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“i’m not moping.” [narrator vc] he was moping. it was what happened when you realize the last six months of your life have been bullshit and you don’t quite have that pick-me-up just yet. when you were holding onto the last bits of your sanity all while saying ‘i’m okay’ on the constant. so yes, he was moping.
@apxstarters
“I have mastered beating the shit out of the vending machine for free candy, if you’re interested.”
“ would you believe me if i said someone threw a potato at me ? ”
entirety of her mind was blurred, a complete bottomless pit as she steps through the trees. it’s like she’s functioning, but isn’t aware of it. it could be blamed on the fact that she’s covered in soil from pulling herself out of the ground. ( out of a grave that WASN’T in mystic falls. or any place she recognised. ) if she was more alert, maybe she’d have realised how truly crazy she looked ---- like she’d been pulled through a hedge backwards, but she’s too busy glancing at her surroundings, soft baby browns bewildered from the hustle and bustle, and the business. it’s worlds away from what she was used to, to the town she grew up in. IT’S MYSTIC FALLS NOTHING BAD EVER HAPPENS HERE. tell that to the fact that she died on the same bridge twice, and went over it three times. had her body been buried here ? none of it made a lick of sense. she’s not sure she’s alive, it’s still up for debate but the thudding of the heart against her cage of ribs lets her know that at least something is functioning even if she isn’t. her lungs are aching, she wonders if it’s from the lack of air they received previously, or from the overexertion of now having to breathe again. throat parched, she’s so thirsty that she’s desperate for a drink and so when she walks up to someone, or rather stumbles, her voice almost fails her. “ s ---. . . . sorry, can you TELL ME where i am ? or . . . or what year it is ? ”
“no, i wasn’t ignoring you. i didn’t hear you.” will snapped, regretting it a moment afterward. he sighed. “i have a lot on my mind is all.”
@apxstarters
The noise in the bar was certainly loud, and Nancy was having a hard time tuning it out. A migraine was forming in the base of her skull, spots popping in front of her vision as she rubbed at the base of her neck. She wasn’t even old enough to drink..well, maybe she was. After all, a whole lot of time had passed between 2007 and 2030. “Are bars always this loud?”
it’d taken a shorter time than aster had pictured for the 𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑻𝑬𝑨𝑼 𝑫𝑶𝑼𝑮𝑯 to get back on their feet. all their products had been turned into icicles, and not many people liked having their pastries iced. it was a surprise when he’d been called in, and with a handful of other baker’s, and spent the day getting their product at the ready. it was a day later he’d been called in, and he was surprised to see how re-stocked they’d become. so, sooner then he thought he’d be, he was working again. turning from the counter, he asked their latest patron. “looking for anything special?”
“ when i think safe haven, dante’s isn’t the place i’d decide on, but who am i to argue with the public safety authorities ? ” personally he’s amused, sitting in one of the plushy chairs surrounding a round table with his combat boots propped atop it. if he’s wearing a plastic tiara, it’s only because he stole it from a scatterbrained groom-to-be somewhere else in the club. ( he finds irony in the simple things. like a plastic crown for a king, or the entrance to hell being a sanctuary. seriously, you can’t make these things up. ) “ bit of an overreaction for a little snow. it’s not like there are any shark infested tornados out there. ” though that, admittedly, would amuse him greatly. THERE’S NOTHING LIKE A LITTLE MAIMING TO BRIGHTEN UP ONE’S DAY.
