed against him, giggling out the butterflies rioting in her stomach, until he settled her in his lap, his right arm coiling around her waist. She didn't need to test his grip to know she wouldn't be able to break it if he didn't allow her to. There was too much need in it, an urgency he'd buried over the summer, while he tried to be her friend. Tried to give her what she wanted, even if it wasn't enough for him. She wondered if anything would ever be enough for him, if he could gorge himself on her until he was satisfied. He took her now in nips and tongue-tip licks until she opened her mouth to him and let him in.

#klaroline wip wed #pr sure at least one paragraph of this doesn't make sense #i meant to rewrite it but couldn't figure out how before curse o'clock #the introduction of The Curse into my life has made wednesdays very long #it's probably good for me but fuck #so tired #thank you and goodnight!!!

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a cook’s tour — vietnam

#hot lesbian vibes #i would date her

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"I could be really brash and really loud and really dressed however I wanted to and almost made [Chappell] on purpose a drag version of myself so I can be whatever I want. It allows me to feel really safe exploring those aspects of myself. I’d never be able to do that if I took myself super seriously with pop. I think that the project has allowed me to be a part of the queer community in a deeper way because I'm not observing from the outside anymore. I feel like I'm in it. I am the queer community–it's allowed me to just feel queer, feel like a queer person and feel freedom in that."

#i love her your honor

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#geocities #lol

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i’m so tired i need to be held or killed

#same #except i need to not see or speak to another sentient being for at least two days #or be killed #that's fine too

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hey if you died right now whats your ghost outfit you cant change it be honest

#blue flannel pjs with snowflakes #black aperture science tee #black fuckbears hoodie #gray fluffy socks #i'm okay with this

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Caroline Forbes in TVD 3.05 The Reckoning

I mean, can anyone blame Klaus for developing an instant crush? Look at this.

#fuck yeah sexy tent

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#lololololololoololololol #the first one murdered me #i am deceased #i don't know who thought the villain needed henleys with fabric thin enough to provide visible nip #some genius actually thought 'loose enough for violence but with a slutty gaping neckline' #and made their dream a reality #thank you for your service friend

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#IT'S OLD HORSEGIRL STORYTIME #the meanest horse i ever knew was a palomino with blue murder eyes #he was about a billion years old and a retired professional pole bending mount #who just did beginner walk/trot lessons #because fuck you if you wanted him to canter #you had to be really careful saddling him and the crossties could not be loose at all #because hoisting the saddle up exposes a human's soft underbelly #and he would fucking eviscerate you #you had to basically shove your whole hand into the corner of his mouth to get him to take a bit #he could clench his jaw shut so tight #god help you if you tried to enter his stall without bringing tribute #he was the only not-a-stallion i worked with who would try to literally take your arm off #he lived to be like 32 #sustained by the sheer power of his spite #i loved that old asshole #rip ben #hope you're having a rad time in the horse afterlife

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By LabradoriteKing on Pinterest

#note to self #things i always end up googling for sensory imagery

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*This poll was submitted to us and we simply posted it so people could vote and discuss their opinions on the matter. If you’d like for us to ask the internet a question for you, feel free to drop the poll of your choice in our inbox and we’ll post them anonymously (for more info, please check our pinned post).

#have so found it

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the live rerecording of diary is bananaballs. i wouldn't say it replaces the original, but it's a great addition. this is by far my favorite of the old guy bands doing their heyday material. the recordings are pretty faithful, but instead of the screaming, mauled desperation of people in their early twenties, the loneliness is a much gentler, worn-in melancholy. very much like examining the things that hurt you and finding they don't have the broken glass, jagged edges they used to. it's remembered pain through the distorted wavy glass of decades.

they're all better technical musicians now, as they should be after thirty years. as much as i loved jeremy enigk's shrieking, squeezed out vocals, it obviously wasn't a sustainable sound. he can still hit the notes, but it doesn't sound like he's going to blow out his vocal cords on tour. i always loved william goldsmith's drums, but he has a harder hitting sound and better fills now. and i love '90s recordings for what they are, but my usual complaint is still true in diary's 1993 sessions. the drums sound like they were recorded alone in a tin can by the hi-hat version of christopher walken's bruce dickinson.

#sunny day real estate #diary live at london bridge studio #diary #music #i also love novum vetus #best new song by a previously defunct band imo

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WIP WEDNESDAY!!!

week #20

amnesia au again!

caroline is straight up not having a good time

She wants Klaus back. He’s here, but he’s not. He’s not hers, and she doesn’t know what’s worse: when he acts in a way that’s completely unknown to her, or when he does something so painfully familiar it’s almost—almost—as if he’s back. He’d lingered behind her like a ghost at the funeral, and only spoken with quips. He trusts her, she reminds herself. He is who he was thirty years ago; paranoid, neurotic, self-destructive and scared of his own shadow, and he trusts her, even if it’s just a little. Even if it’s just to entrust her to take the lead today. Trust, she reminds herself, near-frantic, comes more difficult to him than love. That has to mean something. No, she corrects herself, it does mean something. What, though … that remains to be seen. It’s late and she’s preparing to sleep, but something’s missing. It only occurs to her afterwards that this is the first night since the battle that she hasn’t seen him before bed. He’d always come to her. Naively, she casts her look to the door of their—hers, she supposes now—apartments. Nothing happens. She hears no knock. Twisting her hands together, she wonders if she’ll even be able to sleep, or if it will eat at her until the dawn. If she’ll imagine him lingering at the door, hand poised to knock but never actually making contact. Just a dozen or so metres apart, trapped in their own minds, longing— But, no. That’s a world where he cares for her like he did a couple of days ago. She doesn’t live in that world anymore. Caroline lays in her bed, on her back. It’s dark out and all the lights are out, but her eyes are just good enough to make out the baroque-style stucco on the ceiling.

#i'm obsessed with this concept #it's why i keep trying (and failing) to write time travel aus #people are made of experiences and memories #pre-canon klaus is not the same as post-canon klaus #and this hits that tragedy so hard #of seeing the person she loves but he doesn't have the same relationship with her #but he still has a sort of muscle memory of her #so he keeps doing things that make her forget for just a moment #but then it all comes rushing back #so it never stops feeling like fresh grief #chef's kiss angst ella! #did everyone put caroline in the shit? #was that this week's theme? #did we all simultaneously think 'what if she was having one of the top five worst times of her life? that would be fun.'

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i mostly wrote smutty literature this week and wasn't going to do an in public wip curse thwartation, but then! look!! this other thing decided to finally start working today!!! yay!!!!

Elijah tried his mimosa and hummed in pleasure at the freshly squeezed juice and extra brut champagne. Not his preferred brand, but Billecart was standard enough fare in dining establishments of a certain quality. He nodded at the server. "For the table, if you would."

“Could I have a sparkling water, too; San Pellegrino, if possible?” the girl requested of the server. Smiling, sunny and pretty, she fanned herself with graceful, genteel drama. “I'm from Virginia, but this heat!”

The young man relaxed from his stiff, practiced courtesy and returned her smile. She laughed with him, sweet and demure, with just a touch of flirtation, but watched him with distant, critical eyes as he walked away. She picked up the menu and studied it. "How are we on ears right now?"

Elijah took a moment to confirm what he already knew. "Clear."

"You sure? Wouldn't want anyone to hear this part."

"Indubitably."

"Great." She placed her menu back on the table. "If you want to order the Eggs Royale, I'll get the lemon ricotta stuffed French toast with strawberries, and we can split them."

“And why would we do that?”

"Because," she said with an embellished roll of her eyes. She tilted her blonde head, letting the perfectly curled end of her ponytail fall artfully over her shoulder. "You like a little something sweet with breakfast, but you won’t order it for yourself." And then, as though she knew his patience was waning, she nodded. “I wasn't expecting to run into you in Memphis of all places. And yeah, I thought about trying to contact you, but the only thing I could remember is that it was through Craigslist, and posting a hey, Elijah Mikaelson missed connections ad sounds like a foolproof way to commit suicide.”

He sipped his drink and kept his fingers on the stem even after he'd set it down, running his thumb in small circles on the smooth, cool glass. “Accosting a stranger in a cafe seemed more appropriate?”

“I don't know about appropriate, but I think you'll at least give me some of your time before eating me. Besides,” she said, a sly, strange smile twisting her mouth up and producing one charming dimple, “you’re not a stranger to me. Granted, I'm still annoyed by how badly you screwed up, vis-à-vis our last conversation, but that's on me. Never let a Mikaelson do a Forbes’ job. Believe me, I've learned my lesson.”

Forbes. He knew the name. A hunter, likely, as they’d been for centuries. It wasn't beyond them to train their children in all manner of stalking prey. She seemed to know of him well enough to fabricate this odd meeting. He didn't imagine her passing resemblance to Rebekah was a coincidence.

"I know what you're thinking. I'm not a threat, Elijah. I'm trying to save your family, not end it." She held his gaze, steady where many older and more powerful would have faltered. "You can't kill Klaus."

He certainly could kill her. He could kill her and everyone in this restaurant, and then go about his business. "You are very well informed, Miss Forbes."

"Oh, come on, Elijah. We're old friends. Call me Caroline." She reached across the table and touched the embossed leather portfolio in front of him. "In this is everything you need to know from the overnight. Politics, real estate, stockmarket, you name it, it's in there. Is Bethany with you yet? She likes to give you book suggestions, because you have similar taste. Seriously, what is with the weird Russians?"

"I enjoy their frequent use of surrealism and--"

"Their bleak, honest depiction of the effects of war. I know."

"Witches" he murmured and thought. Had someone stolen his memories of her? She was beautiful, but so very young. Not more than eighteen, but likely even younger than that. She still had the flushed curve of baby fat in her cheeks. For how long could he have known her? It seemed unlikely he’d have taken her to bed. "How do I know you, Caroline?"

"You’re right about one thing. It was definitely witches."

Elijah's chuckle was humorless. "Isn't it always?"

"From them, all of us were born. There would be no werewolves without witches. No vampires. No immortal beings trapped in stasis. No Other Side. No Five. None of us would exist and none of us would be in such danger." Caroline leaned forward and showed him her desperation. She'd been the picture of calm confidence up until that point. A woman sure of her place, her mission. It was hard to see that in the girl before him with her modestly cut white sundress and baby pink cardigan. Her parted peach lips and glassy, Mediterranean eyes beseeching. "My daughters were witches. I loved them more than I thought I was capable, but I'll do anything to see they're never born."

Elijah rocked back in his seat. He stared at the girl. Around the cafe. Out the window, up and down the street. Stretched his senses as far as they could unravel and sensed no other presences close enough to listen in. "What you're suggesting cannot be done. I'm certain of that. It is impossible."

"Is it? Or had no one ever been desperate enough, with a need great enough for every last remaining witch with even a drop of power to agree, even if it meant their own obliteration?" She sat back in her seat, taking her drink with her. The champagne glass trembled in her unsteady fingers as she took a long drink to bolter herself. She looked down into it, taking a moment for courage, and when her eyes met his again, he could see the titanium determination in them. "It's the beginning of the apocalypse, Elijah. All hands on deck."

#klaroline wip wed #i'd like to thank my local dispensary #and specifically sour diesel for making this happen #thanks for being there for me guys #also thank you to the discord for helping me think of elijah's morning preferences #particularly kit for knowing how rich people get their news #(compiled by a minion)

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making this because I am insatiably curious to know the public opinion, especially because my feelings are very different than I expected they would be at the beginning of series 1 (new who only, sorry classic who fuckers)

*by "most fuckable" I mean the doctor you think is genuinely the most sexually attractive to you and/or who you think is most sexually attractive in general. obviously that's subjective and complex, so take that as you will, but we're talking actual fuckability here. also this is about the characters, NOT the actors. option for none of the above included if you think none of them are fuckable whatsoever

feel free to rb and elaborate in the tags/replies if you wish

#nine is in second place? #really??? #i'm not saying it's wrong #i just didn't know fandom went for the sad old soldier doctors #i said 12 but my real answer is fugitive #i love her your honor

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What