#heartcoils

[serendpitous-a]

@heartcoils​  ft. steve  said  .  .  .   “  everybody wonders what it would be like to love you.  ”

      a golden girl fallen from grace, tarnished halo & shredded wings serving as the only reminder that she once walked amongst the heavens. she never liked it up there anyway — the altitude made her sick and the high and mighty even sicker. she wasn’t built to be worshiped. she had grounded herself long before stepping foot in hawkins, burnt her reputation to the ground. it’s what landed her here in the first place, taking residence in her grandparent’s spare room. it was just her and grams now, the weight of all that she could have been hanging heavy in the air between them as they sat across from each other at the dinner table in silence. better that than another argument. 

     this town, as backwards and out-of-date as it might be, was her chance to start fresh. no one saw that broken girl anymore. not unless they looked hard enough, saw through the cracks in a facade that had been so carefully glued back together again. but sometimes, in quiet moments like this, she fears that steve can see through it all, that she’s let him get too close. but if he’s still saying things like that, if he’s not running for the hills, then maybe she’s a better actress than she thought. 

    “  everyone wonders what it would be like to have me, steve,  ”  jen corrects him, cynicism seeping through,  “  i’m the new girl. the shiny new plaything. i know what everyone’s thinking. what you’re thinking.  ”  but the way he speaks is just so earnest. maybe she’s wrong about him. she’s been wrong before. 

[arch-wistcrias]

           The shared suite hides behind a painting of a foreign Quidditch pitch. Tiny, ant-sized figures chase one another in the painted sky, slow-moving clouds like cotton-candy blimps as they drift out of frame. Were it not for Professor Mcgonagall revealing what lies behind it, she’d have never been able to pick this painting out of a line-up. 

Inside, the room is much cozier than she’d expect, an unlit fireplace holding court with a cluster of couches, and a well-stocked bookshelf taking up half of the opposite wall. Persian rugs in evergreen and wine-red patterns are scattered along the ( presumably ) cold tile. 

After sharing the rules of their living arrangements with the two, Mcgonagall takes her leave, leaving behind a silence that feels as impossible to break as it is unbearably loud. Hermione’s luggage waits for her at the top of a winding staircase at the back, gold railings leading the way –– but something keeps her rooted to the spot. She hasn’t said a word to Malfoy since they’d led the prefects meeting on the train here, but now would be the time to say... SOMETHING. 

“ We should come up with some rules of our own. To make this transition as least difficult as possible. ” Every word is stiff as it leaves her mouth, but this situation is so absurd she’s not sure what else to do –– save laugh. 

&. @heartcoils for HG&HB AU. 

[prlman]

@heartcoils​

He’s in Beacon Hills. He’s in Beacon Hills and all set to meet some of Isaac’s friends for the first time; meet his pack. Isaac might call them former pack, technically, since he’s been living in Italy with him for such a long time, but STILL! These people are important to him, and Elio wants to meet them. He’s also really nervous, and has managed to get a nice shirt on so he sets some kind of good impression. 

Scott McCall. Someone Isaac speaks so fondly of. Oh god, please don’t embarrass yourself. His thoughts spiral in that direction a few times, genuinely worried he won’t be liked. If they don’t like him, he might die. Just keel over. Isaac probably wouldn’t like that, though, so he resolves to at least try to not say anything stupid. It’s entirely possible he’s clinging to the boy’s hand the entire time, until Chris asks to speak with Isaac privately - which leaves Elio in the room with Scott. Fuck.

          “ So you’re a true alpha, ”  is, of course, how he starts the conversation - blunt and to the point as always, even if it’s not exactly the direction he’d been wanting the conversation to go. The back of his neck heats up, but he makes no mention of it.  “ Sorry, uh. You’re Isaac’s friend. ”

[heartborrow]

yay it's your bday! happy bday mace. i have loved being your pal for all of these years and i am super proud of you. you're one of the kindest people i know. hope you have a special day! 🥳

you are so kind thank you so much!!! please take a party hat and a slice of cake for your long long trip home from the party <3

[likedetective]

❛   i  guess  i  just  wanna  know  if  you’re  happy .   ❜             @heartcoils​  as  steve  harrington

he’s  so  different  than  before.  nancy’s  different  too,  but  in  the  mirror  she  looks  almost  the  same.  still  nancy,  but  bigger.  nancy,  but  sharper.  nancy,  with  skills  more  refined  to  form  a  better  version  of  what  existed.  steve  just  looks    -    different.  not  literally,  but  she  never  would’ve  predicted  this  person  when  they  were  goofing  off  at  the  start  of  high  school.  a  curious  mind  is  prone  to  wondering  whether  it’s  everything  he  saw,  everything  he’s  been  through  that  she  never  could’ve  seen  coming  either,  or  if  he  was  always  going  to  grow  better.  

to  steve’s  credit,  she’d  liked  that  version  at  the  time,  too.

❛   is  anyone  at  this  hour ?   ❜  night  bleeding  into  morning,  only  steve  and  some  stars  as  company.  reminiscent  of  the  past,  though  back  then  they  wouldn’t  have  been  alone  and  there  would’ve  been  beer.  she  doesn’t  mean  to  side  step  the  question  entirely;  avoidance  is  an  answer  in  and  of  itself,  and  it  wouldn’t  be  the  one  nancy  meant.  she  has  a  passion,  friends,  a  supportive  if  concerned  parent.  a  desire  to  get  out  of  hawkins  that  fuels  instead  of  suffocating.  there’s  no  real  reason  to  return  the  question,  except  habit.  she  bobs  to  the  side,  a  gentle  nudge  at  his  shoulder.   ❛   yes,  i’m  happy. why  the  big  question ?   ❜

[likedetective]

❛   i  can’t  have  you  getting  hurt .   ❜             @heartcoils​  as  miles  morales

it’s  a  sweet  notion.  a  familiar  one,  warm  concern  for  the  girl  detective  running  head  first  into  danger.  river  heights  will  always  be  her  roots,  where  she  came  from,  but  new  york  is  bigger  and  vastly  different  than  her  small  town.  there’s  enough  trouble  a  neighborhood  over,  right  around  the  block,  down  the  street  without  her  even  having  to  hop  on  a  plane.  it’s  a  little  fascinating  to  have  so  much  to  dig  her  fingers  into  so  close  to  a  new  found  home.  she’s  free  to  take  off  at  any  time,  and  her  restraint  before  really  wasn’t  brag  worthy.

she  sees  less  of  her  friends  now,  misses  them  fiercely.  nancy  prides  herself  on  independence,  but  there’s  no  denying  the  comfort  of  having  george  and  bess  by  her  side.  they  would  be  happy  to  know  she  hasn’t  managed  living  here  without  also  picking  up  a  new  friend  or  two  to  play  this  part:  the  grasp  on  her  wrist,  urging  her  away  from  where  her  mind’s  already  set.

it’s  admirable.  the  girls  would’ve  dropped  it  by  now,  but  maybe  when  miles  knows  her  better  he’ll  know  the  effort  is  futile.

❛   i’m  not  planning  on  it.   ❜  she  won’t  move  an  inch,  here.  there’s  nothing  more  important  than  a  clue,  the  potential  of  one  more  puzzle  piece  closer  to  the  full  picture.  ❛   and  i’m  definitely  not  passing  up  an  opportunity  to  find  the  apartment  unoccupied,  but  i  won’t  say  no  to  a  lookout ?   ❜

[departingsouls]

@heartcoils​ 

“- INVISIQUE”.

The sound of heavy, running footsteps fade into nothingness, disappearing into the fog surrounding this abandoned French Quarter alley; she looks behind them, over Eretria’s shoulder, and kills the invisibility spell she’s protected them with as the group of men with crossbows and wooden stakes in their hands turn the corner. They think she’s a vampire; surely a Mikaelson would be nothing if not the progenitors of the undead, cursed for eternity to live a life without the sweet release of death. But if Freya has learned anything, after her brothers gave up their lives for something bigger than themselves, is that death comes for everyone, even a first born Mikaelson witch, even a vampire hunter. 

They’re not from around here, she can tell. They don’t know the French Quarter like she does. They don’t know that she’s a witch and a very powerful one at that.

“They’re gone, follow me”. Freya turns, to the metal curtain locked from the inside that she manages to open without much of a thought, dragging it upwards until there’s a gap big enough for them to fit through. She waits, ducking and finding the light switch in the corner of the brick wall. 

“The ancestors don’t like any Mikaelsons wandering around Lafayette Cemetery, it’s made quite the spectacle of itself by having a name like Holy Ground and being the site responsible for wiping so many witches from the map. After my brothers died I had to relocate my stuff somewhere no one would find it, and the cemetery was out of the question so this will have to do... For now”. 

[prlman]

@heartcoils liked for a starter for scott mccall.

WHY DID HE AGREE TO MOVE TO BEACON HILLS? The Nemeton, partially - but also because Chris offered him a place to stay, should he need one, and low and behold. . .he doesn’t want to be homeless. Maybe there’s been falling outs with the family, and maybe his parents didn’t really speak to most of the rest of the Argents anymore, but Chris had stayed in touch with his mother -- with Annella -- so that when she reached out to ask if he could stay somewhere while he learned more about the supernatural world, he said yes. It’s as good a place as any for Elio to stay while he gets ready to go to University, at the very least. There are better choices in America than where he wanted to go back in Europe.

Besides, he’s lived near a werewolf pack before. It’s part of the reason he’s so interested in learning -- not only more about being an Emissary, like his mother, but of the supernatural in general and . . . of course, to protect himself. What good is being of use to a pack when you’re incapable of handling a weapon? If you’re unable to FIGHT? Elio had considered staying out of all of this, and instead going off to college for other normal majors and areas of study, but the more he talked about it with his mom, the more his mind changed. The more he wanted to meet more, learn more, and to not shy away from the things hidden from most in the world. Elio wants to be more like his mom, and she knows EVERYTHING - about everything. He wants to know things too.

So there he sits, at a table with Chris Argent, talking about the people he needs to go to to learn more things Emissary and druid. Alan Deaton, who works at the local veterinary clinic, is the place to start. Self defense and more offensive moves? Some could come from Deaton, but a majority of that would come through Chris and the training he will provide. There’s HUNTERS in their family, and he -- well, he mostly just doesn’t want to be seen as a weak link. His own mom’s got some weapons locked away, and his father knows a decent amount, though he’s not practicing.

It’s time to get started. He’s spent a couple hours in the back of Deaton’s shop, reading through a couple of resource books, and it’s so ENTHRALLING that he doesn’t realize the time fly by. It’s when he’s finally starting to put his things away that he hears the door to the front open, and Deaton talk to someone -- someone Elio hasn’t met, yet ( though to be fair, he’s only really had the chance to meet Chris, Allison, and Deaton himself ). His backpack’s pulled over his shoulders as he exits the back, a curious expression on his face.

“ Oh! Elio, this is Scott. Scott, Elio. He’s the intern I told you about, here from France. ”  Intern. The words suits Elio. He gives a soft nod and offers a hand to shake, because it’s the polite thing to do. A quiet nice to meet you is muttered, before he’s shoving hands into his pockets. Then, something clicks inside of him. Wait, Scott McCall? Chris mentioned him! The look turns a little more friendly, into a grin, as the recognition hits him.  “ I’m Allison’s cousin. I don’t know if, uh, Deaton told you. ”