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nobleriver · 2 years

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I'm not going to any dance. Caroline will be there.

#tvdversegifs #tvdedit #the vampire diaries #klaroline #klaus mikaelson #caroline forbes #klarolineedit #tvedit #klaus x caroline #denim rose graphics

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kirythestitchwitch · 1 year

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Hi Klaroline Fam! In addition to our Fic Rec Fridays, we're having a WIP Wednesday! Do you write fic? Do you make graphics or gifs? This is the event for you! Any time on Wednesdays, post a snippet from a current WIP fic and/or a preview of a WIP graphic/gif. Let's get the fandom excited for what's coming our way, because even though the show has ended, we're not dead and we still love watching Klaus and Caroline get together in every universe. Or not, I know you angst writers are out there!

Starts: June 21, 2023 and goes every Wednesday from then on!

#klaroline wip wed

Banner Made By: @morningstargirl666

#COMING NEXT WEEK #join us in showing off all our wips #klaroline wip wed #tvd for ts #klaroline for ts

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klarolineautumnexchange · 2 years

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Sign-Ups Now Open

The air is crisp and cool, leaves blowing across a darkened street. The taste of pumpkin spice lingers on your tongue and a faint howl can be heard in the distance. Klaus’s dimpled smirk and Caroline’s echoing laugh welcome us. The season of change is upon us. Not quite here but so very near. In order to embrace the falling leaves and autumn colors, we are hosting a gift exchange. Everyone is welcome to grab warm blankets, a cup of spiked apple cider and create a gift for someone in the fandom.

The gift exchange is open to anyone who wishes to participate, creating a gift tailored to your giftee, and receiving one made just for you in return. Below are the options that you can choose to request and create:

Drabbles

Gifsets

Graphics

Manips

Aesthetics/Moodboards

Videos

Original Fanart

Playlists

Sign ups are located HERE.

Timeline

Sign-ups End: September 9, 2022 11:59 pm EST Assignments Out: September 12, 2022 6:00 am EST Assignments Due: November 11, 2022 11:59 pm EST Gifts Revealed: November 25, 2022 6:00 am EST

Please note that I WILL have scheduled check-ins between September 12 and November 11. This will allow me time to arrange a pinch hit if need be. Please contact me as soon as possible if you encounter a reason as to why your gift cannot be completed.

If you have any questions, please feel free to send me an ask at @klarolineautumnexchange

I cannot wait to see all the fall themed klaroline creations that you all come up with!

#Klaroline #klarolineautumnexchange #sign ups

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klarolinecentral · 10 months

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I just found this blog and WOW I am blown away!!!

Your graphics are so stunning! I am a longtime Klaroline fan and I want to thank you SO much for your beautiful works and contributions to this ship/fandom. Their connection goes over some peoples' heads, but it is so poignant and powerful of a connection to me, and true fans understand.

The shows' writing (the OOCness and bizarre mishaps along the way) may not have given us what we wanted, but imo, it's better we write our own stories for them than have the writers use canon to ruin it with a breakup or whatever else that's way out of character. You never know with these CW shows! 😅🥲

Anyway, sorry, rant over// but THANK YOU for this blog and all that you do! I hope the Klaroline fans give you lots of love and kudos for this one!!! 💕🤩💕🥰💗😱💕🤩🥰🥰🤩🙌🏻🙌🏻🙌🏻

Jey: Hi, thank you so much for the praise! You're so lovely ❤️

I'm also a long time fan - been here for like 10 years but didn't have skills and dedication to run a network back then. And now i have it! So you're very much welcome 💖

Agree with you about CW shows. Unfortunately there's not even one CW show that was good from beginning to the end for me. I guess imagination is all we can have.

Thank you so much again!!! Hope you'll enjoy the gifs in the future too 🥰

#ask #jey answers #I'm the only admin here so i don't know why i put my name there #for future asks i guess 😅

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sanguinelupus · 1 year

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independent & private, multi-fandom, oc friendly, low activity, canon divergent portrayal of klaus mikaelson of the originals / the vampire diaries. writer’s name is ganon, age 21+ they/them. discord available upon request. anti-klaroline.

quick rules: please cut your posts. i don’t mind if you reblog from me, but don’t make it excessive. i am mutuals only, selective, & duplicate friendly.

GOOGLE DOC. MEME TAG. IMPORTANT PSA'S.

other blog tags:

THREADS. | OOC. | STUDY. | PHOTOS. | ABOUT.

blogroll: @invitisalvatore, @perzysprumia, @fvckingmourn

heavily affiliated with: tricursed, vampfrey, insanislupus, dvggered.

all graphics, icons, gifs, & themes are made by me or @godmona.

FREE PALESTINE.

updated: 11 mar. 2024

#pinned #dni

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shelikeshummingbirds · 6 years

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counting down to our endgame: dangerous liaisons

#klaroline #klarolineedit #kcedits #tvdedit #caroline forbes #klaus mikaelson #kccountdown #myedit #ep: dangerous liaisons #klaroline graphics

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klarolinevacay · 7 years

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Colleen’s Favorite Movie/Book/Serie Posters in Klaroline version

Work dedicated to CandycolaMorgan: These are posters of some of her favorite books, tv shows or movies with a Klaroline touch. Of all the incredible list you gave me ... this was the result. I hope this work really screams COLLEEEEEN!!!

AO3 LINK

#klaroline #klaroline magazine #klaroline vacay #klaroline vacation gift exchange #candycolamorgan #klaroline graphics #gift

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highgaarden · 2 years

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seasons (waiting on you) kc frosted exchange gift fic for the lovely @darkestgrays

It is always odd, the way these things go.

Blood, maybe.

A soul bond, definitely.

A quick cut of the eyes across a crowded room.

A mouthful of sharp teeth.

A heart full of want.

The stories are all one and the same.

And they all begin with someone walking into a room.

—

Once, in a diner somewhere:

Writer walks in. Writer is disgruntled, behind on his latest novel, needs a coffee and a caring hand. His hair hasn’t been touched by a comb in three days. There is a cut on his wrist, though he does not remember how that had happened.

Waitress swoops behind the till. She is juggling two coffees and a plate greasy with bacon and eggs, which she passes off to someone else, barks a quick order to get it to table seven. She is as organized as her hair is obedient: it is tucked back into a ponytail, swinging in the air like a lasso free and loose, about to latch onto some poor unsuspecting animal’s neck. And coiled-yellow. Her hair is so yellow.

A bit like the su—

“I think you’re an Americano, no sugar kind,” she says as he reaches the counter. “Very dramatic sweater, by the way.”

“Do I know you?” he asks, affronted. It is a new sweater, charcoal grey with rigid black stitching, and quite nice thank you very much.

“No, but I’ll know you,” she says, and how presumptuous she is—the thought is interrupted by her handwriting: in graceful, practiced movements she wraps up his order with her sprawling penmanship, efficient strokes and careless bends, spelling out his name. He has not given her his name. He is sure. “You wanted this to go, right? See you tomorrow.”

Klaus blinks at the offered bag. He doesn’t remember if he’d even specified, but somehow manages to ask, rather dazedly, “And what makes you think I’ll come back?”

She peers at him. Her eyes look beyond him, and for a moment she forgets who she is. “But you always do.”

Klaus’s hand moves of its own accord, reaching out through the space floating between them to grasp the bag – his thumb presses firm on the side of her hand, and how he looks at her—it is as if he forgets himself, too, when he says: “I will. I promise.”

Blue eyes meet blue.

A second bleeds into two.

Her lips part.

His mouth curls.

Somewhere, in the distance, mountains shiver and a long-forgotten question lingers in the air, like a half-remembered dream.

All you have to do is—

Sound rushes back into the room. It bangs on the counters jolting them awake. The waitress with the nametag ‘HELLO, MY NAME IS Caroline” frowns. “That… will be four dollars, thirty cents.”

“Keep the change,” Klaus says distractedly. His thumb presses firm around his coffee.

—

And sometimes, even like this:

There is a girl on the platform, running. Her shoes are worn, her clothes are air-light. Her hair streams behind her in bursting coils, the color of sun fragments, of gold—there are snowflakes falling but they melt, never touching her. It might have something to do with the blood on her neck.

He is sitting on a bench, reading Metamorphoses. His watch ticks where it’s clipped around his wrist. It’s almost two, and his hybrids are late. He’s angry, or hungry, or maybe both – he hasn’t decided yet. What he has decided, of course, was that two hybrids would have to go today. There will be room for more.

Steam whistles, metal screeches and grinds, and the smell of blood bursts in the air.

He looks up.

Two platforms away, the girl barely manages to catch her train. The door slides shut behind her, she slumps down. Through the window and a window and another window she sees him, book limp in his hand, eyes startled, Ovid quite forgotten.

The train starts to move, he starts to get up—

They never see each other again.

—

Or even:

“I need your blood.”

“You always need my blood.”

Caroline is sitting on his bed, glasses low on the bridge of her nose. She is smiling, wan. Her hair twirls golden around her, piled up into a bun. Light streams through the window and catches on some loose strands: they glint like the sun. Klaus stands at the foot of his bed, hands tucked into his pockets, frowning deep. “That was one time, sweetheart.”

“An act of kindness on my part,” she says, one eyebrow raised, “beyond what you’re actually due.”

Klaus sighs. He knows how this will go. He will probably have to grovel—he never knows with Caroline, volatile as she is. A thousand years on this earth has not been kind to her. He wonders if she wishes for death, he wonders how bored she must be. He wonders how she hasn’t just figured out how to just die by now. “How do I acquit myself, then?”

“You don’t,” Caroline says flatly. She stretches her limbs. Strong, lithe, graceful. Her nails are not painted. They are chewed and bitten. He is surprised by this. When one says Original Vampire, one does not think of imperfection, especially inflicted upon oneself. Quite suddenly he wonders what her fingers taste like between tongue and teeth.

He thinks of Stefan on his deathbed, Stefan choking on his own bile, Tyler’s bite festering away on his neck. “How do I gain another favor?”

Caroline tilts her head.

She looks as if she is measuring the lines of him, the way her eyes dart. Sizing him up. Testing his worth.

Cataloging him.

Pinning him down to a board, like a dead butterfly—dried up, drawn, diagrammed.

Klaus hates her, he decides.

“Are you sure you want to know the answer to that?” Caroline asks, both eyebrows raised now.

No, he thinks.

“Yes,” he says.

Klaus wonders why he is always Caroline-bait. Why he is the one Caroline is fascinated with.

“The doppelganger,” Caroline brings up conversationally, with the air of someone picking imaginary lint off their shoulder. “How’s she doing?”

Klaus clenches his fists, hidden behind pressed denim.

One day, he thinks—

—

“I’ll kill her,” Caroline growls, face in the dirt, blood in her teeth. Her chin is scraped raw against the stone of the floor: she’d been thrown in with such force she tastes blood in the back of her throat. It almost replenishes her. Almost. Her wrists are bound in vervain-soaked rope, and her cheerleading uniform is in tatters. She hasn’t eaten in days.

“You and me both,” says her cellmate wearily.

Caroline eyes the way his bones seem to peek through the skin of his wrist. “How long have you been here?”

He casts her a sidelong glance. “That’s a depressing question.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s alright.”

“So.”

“Yes.”

“Got a name?”

“Does it matter?” he asks. “We’re about to die.”

Caroline mulls this over. “It matters to me. You’ll die first, I think. Wouldn’t you want someone to remember you?”

He looks at her, then. His eyes are so, so blue. She spies a speckle of moles on his neck, hidden behind the grey collar of his henley shirt. She wonders what color it was originally. “I used to think that being forgotten was the worst thing in the world.”

Caroline shuffles back, leans against the wall, rests her bloodied scalp against green-mossed brick. She tries not to think of what the damp will do to her hair. “It’s not?”

Her cellmate breathes a laugh through his nose. He is still looking at her. For some reason, she thinks of the sway and dip of a large hall, of a dress with too long a train, of being dipped and turned and twirled and breathless and young. So, so, young. She’s not felt that way in years.

“No,” he answers. He closes his eyes, and doesn’t elaborate.

—

“The worst thing about having you,” Klaus confesses, “is knowing that at any minute you might disappear.”

“I’d hate to be predictable,” Caroline responds airily. As if that’s enough of a balm to the quiver of his heartbeat whenever she so much as breathes around him.

They are in the forest.

They’re always in the forest.

She walked into the clearing where he is burying twelve witches for her, her wrists cramped from endless wringing. His shoulders are sore. He has not felt this tired in a long, long time.

“Are you done yet?” she demands, and he has to take in a sharp breath so he does not plunge the tip of the shovel into her perfect, smooth abdomen.

“Clearly,” he says back waspishly. “Can’t you count?”

“Twelve graves.” She looks approving. “Bonnie didn’t die for nothing, then.”

The ground beneath them hums with the sort of energy that comes from blood spilled too soon, from a life ended too young. From magic, interrupted. From love, unbloomed. He wonders if it’s her, or him. They’ll never tell, that much is certain.

“We have to stop meeting like this,” he grunts, and packs the last of the earth over the mound covering broken bones and bloodied necks. “How about coffee, one of these days?”

Caroline doesn’t answer.

He turns to look at her. He is sweaty and disarmed and too fucking old for this. He should have had his hybrids do the dirty work, but Caroline had been crying earlier—

“What?” he asks of the look in her eyes.

Caroline blinks.

“What? ” he orders, now.

“Nothing,” she says, belatedly. “I could have sworn…” she trails off and looks to the side. Her cheeks redden. He is struck at how young she looks. But then again, she is only a baby vampire. Too young to know the meaning of death. True death.

He glances at the graves. Twelve.

True death indeed.

“Could’ve sworn?” he prompts.

Her eyes look far away. “I—nothing.”

Klaus turns back to the graves, pretends he misses a spot. His movements are practiced, like he’s done this before. Muscle memory tells him he has, but he is rational enough to know the truth of things.

And the truth of things, is that he is—

—

“We’ve met before,” Klaus says, crouched low like a predator, teeth bared like a killer.

“Have we?”

“Of course,” Klaus answers, as if it’s obvious. “You may not remember. You were supposed to be my sacrifice for the ritual.”

“Oh,” Caroline says, frowning, like she hasn’t got a huge, gaping bite festering away on her neck or anything. “Right.”

He bends over her on her bed. He looks out of place in her room: like tar smeared against pavement, like blood welling in a nearly healed wound. “Well, I don’t know you, so.”

“But,” Klaus says, and he doesn’t know why he fucking says this— “I’ll know you. If I heal you, I presume you’ll leave town and it’ll be a few more decades until I see you again.”

Caroline doesn’t look at him. “And what makes you think I’ll come back?”

Klaus reaches for her—is surprised when she lets him turn her face to his. His palm curves around the column of her neck, he feels the softness of her cheek, juxtaposed by the sharp cut of her jawline against his wrist.

“But you always do,” he says, almost like a vow. “You always do.”

Caroline closes her eyes. She’s dying, but not dead yet. Her lips move wordlessly. He watches the way they move in fascination. Is she praying? What an odd little vampire.

His hand is still around her neck.

He could choke her, if he wanted.

He could heal her, if she asked.

He waits.

He feels, on some distant plane, that he is always doing this.

“If you let me die,” she says, eyes still closed, “I’ll come back and haunt you.”

“Oh, love,” he breathes, and leans in close—crushes his lashes to hers, warms her forehead against his, brushes his lips against the defiant downturn of her mouth, “Promise me that.”

“I will.” At last, her eyes open. “I promise.”

Blue eyes meet blue.

A second bleeds into two.

Her lips part.

Ready for his wrist, the one he’s just offered to her.

He would call her utterly presumptuous if he wasn’t so utterly charmed.

—

The stories are all one and the same.

A heart full of want.

A mouthful of sharp teeth.

A quick cut of the eyes across a crowded room.

A soul bond, maybe.

Blood, definitely.

Blood, blood and blood.

#klaroline #klaus x caroline #klaroline fanfiction #loving klaroline #klarolineedit #darkestgrays #i slapped together a quick lil graphic & i am a bit rusty (haven't graphicked in what feels like YEARS)#but i didn't feel good just gifting a short lil fic #so here you go lovely giftee happy hollidays!#mine #*tvd #fic: seasons #thank you always to kait for being the best cheerleader

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darlingmurdock · 2 years

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𝐖𝐈𝐃𝐎𝐖 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒 ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ klaroline au season- week six: crossover / fusions @klarolineauseason

KLAROLINE + MARVEL: Caroline laid down on the floor as her body was in an unbearable amount of pain. Glancing down at the patches of blood that surround her in memorizing away as the red shune so beautifully in the night as the drapples of neon light fell upon her. She found herself chuckling at the unbearable pain of existing- the repressor manifestation of shattered bitters had been no-warming received with much shame and agony. She has only ever experienced suffering.

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#my graphics #caroline forbes #klaus mikaelson #klaroline #klaroline fanfiction #klaroline au season #klaus x caroline #caroline x klaus #kcedits #klaus and caroline #caroline and klaus #tvdu #tvd universe #the originals #marvel

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little-miss-sunny-daisy · 3 years

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tomorrows that follow

tomorrows that follow chapter one

“What do you do for work?”

One of his eyebrows arches. “I’m a government employee,” he says dryly.

“Oh, good benefits,” she offers brightly before looking down the metaphorical precipice and deciding to jump. She sticks her hand out. “I’m Caroline."

The eyebrow arches higher, just a bit, before he shakes her hand.

“Nik,” he says.