#prose.

[bloodwr4th]

@maxmoffs, required a witchy woo starter.

there were a lot of things people didn't know about the mikaelsons. like, some of esther's children who were strong in magic. kol, being one of them, thanks to his mother who often took him with her during the little reunions with the other sorcerers of the village. something he was proud of. especially when he was one of a kind. also why hope was an hybrid in the first place. sharing a bound with his niece and then with others people was something that he wanted. especially when it doesn't actually concern his bloodlust or anything of the sort, but magic. something he wanted to perfect for himself. wanting to be a part of a group that wasn't only his owns.

that's why when he meets someone who had powers, he couldn't help but be interested in their story. this is what he was doing with wanda at the moment. watching her perfect a spell she had learned with the others, he couldn't help but look as he admired a stone that had a lot of energy while turning to the red witch, adding,

"is this the first time you shared this with someone? i mean, someone like me of course?"

[s0fias]

@rubycaped said: ❛ may i have this dance? ❜

When Sofia fills a room, the crowd parts for her presence. In the age old adage of whether it's better to be respected or feared, she has only achieved the latter. Fear. It's the wide look in people's eyes. It's the sour taste on their skin. It's the tremble of their bones. She struts nearer and they scatter, some not as subtle as the others. She embraces the reaction, because what else is there for her to do? They all think she is a murderess, all think she is more than capable of taking life in the grasp of her hands and ending it. Sofia allows them to think it. No more crying like a lost little girl about her innocence. No one cares. Why should she, anymore?

When Kate Kane makes way towards her, Sofia smiles, a look that is deadly. As if she has poison laced on her lips. Taking a glass of champagne, Sofia lets out a snort of a laugh. ❛ Dancing? That's an awful dangerous request for you to make. ❜ Doesn't Kate know the horrific things they all accuse Sofia of? How the blood of innocent women is piled atop her dainty hands? Allegedly. Emptying the glass, she places it on a random surface then takes Kate's hand. Seems to say, sure, you can have this dance.

[ripk0l]

@wickedslip, cont from here.

should he smile? should he show her that it didn't bother him? although, he couldn't help but feel above her right now. especially when he could stare at her for hours, getting worked up because he liked touching sensitive subjects. it was one of his many talents. that and maybe hunting humans for blood. a smirk appeared on his face, as his eyes darkened at the little threat she threw at him.

" is that supposed to make me tremble? because i'm far from being bothered by it, you know. maybe i learned from that first mistake when you threw me to the ground? maybe i have more than one trick up my sleeve? who knows? "

[boyeats]

"Jen, you can't just say 'I hope the whales die because they're fat.' Whales are super important. Saving the whales is, like... the ecological equivalent of whatever your favourite band is. Like, Lone Shoulder, except way bigger and more important. I even read a book about them once. Did you know -- they have super advanced centers of the brain. If they aren't around people who love them - or like, other whales who love them - their bodies collapse. Their fins droop. Their neuro-pathways degrade. It's like, really sad. Actually."

your neuro-pathways just degraded listening to that. the documentary guy drones on and on in a voice to rival every self-obsessed male teacher with nothing truly meaningful to say you've ever had, describing all the intimate secrets of the overgrown fish swimming across needy's television right now. watch your only best friend from where you lay on your side across her bed like a string of diamonds, twice as expensive and five times easier to attain. even demonstrate something like patience as you listen to her speak over the documentary she thought would make such a great study backdrop. patience like a wolf in disguise. patience which keeps your gaze on her mouth as you wonder, wonder, wonder.

❛ does science ever make you wet? ❜ smile something weaponized and defensive when she flashes a shocked expression your way. ❛ what? sorry, bill needy the science guy, i was just wondering if you actually get something out of knowing so much about the ocean's ugliest mermaids other than high fives from the nerd table and virginity. ❜ tap your pen against the notebook you've done little but doodle in, an overly detailed eye watching you from the page. ❛ come on. does it ever make you horny? does talking about sperm whales make you want to take a load yourself? ❜

[punkzombie]

@sunmad asked:

"I'm - I'm calling an ambulance -"

Kerry wipes at his face, smearing blood across his cheek like war paint, and squints into the headlights disappearing down the street. West L.A. is quiet in the way only a big city can be at night—muted and sprawling, humming with distant sirens and the occasional rush of a car speeding where it shouldn’t. The air smells faintly of exhaust and the ocean, and the streetlights flicker overhead. He’s slouched against a lamppost, his hair almost luminescent in the glow—so blond it’s practically white, but stained red now from the streak of blood that came dripping from his nose.

Miriam’s voice cuts through the haze, panicked.

Kerry glances at her and then down at his arm, which is bent at an angle it shouldn’t be. He grits his teeth, braces it against his knee, and with a sickening pop, shoves it back into place. The sound is spectacular and the pain isn't so tolerable. But he doesn't yelp, he doesn't flinch. Maybe he's used to that sort of pain. He shakes his arm out out experimentally, wincing as the joint snaps back into something resembling functionality.

“Don’t bother,” He says, his English accent deep and hoarse but casual, like this is just another Tuesday night. “It’s fine. Happens all the time.” He flashes her a smile, all teeth, the kind that would almost look charming if he didn’t look like he’d just clawed his way out of a grave.

“People can be bloody animals out here.” He gestures vaguely down the street, where the offending vehicle is long gone. Hit-and-runs. He had seen some pretty bad one's in his time. Unfortunately for him, he could survive a car.

“Some people really don’t know how to share the road, huh?” He laughs, immediately regretting it as it sends a sharp pain through his ribs. He leans back against the lamppost, grimacing. He immediately goes palming around for his cigarette case. “Come on, the night's still young.”

[ki11eraes]

@blccdshed required a starter.

" you know what could be a good journal title?  two masks, one motive:     double the terror, zero escape. "

[fr4sell]

take what you want from me .

tryst six venom prompts

he knew about the werewolves. when he was old enough to learn about magic and the creatures they might encounter, vampires were already a thing, when he found out that emma was a werewolf, well, it didn't put him off. his parents told him that witches and other creatures should never come into contact. because these species only wanted one thing from them, protection and someone who would be willing to give their life for them. that's what he wanted to do with her. he was willing to give his life if it was to protect her little secret and her person.

so when she told him that, a surprised look appeared on his face as he shook his head. " i can't take powers from other supernatural beings. especially if they're not witches like me. the fact that you want me to… " he paused as he looked her in the eyes. " i think you didn't understand the role of sorcerers compared to other supernatural creatures. " he didn't liked that word, creature. they were human first and foremost.

" if i'm here, and i have to serve a purpose, it's for protection. not the one where i want to protect you from everyone, even if that's what i want to do, but rather to find ways to control it. so, no. i won't take anything from you. but you can always ask me and i'll be the first to give it. " / @lupaeus.

[baarra]

INT.     A  STERILE  HOVEL  MADE  PRODIGAL,  FRESHLY  FITTED  WITH  WONTED,  SOFT  SNORES.  SAFE  IN  THE  CONFINES  OF  KNOWN  AND  ALONE.  THE  WOLF  WATCHES  A  CROSS-LEGGED  GOLDFINCH’S  NEST.  BARE  NOOK  OF  A  CABINET,  SHELVES  OF  LITTLE  MEMORY,  WHERE  DIRT  ISN’T  WELCOME  AND,  THUS,  MAUNDERS  LIGHT-FOOTED. CLOSED  STARTER  FOR  SHOSHANA  ‘SHAW’  LIEBOWITZ.

In this room,   the background surrounds him,   permitting undisturbed sleep and the shadow’s encroach:   whispered turning of year-sullied pages.     You stay your hand,   to feast with gaze and mind.     Something of their slant in this book.     How a fire lingers in its rocked pit.     Soot on your elbows:   angles to their brow and bone,   echoes in their cadence.     A light that can’t predate shadow.     Even in sleep;   especially there,   where I becomes most prominent.     The final sip of oneiric wine:   rind of I and nothing of you.     Reduced to the barest sight,   retaining the strongest tang.     Stiff to the skin.     Pine-needles for pores.     He decides this is enough.     The book   –   inanimate and obliging to hands’ wants,   as such bearing their full name   –   knocks against the gritless shelf’s edge.     There is a sound that he needn’t identify nor entreat.     It is silence and static melded into one.     Bleating peals of morning light that wake and hush at once.     They will be too much,   and then nothing at all.     Like a deep splinter in a severed finger.     Soundless,   like him,   and incensed,   unlike him.     He can already feel a glare in his periphery.     Teeth rolling his bottom lip from left to right and then,   posed sighing,   his train of thought.     ‘   Where did you get that?     Your name,   Lie-bo-witz.   ’     This time,   in their accrual of times,   his voice stays.     Beholden to the quick banquet of syllables,   wherein oblique and errant coalesce into a single name.     Unto you,   the musts fall.     Pearled trinkets for an incarnadine maw.     Nick doesn’t look at   @solidgrovnd,   still tracing the front page with his pointer.     He doesn’t want the book to close.     Yet.     ‘   From your mother,   or your father   ––   or yourself?   ’

[morefearless]

❛ SO, IT'S THE TRUTH THEN. ❜ She's wide-eyed and mouth agape. She's just gotten into a brawl, but of course she still has time for a friend in need! Or maybe this is just her sating her curiosity. Does it really matter? Blonde pigtails scatter around as she shakes her head left to right. ❛ Your girl just turned into a big ole furry? I mean, obviously we always knew Barbara was a MONSTER FUCKER, but to become one? Now that's method. ❜

@ataviisms

[zweigz]

            ˚            ᵗʰᵉ   ʳᵘˡᵉˢ   ᵒᶠ   ᵗʰᵉ   ᵍᵃᵐᵉ   ˢᵗᵃᵗᵉˢ       :     "        𝚒   𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝   𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗   𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛   𝚠𝚑𝚢   𝚠𝚎   𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚎𝚍   𝚏𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐,     "

            [      ...      ]                 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄'𝐒     𝐀𝐍     𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓     to     relationships       (       or,       whatever     the     fuck     this     is       ),       and     all     the     toxicity     of     tying     himself     to     URL,       that     he     hasn't     quite     mastered.       he     knows     that     makes     @natal7e     tick,       and     how     to     fan     the     fuel     of     her     fire,       but     not     quite     how     to     extinguish     the     flames.       there's     a     gap     between     them     that     will     always     go     unmentioned,       of     a     past     hiding     behind     her     that     he     can     never     quite     poke     and     prod     at.       far     too     heavy,       holding     a     mysticism     that     he's     not     even     close     to     being     mature     enough     to     handle.       they'll     always     be     just     that       :       almost     what     the     other     needs,       but     never     quite     enough.       "       i     don't     know,       nat       ...       you     tell     me.      it's     fucking     tiring     being     the     villain     of     your     life     all     the     time.       give     me     a     break,       yeah       ?       "       worst     part     of     all     of     this       :       it     was     probably     his     fault,       too.       but     when     both     of     them     have     wilingly     tied     blindfolds     around     each     other's     eyes,       and     agreed     that     they     will     only     talk     about     the     stuff     that     don't     matter       ...       reality's     sharp     hit     stings     eternal.       "       ...       you     think     i     like     fighting     with     you       ?       i'm     fucking     tired     too,       "

[likeorpheus]

@nocityfolk asked:

"what are you reading ?"

The brewery patio is quaint, a small corner tucked into the shade of an ancient live oak. The smell of hops and woodsmoke lingers in the humid New Orleans air, mingling with the faint notes of Zydeco music wafting from inside. A few picnic tables are scattered across the stone-paved yard, half-filled with locals and tourists nursing their beers and plates of crawfish. Francis had been on tour for some time and oftentimes, they couldn't help but find a local spot and people-watch or in this case read.

Francis sits at a far table, shoulders slightly hunched, a tall glass of amber beer in one hand and a black composition notebook in the other. The notebook is worn, the edges curling and the cover softened by time. Inside, the pages are a chaotic scrawl—maddening statements, fragmented thoughts, and intricate sketches of occult symbols that seem to almost move in the warm evening light. It used to belong to Alexandre, their brother. The realization still feels jagged, the weight of its significance pressing against their ribs every time they thumb through it.

Their eyes flicker across a particularly dense passage, their lips moving slightly as they read. They don’t notice the figure approaching until a voice breaks the spell.

Francis looks up, softly startled. A man stands a few feet away with an easy smile on his face. He’s dressed casually—jeans and a white t-shirt—but there’s an effortless charisma about him. It takes Francis a moment to place him, but then it clicks. Jesse. Jensen Arrow Knox Miller. The country singer whose face had been plastered across billboards and album covers for the past few months. Francis had a good thing about faces.

Francis blinks, feeling a faint buzz of surprise. “Oh. —just some old notes…,” They say softly, their voice betraying an old spanish accent as they close the notebook, resting it on the table. “Nothing too interesting.”

[bloodwr4th]

sabrina vc dad what if i told you i'm dating someone, and that certain someone's name is stiles?

kol knows there would be a time where sabrina would come to him and says that there is someone who is interested in her. would that make that desicion of letting go of his daughter right away that easy? no. he isn't going to let her go that easy. especially when she brought up miezcylaw name. though, he know stiles was a good guy and that he would treat kol's daughter right, this doesn't meant that there isn't any rules that he will have to deliver to them.

that day was today though, and he knows he had it coming his way. especially when his wife, and her mother, was listening to him as he could see her and feel her eyes on him and heard her thought. damn bound. no, he loved it and would never change it from the world.

looking up at the girl, he couldn't help himself but adds, jaw tensing a bit but eyes and ears open at what he has heard from her. he knows he had to accept it. and he will. especially if this is for sabrina's sake.

" is he treating you well? if he is not, he better watch his back. i'm not going to go slowly because you are interested in him. but there is rules. first one, bedroom door stay open, if i so dare, or your mother, so dare seeing that door closer, i will remove it and never letting you have one. clear? "

@lovefit with mention of @humanchewtoy and @wickedslip.

[s0fias]

Harlow's fingers are in her hair. They're resting, waiting, tempting. Sofia considers it. She is meticulous with it, with churning over the facts in her mind.

Harlow's fingers curl. Something breaks inside Sofia. Breaks so much that she could scream. ❛ Don't. ❜ Her words aren't unkind. But her voice, and her eyes, are.

@starrstained ) starters.

[ripk0l]

@wickedslip sent:  𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐃   "  𝐒𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐇   𝐎𝐑   𝐏𝐀𝐒𝐒  “   𝐅𝐎𝐑   𝐌𝐘   𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄   𝐓𝐎   𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐑   𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐋𝐘   𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓   𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒.   𝐍𝐎   𝐋𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆   𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐃  .

" darling, you know i don't use dating apps. i think the phone is unnecessary. it makes me look stupid, but if i had to answer the smash or pass thing, i would definitely say smash. especially when you know that wicked witches, well, one to be precisis, is my favorite. "

[shepurrs]

The scene is the same as it's always been and perhaps always will be. Stars twinkle through pollution. Even the moon hides its face, in fear that this city will grab it in its big, bad hands and smother the life out of it. Hmm, so maybe that's not so poetic. Not in comparison to the white-hot desire that courses through the veins of the city's very own leather-clad feline. She doesn't walk towards her prey, but saunters towards him instead, ever so willing to play with her food before devouring it. She doesn't smile as much as she bears her teeth.

❛ Hi, big boy. ❜ She purrs into the Bat's ear, more feline than woman. Her arms are around his neck, clutching him. The skyline winks at them. It has witnessed them do this rooftop tango many times before, and it will witness them doing it many times after. Tonight is no exception.

@crimefightr