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mood

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                          so she’d been rather  Q U E S T I O N A B L Y  bad at the whole friend thing; sometimes life just becomes a bag of shit that you have to clean up and the fact she even had to describe it that way was...—a big EW and a whole lot of bad ( though she’d save that discussion for another day ). she couldn’t tell you much about the lives of her gangbangers or certainly not all those FUN little details that made their friendships what they were but she hadn’t exactly been flying the flag of honesty. so no judegement. but it was a first serve, first come scenario and seemingly, if only by sheer geographical bonus points, her clay buddy was top of the list ( even if on entering, she’d found herself wondering if the smell was her trail of rat buddies, she’d not asked for or whoever he’d shaked up with ). “ honey, i’m home !! ” she called, maybe she’d made the assumption of the door being locked only for it to open in some surprise moment that left her concerned for why he’d allow such a thing ( immortality be damned; did he have no idea who could just walk in ). “ ya’ dearest mother is home. so put the condoms, crack and all those filfthy mags away; ain’t no one gonna wanna be blinded by bad porn, ” true facts only, she’d at least attempted to up her accent a little and give him all the dots he could connect in figuring out that it was her ( it was all down to him, on how long that would take ). “ stop...— don’t tell me, I gotta give ya’ the sex talk AGAIN?! ”

/ @ofmoldings​

#c; #;nico

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ofhybridismsm‌:

Someone that wasn’t so used to supernatural things, and didn’t live in San Fran, would probably assume that she was talking about some kind of surgery, to take out the wrinkles, but he knew better than that. He doubted it had something to do with something so ordinary, actually it was definitely not the first thing he thought at all when she said that, “Facelift, huh? Is tha’ some kind of aesthetic surgery, or did you ge’ yourself a new body?” he knew some species were able to do that, whether it was as a vessel, or just shapeshifting into them.

             in her defense, she’s not exactly  U S E D  to people asking these kinds of questions: what she’d call the OBVIOUS answer kinds. BUT she was all for playing ball — throw the dog a bone and see where it’d land ( hopefully as far away as possible but she was entitled to her opinions ). “ what do ya’ want, dave... — a gold star? ” yes he looked like a dave and she was happy to keep assuming that was his name. “ let's see; look at me like a piece of art, ” she directs, allowing a quick swoop of her hand to gesture to the entirety of herself. “ ya’ can interpret me however ya’ see fit...or, let's not say dumb things out loud where people can hear. ”

#c; #;mason

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addictingvictories‌:

“some people just DYE their hair a different color, you know?” it’s mildly a joke – eliza’s business is her own, and its not like victoria has been the best of friends in a while. funny how things changed, situations, circumstances, FACES.  there are several reasons why she thinks she’s making the best choices – or lack of them. she’s aware that one slight movement in the dynamic of their group and the ripple reaches everyone. it’s only a matter of seeing how or when. she watches as the wine is poured, she never says no that either. “the CEO looks suits you.” it wasn’t a lie, though this face didn’t necessarily scream early twenties anymore. she hears a scratching somewhere. HOPES its not another baby raccoon that her friend will decide to adopt. it stops. victoria makes a mental note for later. “–what pushed the change?” 

                       she’d  N E V E R  be bitter; whether the gangbangers change could be attested to unaired emotions or simply the joys of growing up ( to which she found ironic, given her recent changes ). it used to be a big old YIKES; something she liked to pretend wasn’t ever gonna happen because finding a family that wasn’t made in blood had been hard — sometimes hurricanes just didn’t stop and growing up seemed to be one big metaphorical timebomb. in the end, she’s aware that all she really wanted was to be happy and in turn the gang to be happy too. “ yeah well, really gonna miss the shit outta being bright ginger, ” it’s a quick reply, something to break the ice because she’s also VERY aware of how long it’s been since the two of them had talked...properly. “ folks seemed to eat that crap up like sex on a stick; maybe people have a kink for the whole..no soul ordeal. ” it’s a joke, she’d argue she’s entitled; she did and still does like the idea of sticking with that hair color but it was HARDLY a top priority. “ where’d ya’ want me to start, V? — making deals with devils and getting thrown under buses... ” yep, she already hated this talk; how does a person say, I'm working for people you hate without making things awkward. “ mostly just ain’t the biggest fan of slow painful deaths...even if dying young and pretty, never sounded that bad. ” there’s a small smile, however:  something that filters through the layers of evasion and bullshit because they’d been best friends once ( still were in some ways ). she missed this. “ if I tell ya’, I’ve missed this — the talking, ” she says a little quieter than her typical tone, more so because she’s not sure she ( or any gangbanger for that matter ) are accustomed to really having the big old sappy talks. “ yer’ ain’t gonna crucify me, right? ”

#c; #;victoria #me still cackling at the scratching #the rats just wanna say hello

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             so perhaps in hindsight, she was far too  U N T R O U B L E D  for a person who’d had to ditch one body for another ( not to mention a body she was conned into ). in the end, it all came down to power; this was useful...even if mildly disgusting — A MASSIVE EW on the scale of nice clean horseman to nasty horseman of infection but she’d let bigons be bigons. something about being able to make someone die a slow painful death, from some plague that hadn’t been around for centuries, really fed her the bread she needed. “ oh,  don’t look at me like that, ” she holds up a nice bottle of wine ( not typically her go-to but for a special occasion, why the fuck not ). “ ya’ know, I ain’t one for turning down a celebration and given the free facelift — why not. ”

#apx:starter

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                she had one  R E P U G N A N T  word to describe the repelling picture the woman was trying to paint and it seemed to be a word that bathed in positivity —PREPPY. the optimism that radiated from the other woman only seemed to remind her of the types of people she’d left behind when choosing to kick the educational system up the ass ( nothing too complicated; she’d just realized she had bigger and better things to do ). “ ya’ know what I ain’t ever gonna miss? ” she hums at that as if contemplating the words she’d already put together in her head. “ the smell of shit...—blocked drains are really a massive bummer. ”

open starter ;;

“can you smell the season changing? The dew turning to sweet…” the young vampire closed her eyes for a moment or so, playing with the chain of her necklace as she appreciated the feeling of the warm summer air on her skin. “it really is something else, don’t you think?”

( @apxstarters​ )

#c; #;moon

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Fallon Carrington in every episode : 1x02 Spit It Out

   “ I don’t have trust issues. I just know better.”

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     she’d always been a big follower in the party of people being the  B A N E  of existence; besides a few questionable exceptions ( most of which were on principle alone: family and some weird oath she’d made to herself ), she’d throw anyone to the sharks and gladly watch as they get eaten alive —not personal. she’d simply been privy to one too many bad cases of the awful disease in people that waddled into her life, that imagining anyone to be anything other than was a CHALLENGE. “ I ain’t gonna pretend to act offended; gotta say, with an attitude like that yer’ ain’t ever gonna get unwanted guests out... ” in her experience, granted a questionable vantage point, rules were made to be broken and worked around. she allowed for an almost pained expression to filter through, something that was at least light: no intention behind it beyond expressing her frustration with his lack of imagination. “ find out what they hate, play music too loudly or become the bane of their existence —folks can’t usually take what they dish out. ”

          he  doesn’t  hate  having  roommates.   in  concept,  it’s  nice  knowing  that  there’s  someone  else  in  the  house  —  that  if  you  crave  conversation,  or  acknowledgement,  there’s  someone  who  might  be  able  to  oblige.   what  he  doesn’t  like,  however,  is  frequently  running  into  people  coming  and  going  at  all  hours  of  the  night  and  setting  off  the  floodlights  at  the  back  of  the  house.   neighbors,  you  might  call  them,  but  he’d  say  it’s  more  like  freeloaders.  he  might  not  need  to  sleep  but  he  still  finds  the  lights  flickering  on  and  off  a  nuisance.    so  much  so,  that  he’s  currently  sat  at  one  of  the  tables  at  chateau  dough,  working  his  way  through  a  box  of  donuts  and  complaining  to  anyone  within  earshot  about  his  grievances.   “  —  i’ve  even  looked  into  evicting  them  but  you  can’t  evict  someone  who  lives  in  an  underground  bunker  that  shouldn’t  even  exist.   there’s  no  paperwork. ”    he  lets  his  head  fall  into  his  hands,  suffering  a  sigh  before  raising  it  again.   “  i  hate  humans  and  their  stupid,  ineffective,  laws. ”     finally,   something  that  feels  normal  again  —  FAMILIAR.     

#c; #;zain

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    clean messes were terribly  B O R I N G  and more so when you had the option of getting your hands dirty; why use bullets and knives when you could punch a hole through someone's chest?  ( in her defense, she just didn’t like the idle tone weapons had or maybe she’d just been a hands-on person for far too long ). she’d almost skip into the job at hand — if she wanted to seem unprofessional, there was still a tone of glee that remained. something to keep her warm on those cold nights. “ come out with your hands up...no wait? — that sounds too much like a cop cliche, ” distracted by her own thought pattern; it was easy to get sidetracked by the hustle and bustle of wordplay but keeping an air of fun alive, was simply another joyous bonus. “ point is, I don’t have all day and my dearest employer wants yer’ head on a stick. ” she’s lost for a minute, finding herself with nothing but the assumption of everyone in the building having a hand in the business ( people did enjoy sticking their fingers in all the wrong pies ). pointing between one and then resting on the other, she finds her features resting in a simple smile. “ shall I get the stick or are we playin’ ball? ”

@diabolics​

#c; #;klaus

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           almost dying  S E E M E D  like a walk in the park; you find yourself burdened ( or so she liked to pretend ) with dangerous jobs every day and UNSURPRISINGLY all of those tasks made freezing to death, a nice wholesome gift — catch her vomiting in her mouth at the idea of anything wholesome being the foot to kick over her bucket. she wouldn’t complain ( given the weird back stabby reason she was walking around looking like the princess of the upper east, whose deadly secret was the plague she carried in her back pocket ), she had power at least. she’d found that to be a pleasant bonus within a graveyard of deadly issues. “ oh no, don’t mind me; I ain’t complaining about the turnaround... ” she added, sarcastically and maybe with too light a tone. “ I’m just hoping for a golden ticket to float my way, ya’ know — take me to wonderland: hopefully looking like somewhere warm...er. ”

“now, i don’t know about y o u but i am trying to focus on enjoying the weather.” honestly? maybe it was just her since the storm was over and being a vampire, she was no longer a f f e c t e d by whatever charms caused it to happen. she had seen snow plenty of times but she hadn’t felt its bitter cold in a while which made her appreciate the semi warmth all the more.  @apxstarters​

#c; #;sage

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                   she wanted to say this was by far the  S T R A N G E S T  occurrence up to present but in doing so the likelihood of her becoming a hypocrite would be an ongoing factor ( and given she seemed to switch faces more than people with an addiction to plastic surgery, things weren’t looking good for her corner of the battle ). so maybe, in her defence, the judgement arose from a place of NOSTALGIA; former classmate and all ( even if they now hardly looked like they were from the same generation ), she’d take it as her duty to keep the joyous animosity going that she’d built up over the years. call it her duty — an HONOUR, if you will. “ suddenly Dorothy is back in Kansas; I ain’t playin’ but if that goat pisses near me, I won’t apologise for screaming... ” her tone is light at least: something filled with the same level of docile hate for the world ( and the people in it ) as always. “ or hey, maybe I’m just having a really weird nightmare — punch me? ”

    in  her  defence,  she  didn’t  wake  up  today  with  any  intention  to  adopt  a  goat.  or  multiple  goats  for  that  matter.  but  lysander  had  called  and  asked  if  she  wanted  to  GOAT  BROWSING  and,  well,  how  could  she  say  no  to  that?  the  PROBLEM  arose  when  she  found  out  that  she  liked  goats.  and  that  having  them  as  domesticated  was  surprisingly  easy,  and  lysander  still  had  a  lot  of  money.  what  really  sealed  the  deal  was  the  vision  of  landon’s  reaction  when  he  came  home  to  not  one,  not  two,  but  five  goats.  (  five  was  never  part  of  the  initial  equation,  but  her  life  seemed  to  work  on  a  strictly  not  according  to  plan  basis  and  she’s  learning  not  to  fight  it.  )  the  only  downside  she’s  found  so  far  is  that  walking  five  goats  is  more  like  walking  five  distracted  dogs.  (  huh.  maybe  she’ll  ask  arlo  if  he  still  dog  walks.  )  

#c; #;penelope

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Fallon Carrington in 1x19.

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“I´ve spent five years preparing for this.”

Fallon Carrington, CW Dynasty ↚

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