ＦＯＲＭ -ＬＥＳＳ [ ． ． ． ]

𝑠𝑎𝑚 𝑚𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑜𝑡𝑡𝑒 of 𝑡𝑟𝑢𝑒 𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑑, affiliated with 𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐦.

[merlohtte]

&.    ＳＷＥＥＴ ＨＥＲＥＡＦＴＥＲ

[merlohtte]

&.   ＤＩＧＧＩＮＧ Ａ ＧＲＡＶＥ.

[merlohtte]

sheoccult​:

“ 𝚆𝙷𝙰𝚃  𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙼  𝙲𝙰𝙽  𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚁𝙴  𝙱𝙴  𝙸𝙽  𝙷𝙴𝙻𝙿𝙸𝙽𝙶  like  this?  i  won’t  be  swayed  if  people  retaliate.  people  don’t  scare  me,  and  i  can’t  be  scared  into  submission  because  i  know  what  i’m  doing  is  right. ”  

call  her  naive  but  she  doesn’t  understand  how  helping  others  to  understand  themselves—and  therefore  better  control  themselves—could  hurt  anyone  in  the  long  run.  maybe  she  is  naive,  but  defne’s  intentions  are  honourable.  she  has  all  this  information  right  there  at  her  fingertips,  even  information  on  ancient  artefacts  and  groups  of  occult  that  she’s  not  even  sure  is  public  knowledge,  and  she  knows  it  could  be  of  use  to  someone.  her  father’s  library  was  extensive,  passed  down  through  the  generations  from  deucalion  to  deucalion.  there  were  decades  of  information  in  there.

still,  there  is  reluctant  relief  in  her  exhale  of  breath  when  he  takes  the  papers  in  his  hands.  it  means  he  could  be  considering  her  idea,  but  then  again,  he  could  take  those  papers  and  chuck  them  in  the  bin  through  the  back  if  he  wanted.  “ the  big  picture  is  far  more  complicated  than  i  can  say  here,  especially  with  so  many  people  around, ”  defne  explains,  her  voice  a  little  lower  now.  hush  hush.   “ and  i’m  not  inclined  to  go  around  telling  people  my  business.   but…  if  that’s  what  it  takes  to  get  you  to  trust  me,  or  at  least  put  up  these  posters,  i’d  be  happy  to  arrange  a  date. ”  she  flashes  sam  a  teasing  grin  as  she  leans  back.   she’d  need  to  think  up  a  false  backstory,  of  course;  she  gets  the  feeling  that  this  man  has  no  clue  that  the  vampires  aren’t  the  only  things  that  go  bump  in  the  night.

[...]

In all matters of existence, there is a cost. This payment normally comes in the form of some sort of agony. A ritual of suffering that stems from primitive years of evolution and guidance. The castigation of ghost-hood remains the same in every culture: dig up the body and replace it with a sack of flour, build a funeral pyre out of birch and maple trees, light it aflame only during the first full moon of summer. Of course, this only works if the soul in question was ever whole in the first place. He wasn’t. Not even in the womb. Not even during the warmest months of rebirth and awakening. There always was a piece missing. Something that he could never form into words, but always was left chewing on it - like a fatty piece of grizzle not yet ready to be swallowed. He watches the woman with steady eyes, jaw slackening as thoughts drift in and out of anxiety and righteousness. ‘Just because your cause is just, doesn’t mean shit can’t get ugly. It’s mostly vampire country out here[...]and they’re known for being territorial.’ Spoken with a light shrug lifting his shoulders, voice not necessarily hardening, but there is a more cautious angle he’s adapted to now. He had no tribe nor specific group of people to protect, but he did have his bar and his employees. All the staff that had slowly become a part of his heart like any blood vessel would. A man formless in body, but ultimately sturdy in knowing who he had to keep safe. Protect them from himself as well, if needed. Hand reaches up to rub his chin thoughtfully before it slides back to brush through his hair. An exhale as he seemingly surrenders, ‘Put the posters up, they’ll blend in with most of the other ads anyway.’ A nod towards the bulletin board beside the front door. Not one to be overly suspicious, he agrees half-heartedly to the arrangement, ‘Guess it is a date[...]I’ll iron out my best flannel, I promise. I should also probably know your name.’

[merlohtte]

fangbngr​:

“ 𝙸  𝙳𝚄𝙽𝙽𝙾  𝚆𝙷𝙰𝚃  𝙰𝚂𝙿𝙷𝙰𝙻𝚃  𝙼𝙴𝙰𝙽𝚂  𝙱𝚄𝚃  𝙸  ain’t  expectin’  nothin’  good, ”   ginger  responds,  finishing  up  in  the  bathroom  with  a  swift  push  of  a  button.   “ he  ain’t  too  bad,   ya  know.   pam  ain’t  neither!   you  ever  met  pam  before? ”    she  asks,   drying  her  hands  on  the  towel  available  in  the  bathroom  before  she  leaves  the  room  and  greets  sam  with  a  smile.    fang  marks  at  her  neck,   as  usual,   and  she’s  garbed  in  short shorts,   platform  heels  and,   surprisingly,   a  hoodie.    she  realises  how  odd  it  might  look  considering  how  warm  it  remains  even  in  winter  at  night  time,   tugging  at  the  hoodie  sheepishly.   

“ i  know,   looks  weird.   ‘s  the  problem  when  ya  work  with  vampires;   they  drink  too  much  and  ya  get  kinda  shivery. ”   yeah,   that  sounds  like  a  problem.

[...]

‘I’d rather just leave ‘em to their turf. Hope to get th’same respect from them, too.’ A shrug, half-heartedly spoken with a deadpan charm - although there’s a lack of conviction in his voice with believing his ideal situation would actually play out right. There is something almost nostalgic as he reminds himself that there are territories in this world and he’d do well to abide by them. Especially considering he belonged to no solid form of his own. A buck that walks without antlers, an owl with no eyes, a wolf with no teeth. Perhaps he will always be missing something vastly important to his identity. This is just a feeling to get used to, no need to complain about it aloud. Or mention it at all. The worry spreads to his face, corners around his eyes softening as mouth twitches into a frown. ‘C’mon, Ginger[...]that ain’t right. They shouldn’t[...]be doing that t’you. You can work here and just crash at my place. You can even take the bed, I’ve always liked the couch better anyways. I’ll make sure you don’t gotta’ go back there anytime soon. I mean it.’

[merlohtte]

sheoccult​:

𝙳𝙴𝙵𝙽𝙴  𝙸𝚂𝙽’𝚃  𝚂𝚄𝚁𝙴  𝙷𝙾𝚆  𝙼𝚄𝙲𝙷  𝚃𝙷𝙴  𝙾𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚁  understands  of  what  she’s  trying  to  vaguely  say,   but  she’s  at  least  grateful  that  he’s  considering  it.    has  he  picked  up  on  the  strange  things  that  happen  in  this  town?    the  fact  that  the  vampires  aren’t  the  only  ones  within  it?    she  can’t  tell.    “ i  think  it  would  help, ”   defne  responds,   her  tone  soft,   “ and  what’s  the  harm  in  trying  if  it  doesn’t?    there  are  so  many  who  don’t  know  a  thing  about  who  they  truly  are.   about  what  they  are, ”   defne  continues,    thinking  that’s  the  most  pointed  she  can  be  while  still  being  vague,    “ and  i  want  to  help  with  that.

don’t  get  me  wrong,   sam.   my  agenda  isn’t  against  vampires;   it’s  for  helping  those  who  are  vulnerable,   be  they  a  vampire  or…   mysteriously afflicted, ”   she  smiles  knowingly,   mischievously.    “ the  goal  is  to  help  those  who  might  have  been  turned  literally  a  year  or  so  ago  and  feel  like  they’re  torn  between  two  worlds.   can  you  imagine  being  gen  z  and  a  vampire  while  surrounded  by  old,  immortal  white  men?    sounds  like  hell. ”   sometimes,   defne  feels  like  not  being  born  a  wolf  was  both  a  blessing  and  a  curse.    “ call  me  naive  but  for  my  own  reasons  i  know  how  feeling  torn  between  two  worlds  feels   and  i’m  sure  i’m  not  the  only  one. ”    this  is  a  long  winded  way  of  asking  sam  merlotte  to  put  up  her  flyer,   but  whatever.   it  feels  necessary.

[...]

The paranoia that the woods often gives others is very rarely found buried beneath Sam’s surface. This is not to say that he’s not immune to the mass hysteria shaped by the introduction of vampires and the like, but this is simply a reminder that he is less guarded. He is wondering if this will get him killed faster, but decides that it’ll only be what he deserves. The grave is always calling him, the worms too. He’s not built to be a warrior, however, and this backbone has the potential to crumble completely if met with resilience. Curiosity draws him nearer, lets his facial features furrow into a thoughtful expression while he ponders her explanation. Arms come up to cross against his chest, one hand resting to cover his mouth as he listens. Before replying to her, he moves the hand that had previously been against his mouth to run through his hair, head shaking slightly. ‘It’s testin’ the waters[...]I mean what if they retaliate? What if you bring more harm to folks than good? What then?’ He peers at her through hooded eyes, observes her with a carefulness that he’s always held before agreeing to any deal. The pragmatist often lost the battle between head and heart, but this time he was being a bit more stubborn than usual. The stakes were higher, there was more risk and he couldn’t lose anyone else he loved. A grunt out of the back of his throat while he studies her, tongue wetting his lower lip before he exhales. Papers are now gathered and collected into his hands, ‘You’re real invested in this, ma’am. Had some run-ins with ‘em?’ This is not so much placed as an interrogation, but it’s a solid question. He had no doubts that she had some sort of finger in the honeypot. People get tangled up in weird shit all the time here. It was a way of life, practically. ‘Not meanin’ to give any offense, I just wanna’ know the big picture, but, uh[...]sure. Feel free to put ‘em on the board there.’

[merlohtte]

fangbngr​:

“ 𝙴𝚁𝙸𝙲  𝙽𝙾𝚁𝚃𝙷𝙼𝙰𝙽  𝙸𝚂  𝙰  𝙲𝙾𝙼𝙿𝙻𝙸𝙲𝙰𝚃𝙴𝙳  𝙼𝙰𝙽,    sam.    don’t  take  it  too  personally, ”    the  blonde  calls  back,   shameless   about  the  noise  as  she  finally  relieves  herself.    she  sighs  in  satisfaction.     “ he  don’t  really  trust  me  to  do  his  business  outside  o’   fangtasia,   anyway.    you  should  stop  by  some  time! ”   ginger  exclaims,   her  tone  completely  genuine.    “ i’d  even  give  ya  a  discount.   whatever  ya  liked.   it’d  be  good  to  see  ya  cute  face  in  my  own  waters  once  in  a  while! ”

[...]

The whites of his eyes show briefly as he rolls them half-heartedly. They were all complicated men. They had to be in order to survive this shit town, right? Survival of the fittest didn’t offer up lucky strikes. Still, the bitterness grows into a huffed out reply. ‘I ain’t bitter[...]his opinion doesn't do shit for me.’ The sting of the slight defensiveness in his words is enough to have an urge to want to stifle himself. Palm rubbing his nape and pressing some sore spots along his neck while he waits for her to finish up. A mild expression of surprised amusement as he tries to decipher if she’s being serious or not. Fingers loosely pushing into his pockets as he tilts his head to study her, mouth curving into a lazy smile. ‘Nah, I think I’d be a little out of my element there. Probably would just wanna’ talk shit about his bar and then wind up face down on the asphalt, y’know?’

[kevinskeller]

[luthienne]

He carried his wounds openly in his hands.

Madeline Miller, Circe

[merlohtte]

sheoccult​:

“ 𝙼𝙰𝚈𝙱𝙴  𝚃𝙷𝙴  𝙵𝙸𝚁𝚂𝚃  𝙿𝙰𝚁𝚃  𝙾𝙵  𝙼𝚈  statement  made  it  seem  like  that  was  a  threat.    that  wasn’t  the  intention, ”    defne  explains  with  a  small,   brief  smile,    fingers  tapping  against  the  papers  she  has  on  the  bar.    she  turns  them  over  to  reveal  a  flyer:   it  advertises  her  services,    information  brokering,   only  catered  towards  those  with  ‘ mysterious  afflictions ’.    they’re  cut  into  strips  at  the  bottom,   the  kind  that  one  can  tear  off  and  take  the  cellphone  number  from.

defne’s  gaze  narrows  on  sam  as  she  continues,    “ i’m  not  sure  how  you  feel  about  our  vampire  friends,    mr.   merlotte,   or  whether  you  might  know  more  about  the  situation  in  this  town  than  most, ”    she  tries  to  keep  as  vague  as  possible  about  the  rest  of  the  supernatural  community,   unaware  that  she’s  talking  to  a  member  of  it  himself,    “ but  i  aim  to  help  those  with…   well,   it’s  like  the  flyer  says.    mysterious  afflictions. ”    defne  miles  up  at  him  sweetly,    one  that  isn’t  entirely  genuine  but  doesn’t  host  ill  intentions.   “ with  a  bar  as  established  as  this,   i  wondered  if  you  might  put  these  up.  it  would…   really  help. ”    and  that  is  the  part  that  sounds  the  most  genuine.   her  expression  a  little  softer  now,   defne  continues,     “ i’m  sure  it  would  help  others,   too.    maybe  even  save  lives. ”

[...]

Remember, this is a lowly creature. This is a spineless man that has little knowledge of what form is truly his own. Is it the hound that howls, or the buck that stands in the clearing of the woods? Is it the owl or the hummingbird? The god or the worm? The belief of some eternal judgment is held only loosely in the hands, sifting through his fingers like sand. Sam observes her with a quiet sternness that is professionally adept to owning and maintaining a bar. Silent as he listens with an open-mindedness, although he’s still unsure how far she’s willing to go to follow through on her promise. A soft grunt as he glances down at the papers, reads it over while she explains as though it would help her intent sink in that much faster. ‘They, uh, haven’t hurt me, personally[...]but, I got a friend who’s tangled up in their business.’ A vague recollection of Sookie and her fascination with the reserved vampire who occasionally comes into Merlotte’s, as well as the blond one. A sigh, exhale rugged as fingers brush through his hair out of absentmindedness, a habit he had been unwilling to break. ‘There’s not much I can do, to be honest with you. Their kind’s legal. I ain’t one to get into it with the law, either.’ A dry swallow, the lie not quite feeling right as he voiced it, but he’d been good since his teenage years, right? No stealing, no pawning off others’ valuables. Not one to want to inflict punishment on others if they didn’t fit the crime, he pauses with the thought of Merlotte’s perhaps being a safe haven for humans. ‘You really think it’d help folks ‘round here?’

[merlohtte]

sheoccult​:

𝙳𝙴𝙵𝙽𝙴  𝙸𝚂  𝙸𝙽𝙸𝚃𝙰𝙻𝙻𝚈  𝙲𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙼𝙴𝙳  𝙱𝚈  𝚃𝙷𝙴  the  handshake  he  gives  her,   one  which  she  reaches  over  to  return  firmly  yet  politely  alongside  a  small,   surprised  and  genuine  smile.    he  really  doesn’t  have  to  do  much  to  such  a  sheltered  girl  to  seem  pleasant;    despite  being  observant,    despite  being  a  pretty  good  judge  of  character,    all  that  knowledge  has  come  from  books,    not  real  life  people.    real  life  people  can  still  surprise  her,    and  they’re  a  different  font  to  the  characters  written  on  a  page.    this  bar  manager  seems  nice  enough…    so  far.

but  when  he  speaks,    defne  can’t  help  but  be  confused  as  to  what  he  means.    frowning,   she  responds,    “ what? ”   and  then—   “ no,   i  don’t  even  know  what  a  busboy  is, ”   she  retorts  quickly,   her  britishness  painfully  obvious  in  that  instant.    “ defne  coventry, ”    she  introduces  herself  with  a  smile  before  she  lets  her  hand  fall.    “ it’s  a  pleasure  to  meet  you,   sam.    i  just  hope  it’ll  still  be  a  pleasure  when  you  say  yes  or  no  to  what  i’m  about  to  ask  you. ”    with  her  gaze  unmoving  from  his  own,   defne  reaches  into  her  jacket  pocket  and  pulls  out  a  couple  of  pieces  of  white  paper.   she  slides  them  across  the  table  to  him  face  down  but  keeps  her  fingers  on  them,   waiting  for  the  right  moment,    “ because  i  have  a  favour  to  ask. ”

[...]

There are no gods in these swamplands. There are carnivores that call themselves gods, and certainly the leeches that feed off those meat-eaters, but no entities themselves. It’s better this way, Sam thinks, as power is an infection that blackens the limbs and falls off the bones like clumps of hair. Evil in itself, a core value for those who have no appetites for warmth, but who still play with fire. If he were a holy man he’d perhaps turn to some sort of biblical prophecy of the end of times and the approaching apocalypse. Especially with the walking dead among the earth dressed up in silk and velvet, yet who still hold the stench of something rotting. The town is filled with nameless faces of newcomers. They bring the smell of something strange and otherworldly. A godlessness to the land of monsters and wolves. He wonders who will survive. He wonders if he will. Her accent proves she wasn’t familiar with this part of the woods, but it still doesn’t gather any cynicism from Sam. ‘Excuse me?’ The confusion contorts his otherwise neutral features, makes his eyes narrow and gaze flick downwards at the papers. Fingertips gingerly tapping against the top one while eyes dart back at hers. ‘What d’you need? I mean[...]I don’t think I can help any, but I’ll see what I can do.’

[merlohtte]

bluemocn​:

bubbling embarrassment boils into    two red blots that splatter across the apples of her cheek  ,    brows knotting at the center of her forehead  .      “    why does everybody keep asking me that …   “     head hung low ,     pandora sighs in distress .     it’s the third time this week   &    it was most certainly  ,      not a charm .    “    i’m not a tall child —-      i’m perfectly grown .    ”     she begrudgingly protests ,     unsure of just how   true that feels right then ,   fumbling with her bag until something plasticized nips at her fingers  .      “   see?   ”

[...]

While Bon Temps wasn’t necessarily a bustling capital nor a tourist city, there was still a set of principles and legalities that Sam was determined to follow. He’d try to keep his head above the rushing waves whenever it came to the moral high ground, but there’s little to be done to a formless man. Like a ghost without a home to haunt, he is meant to wander - there are no roots to be pushing into the ground and searching for a source of freshwater. No use in trying to be something he’s not. The plastic ID card is scrutinized for a moment before reading the birth date. A nod as he reaches underneath the bar for a glass from the shelf, sliding it towards her and unscrewing the lid of the bottle of scotch in his hands. ‘Hey, don’t be complainin’, ma’am[...]some people would kill for your looks. Shit. That was a tasteless joke considerin’[...]have a drink for havin’ to listen to that, s’on me, of course.’ He wasn’t planning on being stunned by the attractiveness of the woman, but here he was practically blushing behind the bar like a goddamn school boy. Has it really been this long since he’d had any game at all? A jerk of his chin towards the front entrance of the bar, ‘Y’been here before?’

[merlohtte]

bluemocn​:

status: open to all :-) location: anywhere applicable !  feel free to place her

big doe eyes flutter ,   wide and bright as a mocha moon ,   clear as that of a child’s .   everything feels new ,      tastes different  ,     sounds strange ;  the world has only just now started to unravel .    “  oh   wow ,   "     she blinks in bewilderment  ,   fingertips eager to touch .    “    that’s …    i’ve never seen anything like it .    can i touch it?    ”

[...]

An expression of complete confusion as he pauses with the bottle of twenty year scotch in his hands. Brows furrowing while he debates on whether or not the question is serious. Mouth parting with hesitation as he slides the bottle onto the bar counter. ‘This here is an old scotch. Not the worst, but it ain’t really the best.’ A moment of observance of the youthful face, jaw working in a half-circle. ‘You got I.D. on you?’

[merlohtte]

sheoccult​:

status:  closed  for  @merlohtte​ timeline: present . setting:  merlotte’s  bar  &  grill ,  early evening .

“ 𝙵𝙾𝚁𝙶𝙸𝚅𝙴  𝙼𝙴  𝙸𝙵  𝙸’𝙼  𝙸𝙽𝙲𝙾𝚁𝚁𝙴𝙲𝚃, ”   darcy  speaks confidently,   “ but  you’re  the  owner  of  this  bar,    right? ”    it’s  clear  from  the  way  she  carries  herself,   leaning  against  the  bar  with  those  calculated  eyes,   that  it’s  time  for  business.    she  always  seems  to  do  better  when  she  doesn’t  have  to  focus  on  herself.    she’s  cornered  sam  at  what  seems  to  be  a  rare  quiet  moment  at  the  bar.    “ sorry—i  know  you’re  probably  busy.    i  wanted  to  grab  you  for  a  moment.    promise  it  won’t  take  long. ”

[...]

Amid the fluster of activity that keeps his bar running, he hears a question directed towards him. Polishing cloth draped over his shoulder as he pauses his movements behind the bar, glasses clinking together as he sets them down. Left shoulder lifting into a shrug as brows raise while he wonders if he should be expecting good news or bad news. ‘Sure am.’ Dark eyes searching her expression for any fore-shadowing clues on what this conversation might be about. A bite of the bait as he encourages more details, hand wiped on his plaid button up before reaching across the counter for an offered shake. ‘Sam Merlotte[...]look if this is about one of my busboys taking bets at the pool table, I promise you I’m gonna’ take care of it.’

[merlohtte]

fangbngr​:

“ 𝚈𝙾𝚄  𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙻𝙻𝚈  𝙶𝙾𝙽𝙽𝙰  𝙳𝙴𝙽𝚈  𝙰  𝙻𝙰𝙳𝚈  the  god-given  gracious  right  to  empty  her  bladder  in  a  quick  an’  timely  fashion,    sammy? ”   ginger  asks,   making  no  move  to  remove  herself  from  the  staff  premises.    she  makes  her  way  further  into  the  back  before  her  eyes  light  up  when  she  sets  her  gaze  on  what  seems  to  be  a  staff  toilet.    making  no  move  to  properly  shut  the  door  so  that  she  can  still  talk  to  him,    ginger  is  at  least  out  of  view  from  the  public  eye  when  she  calls  back,    “ what  ‘vamp  shit’  would  i  be  doin’  in  the  god  damn  ladies,    sam?    shovin’  v  up  my  vagina? ”

[...]

All that leaves his mouth is an involuntary sigh, exhaled out with a shakiness of someone resilient even in the presence of complicated women. Suppose they were drawn to him. Like insects to something half-dead, a rotted thing with no form and no name. With his back to the opened door, he leans against the wall, shoulder first. Head rolling to rest against the wall as he squeezes his shut for a bit of a replenishment for his energy. The chatter of the blonde lulls him almost to a sedated state, enjoys the brief reprieve of her voice and the background of the bar. ‘I’m sorry[...]just tryin’ t’keep a safe space for everyone, y’know. I didn’t mean nothin’ by it, Ginger. Your, uh, boss came in a few days earlier. Didn’t like the place much.’

[merlohtte]

fangbngr​:

status:  closed  for  @merlohtte​ timeline: present . setting:  merlotte’s  bar  &  grill ,  early evening .

“ 𝙷𝙸  𝙼𝚁.  𝙼𝙴𝚁𝙻𝙾𝚃𝚃𝙴,   𝙱𝚈𝙴  𝙼𝚁.  𝙼𝙴𝚁𝙻𝙾𝚃𝚃𝙴. ”    ginger  doesn’t  bother  to  stop  to  greet  him;   instead,   she  walks  right  past  him—heads  to  the  back  and  through  the  staff  quarters,   of  which  she  doesn’t  belong  to—to  try  to  find  a  private  bathroom.   all the stalls in the back are full,    and ginger has to pee so bad.   irritated  that  the  first  door  she  enters  through  isn’t  a  bathroom,  she exclaims, “ lord  almighty,   someone  better  let  me  sit  my  ass  down  on  a  precious  seat  of  porcelain  before  i  piss  my  pants! ”

[...]

The crowd was bringing in good business, but the exhaustion was apparent in the furrowing of his brow and the pattern of clenching and releasing his jaw multiple times. Bar cloth is draped over his shoulder as he’s urgently pushing glasses through the bar’s dishwasher before the flurry of a blonde figure passes him with that all too familiar voice. A hushed out swear underneath his breath as he tosses the cloth down and hurries off to follow her, ‘C’mon, Ginger. You can’t be around the staff hallways, especially with the mayor fuckin’ waitin’ for the bar to cave with this event.’ A pleading expression lulls into a softer one as a hand brushes back a few loose strands of his hair, ‘Jesus[...]y’really gotta’ go that bad? Fine. But make it quick, alright? No fuckin’[...]vamp shit either, y’hear me?’

[merlohtte]

mortalrot​:

kiraz   ardic   is   a   woman   of   horrifying   intent   ⸻   ever   shaped   in   the   image   of   the   maiden   ,   but   hiding   insatiable   hunger   beneath   such   tender   skin.   (   while   she   oh   -   so   easily   scapegoats   survival   as   an   origin   point   ,   and   necessity   as   a   birth   story   ,   one   can   only   wonder   if   it’s   been   there   all   along.   )   within   every   curve   of   her   smile   ,   every   twinkle   in   her   eye.   for   the   hands   that   heal   to   be   the   same   hands   that   slaughter   ⸻   the   hunt   was   simply   in   her   blood   ;   etched   into   the   very   base   of   her   soul.

         ❛         oh   ,   you   certainly   can   ,   handsome.         ❜         every   face   around   her   is   simply   just   another   face   that   could   one   day   be   prey   (   an   unfortunate   reality   for   any   hunter   worth   their   salt.   )   exceptions   just   didn’t   EXIST   in   the   real   world   ,   no   matter   how   pretty   ⸻   and   he   was   certainly   something   gorgeous   ,   alright.         ❛         why   don’t   you   surprise   me   !   what   kind   of   drink   would   you   buy   a   girl   like   me   ?         ❜

[...]

Sam hadn’t just grown wary of the moon. He was paranoid of the red soil, the fields that refused to sprout up any seedlings, the owls that hooted before sundown, the mosquitoes that drank their fill of blood and died with a splatter. There seemed to be a shift in the air, some kind of rapture approaching that was neither black with locusts nor rich with summer rainstorms. He can sense it most heavily in the evenings, when the static of the night air overcomes whatever fatigue induced haze he’s normally in. Like tonight, for example, there’s another notion of a godless approach of a euphoric awakening. Or maybe he’s just fighting the sleep from his uses, the occasional sting as he squeezes them together in a blink. The woman offers a compliment as if she knows it’s a snake. As if she knows that there’s social expectations that follow slippery words like that. A white-toothed smile, albeit crooked, is flung her way as hand wraps around one of his finer bottles of scotch. Hidden in the top shelf above the register. Twists open the lid, pours about two ounces in her glass before sliding it forward. ‘Somethin’ a little rarer than what I usually serve. Enjoy[...]s’on the house.’

[hiddlestonss]

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