#godnovan

[griefkill]

@godnovan / x

[ text ] i'm at home . [ text ] i'm not . . . in the best place to be going anywhere . [ text ] can you please just come here instead after work ? [ text ] i don't want anyone else to see me right now .

[brinaspells]

❛ You are losing it, honey. ❜

THE BATTLE OF WILLS! The story goes of her * Evil Doppelganger and their world taking possession of their bodies. They needed to replenish their world, their souls, their mind. DAMN THE COST OF BRINA'S EXISTENCE. Her loved ones were caught in the war, both human and supernatural alike, and with every takeover was like a blow to the heart. Katrina tried to take over her mind but Sabrina wouldn't let her. TAKE COMFORT IN KNOWING YOU ARE THE HEIR OF LUCIFER MORNINGSTAR, * HAIL SATAN. * HAIL SABRINA! The war would go on for years and hands were bloodied.

SHE WOULD NEVER BE THE SAME NO MATTER HOW HARD SHE TRIED.

❝ Am I? ❞ Glowing hues shift between red and gold. It was like no one was home, just a shadow and shell of a person walking among the living. The tips of her fingers twitch and spark, a reaction of uncontrollable emotions. Lights flicker around Brina as she tries to tame her mind. There's so much loudness. Screams and screams and screams. WHY WON'T IT BE QUIET? ❝ Am I? ❞ She repeats it again. It's like a mantra to focus on something to try and silence her mind. The surrounding chaos becomes manageable and Brina can feel a tear stain her cheek. ❝ I think I am. ❞

[jennifercheck]

JENNIFER FEELS HER BODY TENSE UP IMMEDIATELY. there's a voice in her head that tells her to relax, and so she does, but it doesn't seem very– natural. there's no pretending in front of matt & his too-blue eyes, the catalyst for a rare condition found in jennifer's body: the strange urge to be kind. IT ALMOST MAKES HER SICK, gifting a nasty tooth-ache that causes her to scrunch her face up in response ─ glossed velvets scowling at the mere mention of .. ( @godnovan: "do you ever miss home?" WHAT EXACTLY WAS "HOME" FOR JENNIFER CHECK? she takes a beat and there's a few seconds of silence between them, but her demeanour is enough to explain that she will answer.. eventually, if she could just rack up the perfect answer. and although she knows that's never his intention ─ TO UNCOVER A POLISHED, PERFECT JENNIFER – she can't help but perform for all.

𝐒]he puckers up a teeny-tiny pout, glossed velvets leaving a sheen shine on lips. JENNIFER RUNS A HAND THROUGH RAVEN LOCKS, and she feels herself building up the courage to say a little truth for once. ❛❛ i mean, a little. ❜❜ ( she misses her childhood bedroom, the zebra-print bedsheets she's of course taken to college with her, but there was something bittersweet about her mom laying it out for her ─ ONLY TO COMPLAIN ABOUT THE EXCESSIVE BLOOD STAINS THAT SHE'D BLAME ON HER PERIOD. her trinket box full of old jewellery, mostly from *roman as apology pieces, but the thing she misses most of all, a certain blonde of different taste.. she could never admit. ❛❛ i don't really miss home, ─ JUST GETTING TO WEAR MY FLAGS UNIFORM. i'm thinking of using it for halloween this year, like a zombie cheerleader & shit. [the segue is smooth, but she soon realises the best distraction is a decoy], what about you, blue eyes? AM I BORING YOU SO BAD THAT – you're starting to miss your home? ❜❜

[grieveing]

Sitting at the bar of Mystic Grill as eyes wondered around. She reflects on how different the bar is now compared to her youth. The artwork, where tables were, the coloring of the walls. Little details were changed to revamp into something new. The place looked good and more vibrant. It is something Mystic Falls needed. It brought life to the town that Elena missed and remembered as a child. Attention is redirected back to Matt, taking a swig of the beer, ❝ We never would have worked. ❞ A pause, ❝ I never could uncomplicate my life. I think that would have always interfered in our relationship. ❞

@godnovan [ ... ] starter.

[fangyard]

[𝙰]n exception to her usual solemn nights & wanting to bury herself into a book or two, this week's Saturday bears the sight of many wrongdoings and harsh truths. She knew coming over to his was a bad idea – putting him in the position she has, expecting anything from him after what she's put him through. It's true what they say: DESPERATE TIMES CALL FOR DESPERATE MEASURES. & she's so very much that, clinging onto every hope that the way he'd rescue her at her beckoning is still very much true. But what seemed to be an attempt at venting to someone has become a prophecy in the making: a reminder that she has moved on, and he simply hasn't. [To do this to him is cruel, but she has no one else at this moment of time – no one who can tell her that she is making a ... GRAVE MISTAKE.

@godnovan* "I don't want to fight with you. / –

❝ Then don't. ❞ A beat. Silly, masochistic girl: how dare you come between family blood? [AGAIN & AGAIN & AGAIN]. ❝ Matt, I know she's your sister, but I can't keep doing this with Jere. ❞ The added desperation to her voice enables her to hope he'll hear her this time – HE ALWAYS DOES. Though she's never had to ask him to turn his back on Vicki before. She'd never think of it, that big of an ask... & yet. ❝ I know what you're feeling, I get it – and if you don't trust Stefan, trust me. He won't let anything happen to her. And... neither will I. ❞

[𝕾]he feels a sweat break out atop her upperlip, a strange anxiety creeping into her underbelly. ❝ You... –believe that, right? ❞

[jerkchester]

♡

●●●●○ | ATTRACTION ●○○○○ | AFFECTION ●●●○○ | INTEREST ●●●○○ | LOYALTY ●●●○○ | TRUST

LOW | ●●●●● | HIGH

[jerkchester]

[ TXT ] : i need help and i can't go to the hospital.

[ TXT : matt donovan ] : the fuck did u do??

[ TXT : matt donovan ] : drop a pin ill swing by

[archive-benbraeden]

❝ i'm not trying to fix you. i'm just trying to be your friend. ❞

he says it like it's nothing, like the words aren't a loaded gun masquerading as kindness. it feels worse than a silver blade to the gut, in the underbelly of ben's vulnerability. at least with a blade, ben knows how to handle the aftermath. he knows how to tend to that wound. not the heavy weight of matt's words. ben doesn't respond right away, shifting his weight on his boots, and jaw locked. his fingers twitch at his sides like they want to curl into fists but they don't, and maintain the lithe hold on the smoke that he nurses in his dominate hand. his breath drags in slow, like the air is too thick to pull through his ribs, and not the smoke that he inhales.

you don't get it, i don't need a friend, this is a bad idea; there are sentences that splay across ben's forefront that he wants to let hiss between his gritted brims. instead, he offers the other a bitter smirk, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "yeah well, good luck with that." and he hates the selfish part that wants matt to try. to try to get through to him, maybe see the ugly parts; maybe not care. not care that there is a graveyard that haunts ben's shadow, each whisper of wind a funeral hymn. "i'm sure somebody's rootin' for ya."