𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐚, 𝐚𝐯𝐚, 𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐢, 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐞𝐤𝐚𝐡,
𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐞, 𝐣𝐨, 𝐫𝐮𝐛𝐲 & 𝐣𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐚
by 𝑒𝑚 .
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@sleighthand
𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐚, 𝐚𝐯𝐚, 𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐢, 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐞𝐤𝐚𝐡,
𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐞, 𝐣𝐨, 𝐫𝐮𝐛𝐲 & 𝐣𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐚
by 𝑒𝑚 .
𝐬𝐚𝐦 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 :
𝙸𝙵 𝙸𝚃'𝚂 𝙰 𝙶𝙰𝙼𝙴 she wants , he isn’t playing ; at least not by her rules. he’ll send her to hell so fast her head will spin the minute she proves she’s of no use to him. that she’s dangling lies on a tightrope. he has to feel her out first , seek deeper. ( if there was anything deep there to find ). what would her kind willingly desire from a hunter ? ❝ i thought demons only make exchanges if there’s a soul involved.❞ sam offers the cutting remark flatly , closing notes about recent deaths that were left open , forgotten on the table once she arrived. he inches forward a bit as well , the only emotion circling in his narrow gaze is the pure act of curiosity. chancing a glance between outdoors through the glass window at their disposal. then seeking her frozen eyes again. ❝ for all you know , i could throw you right back into the hole you crawled out from.❞
“ that’s the sad thing about hunters . . . ” the demon muses, picking at the fries on her plate . he might be beating his chest, maintaining his distance, threatening her — but she’s confident she can get him on her hook . reel him in . “ so uncompromising in their beliefs . can’t even imagine that us demons might have needs . . . desires . . . ” she let’s her ravenous gaze flicker over his tense, strong form . he might be a means to an end — but he sure is delicious to look at . “ a longing for retribution . ” she finishes, smiling . daring . “ demons . . . humans . . . not all that unlike in the end . ” she shrugs, leaning in closer to cement her point . her use to him . “ look, sam, i don’t doubt the threats . it even turns me on a little . . . ” she purrs, unable to help herself . “ but there’s a reason i’m still here . so let’s put aside outdated assumptions aside and band together . . . i can help . ”
𝐚𝐝𝐚𝐦 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐧 :
“ i really hope i’m not coming on too strong , but i think i’ve seen you around campus . ” adam is supposed to be in the same grade as her and her friends , but mr . brainiac has skipped several grades already . he slides the books over to his left arm and then extends his right hand out , in case bonnie wants to shake his hand . “ anyway , i’d figure i’d stop hoping to bump into you in the library again and just come up and introduce myself the next time i saw you . i’m adam milligan , new transfer student around here . i was wondering if a pretty lady like you would like to grab a bite to eat sometime ? ”
bonnie can’t remember the last time someone’s given her this kind of attention . or the last time she noticed, at least, all-consumed in her friend groups constant state of commotion . so for that reason alone that she greets his charm in great surprise and a hint of suspicion — not quite trusting his intentions . her grandmother cautioned her of people using her for her so-called magic . even her friends . “ i . . . ” bonnie starts, certain she’d like to accept, but uncertain if she should . even if he doesn’t have ill-intentions, she doesn’t need to introduce him to her mess of a life . “ i’m flattered . . . adam . ” she repeats his name, intent to remember it . attempting to keep her cool . her head . “ but . . . ” she hesitates, struggling to find a reason to refuse . “ i feel like i should spare you the drama of going out with me . it . . . kind of follows me wherever i go these days . ”
𝐥𝐲𝐝𝐢𝐚 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧 :
this was not what she’d signed up for when moving into dorms. getting away from her parents, yes that was a blessing, but she had specifically arranged to be on her own. lydia’s closet space was not made for sharing. yet a late transfer, and some administrative fuck up, had lead to a rather sheepish RA announcing to her that she’d be getting a roommate. a roommate. the redhead stands in the centre of the room, eyeing the new arrival’s things. at least she had some taste, decent fashion pieces. it was a small victory. “it’s asli, right ??”
this isn’t her first time being fresh-meat . interrupting the established course of a place . she can tell this arrangement isn’t ideal for the other — so she makes an extra effort to be neat as she unpacks her belongings . makes herself comfortable in the place she’ll be calling home for as long as her parents remain here . “ it is, yeah . or al . allison, even . and it’s lydia ? ” she halts her unpacking for a moment, smiling . gracious . “ i appreciate you making room for me . . . i know you probably weren’t expecting a roommate so late in the semester . ” she offers, trying to be amicable . it’d be nice to have a friend in a roommate . or a friend at all in this place .
𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐚 :
availability : open to anyone ! location : merlotte’s bar and grill .
drowning his sorrows again , how predictable . his fake i.d. was doing a lot of heavy lifting , as it had been for months . he wasn’t far from twenty one anyway , so who gave a shit ? other than his liver and kidneys , of course . they were screaming , but his brain wasn’t listening . ‘ keep ‘em coming , ’ he rumbled in the general direction of the bartender , not satisfied with his vague buzz . this wasn’t helping him solve the case he was currently working on , but that wasn’t going to slow him down . he could always just work on it in the morning . noting someone sitting on the stool next to him , he pointed at it lazily . ‘ that seat’s taken . ’ it wasn’t .
it’s been some time since some unfortunate human caught her attention . since she’s let herself take part in her favourite mortal sport . but is there a point living if she doesn’t let herself indulge once in a blue moon ? rebekah doesn’t think so . and this tall, broad and broken lump of a man just so happens to be the perfect fit for her self-indulgent desires . “ is that so ? ” she hums, making herself comfortable . no intention of moving . she signals to the bartended that she’ll have the same thing he’s having . “ i’m certain i’d make for better conversation . ”
asli’s still getting used to the roads here . the turns — the blind spots . the creatures that seem to appear in and out of thin air . the rain . the dark . she shrieks and jumps in her seat as something ( or someone ) hits the dash — slamming on the breaks in a panic . adrenaline steadies anxious hands as she unbuckles her seatbelt, horrified to see the damage she’s caused . to not a creature — but a man . she hit a man . she can’t help the panicked tears that fall as she rushes in the rain to kneel beside him . he could be dead . he might be dead . “ don’t move . ” she pleads, through tears, feeling slight relief at the sign of movement . just slight . she hit him . she could have killed him . “ i need to run back to the car . . . call an ambulance . don’t move . . . ”
( @mortalrot )
asli loves having her aunt around . she doesn’t love 5 am alarms and sprint drills before sunrise . but she’ll still toss her hair up into a bun and lace up her trainers just to impress her aunt — push herself to her limit just to keep up . to make her proud . she does her best to ignore the metallic taste on her tongue from her untrained lungs . the blisters forming on the back of her heels . doesn’t like to admit to falling behind on her hobbies — failing at her skill . least of all the one she and kate have most in common . but her unpracticed form gives out in the end — doubled over at the seize of a cramp in her side . fuck . “ fine . . . ” she admits, out of breath, hands over her head in embarrassed defeat . “ i’ll admit it . . . i . . . haven’t been exercising much . but ever think to take up a less strenuous pastime ? chess, maybe ? scrapbooking ? ”
( @mortalrot )
𝐤𝐨𝐥 𝐦𝐢𝐤𝐚𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐨𝐧 :
Their beginnings were of the same womb, same blood, same death. Rebekah had developed more of a heart, one could say, that worshiped idle romance. A habit that had left her broken on more than one occasion over the centuries, although Kol had never truly understood the point of it if all it brought was sorrow and some poor sap dismembered and tossed aside. Normally by his hand, but his sister had often sharpened her teeth and bled out her old lovers without any help. It is this familiar hesitation that he feels now as he follows her on the campus grounds of Bon Temps university. A begrudging duty he feels to keep her sticky fingers out of the honey pot she so often is drawn to. Another questionable decision of his family only to be verbally reminded once again, ‘Is it the thrill of the chase for you, dear sister? Or do you just prefer your audience to be incompetent youths?’
if she’s challenged on it — rebekah’ll argue she enrolled in classes to be of use . to lookout for the people that seem to be at the centre of klaus’ delusional plan . and this argument isn’t untrue . but it is also true that rebekah finds pleasure in being one amongst the humans . and some pain, too, as she’s forced to face all the things she can’t have in her eternal lifetime . “ klaus’ little doppelganger and her friends attend this school, kol . ” she replies, bored . attempting to hide the sting from his slights . the truth to them . “ might be useful to get an inside look . be helpful . . . ”
𝐤𝐨𝐥 𝐦𝐢𝐤𝐚𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐨𝐧 :
Magic was similar to a fluid. It could wash anything away, even the oldest of stones. There is, however, one lineage that he had often had run-ins with that was anything other than a giant ball of flame. Fire that crackled and ate up all in its path, an appetite for transformation and restoring balance. The Bennett blood beckons him, and like any other devil he obliges to that demand. It is simply interesting to him that an ancestral line of such power would arrive so strongly here in Bon Temps. After all those years of silence and avoidance of the spotlight the past returns to him. Here, of all places. He had followed her since she first got out of her vehicle, textbooks in arms and a sense of absentmindedness to her that would almost be labeled as innocence. If not for the bubbling nature forming inside of her. She would have immediately sensed him as well if she were a trained witch, and this allows him time to fall alongside her, pace matching hers. He keeps his accent subtle, albeit a few words that lilt with the habit of a Scandinavian tongue. ‘Beautiful pendant. Is it a good luck charm for the approaching mid-terms?’
she promises herself that she’s going to have a normal afternoon . no talk of magic — no pulls to danger — no drama . but as she balances her books in her arms, it’s almost impossible to ignore the stubborn presence of the talisman pressed against her skin . or it’s caution as someone approaches . bonnie tries to ignore it — just as she’s tried to since it first fell into her lap — but it’s persistence makes it almost impossible . a good luck charm ? more like a curse . “ mhm . something like that . ” she replies, feigning nonchalance as she quickens her pace . if the heat coming off the pendant isn’t concerning enough — his interest in it is . if her grandmother’s ramblings have truth to them — it’s powerful enough to attract adverse attention . so is she .
𝐤𝐨𝐥 𝐦𝐢𝐤𝐚𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐨𝐧 :
No matter how these shackles made him ache, the viper will never leave the side of whatever prey he has in his sights. Arrogant, of course, as he recognizes the smell of deception and desolation approaching him once again. This makes him angrier this time, more determined to make a grave from which there is no escape. There was something beautifully frail about the woman who had been winning each and every pool game for the past two hours. Wringing out the betting pot each victory. He has no desire to focus on the surroundings, nor tally up the negative outcomes of this interaction. He’s becoming too used to the fire again. Burnt and ash-born, the doomed repeats himself. He’s wondering if this pertains to his situation at hand, or the pink-skinned organ that beats away beneath his ribcage with an inanimate annoyance. Steady, no matter what second-death is coming. Eager, no matter what death-harbinger is present. He speaks from a few feet away, still leaning against the bar counter, yet vision is trained solely on the blonde. An amusing smile is all that fills his face, while beady eyes remain snake-like and transfixed by the movements of the other. ‘Soon you’ll be the richest woman in this town[…]perhaps already the most cunning.’
the men here are no different than the hunters that came in and out of the roadhouse . arrogant — and unable to recognize that some girl might be better at something than them . it’s an untapped goldmine — and it’s not like the hunter’s profession provides stable income . so jo feels no remorse as she collects her gains from the night . she doesn’t lie, she’s just better than them . in the end, it’s their fault for not recognizing that blonde hair and a pair of tits doesn’t equal incompetence . “ not cunning . ” she counters, after a moment of thought as she counts her bills . should be enough to keep her going for a little bit longer . “ just better . ” she glances up at him, then, seeking a challenge . could be her first real one of the night .
seaymph:
“You do not yet suffer enough to suit me.”
— Friedrich Nietzsche, from Thus Spoke Zarathustra (via stoicremains)
— dean regarding ◞ jo harvelle ( @sleighthand )
☦ incorrect quotes ⸻ lilith & ruby ( @sleighthand )
there’s no reason the girl from peoria should be 12 hours on the road because of a feeling . but flashes of her most recent nightmare greet her as she drives past the bon temps sign — adrenaline and urgent fear forcing her to continue her trip despite her exhausted state . she doesn’t even need a map to direct her — a familiar tree, or bend in the road enough to lead her to the motel housing the stranger from her dreams . she must look insane — bugged out and sullied from hours panicked and speeding on the road . but she doesn’t have time to clean up — to be convenient . to mark more time . rehearse and explanation . she has to help him . so she ignores the stinging pain in her fast asleep legs as she leaps out of her car and the neighbours and the time of night as she bangs on the motel door — bargaining on the suite number being the same as the one in her nightmare . if it’s not — he’s as good as dead .
( @divinatio )
Send in 📜 and I’ll use this incorrect quotes generator using your muse and my muse. (Please specify how many muses//which muses for multimuse blogs!!)