#slaytrova

[lupusdci-blog]

                     ain't no sunshine when she's gone; it's not warm when she's away. ain't no sunshine when she's gone, and she's always gone too long anytime she goes away. wonder this time where she's gone, wonder if she's gone to stay. ain't no sunshine when she's gone, and this house just ain't no home anytime she goes away. // lupusdci & slaytrova

[lupusdci-blog]

                             The heartbreaking memory of her face leading up to to the expected escape from his intolerance relentlessly refuses Ethan any relief. The premises have long since fallen silent and any trace of sound’s died save for the distant roar of vehicles and the whistling winds, thus giving him a night’s time to contemplate the avalanche of pent-up ire he’d set upon her and the disappointment trampled to scarce visibility beneath it.

                             Under the company of the thrumming left behind by the Elvis’ lilt and the shrillness of overexcited, too young women hours ago, he’s left with the consequences of his actions–––––– and the choice that is apparently his to make now. Now that the ball is finally in his court, he can barely begin to understand how to play the game when not on POWERLESSNESS’ leash.   Why on earth Katherine would let him decide the course of events so abruptly baffles him completely, most of all after his displayed paroxysm of vexation. The purpose of the concert ( to have a good time ) has long been forgotten amidst his spiralling thoughts–––––––– but they never did involve the options presented to him. Not truly, at least, given how the answer to her proposition’s been clear to him since she’d left despite the mixed signals he’d been giving off.

                             Not surprisingly, it takes him less time to reach the Hilton ( suite 465, he recalls ) than it did to shake the AMBIGUITY directed both Katherine’s way and his. Crossing the many metres to the door of her room however serves him well in that it thrusts upon him a sense of closure-—— or the necessary beginnings of it, at the very least. It ought to clear space for the eventual stop he must reach if this is to work out favourably: forgiveness.    He raps the door before even coming to a standstill, heart stuck in his throat and mouth dry with an amount of anxiety barely suited for this hour.

                                               closed / @slaytrova​

[itmeanssadness-blog]

slaytrova replied to your post:( is anyone really good at figuring out chords or...

did you want the vocal part or the background part?

( either or tbh -- if i knew the notes to the vocal party i could write chords to it pretty easily on my ukulele. but i have a very unreliable ear so it’s hard for me to deduce notes without sheet music~ ) ;

[wclfgirl]

                ‘ @slaytrova ’  ❨ STARTER CALL ❩

        Who would have thought the day would come where the two of them would team up together? Not only that, but that Hayley would find a day where she relied on the Kat with nine lives. Learning that she had managed to claw her way out of hell yet again, it came as a further surprise when Katherine managed to serve some purpose to her plight in attempting to revive the Mikaelson family. Yes, even Hayley felt a little dizzy from the confusion of needing… Katherine. Watching her one-time enemy and nemesis hover close to Hope, she quirked a brow at the distance she kept from the child and smirked. “She only does witchy stuff when she feels like there’s a threat, so… I can understand why you’re squirmish, but she doesn’t bite.” She actually did bite, but that was a tidbit of information kept to herself for the time being.

[mindsmade]

— KATHERINE.

♫ well, since my baby left me, i found    a new place to dwell. it’s down at the end    of lonely street at heartbreak hotel.  ♫

      his  words  twinge , worse  than  rigid    daggers   they  are  splinters  burrowed  decades  over,             his  love  lingering  wooden  shards  swimming  through  slow distending  arteries  &  besieging   icebound  heart.  they  yearn   their   purging,  &  she   becomes  a   statue,   frozen  in   time.       ❛             ethan .  .  .        ❜       tender  name  floats  adrift,           he  wasn’t  meant  to  see  her.  she   should   have   been  more  cautious,          proximity  too  close,   catlike   appearance   too    familiar.   afflicted   hues  search  concrete  betwixt  their  feet,   dior  skirt   flowing  in  night’s  summer  breeze  in   peripheral.   like  an   artist’s   dark   oils   masterfully  spilled,  long  curled  locks  cascade  over  svelte  shoulder  as  chin  ascends  &   eyes raise.   reaching  toward,  fingers  trail  like  drifting  phantoms   along   short  strands  clouding  his  view,  if  only  excuse  to  touch  him.    he  hadn’t   aged  a  day,   visage  still  rugged  &  handsome  as  ever.  the  enigmatic  woman   who  was  always  so  eloquent  &  quick  with  her  words  is rendered  speechless,  by  his  ghost’s  presence  before  her,  if   only  for  a  moment.

         ❛       stop.      ❜      throaty contralto  aches,        ❛       i   vanished   because  i  had  no choice.  vanessa   wasn’t   the  only  one   being  hunted  by  something.   my   feelings   for  you   were   real.      ❜      she  didn’t  forget,          how  could  she?  betraying  them,         him,   it   is   a  heavy  cross  she  endures  as  decades  pass,   even   still,   he   haunts   her.          ❛        you   were   never  lost  to me  .  .  .  you  could   NEVER   be   lost   to  me.            ❜      backs  of  knuckles  brush  barbed  jaw,  limb  befalling  his  chest  in   tiny  fist   &   flattening  as  amber  irises  desperately search  his.       ❛       you  weren’t  supposed to  catch  me.       ❜      or  perhaps  he  was.   fate   is  a cruel   mistress,  after   all.

                                The disgusting breed of IRONY that shows itself now in particular, with Elvis still pouring all his melancholy in songs back at the grand hall inside, leaves the most disgusting taste of bitterness on the back of his tongue. It festers like a cesspool; like all his thoughts had those many years ago, after the source of Ethan’s heartbreak had departed like dew afore the morning sun. His jaw clenches with decades’ worth of resentment and his eyes gloss over until they’re no longer the welcoming browns they so oft are.    Yet, just like that, she substitutes his ire with something worse by a tenfold: DISAPPOINTMENT. The former is so much more easy to define and process––––– which makes looking her in the eye after concluding his lengthy stare at the ground that much more agonising. 

                                He should leave; should at least tell her never to even lay eyes on him and not to even think of touching him now––– should’ve gotten his hair cut this weekend and shaven his face. Each means equally little in this moment of unforeseen confrontation, for he revels in the ghosting of her fingers past his face. Eyes slip shut, for the fatal combination of her gaze set on him and the descent of her hand to his chest create a sensory overload which he can only block partially, and in one manner only.     The WONDROUS SIGHT that is her face he comes to miss sooner than he’d care to admit though, resulting in a languid return of his focus to her face in lieu of the touch bestowed upon his person. ❝ ––––– And you weren’t supposed to leave without even ... some fuckin’ semblance of an explanation. ❞ The alleyway they stand in suddenly feels a lot colder to him. ❝ I’d’ve given you anythin’; all you had to do was SPEAK UP. ❞

[neurcsis-a-blog]

❤

lemme compliment people. ( accepting. )

              this  icon  is  totes  appropriate  bc  i’m  gonna  talk  about  @slaytrova   &   she  enjoys  the  boobs.  to  be  completely  honest ,  i  have  not  known  this  girl  that  long.  maybe  two  months ?   but  she  has  so  quickly  become  one  of  my  best  friends.  i  probably  never  would  have  come  back  to  tumblr  without  her.  i  definitely  wouldn’t  have  ever  had  the  guts  to  actually  make  rebekah  without  her.  and  good  lord   —  have  you  seen  this  babe’s  writing ?   i  legit  want  to   w e e p   every  time  i  see  her  on  my  dash.  her  katherine  is  soooooooo  on  point.  her  prose  is  just…  beyond  words.  she  is  so  unbelievably  talented.  i  could  just  sit  and  marvel  at  her  all  day  long.  i’m  serious.  i  would  never  get  tired.  this  girl  is  a  damn  angel.  and  i  legit  feel  so  blessed  to  have  her  as  a  constant  in  my  life. <3

[neurcsis-a-blog]

“The things we’ve done to survive, they don’t define us.”

the 100 sentence starters. ( accepting. )

                ❛       is   that   what   you   tell   yourself ?       ❜      her   gaze   remains   fixed.   staring   at   the   petrova   features   that   were   engraved   into   her   memory.   a   ghost   of   a   laugh   leaving   her   lips ;   lacking   humor   and   sincerity.   as   if   a   switch   within   her   had   flipped ,   though   she’s   never   been   that   desperate.      ❛       of   course   they   define   us.   that   kind   of   desperation   reveals   who   we   truly   are.   and   there   is   no   hiding   from   that.       ❜