#southerngothics

[funscarylaudna]

Laudna: *says pretty much anything*

Imogen: *resigned affection*

[huntershowl-moving]

@rcppled / @southern-gothics​ said:

sacrifice ( oryn )

one-word prompts ( ALWAYS accepting )

you must understand the consequences of being who you are.

those were the first words sanya said to her after persephone returned from murdering the woman she loved. spoken softly, without feeling. their cold metal hand rested on her chin, tilted her face upwards so that she would look at them as they stood in front of her seat. so that was what they wanted. their prized weapon had strayed too far. it had forgotten what it was, worn the mask of a human for too long. persephone allowed their hand to travel up her face and cup one of her cheeks, the metal’s chill stinging her skin. you have done well, my persephone.  she has not been the same since. it became easy to watch people die. she had already taken her blackbird’s life, so how could it be hard? the numbness spread outwards from her heart until it overtook persephone completely; she became a better shot, a cleaner and more accurate killer than ever before. and social connections outside of sanya and her brother became meaningless. nobody but them mattered now; nobody else could be kept safe. she understood what it meant to belong to someone – their needs were the beginning, middle, and end of her life’s mission.  that ... budges, for the first time, as oryn lies in hellhound’s arms. her reaction was a second too late – the gunman is dead in the grass now, but they did not die quick enough and she did not watch her blindspot well enough. dusk washes over the sky in a dull orange-gray, turns the clouds a murky purple. all around them, the trees spiral upward like a council of gods.

watching people die is easy, but watching oryn die just feels unfair. hellhound hasn’t done shit for him – he owed her nothing, he did not owe her his life. why should he have to die in the arms of a monster? but this is the middle of nowhere; she knows for a fact that he is about to pass on no matter what aid hellhound tries in vain to give him. the least she can do is make sure he dies facing the sky. oryn coughs, the wracking movement sending his expression into a grimace. ❛ shh ... it’s alright, ❜ she whispers, voice softer than it’s been in a long time. ❛ i’m sorry. i’m so sorry. ❜ oryn gives her a small smile that she does not fucking deserve to see. his voice is raspy, barely audible with a prelude of shallow breaths. how can he look so peaceful in the face of something so unfair? “you’re not so bad, kid.” he’s wrong. even in death, he is blind not to see that hellhound was the cause of this, that any moment his life will be over because of her – another for the body pile that stacks high everywhere she does. harbinger. herald of punishment and misfortune to the innocent and the guilty alike. perhaps her parents were right when they saw that their child was born with hair of smoke and scorned her instead of loving her – they knew, maybe. they knew. hellhound brushes a strand of hair out of oryn’s face as the spark fades from his eyes, one last breath freed from his lungs along with his hell-bound spirit. with a brush of her fingers, as the sky fades from that dusky orange to a deeper blue, his eyelids are closed over his empty face. ❛ goodnight, my friend, ❜ the hound whispers to no one.

–––––––––––––––––––––––

a certain kind of hollowness is left like residue in her chest over the next month or two. it’s a dull ache compared to the shattering grief she experienced over aya, but it is persistent and keeps her awake at night in place of the normal insomnia-inducing nightmares. oryn is gone. death is a frequent thing for an assassin to face, but hellhound’s targets are usually so far-removed from her life that, after killing the person she cared about most, she doesn’t particularly give a shit about their lives anymore. that, or they’re scumbags who need to be eliminated before they hurt anyone else.  but this ... it’s uncomfortable. this awareness that a living, breathing person who was once by her side is gone permanently, it ... is difficult to emotionally reconcile. hellhound would not consider herself to be in mourning. she didn’t know oryn in a true and meaningful way. in fact, only when he died did she admit friendship; had he been alive today, she would consider him nothing more than an acquaintance. but he cared about her in a way that a monster does not deserve, and that knowledge alone causes a faint prickle of discomfort that remains with her until, months later, she succeeds in repressing it along with the other emotions she’s shoved away in a near-unreachable part of her soul. not immediately, of course – that isn’t quite how it works. every day, another death, another round of dismantling and reassembling her rifle. another piece of the unearthed feelings stripped away again.  until, one day, hellhound awakens to find herself numb again. she eyes the encroaching dawn and the slowly-fading moon outside her window as weak pre-morning light trickles across her cheekbones. back to yourself, eh, hellhound? right – gone and forgotten. let’s get to work.

[asynjja-moved]

@southern-gothics. cont.

It took him a second to realize that he was indeed bleeding on the spot. His eyes looked down, brow already drawn in out of confusion, and he saw the cut on his pants that allowed red to seep out. “Aw, nuts,” Jack muttered, completely apologetic as he suppressed the urge to sigh.

Truth be told, there was more to it than just the gash. Half of his shirt was a goddamn mess; completed with a hole in the front of his shirt and a wide gap on the back. The bullet that had gone in went right through him, but he was still alive thanks to the stupid regenerating factor he had. Yet it seemed like the only rational reason came from his leg.

❛ &. ┊ The sigh he suppressed came over her parted lips instead, dainty fingertips clasping first round the shortly before lit joint in her teeth’s loose clasp before placing it in a nearby ashtray; head shook -- perhaps to hide the hint of irrational concern flickering through black eyes. She, after all, ought to know that no worry was unnecessary. But teeth bit down onto her lower lip nonetheless, feet carrying her figure over to where his wounded silhouette stood before hands could, unashamedly, carefully, grasp the hem of his shirt & pull it upward just enough for eyes to verify her assumption. A clenching of a jaw, fingertips raising his chin to tear his gaze off his injured lack & bring it onto her own almost puzzled features.

“ You really can’t go a day without ruining my night, can you, ” though was the accusation softly muttered when her silhouette detached itself to rummage about in her cupboard. “ Get your clothes off, I’m stitching your thigh & chest up so you heal a little quicker, lose less blood. I don’t have any blood bags left over & before I leave you alone to get some fresh ones, I’d rather make sure you’re not also ruining the rest of the interior. ”

[atalesdivide]

continued from here. 

“Better now.” still not used to how much contact Pete was willing to give him Issac practically held his breath when the hunter got to close. The perfect rose color could have been noticed if not for the dim lighting that he had been occupying. Effortlessly Issac’s hand caught Pete’s wrist and his forehead pressed against the other. Mumbling better now a few more times, just to make that more convincing. 

There were analytics running in his head that were making him a little dizzy. The mission was almost done, he didn’t know what to tell Pete when he knew that very soon he’d probably have to leave. So instead he offered a tired smile and a soft kiss that lingered longer then he normally initiated. 

“Do you ..... want to eat in and watch a stupid movie? It’s almost Halloween.... we could watch Halloweentown.” His fingers tangled with Pete’s fingers. If he was normal. If he could be normal again he’d stay here or go where ever this cheerful ball of sunshine went. It just wasn’t something that would ever be in the cards. 

“We could make that gourmet popcorn that I saw on Pintrest. I sent you the recipe remember.” But he had yet to move away from that forehead touch, hadn’t looked Pete in the eyes and was only getting closer to him as his heart hammered away in his chest. 

@southern-gothics

[huntershowl-moving]

@southern-gothics​ said:

👌 ( but also josiah )

send me a 👌for my muse to drunkenly confess something. ( accepting )

❛ may i speak freely? ❜ hellhound’s not ... drunk, per se. she’s loosened up a hell of a lot more, having had so much whiskey while drinking with josiah, but she’s not drunk. her words still sound clear ( then again, who knows for how much longer that’ll be the case? ) something has been weighing on her, and it suddenly feels important for josiah to hear it.  ❛ i don’t think i do well without someone there who can tell me what to do. ❜ after her employer’s disappearance, hellhound found herself falling apart – aimless after a life spent under harsh guidance. josiah has been immensely helpful in that regard. it was surprising how easily hellhound accepted his rules, moved where he pushed her and watched herself grow because of it. even so ... ❛ i never lived a year without having someone guide my every move. but my employer is ... gone, now, and i still feel lost – i’m sorry if i falter and disappoint you because of that. ❜

[asynjja-moved]

❛ &. ┊ “ So, what does she like -- present-wise? I thought travelling, perhaps, but I can’t buy her a trip ‘cross Europe for her birthday. That’s just... too much, too eager. ”

@southern-gothics.

[cixatrix]

@southern-gothics​ because you liked for a cute starter! Muse: Victoria (older fc + vampire)

It has been centuries since Victoria last let her guard down around someone and even longer to be encapsulated by what seemed like domestic bliss. “You know there’s a bed upstairs,” she stated in a regal manner. Old habits died hard. And while pointing out the obvious, the inference stemmed from their current state of being swaddled on a couch by a cosy flickering fire. It certainly promoted a lull of languidness quite foreign to her day-to-day. Perhaps that was why she didn’t move to further elaborate unless prompt. Instead, she curled up closer with heavy eyes.

[kxllerblond]

↪ @southern-gothics​ ASKED;;   ‘ i’ve checked out. i may be sitting in front of you, but i am not here anymore. i’m deceased. ’ 

    A tired, impatient gaze fell upon the other. If this was a joke, Clark clearly wasn’t amused. “You look lively enough to me.” he had half a mind to offer to help change that but chose to hold his tongue on account of finding the thought particularly rude. “My ghost quota for the month has already been filled, dear. I’m afraid you’ll have to find someone else to haunt.”

☕ MEME // ACCEPTING