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chronicparagon · 2 months
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Bold the muse’s aesthetic (spooky edition)
Reblog and bold all of the themes that apply to your muse’s aesthetic or mood as a character.
Bloodied knuckles | Tear stained cheeks | Rust | A busted lip | Claws | Fangs | A bloody nose | Chattering teeth | A dark space underneath the bed | Scratching noises on a wall | Creaking metal | Fog | Dancing under moonlight | Blood dripping lips | Heavy breathing in the dark | A feeling of unexplained dread | A figure in a dark corner |  Dirty peeling wallpaper | A bloody handprint on the wall | Sobbing in the dark | Bite marks on the skin | Eerie whispers | A hood covering a stranger’s eyes | The growl of a hidden animal | The sound of a blade being sharpened | A deep, dark forest | Walking on the streets alone at night | A cobweb-filled, abandoned building | Eyes darting in paranoia | A heavy beating pulse | The feeling of being trapped | Struggling to get out a scream | Boards covering broken windows | A quiet graveyard | A gas station in the middle of nowhere | A road that never ends | Heavy fog rolling in | The scent of blood in the air | Eerie old photographs | Walking along traintracks at night | A chill going up the spine | Gathering crows | A dusty, dimly lit study | Mist over a deserted cobblestone street | Ghost towns | Shadows around a campfire | The sound of chanting | Church bells tolling | An orange harvest moon | A broken down carnival | A dirty stuffed animal abandoned | Wiping bloody hands on fabric | Nightmares | Waking up in a panic | A power outage | Heavy lightning storms | A secret trap door | The feeling of being watched | Fear from trauma | A Ouija board set out on a table | An eerie doll | A scream of anguish and pain | Withered plants | A room that’s been forgotten and gathered dust  | Owl eyes in the dark | Curled, dead tree branches | A ritual altar | Flickering candles | A lantern held up in the dark | Fear of being followed | Creaking floorboards | Repressed, horrible memories | Clenched teeth | Soft, echoing piano keys | An old book covered in dust | Many pairs of glaring eyes | Stumbling in pitch black darkness | Being stranded in the middle of nowhere | Tarot cards on a table | A trail of blood
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reliquice · 2 years
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Bold the muse’s aesthetic (spooky edition) 
Bold all of the themes that apply to your muse’s aesthetic or mood as a character. ᨒ
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↳  ∿  Answered ┊Isaac
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Bloodied knuckles | Tear stained cheeks | Rust | A busted lip | Claws | Fangs | A bloody nose | Chattering teeth | A dark space underneath the bed | Scratching noises on a wall | Creaking metal | Fog | Dancing under moonlight | Blood dripping lips | Heavy breathing in the dark | A feeling of unexplained dread | A figure in a dark corner | Dirty peeling wallpaper | A bloody handprint on the wall | Sobbing in the dark | Bite marks on the skin | Eerie whispers | A hood covering a stranger’s eyes | The growl of a hidden animal | The sound of a blade being sharpened | A deep, dark forest | Walking on the streets alone at night | A cobweb-filled, abandoned building | Eyes darting in paranoia | A heavy beating pulse | The feeling of being trapped | Struggling to get out a scream | Boards covering broken windows | A quiet graveyard | A gas station in the middle of nowhere | A road that never ends | Heavy fog rolling in | The scent of blood in the air | Eerie old photographs | Walking along traintracks at night | A chill going up the spine | Gathering crows | A dusty, dimly lit study | Mist over a deserted cobblestone street | Ghost towns | Shadows around a campfire | The sound of chanting | Church bells tolling | An orange harvest moon | A broken down carnival | A dirty stuffed animal abandoned | Wiping bloody hands on fabric | Nightmares | Waking up in a panic | A power outage | Heavy lightning storms | A secret trap door | The feeling of being watched | Fear from trauma | A Ouija board set out on a table | An eerie doll | A scream of anguish and pain | Withered plants | A room that’s been forgotten and gathered dust  | Owl eyes in the dark | Curled, dead tree branches | A ritual altar | Flickering candles | A lantern held up in the dark | Fear of being followed | Creaking floorboards | Repressed, horrible memories | Clenched teeth | Soft, echoing piano keys | An old book covered in dust | Many pairs of glaring eyes | Stumbling in pitch black darkness | Being stranded in the middle of nowhere | Tarot cards on a table | A trail of blood
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Tagged By: @mxldito​ ( ty love! ) Tagging: @leoxmoon636 @icxnix @notfrsale @dciisies @jeokwol @lcvedive @sasorikigai @indulgentia​ & ❝ those who lurk in the shadows ~ ❞
Template from @horrificmemes
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ultfan · 6 days
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bold the muse’s aesthetic (spooky edition) bold all of the themes that apply to your muse’s aesthetic or mood as a character. template from @horrificmemes​
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bloodied knuckles | tear stained cheeks | rust | a busted lip | claws | fangs | a bloody nose | chattering teeth | a dark space underneath the bed | scratching noises on a wall | creaking metal | fog | dancing under moonlight | blood dripping lips | heavy breathing in the dark | a feeling of unexpected dread | a figure in a dark corner |  dirty peeling wallpaper | a bloody handprint on the wall | sobbing in the dark | bite marks on the skin | eerie whispers | a hood covering a stranger’s eyes | the growl of a hidden animal | the sound of a blade being sharpened | a deep, dark forest | walking on the streets along at night | a cobweb-filled, abandoned building | eyes darting in paranoia | a heavy beating pulse | the feeling of being trapped | struggling to get out a scream | boards covering broken windows | a quiet graveyard | a gas station in the middle of nowhere | a road that never ends | heavy fog rolling in | the scent of blood in the air | eerie old photographs | walking along train tracks at night | a chill going up the spine | gathering crows | a dusty, dimly lit study | mist over a deserted cobblestone street | ghost towns | shadows around a campfire | the sound of chanting | church bells tolling | an orange harvest moon | a broken down carnival | a dirty stuffed animal abandoned | wiping bloody hands on fabric | nightmares | waking up in a panic | a power outage | heavy lightning storms | a secret trap door | the feeling of being watched | fear from trauma | a ouija board set out on a table | an eerie doll | a scream of anguish and pain | withered plants | a room that’s been forgotten and gathered dust | owl eyes in the dark | curled, dead tree branches | a ritual alter | flickering candles | a lantern held up in the dark | fear of being followed | creaking floorboards | repressed, horrible memories | clenched teeth | soft, echoing piano keys | an old book covered in dust | many pairs of glaring eyes | stumbling in pitch black darkness | being stranded in the middle of nowhere | tarot cards on a table | a trail of blood
Tagged by: N/A​ Tagging: anyone who wants to!
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rcdiostcrs · 6 months
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Bold the muse’s aesthetic (spooky edition)
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reblog and bold all of the themes that apply to your muse’s aesthetic or mood as a character.
Bloodied knuckles | Tear stained cheeks | Rust | A busted lip | Claws | Fangs | A bloody nose | Chattering teeth | A dark space underneath the bed | Scratching noises on a wall | Creaking metal | Fog | Dancing under moonlight | Blood dripping lips | Heavy breathing in the dark | A feeling of unexplained dread | A figure in a dark corner | Dirty peeling wallpaper | A bloody handprint on the wall | Sobbing in the dark | Bite marks on the skin | Eerie whispers | A hood covering a stranger’s eyes | The growl of a hidden animal | The sound of a blade being sharpened | A deep, dark forest | Walking on the streets alone at night | A cobweb-filled, abandoned building | Eyes darting in paranoia | A heavy beating pulse | The feeling of being trapped | Struggling to get out a scream | Boards covering broken windows | A quiet graveyard | A gas station in the middle of nowhere | A road that never ends | Heavy fog rolling in | The scent of blood in the air | Eerie old photographs | Walking along train tracks at night | A chill going up the spine | Gathering crows | A dusty, dimly lit study | Mist over a deserted cobblestone street | Ghost towns | Shadows around a campfire | The sound of chanting | Church bells tolling | An orange harvest moon | A broken down carnival | A dirty stuffed animal abandoned | Wiping bloody hands on fabric | Nightmares | Waking up in a panic | A power outage | Heavy lightning storms | A secret trap door | The feeling of being watched | Fear from trauma | A Ouija board set out on a table | An eerie doll | A scream of anguish and pain | Withered plants | A room that’s been forgotten and gathered dust | Owl eyes in the dark | Curled, dead tree branches | A ritual altar | Flickering candles | A lantern held up in the dark | Fear of being followed | Creaking floorboards | Repressed, horrible memories | Clenched teeth | Soft, echoing piano keys | An old book covered in dust | Many pairs of glaring eyes | Stumbling in pitch black darkness | Being stranded in the middle of nowhere | Tarot cards on a table | A trail of blood
tagged by: i got it straight from the source (horrificmemes) tagging: you 🥰🥰
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sreaembermist · 5 years
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Revenge
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(My Photography)
With by thy neglect, O’ my dearest love, I am dead The whisper that is now my voice lingers on Lest thou pretends it only the wind, though ‘tis absent.
With the coming of night and whilst tucked into thy bed The cold chill that is now my touch lingers on Lest thou pretends it only the wind, though ‘tis absent.
With the shifting of light in thy sight that you oft dread The shadow that is now my form lingers on Lest thou pretends it only the wind, though ‘tis absent.
With the pulsating jolt of thy heartbeat I have sped The love that is now my lament lingers on Lest thou pretends it only the wind, though ‘tis absent.
With the grasping of thy throat unable to take breath The revenge that is now my release lingers on Lest thou pretends it only the wind, though 'tis absent.
With the clinging to thine own life only to grip death The peace that is now my relief lingers on Does thou still pretend it only the wind from thy grave?
- Srea Embermist
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( @turning-through-the-never​, I didn’t have anything pertaining to Lylian to write about with either of today’s words, so I wrote a poem for my blood elf who is a poet/writer/author Srea Embermist. I’m reblogging it on the tumblr account that was tagged for the challenge.)
This is a new character blog for my blood elf since I finally figured out what I want to do with her. It’s only taken about a year since I made her TRP profile to make one. lol
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rayne-storm · 5 years
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Exquisite
(Prompt 3: Transformation)
Every girl remembers her first time.
The ecstasy, the way everything seems to fit just right, the moon so high in the sky and the explosions that seem to go off inside when finally-
Oh finally-
The old skin falls to the ground and she admires the gorgeous new scales she bares now.
Every girl remembers her first time
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nirahsa · 5 years
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October Writing Challenge
Day 2 Outbreak/Lookalike
“I don’t need to be here right now Vasily, no no.” Nirahsa pouted slightly as she sat in a rather comfortable chair across from the other Draenei as he gazed back at her. Anyone else and it’d be a solemn look, but even when Vasily was in thought he bore a friendly smile as he looked back at her. “I have things to do!”
“I imagine so, like the urge to go and kill Orcs, right Friend Asharin?” He replied lightly still smiling.
“Well, when a monster deserves death all I can do is help usher it over the edge,” Asharin stated frowning more deeply due to Vasily recognizing her. Though at this point she was unsurprised given how canny the priest was.
“An individual may become a monster perhaps but generalizing an entire race in such a way is never healthy. Many Orcs are friendly caring individuals that just want to experience life in their own way.” Vasily spoke in a more chastising tone as he regarded the Tinkerer.
“Experience it through mass murd-,” Asharin paused mid-sentence shaking her head slightly. “-I know that Vasily, but it’s hard to see them any other way…after so many chances…so many times they’ve thrown it away,” Nirahsa resumed hanging her head slightly.
“Friend Nirahsa it is good that you are still here as well!” Vasily spoke cheerily before he continued on,” I am not saying that bad things have not been done at the hands of the horde, but judging them all for it is harsh.
“I suppose, I mean…if everyone judged the Draenei based on what the Eredar-“, Nirahsa paused with a frown. “It’s not harsh if it is true, they are all monsters, yes yes!” Asharin finished with a brief glare.
“By that logic, all Draenei would be monsters as well don’t you think?” Vasily intoned, his normally cheerful tone taking on a more serious slant.
The tinkerer bolted up onto her hooves with both Asharin and Nirahsa shouting in near unison, “I am not a monster!” One tone sounded more defensive, mixed in with the other tone that leaned more towards depressed at the thought.
“I did not accuse you of being one my friend, but you see how it would feel if others did regard you as such based on the actions of others, yes?”
“Yes, is that why I’m here? Because others are worried about me going off and murdering orcs?” Nirahsa spoke mutedly.
Vasily leaned forward and put a reassuring hand on Nirahsa’s shoulder, “I suppose there is some worry, but I do not think you would do such a thing my friend. No, most of the worry we have is with you and Asharin, how much she might be influencing your judgement.”
“I am -not- controlling her,” Asharin spat out sounding rather offended by the Vasily’s words. Though her gaze dropped down to the ground afterwards with a frown.
“Perhaps not my friend, but you and Nirahsa are two parts of a whole. We have to ensure both of you are in a sound state of mind, we’ve all be scarred by history in one form or another.” Vasily paused before he reached over and grabbed a steaming mug off a nearby table. Holding the mug out to Nirahsa/Asharin as he spoke, “Another reason is, it has been a while since we have gotten to chat over a mug of hot cocoa, yes?”
Nirahsa smiled lightly glancing up from the ground to look at the meddler priest, “Yes yes, it has been awhile since that!”
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tyrantsuggestion · 6 years
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YES, I RETURN FROM MY ASHES --- FULL AND COMPLETE ONCE MORE
WIPE THAT HORRID LOOK OFF YOUR FACE AND FIGHT ME
AGAIN
AND AGAIN
AND AGAIN
YOU SHOULD KNOW BY NOW THAT I DONT GIVE UP EASILY
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burstguitar319 · 5 years
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Day 3 - Transformation/Distrust
“Crap,” I mutter to myself as my reminder goes off. Today is Oct. 3, which just happens to be a freaking waxing crescent. And I know what you are probably thinking: What’s so special about the waxing crescent? Well. Let me tell you.
This all happened when I was around 10 years old (I’m 20 now). I was well into my obsession with Halloween and spooky season, to the point where I asked my dad if I could be homeschooled so I could change my sleeping schedule to be nocturnal. I was denied of course, but the attempt was still there. At age 16 I started to do those spells and potions you find on YouTube that supposedly turn you into a vampire. By my 17th birthday, I was getting desperate. I started looking deeper and deeper into the internet for something. Anything. Then I found it.
There was some guy online selling these vampire potions, and though I didn't fully trust him, I started messaging him about the potion. After a while, I decided to buy it. (Bad idea I know, but I was desperate). It arrived in the mail about a week later, and I drank it. This night just happened to be a full moon. Nothing happened, so I figure it was a dud and went on with my life. Until about a month and a half later.
It was a waxing crescent moon that night. When the moon started to go up, I felt weird. My jaws hurt. Light hurt. I was hungry, but no matter how much I ate, I was still starving. I was wide awake even though it was midnight. I had no idea what was going on. I stumbled into the bathroom and then figured it out, if the sharp teeth and bloodshot eyes gave anything away. Then the front door opened.
”Lexi, you home?” I heard a familiar voice yell into the house. ”Lexi?” The voice got closer. ”Babe?” the voice was right outside of the bathroom door and full of concern. I don’t know how she figured out where I was, maybe the heavy breathing. ”Can I open the door?” She said softly. After my lack of response, she opened it. And screamed when she saw me. Continued screaming as I launched myself at her. She didn't stop screaming until I have drained all of the blood out of her. After realizing what I did, I sat down and cried. I pulled her lifeless body close to me. I stayed like that until I eventually fell asleep the next morning, tears still falling from my face.
Ever since that night, I have kept myself distant from everyone, and I lock myself in my house on nights like these, remembering that night, and crying.
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October Writing Challenge! Oct. 3rd - Transformation
He didn’t feel well. His bones ached, his head hurt, and he could hardly stand with his head spinning so fast. His ‘friends’ --a very loose term at this point-- had hardly helped when he’d told them. Mark had just smirked at him in a way that now, in an alley in the dark, had probably not been good. He could hardly see now. Or maybe he was seeing too much? Light stung his eyes, making the nausea and spinning feeling worse. He tried to take a deep breath, but something rank flooded his nostril, and he felt himself retch. His bones felt like fire; molten heat flowing below his skin. He sceamed and scratched at his legs and arms, desperate to find someone who could help him, to find something to stop the pain. But there was nothing. No one. He couldn’t even scream. 
Light woke him later. His mouth was dry, his arms and legs ached, and he was freezing. But when he opened his eyes, he seemed, fine. There was a bandage on his arm, and he was embarassingly sweaty, but he seemed more or less intact. At least he was no longer outside. Where he was would take a few minutes to get through. The soft creak of an opening door turned his head, but it was only a woman. A tired looking woman, maybe a few years older than him, with her soft yellow hair tied up in a tight bun. 
“Oh, good, you’re awake!” She seemed suspiciously cheerful, but rather than tie him down or leap in for the kill, she handed him his phone. “You’ve had quite a few messages. Once you answer them, maybe we could, talk?” She looked at his arm with a knowing worry that he’d seen on doctor’s faces before. A look that said You’ve got a lot to learn now, if you want to get better. A low dread flooded his heart, but the woman put it off with a smile, passing him a warm mug of --tea?-- to think of instead. 
“Am- am I--” 
“You’re going to be just fine.” She assured him. Surprizingly, once she’d said it, he couldn’t help but believe she might be right. 
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thebennettdiaries · 6 years
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echoes
Day 4 Prompt: scream  Characters: Bonnie Bennett, Damon Salvatore 
It is strange to stand over one’s self.
Bonnie is doing it now, looking at her prone body sprawled across the floor of the Boarding House.  Her legs are twisted at odd angles and her hair spills onto a rather ugly rug that she is sure Damon picked out.  
In truth, this is not the first time this has happened.  
What makes this strange is that she knows she is not dead.  In fact, she can see her chest rising and falling at a regular rate.  If she could kneel down and press her ear to her midsection she would hear the strong beat of her heart.
So why was she standing here?
She tries once more to fall back into herself.  It is a strange process and she no doubt looks ridiculous as she flops down.  She doesn’t feel her body, or the floor --- or anything for that matter.  She is left to sit vigil until someone else finds her.
It’s nearly midnight before Damon stumbles home.  She can tell he is drunk by the way he weaves himself down the hallway. Not the best choice to deal with the matter at hand but she has sat here long enough to take anyone at this point.
He thinks she is sleeping at first.  He calls her name a few times, stringing it out until she makes a face.  He even has the audacity to prod her side with his toe a few times.  Then he gets it.  She can see it the moment it comes over his face.  He says her name again, only now it sounds urgent.  Then he’s shoving his wrist in her face.  She watches as the blood pools in her mouth before running down her cheek.
Well there goes that option.  
“Damon,” she tries.
Nothing.
At least he lifts her body from the floor.  She moves with him, fearful that he is still drunk enough to bounce her head off a wall but he is careful as he lays her on the sofa.  His hand traces across her cheek.  Then he is all business.  Calling the troops.
Soon she finds herself surrounded.  They crowd around the sofa and she almost has to stand on her tiptoes just to get a glimpse of herself.  Still breathing.  Still color in her cheeks.
Caroline alternates between freaking out and barking orders.  Stefan is doing his best to keep up with her shifts.  Clearly he is on Caroline duty.  Matt has his hands shoved deep in his pockets, no doubt feeling out of place.  Tyler has his jaw clenched so tightly he looks ready to snap.  
Damon is sitting on the arm of the sofa, his eyes drifting over her and then to the rest of them. “It’s been a few hours.  She should be waking up.”
“Maybe it’s time we take her to a hospital,” Matt suggests.
“You know a doctor that treats witchy issues, Donovan?” Damon counters.  He holds up a talisman.  “I found this under her.”
Bonnie steps closer, furrowing her brows.  She hadn’t noticed him pick it up.  But then again she has been too busy standing guard over her own body to watch his every move.  She closes her eyes as she realizes what she is looking at.  “I was doing a spell,” she says aloud as if she is just remembering for the first time. Something must have gone horrifically wrong.  
“Well, if it is a witchy issue, we need a witch,” Caroline announces.  She tugs on Stefan’s sleeve. “Do you know any witches?  Or are we googling this?”
“I know someone,” he confides.  His hand falls to the small of Caroline’s back. “Let’s hope she likes me better than she did last time we crossed paths.”
“You tried to eat her didn’t you?” Caroline asks.
“I did,” he confirms.
“I’m doing all the talking.”  
And with that, they leave and Damon, Matt and Tyler are left to hold vigil.
They last all of ten minutes before they start to posture.  She takes a deep breath as she listens to the bickering. “Oh God, do you all even realize what you sound like right now?  I’m lying right there!” She points to the sofa as if her very (unconscious) presence should stop them.  When they continue verbally spar, she huffs.  
Finally, Damon wins.  Probably because it is his house.  
She has to admit that she appreciates the quiet.  It gives her a chance to think.  What spell had she been trying --- protection, she thinks.  Something to blanket over the Boarding House and let them just breathe. 
Damon crouches by her and she finds herself mirroring the movement, falling to her knees as if she is about to pray at the altar of her unconscious self.
“What were you doing?” He asks quietly.  “What were you thinking?  Dammit, Bonnie.”  The last two words are barely spoken at all and she turns her head,  afraid that she has misheard him.  “You can’t keep doing this to me.”
She furrows her brows.  Last time she checked she had been doing this for him (for all of them).
They sit like that for a long time.  He looks tired and she wants to urge him to go to sleep.  Her fingers ache to reach out and touch his shoulder.  She is still here.
Finally, morning comes.  She moves with purpose, expecting her solution to come today.  Damon is all business too, alternating between texting and calling Stefan and Caroline for updates.  
It is mid afternoon when she realizes they have hit a snag.
Damon’s face darkens.  “I don’t care what it takes, Stefan.  Figure it out.”
For the first time, Bonnie is afraid that there is no coming back from this.  She glances around the four walls of the Boarding House.  Is this is her fate?  To wander between the worlds, unseen and unheard.
(she would rather die)
Bonnie tries not to let the fear eat at her but as one day turns into two (and two into three), she finds herself breaking.  She trails close behind Damon, needing that sign of live he exudes to keep her from losing all sense of herself.  
One again, she finds herself seated firmly beside her body (still breathing, how is she still breathing?).  Damon looks as if she has rubbed off on him.  He is less controlled.  More wild (it is in his eyes).  He reaches out, clutches her hand in both of his.  He brings it to his mouth, kisses the skin of her open palm.  Beside him, Bonnie’s eyes widen.  
And then as if the gesture is the last straw, she snaps.
Drawing in a deep breath, she lets all of the fear, the frustration, the helplessness that has built over the last few days go.  It comes out in the form of a scream, primal and echoing through the room.
He still has her hand tightly in his as it happens.  The glassware, the windows --- the vase Damon had told her was an antique is unable to withstand the sound of Bonnie’s pain.  It shatters all at once, raining shards over every part of the room.
Bonnie freezes, realizing what she has done.
Damon is quick to lift his head.  He jerks his head.  “Bonnie!”
(that is when she knows that the end of this madness is in sight)
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winecatsandpizza · 6 years
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Lookalike
Title: Lookalike
Day: October 2
Rating: Mature
Pairing: Casifer x Reader
Tags: Dub-Con, Non-Con, fingering, rough sex
Beta: @jessyackles
Fic Aesthetic: Me
Written for: @horrificmemes ‘s October Writing Challenge
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“There you are! Finally!” you exclaimed excitedly as Castiel, your boyfriend, strolled into the bunker with Sam and Dean.  You ran towards him and jumped into his arms.  Cas stumbled backward slightly at the force of your embrace.  You pulled back and looked at him, “What’s wrong, baby?”
The look on his face was one that you couldn’t place.  “Nothing, Y/N. I am sorry to alarm you,” he replied in his usual voice.
You placed a quick, chaste kiss to his lips before asking cheerily, “Are you ready?”
With a tilt of his head he asked, “Ready for what?”
You rolled your eyes. “Really, Cas? Ready for what? Tonight is our anniversary.  You said you had something really special planned for us to celebrate,” you almost whined.
“I know. I was just testing you,” he replied with a wink before he swept you away in his arms.
When the whooshing of feathers stopped, you were wearing a tight, black dress. It was low cut in the front and had an open back.  There were slits on both sides up to your hips.  Your feet were clad in matching heels.  After admiring your outfit you looked around.  There was a beautiful candlelight dinner in front of you and when you looked to your right you saw the Eiffel Tower.  
Your eyes were wide with wonder as you felt Castiel wrap his arms around you.  You could feel his excitement pressed against your ass as grasped your breast firmly in his hand.  “I hope you like the view because I know I do.”
He nipped at your neck.  “What has gotten into you, babe? You’re not usually this frisky,” you asked him with a light laugh.
Cas slowly slid his other hand up your thigh to cover your mound.  You gasped when you realized he didn’t give you any panties to wear.  Hearing your thoughts, he replied, “Oh no, Y/N, you aren’t going to need those for what I have planned for you,” he growled in your ear as he teased your clit with his finger.
You moaned and ground yourself trying to find more friction.  “Needy little girl. Come on then,” he encouraged as he slid two fingers easily inside your soaked core and helped your way to release. He tweaked your nipple as he began to pump his fingers faster.
“Are you going to cum for me, Y/N?” Cas teased? “Yes, please,” you begged. You were so close, but just as you were about to go over the edge he withdrew his digits.
“You’re going to cum on my cock, Y/N,” he stated and with a snap of his fingers, you were both naked.  He roughly bent you over the table and slammed into you.
“Fuck, Cas!” you screamed.
He began to fuck you deeper and hard as he replied, “Oh baby, you’re screaming the wrong name.”  Your heart stopped as he grabbed your arms and held then behind your back with one of his.  Who was this lookalike? Wait, is it, no, it couldn’t be. His other hand held your head on the table. He leaned in and whispered, “You can cum on my cock, Lucifer’s cock, whenever you’re ready, Y/N.”
My Full October Writing Challenge Masterlist
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amalgamationink · 6 years
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i.  I am working with a god.  there is a sentence holding real estate on your tongue, a truth that you have drawn from the marrow of your bones, a knowledge drawn deep from the cores of the long dead stars that contributed to your paltry human existence. so many times you've opened your mouth, unable to hold your eager, worshipful tongue any longer, and then He flashes in your mind's eye, His disappointment palpable, His confidence betrayed, and you close your mouth around teeth that have become razor blades, shrapnel, bullets, your gums torn by the barbed wire that is knowing something that someone else does not. your secret rots inside your throat behind a clenched smile.
ii. I am beholden to a god. you’re starting to forget what it felt like to be alone in your own head; the sense of belonging heady, an aphrodisiac that sets your nerves alight. the days are long and interminable, passed with only the thoughts of Him; the nights slip through your fingers so quickly you barely have the time to register them, passed in a haze of adulation. His eyes are everywhere, in the floorboards and windows and furniture and sometimes in your very own skin, marks you don’t remember making. you don’t mind, happy to make your body a temple, altar and acolyte all at once. He tells you that you are doing well, that you have become something beautiful beneath His tutelage, and you somehow believe Him. there are no secrets between you, He says, and somehow you believe that too.
iii. I am in love with a god. the realisation hits you hard, hits you the way the kids you used to box with would’ve hit you if they had their way, gloveless and vicious, right in the chest, right across the jaw, right for your wrongs, there’s something wron—stop. focus. you scramble to stay still, mind always racing, always fidgeting, always thinking, ya think ya better than me, don’tcha, einstein? you close your eyes against the tumult, feeling like you’re drowning, like you’re tearing apart piece by piece, and brick by brick He replaces your broken pieces. memories of summer days and swing sets and jus you an me against the world, all of them are fading into the all-present sharpness of His all-seeing eye, and you beg for Him, and His touch on your skin soothes the ache almost like benediction, and He whispers in your ear and in your brain and in your bones all at once— THIS IS OUR LITTLE SECRET, RIGHT, SMART GUY?
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fossilizedalien · 6 years
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Inktober Day 2 - “Lookalike”
“Today in art class, the children were assigned to draw their own portraits with using a mirror, referencing what they saw in the reflection and make the portrait look as closely like the artist. The teacher appreciated Eerie’s creative liberty and knew they were a an extraordinary knack for details, but she gave Eerie an 3 for not meeting the requirements of the assignment, or so she assumed.“ 
 do not remove the caption 🔪
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My Tumblr Crushes:
piratetrolls
faithlines
horrificmemes
clocktrollqueries
pleasestopandrew
dnd-homebrew5e
a-celestial-mess
thepolyrebellion
skranken
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