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scarsbuilt:

The show that night was just another one of a thousand - another night of people screaming at him, singing along and thinking they knew who he was. He also knew there was a reporter hanging around hoping to get his story down in black and white. He tended to avoid interviews where he could. The questions were always the same, so boring and so tedious. And whilst he was used to the ones that were forever thrown his way regarding the songs and album and tour. He knew it was the personal ones they always deviated too. Talk of his ex fiance and his little girl - killed at the hands of his ex fiance and her drug habits. His bands second album focused completely around that pain. Everyone always wanted to know - a story he wished he could just hide in his past and pretend hadn’t answered. He’d alread lost himself in drink and drugs, nearly lost his career over it and yet here he was still standing, still singing and still going out every night putting on a show. It was the only routine he knew and he knew it was one he wasn’t going to lose anytime soon. But if he could avoid questions about it then he was happy. Making sure his dark jeans, black shirt and black boots were all good he shoots the mirror one last glance before walking out the room. Nimble fingers placing the in ears securely in his ears as he meets up with his best friends. All of them heading towards the stage. As the first beat of the drum thrums through the arena and his body he can’t stop the smirk on his face. This right here was better then any drug. And even if there were countless strangers screaming at him - for just now he could be anyone else he wanted to be. The music and emotion pours from him easily as he drinks in all the faces, eyes landing on a blonde and linger for a few moments as he sings one of his most known love songs. One he wrote for his ex a long time ago before he breaks the eye contact and moves to the other side of the stage, knowing his time on it was limited and he wanted to make the most of it all.

By the time the music began to play, Alison had switched from a spectator to the journalist she was known to be and brown eyes observed the band carefully, studying their behavior and paying close attention to both the rhythm and words of the songs. Her focus shifted from each one of them until she made eye contact with the lead singer - the man she didn’t doubt was her intended target. Diesel Snow.

She couldn’t help the small smile that curved onto her lips when their eyes met, his voice seeming to envelope her entire body in warmth. That was new and she was partially curious as to why she felt such a thing. But she had to admit, listening to his songs beforehand almost resulted in a similar effect. She could easily see the passion and love he had for music, hearing it in the velvet-like smoothness of his tones. She gasped softly as she felt a tingle crawling down her spine, body shivering a bit as the skin of her forearms began to pucker. What people said was true: hearing someone sing on a track and hearing them live were two completely different sounds and at this moment she was definitely liking the live version.

For a brief second, all thoughts of her purpose being here were thrown out of her mind as she listened to the band play, her eyes never leaving the singer despite his breaking away from her. With any job, she was intensely attentive to her surroundings in order to gather as much information as needed and compile a list of questions designated to getting the story, but she was finding that to be difficult now as all she could think of were the lyrics to his songs; her mind beginning to memorize each word and phrase as she lips began to move slightly in an attempt to sing along. She remembered hearing one of the songs they played during her time researching and learning about the band, discovering that this one was by far her favorite and the one she listened and learned the lyrics to the most. 

@scarsbuilt​

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@dangerous-smoll 

Considering how small her town’s local newspaper was, the blonde journalist was surprised that it had been purchased by another small company. Her boss had mentioned a business deal in the works with some business she was not fully aware of and honestly wasn’t sure as to how to take the news at first. Buying out the company could’ve meant a couple of things: either expansion or total shut down - meaning she’d be out of a job. Sure, she still had her online blog she could fall back on, but she’d lose out on also being in front of a camera or at the scene of the case she was reporting on. Alison loved to both write and report on news and was known to do pretty much anything to get a story. With the worry that she may lose all of that looming over her, let’s just say she may have over-indulged on the de-stresser known as coffee. 

But the aftermath of the business deal wasn’t the destruction of her passion, instead blossoming into the former as she found herself with the same job but only under new management. And that’s was what had her pulling up to a building with the address her now ex-boss had given to her; she was about to meet her new boss and she was actually rather nervous. What would he be like? And would he take her seriously enough to let her stay on for the long haul and continue to do what she loved most? She was about to find out.

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@elysiahellfire

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startshxtwithme:

Send me a face claim and I will use that face claim to make an NPC in my muse's life, as well as talk about their relationship, connection, and feelings towards my muse.

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Ever hit a friend? Worst lover experience? ~offorgottenbooks ((Ethan))

Random Questions Gimme Gimme@offorgottenbooks

“I used to be the commander of an army and I was friends with many of the soldiers. When it was needed, I did become rough with them and I will admit that a slap or punch was the gentlest of my actions. As for the worst experience I’ve had with a lover,” he smirks, “I wouldn’t know. Nobody has ever complained and neither have I.”

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scarsbuilt:

She was on edge, that much he could read simply looking at her and he knew he wasn’t making things easy. He guessed the Mikaelsons had rubbed off on him in the worst ways. He didn’t doubt it as after all the family to which he grew up in wasn’t afraid of killing those they saw as advesaries. People to whom could threaten their livelihood and for a while he himself had been that way and no he was trying to change. It wasn’t easy and even he knew there were days upon which he failed and had to remind himself he wasn’t his family. Now he didn’t want anything to do with them - after all his sire, the man he saw as his father was rotting in a specially built cage which was his way of reminding himself he wasn’t his family. After all he could have killed him and still gone to bed and slept like a baby. He drags in her scent in large lung fills and the scent - god the scent reminds him of his sire so much. Half wolf and half vampire and he could feel his own werewolf venom start to gather in his throat. Was this one of Klaus’s hybrids. Or maybe a hybrid of his half sister Hope. He didn’t know but the one thing he didn’t enjoy was the judging she was throwing his way. ❛ Believe what you WANT but if i wanted you dead we wouldn’t be having this conversation.❜ he comments with the smallest shrug of his shoulders. his shirt tightening across his chest as his arms come up to cross over his chest. He doesn’t move in a plot to show he was not a threat. At least not yet anyway. ❛ As it stands what i said was true - i only wish to know your intentions inside New Orleans borders but other then that you can do as you please.❜

The lump in her throat thickened when she swallowed, it felt like it was suffocating her, her struggle to properly intake breath causing her heart to beat rapidly in her chest. Fear was also helping with that as Mabel was scared out of her wits. And she was sure that he knew it. Wasn’t that enough for them? Why did they have to torment her so goddamn much, haven’t they had their fill of her suffering?

The hybrid understood that they were at stalemate; neither of them was relinquishing their stand or will to break first. It was getting her no where and fast, being stuck in his sights until she gave him an answer. If she did, would he really leave her alone then? How could she know that? How could she trust him - or anything - anymore?

Finally, with a deep sigh, Mabel caved. One of them had to and it didn’t look like he was going to give up any time soon. She’d just have to take the chance and hope for the best for her - the beast highly disagreed. “I-I don’t exactly know, to be honest,” she told him, truthfully, though perhaps her body language betrayed her and said otherwise. She tried to calm down and relax the tension tightly built in her muscles, but fear was a tricky little bastard and took a heavy toll on her. “I don’t know what I do in any place I go to until I’m there...And I don’t stay for very long either, just so you know...I-I’ll probably be out of here by morning so you don’t have to worry...” Sometimes she got tired of the running; exhausted not only physically but mentally, spiritually, and emotionally as well. All around, she was just tired. She knew she couldn’t stop for the sake of her survival, but it was nice to dream sometimes.

@scarsbuilt

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# Ethan/Lizza

cell phone headcanons // @aworldfullofmuses

- what your muse’s name is in mine’s phone : Sin in a suit- what your muse’s picture is in mine’s phone : This one ( x )- what your muse’s ringtone is in mine’s phone : This one ( x ) - my muse’s last text to your muse :  ❛ I miss you. I’m starting to think my only way to enjoy these boring family charity things is with you. ❜

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Awkward Asks!

rppanda:

What’s your dirty fantasy?

Have you ever wet the bed passed age nine?

Have you ever begged for something? If so, what was it?

What was your biggest freakout over?

What’s the craziest thing you’ve done?

Have you ever raged at a video game? If so, why?

Worst thing you’ve spent your money on?

Worst lie you’ve told?

Childhood crush?

Be honest, have you ever wanted/do you have a body pillow? If so, of who?

What’s one thing you’re ashamed of, but, love at the same time?

What’s one ridiculous situation you’ve found yourself in?

Worst gift you’ve delivered?

Cringy moment you can remember?

What does your underwear look like?

What’s the last thing you’ve cried over and why?

Ever hit a friend?

Worst lover experience?

Worst friend experience?

Did your parents ever catch you doing something bad? If so, what was it?

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Character building time. Fill my inbox with questions about my muse!

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And why not # Mabel/Marcel ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

cell phone headcanons // @aworldfullofmuses​

- what your muse’s name is in mine’s phone : Cute stranger- what your muse’s picture is in mine’s phone : This one ( x )- what your muse’s ringtone is in mine’s phone : probably a generic one to begin with till he knows her better- my muse’s last text to your muse :  ❛ Look i know this good jazz club in town – you want to come with me?. ❜

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​reblog this if your muse is female, and you’re comfortable shipping her with other female characters.

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A brief note to my rp partners

I am probably one of the worst rp partners in the history of the activity. - I drop threads. - I lose threads. - I take my threads in odd directions that should probably never be explored. - I go through phases where I’ll only respond to two or three of my partners. - I go through phases where I’ll only respond to a single thread, and you’re left wondering why I’m not responding to you.

Sometimes I can be a really great partner - - I might be really on top of replies. - I might have everything in my ask box answered. - I might be perfectly in synch with where you’re trying to take the thread.

Sometimes I’m not.

But the great thing is that it’s okay! - When I drop a thread you like just tell me! Chances are it’s in drafts or I’ve lost it. - Even if we try a dozen different things and nothing sticks, don’t be afraid to start a new thread with me or come to me with an idea. - Sometimes I’ll be overwhelmed by everything I have going on, and I’ll have to put you on the list of rp’s to start. - Sometimes I’ll jump right on the thread and then drop it after a few days. - Sometimes we’ll carry the thread out all the way to the end, and have a grand old time getting there.

But please, remember that each of my rp partner’s is valuable to me. - Even the ones my muse doesn’t like. - Even the ones I’ve only done a thread or two with. - Even the at I used to rp with and don’t any more.

You are significant.

You matter.

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When Ethan is pissed off, he doesn’t raise his voice. He doesn’t see the need to yell or scream to get his point across. Instead, he uses a sinisterly cold and calm tone, letting the sharpness of his words and the mask of anger on his face make up for the lack of shouting.

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sharpenurdamnknife:

Piper was silent as he lifted her up aside from the little squeak of pain that came from her as he lifted her up and into his arms.  Before she knew it she buried her face into the juncture in between his shoulder and chest, trying to hide the sound and the little pant that left her.  “Ethan…”  Her voice was pleading and it was all she could get out as she took in a deep breath.  It was a weakness to take in his scent one last time.  There were always moments like this: last time moments, moments where she tried to hold onto the details of her lovers that were lost and gone.  She wanted to hang onto them.  She told herself that it wasn’t love just hanging onto those sparks of goodness that she hoarded.  

As he carried her over to the elevator she closed her eyes, feeling little sparks of darkness starting the creep into the corners of her eyes.  God she wanted to sleep but she knew that wasn’t an option right now.  Ethan wanted to talk and it was going to demand all of the energy she had in her just to pretend that she was fine with having a final conversation with him.  Part of her just wanted him to admit that the end was here, that seeing her not beautiful was the last straw for him, that that humanity in her, that weakness was too much for his vampiric mind to take.  

As the elevator doors closed she tried to shift in his arms but the grip was like iron and she couldn’t get her feet under her to stand on her own accord.  Instead she lifted her bruised face up to catch the hard, chiseled lines of his profile.  “We dont have to do this….”  Her voice was softer then she wanted it to be, a little bit of a shake echoing in it.  “You dont have to do this.  I understand.”  

His features were hardened, face stone cold and eyes empty. He was trying his damnest to contain himself - to keep quiet for as long as the elevator ride lasted. It was only a few steps between the elevator and his room, so he wouldn’t waste any time after this painfully hellish ride. His jaw clenched and he bit down on the inside of his cheek, restraining himself from responding to her words for as long as he could. 

No, she didn’t understand. Whatever she was thinking about this situation - whatever she believed - it was wrong. Dead wrong. He understood that she didn’t have the easiest life, even though he didn’t know the extent of her pain, but she couldn’t possibly be so damaged that she would actually believe that he would abandon her. Could she? The mental inquiry plunged his thoughts back to his younger half-sister Mabel; the ‘abomination’ of their kind, though Ethan never thought of her as such. Wasn’t this the very same ordeal she faced every day? Their mother, their kin, her own brother - they had all abandoned her and left her alone in the darkness of solitude. Were his sister and the woman he was in love with the same in that aspect? 

No, he would not let her think that way. Ethan may have been a shit brother and did little to no good in helping his sister, but he was not going to do the same with Piper. He would rather cease to exist first.

The vampire kicked open the door to his room and did the same to close it. It had already been open a little bit as he neglected to shut it all the way when he dashed out to meet the human downstairs. He gently laid her down on his bed before withdrawing from her all together. His bare arms flexed as he raised his hands to run through his dark hair. He finally took a long, deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment in order to keep himself collected as everything he wanted to say to her rushed his mind, flooding it. He kept his back to her for the moment, unable to bring himself to look at her in fear that she may see him break down, but had to push his fears back and force himself to just that.

“First of all,” he started, his voice thankfully staying loyal to him, “don’t you ever assume anything about me in regards to how I see you because you’re most likely wrong in your assumption. And don’t you ever say that you are not beautiful again - not when I’m around. Secondly, I didn’t leave you last night because I was disgusted with your appearance - I was angry. No - I was pissed. And the reason I was barking questions at you was not for anything except to get as much information as I could about your attackers - anything you could remember would help me...and it did help me.”

She had to know, he had to tell her. He didn’t abandon her last night, he was defending her. There was a huge difference.