#selenaites

[silvreflamess]

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i'd walk so far just to take the injury of finally knowing you. [ ft. @selenaites ]

[batgeance]

no habla español fellas ?

The  slow  bloom  of  ruddy  color  in  his  cheeks  is  in  such  sharp  contrast  to  the  rest  of  his  pallor  that  no  amount  of  Maybelline’s  Expertwear  in  Night  Sky  can  distract  the  eye.    The  cowl  doesn’t  extend  to  his  cheeks  either,    so  his  embarrassment  is  on  full  display  now.    The  Batman’s  only  escape  is  into  the  shadows  and  away  from  Clark,    and  he  doesn’t  even  take  that  exit.    His  gaze  is  averted  though.

❝    I–    ❞  Vengeance  does  a  decent  imitation  of  a  marionette  doll,    jaw  grinding  as  he  opens  and  closes  his  mouth  thrice  before  ultimately  gritting  his  teeth.    Clark’s  all  warm  light  in  the  foreground,    nothing  truly  antagonistic  about  his  opening  line  of  defense  at  all;    it’s  blinding  and  infuriating  and  the  Batman  cannot  run  far  from  it  even  if  he  were  to  slip  into  the  darkness  at  his  back.    ❝    I  wasn’t  exactly  thinking  about–    grammar  rules–    I  had  a  lot  going  on–    ❞

— @selenaites

[noquviir]

for @selenaites / dawa.

the boy counted his steps very carefully, measuring each with precision until he came to stand outside of a familiar set of doors. at his feet stood the door to one of his companions' rooms-- warm on the inside, with the hearth of a fire crackling ceaselessly to provide rest and comfort to the elf that lie within. how long he had planned to stay there, standing in front of that door, was a mystery of itself. it felt like hours and very likely was, from how the palms of his hands had started to turn slick with sweat.

gods-be-damned. this wasn't easy. not the way z'ress or resz'iir had made it look whenever they went down and out into the cities. especially back in fylhasera... nar'szelas scrunched up his nose and furrowed his brows, fingers curled tight against his palms. whirling around on his heels, he began to stalk down the stairs, the smells of both fresh supper cooking far below and the salty bay air of fortuna beckoning him into the night. blistering at his own inadequacies, he swung himself around the corner and grabbed hold of the hollow, wooden banister, crushing it against his fingers with even his mediocre strength --

" dawa. " that hand folded neatly behind him, nestled against the other. what was the sailor doing wandering around this late? what anger and resentment had been building across his face vanished suddenly, replaced with surprise first, and then a look of eerie calm. " i ... didn't think anyone else would be up. "

[sleayer]

a graveyard is a graveyard is a graveyard.     and this one smells a little too much like freshly turned dirt.    it coats the inside of her mouth,      makes its’ home beneath fingernails currently digging into the tacky shirt of some newly risen vamp.      its’ hissing and batting,     but the slayer remains true and soon enough a wooden stake finds its’ way into an undead heart.

@selenaites / faith:     i’ll deal with my own problems my way.

blonde hair is flipped over her shoulder as she turns towards the sound of her.         “  your way?  ”         buffy extends a hand out to the other,    pulling her up before she can protest from the clover-laced ground.         “  your way was about to turn you into that vamp’s midnight snack.   god,  faith.    i get that you’re a solo act,    but i don’t think its’ exactly admitting defeat to ask for some help when the graveyard’s more populated than the bronze.  ”

[silvreflamess]

Doesn’t  he  know  better  than  to  hit  a  hornets’  nest?  Or,    more  aptly,    doesn’t  he  know  better  than  to  light  a  match  in  a  room  drenched  in  kerosene?  Perhaps  they  think  her  unfeeling,    inconsiderate,    and  cold,    and  perhaps  it  is  so  when  one  speaks  of  fire ( because yes of course fire is capable of cold as much as it is known for its hot ).    But  it  is  even  more  so  that  fire  is  all  heat  and  all  rage  and  all  -  consuming.    And  that  is  what  she  is,    this  girl  become  monster,    this  kindling  become  forest  flame.    All  -  consuming.    Not  at  all  unfeeling,    but  rather  feeling  far  too  much  all  at  once.    A  simmering  pot  boiling  over  under  such  burning  pressure.

@selenaites as CASSIAN: don't talk about me like you might know how i feel .

❝    Fuck  you.    ❞  Poison  would  kill  kinder  than  the  way  she  digs  her  claws  into  the  wounds  he  strips  bare  for  her.    Nesta  paces  out  of  his  reach,    deliberately  so,    and  tries  ( failingly,    as  she  is  wont  to  do )  to  keep  a  lid  on  the  broiling  upset  in  her  belly.    Her  eyes  are  flaring  between  blue  and  brilliant  white,    a  glimpse  into  that  lapse  of  control.    She’s  already  on  edge of implosion.    ❝    Poor  little  Illyrian  baby  with  a  family  who  adores  him.    With  friends  who  hold  his  hand  and  pet  his  stupid  big  overbearing  wings when he's sad.    Poor,    poor  Cassian.    Forgive  me  if  I  can’t  possibly  feel  sorry  for  you.    You  have  everything!    Everything,    Cassian!    Don’t  come  here  crying  to  me  for  sympathy.    I  have  none  to  spare  for  you.    ❞

[holmsin]

❛ I love how deliciously, pointlessly mean you lot can be. ❜ / sammmmmmm

for a long moment , she allows them to stand in silence , their only companion the quiet rush of nighttime winds ---- scattering softly through the sparse trees that cling to the harshness of the cold city - scape around them . her gaze sits , incomprehensible and strange , focused on the frame of his body , the lines of his face . she reads him the same way he would read a map ---- the roads and valleys of him , dots in the constellation of his being / the subtleties that make him human , the differences that tear him asunder from the twin sister that stands just inside , speaking in harsh tones the brute and curt movement of her hands could have no other explanation to the hotel desk clerk , the two of them left outside " and yet isn't it all a matter of perspective ? "

her head cants to the side , an animal bewildered by the qualities displayed before her ( how foreign , the man with his heart on his sleeve , who understands the whims of humanity so well ) " my intention is not rudeness , only ever observation . if they choose to interpret it as me being cruel , then that is no fault of mine " her gaze drops , shifts back to where sophia stares down whatever poor man happened to be working at this particular hour . a sigh pushes from her lungs , and she can't help the small inward curve of her shoulders the ghost of a child that knew no kindness , no gentle hand , no loving word her fingertips drum idly inside the pockets of her coat , fidgeting without a cigarette to still their frantic movements ; her voice quiet " i know cruelty , samuel . this is not that "

[holmsin]

❛ Don't lecture me about family values. You're just as shit in that department as I am. ❜ / sophia ! (:

" have you been speaking to my brother , sophia ? " a hand is brought to her mouth , a purse of lips ---- the briefest pause , before the cigarette is placed there , and a lungful of smoke is drawn in ( the scorch along her throat , the swell of nicotine flooding through her system , it is all such a beautiful release ) it is almost enough to battle away the hurried rush of thoughts , the cacophony that screams and whistles and clamors to the forefront of her mind . mud on the hem of her pants , but clean shoes , wrinkles on her shirt , mirrored to the contours of a body that had worked relentlessly for days at a time without rest , a smudge of ink on the ring finger ---- another sharp drag , ash burning and crumbling at the crux of her fingers , begging to be stamped out . the smoke seethes through her clenched teeth , lips parted in hushed exhale ; eyes close , for just a moment , forcefully righting her train of thought back on the conversation

molars grind together , the briefest flame of annoyance flickering to life in the dark depths of her eyes ; fickle thing , when the tables tried to turn back on you ---- familiar , at least , to have venom spit in your direction . cruel twist of lips , crueler words , just like home " i was only pointing out the contradiction in your logic . what is it they say ? pot , kettle " she offers a quirk of lips , mirthful , crushing the butt of her cigarette against the ashtray before bringing her hands to rest on her lap " trust me , i am keenly aware of my family situation "

[highmati]

❝ We'll win, but not everyone will get out. ❞ / (': cass

Tyrants came before him and turned over this land only to themselves. There was someone before him who dealt treaties like blows, laws like punishments, and action like war. Once, when he was young and reckless and shockingly more arrogant than he is now, he’d made promises to be different. It won’t always be like this, he’d vowed to his brothers. And once he’d believed in himself that he would make those changes. But is anything really new? Rhys wakes up to more blood spilt than he can ever remember having been there when once it had been someone else before him and only his dreams spread out across the endless sky. Is he really any different?

@selenaites poses his prediction with a gravity borne of experience. Rhys can see the way it already pains his brother, the truth of war, the loss that is always promised. It’s not the General for a moment that sits and plans with him now. Rhys just sees one of his oldest friends, his family, hurting and feels gutted along with him. “You know, I usually count on you for optimism.” For hope. Rhys sets a hand down on the map between them to draw Cassian’s gaze away from war strategies and divine moves. “What is it? Do you doubt your armies now? I know there is unrest in the camps, but surely they will rally for this.”

💫 TRENCH PT. 2.