#nolaroots

[waywardsignns-moved]

@nolaroots || Ares

It wasn’t often that the God found somebody that was just as beautiful as Aphrodite herself ... not that he would ever dare say that out loud. He might be dumb ... but he didn’t have that big of a death wish. But regardless, he couldn’t help but linger for a while as he watched her move about, watched her radiate a kind of command that drew him even closer to her. How fascinating ... but like with any human, he moved on ... except for whatever reason, this one continued to remain in the back of his mind, lingering like a memory he couldn’t quite shake. 

Though, he certainly didn’t count on another finding out by seeing just how Ares had lingered around the human, didn’t count on a follower of Aphrodite taking offense ... and when they did, he could feel the rage lingering in the air. Could feel the desire for revenge, so he followed. Finding the source at some house ... and was moments away from just turning and leaving it be when he saw just who it was that was being targeted and by who. 

He didn’t know how ... but he figured this was his fault. 

Appearing before the two fully clad in his armor, crimson eyes quite literally glowed as he stepped forward, spear in hand ... and it was all it took for the human to turn and run from the one unconscious on the floor. Studying her for a moment, Ares allowed his armor and his spear to dissolve into nothing, picking her up with more gentleness than many would think he was capable of ... and with his chariot took her somewhere she was as safe as she could possibly be. 

Laying her in a lavish bed, one complete with intricate pillars met with a canopy overhead, the god did his best to tend to her wounds, swearing at himself and seriously considering getting Apollo here ... but it was just a split second before he dismissed it. How in the fuck he woudl explain this to the woman, he didn’t know ... but for now, he would simply remain where he was, quite literally laying on the floor with his hands folded on his stomach to wait for her to gain consciousness once more.

[huntershowl-moving]

@nolaroots​ liked { x }.

❛ don’t patronize me. ❜ hellhound wipes the back of her hand across her lips after taking a swig from her silvery flask, the letter ‘K’ engraved on its top right corner. instead of cleaning away the excess alcohol, the touch only smears blood from her hand across her lips. blood on her hands, blood in her hair. monster, they call her. good. she sits against a large, boxy structure jutting out from the rooftop, one of her hands shackled to the blasted thing. it was unfortunate that pasha figured out her pattern. not unexpected – the detective is smart and determined, refusing to back down – but unfortunate nonetheless. after her target met his demise, the night culminated in a chase, pasha and her damn magic and her damn competence once again cornering the hunter. it’s fine. she’ll get out. she always gets out. but pasha finding out that hellhound primarily kills abusers in her spare time is –– a wrinkle, to say the least. no one is supposed to know, not even the freed victims of her targets. they might mistake her for being sentimental, and considering who is out there looking for a modicum of weakness to exploit, hellhound cannot allow it. it’s hard enough to avoid grievously hurting pasha when they clash weapons on a chase without making it seem like she cares. of course she cares. but that doesn’t matter in the end.

❛ i don’t give a damn about anyone. my clientele is just ... very specific. ❜ another lie. it’s obvious from the way she averts eye contact, tugging at the handcuffs as if she couldn’t pick the lock in two seconds. knowing pasha, there’s some sort of –– magic trap, or something, once she inevitably does break the cuff. we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. ❛ god damn it, i don’t have time for this, detective – you know you can’t hold me for long unless you pull the fucking trigger. ❜

[harrowiingstreets]

pasha kicks snake-man in the ankle because it's what he deserves.

         “OW!” He lifts his foot up, tongue flicking about as he hisses at her. “You’re a real bitch.”

[armsdealing]

@nolaroots​ / cont. 

fenrir thumbs one of his canines, not long as it could be but sharp nonetheless, vile nonetheless, as he listens to her, teeth digging into skin, and he grins real slow; shark-like. the scent of fjölkyngi arouses a hum that could easily be mistaken for something human, like amusement.

he presses on for just a second longer, dark eyes carefully watching her face like he’s willing her to do it, to flee. narrowing in on her unease, he almost comes to respect when she doesn’t. 

 “-- away from here.” he answers, ignoring her jab. “lot of bad shit happens in this forest. people go missing. get killed, apparently. get eaten. didn’t you hear -- ?”

[plethoriic]

@nolaroots. » plotted starter.

      “Thanks for coming over.” He stepped aside, his right hand curling around the edge of his front door, giving her space to come in. Shoulders slumped forward, slightly, enough to make it clear the conversation wouldn’t be FUN in the least. Past the little smile he tried to manage for her, the pain of his past painted his features---he wasn’t ready for this conversation, not really.

      But he never WOULD be.

      He knew better than anyone that running from his past wouldn’t help anyone, and although the U.S. courts had ruled that he had done his time, the guilt of what he’d done still rested on his shoulders. Well, one more than the other.

      “I’m not wrong in assuming you saw my trial a while back, right?”

[mademarvel]

@nolaroots

      “Holy shit, Pasha---that dress. You look AMAZING.”

[saoildorcha]

sᴛᴀʀᴛᴇʀ ᴄᴀʟʟ / ᴘᴀsʜᴀ ᴅᴇᴠᴇʀᴇᴀᴜx / @nolaroots

          It’s surprising ------ and at least a little alarming ------ to see how well Daniel adjusts to life under their roof. Their, because Pasha is there for every step of the way, visits his home so often that in some ways she may as well live there herself. Jack refrains from asking if she’d like to move in, either because he’s afraid of the response, or afraid of what that would make them if she did. The moment the conversation seems like it might drift in that general direction, he’s quick to change it to something else.

It’s... easier this way, isn’t it? He doesn’t know how to be someone’s boyfriend. He barely knows how to be a friend. And if he still shivers sometimes when her hand brushes his, like the touch electrifies him...

But Daniel is adjusting, and it worries Jack. Because he’s so utterly calm about more or less finding himself adopted by a total stranger. He behaves well for the most part, he loves Jack’s collection of dogs, and doesn’t seem very perturbed by some of his new guardian’s oddities. Jack wonders, but doesn’t ask, just how much of the fae the boy saw before he was able to whisk him away. He also decidedly doesn’t think very hard on what it makes him.

For now, Daniel has occupied himself with some coloring books on the livingroom floor, happily humming to himself while Jack sorts through some of his own business. “He’s a good kid,” he murmurs. “You didn’t find any leads on his family?”

[waywardsignnsa]

nolaroots replied to your post: you got your url from the supernatural fandom...

imagine thinking anything anyone does is inspod by a show abt a bunch of dumb white men who consistently sacrifice women and poc in order to sAvE tHe WoRLd.