#disgrvce

[2:24:31 PM] ♥the baeist of them all♥: Peter probably "you'll have two ways to suck me off then!!" (Cries laughing but also hugs Stefan and tells him he likes him the way he is, human or not)

[2:24:42 PM] ♥the baeist of them all♥: I'm crying Peter would you shut up please

[2:25:26 PM] { ° C A K E ° }: omfg

❝ send me ♔♔ for an edit of our muses ❞ : ( selectively accepting )

          After seeing her parents and brothers get ripped to shreds about seven years ago and hitching a years-long ride with the hunter who managed to save her at the last minute, Alys had been convinced that she’d seen, well, EVERYTHING. Witnessing the supernatural made the world seem bigger and darker, but it also made one braver, in a strange, completely paranoid sort of way. It’s that very bravery and confidence that proved to be the root of all the confusion she was feeling now. Despite living in this Night of the Walking Dead: Demonic Sequel for over two years now, sometimes she still found herself unable to BELIEVE this was actually her life. And these people were actually her companions.

          Her CURRENT companion, with whom she’d been forced into the car for yet another supply run, was perhaps the strangest of them all. Though nowhere near as terrifying as the angry leader of the camp, she still found him oddly unsettling. Perhaps it was the fact that he was HIGH almost all the time ( why they were letting him drive in the first place was beyond her ), but mostly because of all the whispers she’d heard about who and WHAT he was. A few years ago she would have dismissed them with a laugh, but after everything she’d witnessed, the possibility of celestial beings being real hardly gave her the vapours.

{ @disgrvce​ }[ ♛ ] send me a url and i’ll tell you the following;my opinion on;

character in general: i love cas !how they play them: gr10 !!the mun: we’ve never talked , but you seem nice !do i;follow them: yesrp with them: nowant to rp with them: yesship their character with mine: nowhat is my;overall opinion: cutie ilysm

            salt to wounds, it’s like a projector reveals every past mistake upon flatiron surfaces. calloused fingertips caress against glass bottle as lidded hues provide nightmare space to roam. yet, he can’t find it within himself to relieve panic and depression. he sees kevin, bobby before watching the harvelles go up in flame. the taste of a stolen kiss lingers upon fleshy plain of a lower lip as she withers away. waves pulling him under, sorrow’s under-toe grips at ankles slowly attempting to drowned the man within his own mind. there’s a creak, the winchester can’t bring himself to look  ;  only speak. 

                                    ❝ didn’t think anyone else would be awake. ❞