#secondateam

[brokenragdoll]

I just wanna take a moment to give these dudes a tiny SHOUTOUT & say thank you for being so amazing & kind to me. 

@thesmileclown @butscrewmefirst @nctfree @ultimatecosmicjoke @fionagoode @secondateam @outofdxpth @domestiiic @orphanis @untclds 

[sparingly-blog]

                            📣 @secondateam​

❝ WHO pays two hundred dollars for this stupid thing and then just leaves it in the  fucking library ?? ❞

[requiemsrepertoire]

✗✗ @secondateam ♡’d this for a starter

                                  She’s looking up at Addison from beneath fluttery lashes, soft and starry-eyed, a gentle smile curving her lips with pure adoration. There’s something remarkably childlike about the wonder blooming there. “I can’t believe you’re going to fix me; it’s still so...surreal.”

[requiemsrepertoire]

✗✗ @secondateam ♡’d this for a starter

                                  “You remind me of a Degas...something I wouldn’t mind nailing against my wall.” The smirk she offers is no less than vulgarly flirtatious, accompanied by a gauche wink that seems to linger behind the hazy smoke of her cigarette. “Buy you a drink?”

[whitedcve-blog]

Continued from here with @secondateam.

She reminded Alice of herself, many ( many ) years ago when witches were given no other choice but to migrate as far away from Salem as possible, cloaked in black robes and fearing death by fire. New Orleans didn’t quite feel like home for them either, no matter how hard they wished it would —— but a safe haven for their coven to thrive had proven to be well worth the sacrifice. Misty’s white soul screamed nostalgia, she was trapped and she knew as much; anything to keep yet another sister from meeting her end at the hands of witch hunters and their silver bullets, blessed for one purpose and one purpose alone.

“It wasn’t always like this, you know?” As she spoke, Alice’s hand slipped inside the black pocket of her coat to retrieve a cigarette, which she placed between her lips and left untouched for the swamp witch to practice her pyrokinesis. “Artists didn’t use to be what you and I would call respected folk. We should appreciate their work —— and refrain ourselves from cracking jokes while we do it.” A little side smile, that reached all the way up to her eyes, curved the left corner of the teacher’s mouth as she waited. 

“Got a light?”

[whitedcve-blog]

Continued from here with @secondateam.

On her way to the serving cart across the room, black heels echoing through the ancient walls of Miss Robichaux’s Academy, Alice maintained direct and fierce eye contact with her. Myrtle Snow —— the witch bitch currently occupying the seat that should have belonged to her. after centuries on end of loyal service to their coven. Once her proud mentor, the brunette had long started to resent being outranked by an eccentric, Supreme wannabe with a dubious sense of style and nothing but despise towards Fiona. It was class and respect for her peers, however, the only two things keeping her from speaking out her mind.

“Is that any way to address your teacher?” Bending over the expensive collection of liquor and other drinks, far more appropriate for the young girls placed under their care, Alice picked two glasses and a bottle of fine whiskey; which contents she split in equal measure and handed to the head of the Witches’ Council. “Lighten up, honey, we’re just talking. Here. Wrap your pretty lips around this.”