#enormoushallmonitor

[deathishergift]

          nose crinkled, she shook her head in exasperation at the clear joy on his face. it only solidified that she had to be more vigilant. It could have been a demon jumping out at her, 'course they tended to make more noise.           " stop enjoying this. " her voice held a hint of amusement, eyes sweeping over him and hoping he wasn't lying and that was actual dust, not of the vamp variety. " And graveyard buddy? You really wanna call yourself that? " 

@enormoushallmonitor / cont.

[liminalchaos]

➌ Which of your ships on this blog is the fluffiest? ➏ What’s the one thing you especially love about roleplaying your muse? ➐ Are there any people you’ve been to afraid of approaching?

(( ➌ Which of your ships on this blog is the fluffiest?

I uh, really don’t ship much, whoops, so that honor goes to that one thread @youhavemyrespect‘s Giles. Feelings were discussed! They kissed! And then Ethan threatened to stab him but eh. That’s still fluffy, right?

➏ What’s the one thing you especially love about roleplaying your muse?

He’s so much more social than I am -sobs- No, like, jokes aside, it’s fun to play a character who’s so chatty and charismatic and prone to shenanigans! Always a big fan of magical shenanigans, and this way there’s no chance I’ll run out of thread-fuel lol

➐ Are there any people you’ve been to afraid of approaching?

Is ‘all of you’ a viable answer? Honestly, I’m new to RP in general, and everyone seems super experienced and functional while I’m here making bad jokes. Everyone’s been super nice so far but y’all are too cool for me.))

[flunkedwritten-blog]

@enormoushallmonitor

There was nothing subtle about their world anymore. They no longer had the luxury of speaking gently and between the banter. Things were hard and quick and painful. It was everything he had been training for, but he hardly felt prepared.

His words were rougher than he intended. Maybe it was because of the innate fear and worry, or because of the blood racing through strained veins and splashed against the side of his face, or the hair matted to his forehead with sweat. Slowly, carefully he held one empty hand up in truce, and then laid in onto the small blonde’s shoulder.

Small, but not incapable. His touch was a risk he was willing to take.

“An offer.” The simple words were punctuated by the appearance of a hand gun, which he held by the barrel and out to her.

“Do you know how to use it?”

She doesn’t want to be this type of person; the kind who flinches at the slightest of touches, who can’t trust anyone. She was hardened before, slightly jaded -- but not broken. With a sharp inhale, she does her best to relax under his hand. His touch was soft, almost apprehensive, and it was enough to put her at ease.

That, and the fact that he wasn’t pointing the business end of the gun at her.

The ghost of a smile tugs at the corners of her lips, but it’s gone before it ever truly materializes. She doesn’t have much left to offer anymore and the attempt is all she can spare. A thumb brushes gently against the cool metal of the handle he’s offering.

A nod. “Think so.”

She flips it over in her hand, careful of her aim. Behind a rather unruly blonde tendril, her green orbs flicker towards his.

“I mean, it’s just like the movies, right?” She’s capable of handling the weapon, but she didn’t know she was still capable of making light of a situation. Surprised, the fleeting smile from before finds residency on her lips.

[slaysvampires-blog]

(  enormoushallmonitor   /   starter call.  )

     ❛  Chocolate means nothing to me.  ❜

[slaayr]

❛ Do you accept what you are or do you refuse? ❜

         ↣    being human sentence starters.    ( @enormoushallmonitor )

               “   do you think it matters ?  ”          she laughs,  bitter  &  mean.          “   if you wanna  pick  someone’s brain about being the slayer,  soldier boy,  go ask buffy.   ”

[deathishergift]

❝ Sorry, didn’t mean to scare ya. ❞ { hope you don’t mind! obviously feel free to disregard (~: }

usually, buffy’s senses were fairly accurate, detecting danger before it could strike. there were definitely a lot of perks with the slayer gift. however, they decided not to work as well this time. she sensed him a second before riley appeared. ❝ Riley, ❞ her tone was slightly exasperated, his showing up having startled her. ❝ whats going on? Is something wrong? ❞

* meme. / @enormoushallmonitor

[flunkedwritten-blog]

❛ My people have guns. Yours don’t. ❜

       ————  WALKING DEAD PROMPTS  /  @enormoushallmonitor

It shouldn’t bother her. He only spoke a few words, all of them truthful – but the weight they held felt heavy on her shoulders. Did the weight lie in the implication? That this was the world they lived in now. Humans fighting other humans, killing to survive. It was harsh and violent; a cruel fate thrust upon them, like a punishment for some unknown crime. Perhaps the true pain was the distinction. My people. Yours. A hard, painful slice in a world already so divided. 

Still, it was something to consider. She’d be a fool if she didn’t. Not knowing how to live in this world didn’t excuse her from it. This was her life. It was all of their lives.

Lives nobody would have if the people in charge weren’t making the right calls. People like her, like him…

A sigh passes between parted lips – lips, once glossed and pink that’s corners never dipped below the skyline, now pale and dry. Cracked. Worn, just like her spirit. 

 ❛  My people seem to be doing well enough without them. ❜   She maintains an even tone, despite the desperation she feels clawing it’s way to the back of her throat, edging to the tip of her tongue. They could be better and she knows it. They’ve lost so much already, and as things continued to descend into chaos, it’s only a matter of time before they lose even more.

But nothing is free.

❛  Is this an offer, or a threat? ❜   

[heelsandstakes-blog]

as consuming and all-knowing the night often seems, the cemetery air now feels almost unquestionable, indigenous: barely detectable, she can feel it against the back of her throat, smooth and silk-like, a slight hum underneath her fingertips.

it's not sunnydale. it's san francisco. and as she watches the graves, the grass, she doesn't feel the same spark of familiarity: her body reacts, but it's not out of habit. it's instinct. 

his presence is as old as it is new. 

her eyes follow the indistinct names and the related letters, engraved in both marble and stone. families and children, all covered in growing green, ivy and unbridled grass: the cemetery is old, and it's not as much san francisco as it is nowhere, forgotten. 

she sits next to him on an aging bench, hands folded in her lap. her finger runs alongside the outline of her stake as she watches the cemetery, leisurely seeking for something more. a noise, a step, the familiar thrum rooted in the back of her neck. it's not as weird as she had thought it would be. 

habits: they seem to fall into them easily.