hellmouthisms

[hellmouthisms]

❛ you shouldn’t be out here by yourself. ❜ ( cassie for jo ! )

She knows she shouldn't be here. That’s not news. But the thing is, Jo never let should stop her. Not when Ellen begged her to stay behind, not when hunters twice her size told her she’d get herself killed, not even when the job left her soaked in blood that wasn’t hers. So no, the words don’t scare her off. If anything, they plant her deeper.

"Yeah?" She holds Cassie’s gaze, jaw tight, heart hammering in her ribs like it’s pissed to be here too. "Tell me something I don’t know.”

[hellmouthisms]

❛ you look like you've got something to say. ❜ ( bobby for kai ! )

“You know," he steps forward, slow, like he’s doing Bobby a favour by not teleporting behind him and twisting the guy’s spine into a question mark. "You’ve got that whole grizzled-daddy-death-wish vibe going on, and honestly? It’s adorable. But if we’re being honest, and I feel like we’re really bonding here, you don’t scare me. You’re tired, and I’m bored. Which means one of us is about to have a very bad day."

[hellmouthisms]

There it is.

The click of recognition like he just solved a riddle he wasn’t smart enough to understand five minutes ago. She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t blink. Just watches him watch her like she’s some rare exhibit and not the reason this town is still standing.

Sunnydale. Right. Word travels.

He says her name like it’s supposed to mean something. And maybe it does — to him. To a bunch of people who heard stories and think they know what she is. But knowing her name isn’t the same as knowing her. It never is.

Buffy watches him, unimpressed. Vampires. Demons. Like he’s flipping through her Greatest Hits and assuming she’s just working her way down the monster food pyramid. Like this is some job she picked out of a catalogue. Like she woke up one day and said You know what sounds fun? Constant death and emotional trauma. She crosses her arms tighter. Head tilted. Smile gone. “And for the third and final time, asked nicely even, you are?”

head tilted to one side as he studied her, eyes squinting as he picked up on the keywords with which he was able to gather insights into who she was. of course. he did just enter sunnydale, after all ... eyes shut momentarily as he exhaled an amused breath. " you must be buffy. " he flashed a forced, bitter smile as he was slowly putting the pieces together. he'd heard of her ; of course he did.

" so, what, did you exterminate all the vampires and move onto the demon-slaying business now? "

[hellmouthisms]

Buffy’s eyes narrow. Not because she’s angry. Well, okay, maybe she’s still a little angry, but mostly because she’s trying to hold something back. A comeback, a dozen of them, really. Old instincts, defensiveness. But then something shifts. A flicker. A glitch in the system. And for a second, she’s not pissed off.

She's surprised. And dammit, relieved.

Her gaze trails over Faith, head to toe. Not in the old sizing-up-a-fight kind of way, but really looks at her. And that’s when it lands.

Faith still sees herself as a Slayer. Not just technically. Not in some mystical, one-girl-in-all-the-world clause she found a loophole through. No, she’s still in it. Even with fangs, even with that whole undead wrinkle, she’s still in the fight. Still trying to do what’s right, in the way only Faith ever could: stubborn, half-cocked, probably illegal, but it counts.

Buffy’s shoulders finally ease, the breath she didn’t realize she was hoarding slipping out in one slow exhale. The air feels a little less tight now. “Gotta say I’m kind of relieved.” Her mouth quirks, just barely. “Didn’t think you still had it in you.”

She doesn’t mean it as a dig. And if it lands like one, well, tough. That’s how they talk. How they’ve always talked. Barbed and sideways, because direct never worked for them. But then she adds, quieter, voice dipping into something closer to confession, “Guess I’m glad you still do.”

"Damn. Check out the stink eye. Scary." If this is supposed to scare Faith, it's falling a little flat. Up until now she's tried her ass off where Buffy's concerned. To understand, to back up a little and let the woman have her space. To not react when she's being screamed at, insulted, hit, but all she gets for her trouble are more insults, more attacks. Starting to get that Angel was right when told her she'd never be able to climb out from under the weight of Buffy's ire, and that she'd have to figure out how to live with that. Whatever, it is what it is.

Again, Buffy says the stupid thing. The 'since when do you' thing, and Faith gives her eyes a roll. "There you go, again. Talkin' like you know me. Vamps are the law out here. Keep everybody in line so nobody crosses the line, but we gotta keep us in check, too. Nobody gets a free pass." In a tone that heavily wants to add 'dipshit' to the end of that sentence.

Summers pointedly steps out of the cemetery and Faith backs up. The girl's cruising for a bruising, and Faith's one insult away from punching a hole in her face. Again, she manages restraint but that crack about Buffy being the Slayer is meant to provoke. Meant to get Faith to throw the first punch so Buffy can feel justified in killing her --- yeah, no. She hasn't taken a swing, yet, and she can hold out if she has to but there's only so much abuse she's going to take before Buffy Summers is just another snack. "Slayer, right. Forgot you're not big on sharing that. Too bad you don't got a choice. Do what you wanna do, yo, but this town already has a Slayer."

[hellmouthisms]

Elena hears Buffy call her name, and her whole body flinches. Just slightly. Barely enough to be visible, but she feels it. Tight in her shoulders. Spine straightening like she’s been caught sneaking out past curfew.

She’s been standing in the hallway for a while. Long enough to hear the low hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen. Long enough to not hear Buffy say anything when she walked away earlier, which had felt like mercy at the time. But now Buffy wants to talk.

Great.

Elena turns toward the voice, heartbeat dragging in her ears. She doesn’t move yet, just presses her fingers to the banister like grounding herself in the wood will anchor her somehow. She already knows what this is about. Not Jeremy. Not Vicki. The moment she thought would be a split-second decision is turning into a full-blown fallout, and she isn’t ready. Not for Buffy. Not for what she might say.

But… she did call her. And ignoring Buffy Summers never ends well.

So Elena pushes herself forward, slow steps padding into the kitchen like she’s walking into some kind of emotional minefield. Her voice is quiet when she speaks, but not timid. Just tired. “Yeah?” she says, leaning against the doorframe. Her eyes flick toward the ice pack on Buffy’s shoulder, then away again. “What’s up?”

Closed starter for @hellmouthisms

Rough day, Buffy thought as she followed Jeremy and Elena inside the house. From Stefan getting kidnapped, helping Damon and Ric rescue him, Elena pulling a Dawn and joining them at the house instead of staying in the car like she was supposed to, fighting an army of angry vampires with a bad case of scorn and cabin fever, and having to go over to the Donovans' house to give condolences about Vicki (Caroline had found her body apparently), Buffy was ready to sleep for a week. Not to mention that she was all bruised up and lumpy. Oh and bonus! Elena made Stefan feed on her during their escape from the house.

She left Elena to talk to Jeremy and made her way into the kitchen to ice a huge bruise on her shoulder. She was just as worried about Jeremy as Elena was. After all, he believed that she left town, but she didn't want to crowd him. Elena had it handled for now. Buffy would check on him later. Besides, she couldn't let the whole Elena-feeding-Stefan thing slide. Buffy had told her everything about her decade of being a slayer when she started dating the younger Salvatore brother. Part of it included forcing Angel to drink her blood to cure him and she was only remembering that just now. Crap!

"I'm gonna get some sleep," Buffy heard Jeremy say followed by his footsteps moving upstairs. She didn't hear another set, so she figured Elena was still in the hallway or something. Buffy did NOT want to have this conversation with her right now, but she couldn't let this fester anymore. "Elena!" Buffy called out to the older teenager. "You wanna come talk to me?"

@hellmouthisms

[hellmouthisms]

Buffy’s shoulders are still tense, jaw set tight, but something shifts in her expression. Just a flicker of realization, the kind that creeps in when you’re hearing something you don’t want to understand but know you have to.

Her eyes narrow, a muscle ticking in her jaw as she listens to Faith’s breakdown of New Orleans’ supernatural hierarchy. Factions. Wolves. Humans. Witches. Vamps. Each word stacks on top of the other, a puzzle she doesn’t want to solve but needs to if she’s going to survive in this city.

“You’re the top of the pyramid, huh?” She looks Faith up and down, sizing her up like they’re back on the streets of Sunnydale, ready to throw down. “Since when do you care about keeping the peace?”

But then she exhales, the fire dimming just a little. Her eyes flick to the cemetery, to the shadows that seem to watch her back, and her shoulders slump just slightly. “Factions. Rules. Ecosystems.” She almost rolls her eyes. “You sound like Giles.”

Buffy’s fingers twitch at her sides, restless, and she looks away, gaze drifting over the crumbling tombstones and iron gates. "New Orleans,” she mutters, the word tinged with exasperation. “Doesn’t play by anyone’s rules but its own, huh?”

For a beat, she looks lost, like she’s fighting the urge to throw her hands up and walk away. But then she steels herself, fists clenching at her sides, eyes locking back onto Faith. "Fine. I get it. I don’t like it, but I get it.” Her jaw tightens, defiance still burning under the surface. “But don’t expect me to just sit back and watch vamps get a free pass because of some treaty. You can play rule follower all you want, but I’m still the Slayer.”

Her eyes flick to the invisible line, like a boundary that’s been keeping them apart in more ways than one. And then, deliberately, she steps over it, crossing the threshold with her head held high, shoulders squared, as if daring anyone to challenge her. There’s no dramatic flare, no pulse of energy. Just Buffy, standing on the same side as Faith. It’s not a truce, but it’s something. An acknowledgment, maybe, that they’re in this together, whether she likes it or not.

“Guess that means I have to learn the law of the land.” Her mouth twitches, the ghost of a smirk. “Or I’ll end up with my tits in the dirt.”

"Yeah, a treaty." she echoes, exhausted by the whole thing and ready to give Buffy her answers and have the woman out of her hair. "And, for the record," aimed directly at Buffy's descriptive insult, "You dunno me. Never really did. Been pullin' my punches with you for a decade and now you got it in your head I won't hit back but you put your hands on Elijah so I got no more warnings left in me. You come at either of us again, I knock your tits in the dirt, that's real."

She manages to say it like it's nothing, like she's not angry and it's not a threat. Just a fact Because it is. Punching Elijah was the line, and Faith's resolve to be the bigger person doesn't extend to looking the other way, there. Anyone who touches her man's pulling back a nub from here on out.

Faith starts to slowly walk the edge of that invisible line, careful not to cross it as she moves right into explaining like she didn't just cast a threat out into the night air. Seems calm, actually, but someone should've told Buffy that tensions in New Orleans are high.

"There's factions. Got your wolves, they stay out in the swamp. Your humans, who squeak by without gettin' bit since the vamps only feed on tourists. Witches. They hang around here since they're closer to their ancestors or something. Your vamps, aka me, and we're the top of the pyramid… but stayin' outta the ancestral grounds shows respect. Trust me, you don't wanna eff up the ecosystem."

[hellmouthisms]

“A treaty?” She practically spits the word, her head tilting as she sizes Faith up, gaze raking over her like she’s seeing her for the first time. “Since when do you care about treaties? Last I checked, you were more punch first, maybe ask questions later if you feel like it.”

For a second, just a flicker, Buffy’s mask slips. Confusion creeps in, softening the hard lines around her eyes. She’s not just angry. She’s… disappointed. She lets out a breath, frustration giving way to something else. “New Orleans.” She mutters, almost to herself, like the city’s a person that’s been messing with her all along. “So, what, there’s some kind of pecking order now? Cemeteries off-limits, witches running the show?”

Her arms drop to her sides, fists unclenching, and she steps back, just a fraction, enough to signal she’s listening. “Guess I’ve been gone a while.”

The second Faith sees Buffy, her hackles are up. Shoulders squared, game face on, and stepping back from that invisible barrier just in case Buffy's stupid enough to try and drag her through it.

"There's a treaty, Dumbass. I go in there, I could start a friggin' war. How do you not know this?" Buffy's out of her element in New Orleans, that much is obvious. She doesn't seem to know what side she's on, where to stand, who to show respect. Kind of like a baby, out here on the prowl. Making noise, getting them noticed. "'Sides," Faith almost growls, hovering far enough off that she can zip away if Buffy gets too close, "He goes in there? The covens'll take care of 'em. Cemeteries are their turf."

[hellmouthisms]

“They might be.”

Charlie’s smirk falters, his confidence flickering like a dying streetlamp. Something shifts in the air, an invisible weight settling over him, pressing down. His shoulders tense, his whole body turns rigid. Somewhere deep in his instincts, something tells him he’s not as safe as he thought.

Slowly, he pivots.

Buffy stands behind him, just a few steps away, casual as anything, like she’s been there the whole time. The camera, if there were one, would pan in slow. That creeping, dramatic zoom that makes stomachs drop.

And the music? It would be right there with it. Low, pulsing, the kind of eerie single note that stretches just a little too long, unsettling in a way that tells the audience before Charlie even realizes it himself: he’s already dead.

And boy, does he know it.

"But I'm not."

He tries to run.

Too late.

Buffy’s already on him, fast enough that it barely even registers. One second she’s standing there, the next Charlie's airborne, slamming into the nearest mausoleum hard enough to send cracks spiderwebbing through stone.

He struggles. Of course he does, but it’s useless. Hands clawing at hers, feet kicking against the air. And Buffy? She barely reacts. No quips, no theatrics. Just one swift motion, the stake slipping free like it was always meant to be there.

Then -- gone. A gasp, a cloud of dust, and that’s it.

Buffy exhales, slow, her head dipping for half a second before she turns, eyes locking onto Faith like a gun finding its target. "You were gonna let him go.”

@hellmouthisms for BUFFY

Charlie's running. He's panicked, practically tripping over his own feet as he rounds a corner and books it, hoping to find a dark place to cower before the sun comes up in less than an hour. He's being hunted down like a fucking dog, chased through the street like he's vermin. Spooked so badly that he left the girl that was going to be his dinner with nothing more than a little bite mark near the entrance of a swanky bar on the corner, and now he's running for his life because he's got a fucking Mikaelson on his heels.

He can smell Elijah all over her. Lehane's the runt of the Mikaelson brood, but she's a formidable bitch and she's made a name for herself, kicking the cans of other supernatruals on this god-forsaken hellmouth like she's not a vampire, herself. Rumor has it she was a Slayer, once, but that's all it really is…. rumor. But she sure as hell acts like a Slayer. Holier-than-thou, blatant disregard for vampire lives and the violence. The fricking violence. She makes Niklaus look like a puppy dog by comparison, but no one's dumb enough to push back because then they might have the whole family on their asses.

Unfortunately, that means Charlie can't count on a community to back him up, here. No voodoo shop is open to help him, no other vamps out there willing to swoop in and get his back because as he falls, so will anyone who makes a move to back him up. It's how the Mikaelsons roll, everyone knows that. Family above all, always and forever and if that extends to the fucking monster running him down in the street, then he's on his own.

Somewhere echoing behind him is a laugh. Rough, small, and it rumbles out with a, "Where'd you go? I thought we were havin' fun." that booms out into the district like thunder when she rounds the corner behind him, walking but not bothering to run because the species she is? She'd outrun him, no problems, and then the fun would be over.

Charlie looks back then tries to pick up his pace, and that's when he hears her speed up behind him. He finds a burst of energy, busts through some bushes and onto another street, and that's when he sees his salvation. He gives one last look behind him, and she's only feet away so he wastes no time and breaks for the iron gate of Lafeyette Cemetery, and he's over the threshold just in time for Lehane to catch up with him and stop, dead, outside the invisible barrier as though she can't cross it.

She snarls and her game face melts away but Charlie is all bumpy forehead, orange eyes and more fangs than he can fit in his mouth --- huge grin, walkimg backward and taunting her --- like a fucking idiot, "Ooo, what's wrong? The big bad Mikaelsons are scared of a couple of witches?"

[hellmouthisms]

She hates that he’s kind of good at this. The whole charming-jerk-with-a-death-wish thing. The smartass comeback. The eyebrow. God, the eyebrow. Buffy resists the urge to roll her eyes so hard they fly out of her head and hit the pavement.

Crystal ball. Please. Amateur hour.

She tilts her head, smile sharpening at the edges, and crosses her arms. Not because she’s cold, but because it keeps them from doing something less polite. “I’m the girl who already handled it. Sooo unless you’re the clean-up crew, and spoiler alert, you don’t look like it, you might want to start with who you are and why you’re lurking in my crime scene.”

dean straightened his back as he leaned forward and away from the impala, a smirk playing at his lips as he sized her up beneath the flickering streetlamp.

" oh, i’m sorry — i must'a left my crystal ball at home, otherwise i would'a gotten here before shit went sideways. " he leaned back against the impala once more, arms folded, eyebrow cocked. " — who're you? "

[hellmouthisms]

can anyone recommend some btvs friendly psd’s for icons?

[hellmouthisms]

open starter

He lights the fag more for the theatre of it than the craving, flicking the match off his boot like he’s still got something to prove, which he always does, if only to himself. Streets are wet with last night’s regrets and the faint perfume of piss and rain, and he likes it that way. Like the world’s rotting just slow enough for him to enjoy the stench. He’s been trailing the scent of something peculiar all night. Magic, maybe. Or blood. Could be both. He doesn’t care which. He’s not hunting. Not exactly. He’s looking. There’s a difference, yeah? One’s for need. The other’s for fun. And Spike’s always been in it for the fun. He leans against the brick like it owes him rent, cocky grin playing on his lips before he even sees who's coming. “You’ve got the look of someone about to make a very bad decision. Lucky for you, I love bad decisions.”

[hellmouthisms]

MICHAEL TREVINO as TYLER LOCKWOOD TVD 5.13 Total Eclipse Of The Heart

[hellmouthisms]

She hears the question and doesn’t answer right away. Not because she’s ignoring it, but because rough feels like such a low bar these days it’s practically a lifestyle.

Elektra’s close now, and Buffy's watching without turning her head, just a flick of her eyes, tracking her like instinct. Her brain does the usual checklist: threat? no. comfort? not exactly. Something in between.

"Define rough," Buffy says, dry, but not cold. Her mouth quirks like she’s trying on a smile and doesn’t quite commit. "If we’re talking apocalypse or demon riot? No. If it’s more like no sleep, bad dreams, and the last donut’s gone? You betcha."

@hellmouthisms // continued from (x)

She'd call that enough, so far as a reception goes. Elektra strides closer to the edge of the building, closer to Buffy, with her hands at her hips. This is right out of the superhero how-to manual, isn't it? Chapter 7: Brooding.

"Rough day?" she chimes lightly to the view, like she doesn't care. But hey, she asked.

[hellmouthisms]

She’s never been one for grand entrances, not when dusting some mouthy junior vamp mid-monologue counts as “hello.” And this one? This Steve? What even was that? Discount Nosferatu with an attitude problem. She barely hears the last of his threat before her stake slides home, just under the rib, clean through the heart. Dust, meet floor. She doesn’t even flinch when the remains scatter at Klaus’s feet.

Her eyes flick up. There he is. Hand out, voice all velvet and smug and Klaus, but there’s a knife edge to it, underneath the theatrics.

She sees it. She knows it.

He’s pissed.

Not because she’s late. Okay, maybe a little, but because she vanished without so much as a postcard and let the worst-case scenarios fester in his head, which they probably did. That’s the thing about Klaus. Under all the immortal sass and power plays, he feels. Deep. Wild. Big enough to drown in if you’re not careful.

So yeah, she’s here. Not because she owes him anything, and not because the city needs her (though it really does). But because she missed him. Because the quiet between them was getting too loud in her head. Because this city, this war zone, this immortal pain in the ass with the smirk and the wounded eyes, it’s starting to feel dangerously like something she could stay for.

Buffy doesn’t take his hand. Because of course she doesn’t. That’d be too easy. Too neat. And when has she ever done neat with Klaus? But she steps in close. Closer than she needs to. Her fingers skim his shirt, light at first, then press just enough to feel the tension underneath. Her voice is soft, but not gentle. Still her. Still Buffy. "You’re mad," she says, like it’s just an observation. Not an apology. Not a question.

Her hand stays there, palm flat against his chest. Steady. “But if I called every time I almost died, you’d never get any sleep. And you already brood enough without adding missed call from Buffy to the list."

The stones on this pathetic creature. Yellow eyes, bat-faced. Teeth can barely fit in it's mouth. It's more vermin than vampire and Klaus has made no bones about his disdain.

Steve, as Klaus has come to understand is it's name, slurs past his mouthful of fangs, "Not so tough without your little Slayer girlfriend, are ya? Face it, the name 'Mikaelson' is striking fear in exactly zero hearts these days. Your brother's gone, the Slayers are gone. Looks like it's just you?" Dumpire steps forward, pokes Klaus in the fucking chest and gets a glare as a reward. The vampire pokes him a second time, "Here's how it's gonna go. The Quarter? It's ours now. We're gonna feast on New Orleans and if we so much as hear a peep out of your family - ugh!" Steve's face pinches and he suddenly, dramatically shakes to dust at Klaus' feet. Standing behind him like a rather shapely shadow is a familiar face.

Klaus smirks, a little and mischievous twist in his expression, "Home?" he offers her his hands and sighs, sarcastically, "If it is, indeed, your home. I was beginning to wonder. But, no matter." laying it on extra-thick in a way that suggests he's no fan of Buffy's tendency to radio silence when she's on the hunt --- makes him feel less in control, not that he isn't well aware that Slayers aren't the type to be reigned in, "Welcome home."

[hellmouthisms]

❛ i thought you’d like some company. ❜ (for buffyy)

Buffy’s fingers flex against her knee, tension she won’t name. Company. That word lands weird. Like she’s supposed to be grateful for it, like she didn’t pick this rooftop for the quiet. But she doesn’t tell her to leave. Doesn’t snap, doesn’t smile. Just lets the silence hang for a second too long.

She exhales through her nose, not quite a sigh. "You’re not exactly a warm blanket," she says, a tired smile tugging at her mouth. Not unkind, just honest in the way she knows Elektra will get. "But… I’ve had worse."

[hellmouthisms]

&. 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬.

( this is basically just a very self indulgent list of various fluff, angst, and suggestive themed dialogue sentence starters. )

❛ i could keep you safe. they’re all afraid of me. ❜

❛ i’m trying to fix your hair, so hold still. ❜

❛ your heart is beating so fast right now. ❜

❛ promise me you’ll still be here when i wake up. ❜

❛ you’re not as bad as everyone says you are. ❜

❛ i thought you’d like some company. ❜ 

❛ clean yourself up. you're getting blood all over the place. ❜

❛ here, give this a try and tell me what you think. ❜

❛ you can kiss me, you know. ❜

❛ come back to bed. ❜

❛ you look good like this. ❜

❛ working together again, it’s just like old times. ❜

❛ how is it you always know what i need, huh? ❜

❛ you’re lucky you got away with only a scratch. ❜ 

❛ i can’t imagine losing someone like that. i’m sorry. ❜

❛ you know you can always talk to me. ❜

❛ the only one who gets to kill you, is me. ❜

❛ so, what do i owe this pleasure? ❜

❛ ah, so you aren’t heartless after all. ❜

❛ may i have this dance? ❜ 

❛ it’s okay, you can touch me. i won't break. ❜

❛ enemies make the best lovers, you know. ❜

❛ hold still. this might sting a little. ❜

❛ we can't keep doing this. ❜ 

❛ you look like you've got something to say. ❜

❛ just relax and let me take care of you. ❜

❛ thought you’d be lighter without all that blood. ❜

❛ i had it under control. you didn’t need to do that. ❜

❛ everything looks so beautiful from up here. ❜

❛ you treat all your ladies like this? ❜

❛ well? how do i look? ❜

❛ can’t sleep? ❜

❛ do you mind if i smoke? ❜

❛ i’m scared of ending up alone. ❜

❛ i don’t think i’ve ever seen you smile. ❜

❛ how long has it been since you've slept? ❜

❛ you are losing my interest, and that’s very dangerous. ❜

❛ i’d suffer hell if you’d tell me what you’d do to me tonight. ❜

❛ you look really pretty right now. ❜

❛ i’ve never cared for anyone the way i care for you. ❜

❛ i’m not wearing any underwear. thought you’d like to know. ❜

❛ just a few more stitches and you’ll be as good as new. ❜

❛ i’d say we make a pretty good team. ❜

❛ i want you to forget this ever happened. ❜

❛ i'm here for business — not pleasure. ❜

❛ if i didn't know any better, i'd say you were jealous. ❜

❛ you'd look better down on your knees. ❜

❛ fine, keep acting like you hate me. ❜

❛ kiss me again. ❜

❛ are you asking me out on a date? ❜

❛ just sit there and look pretty and let me handle this. ❜

❛ you okay? caught you staring off into space again. ❜

❛ well, i do feel better now that you're here. ❜

❛ i'm not drunk enough for this. ❜ 

❛ why is it whenever we see each other, you’re covered in blood? ❜

❛ i was wrong about you. ❜ 

❛ the first time i met you, i had no idea you'd mean this much. ❜

❛ you gonna be a good girl / boy for me? ❜

❛ i’m not afraid of you. ❜

❛ books mean more to me than people anyway. ❜

❛ i just wanted to say thank you for protecting me. ❜

❛ how about a kiss goodnight? ❜

❛ i don’t have time for distractions right now. ❜

❛ you shouldn’t be out here by yourself. ❜ 

❛ if i have to think about one more thing today, my head will explode. ❜

[hellmouthisms]

@luposcainus liked for a starter from Elena Gilbert

She doesn’t like not knowing. Especially not when something feels... off. Not dangerous, exactly. Just unsettled. And it’s probably nothing. It’s usually nothing. But ignoring it never makes it go away.

So she walks over. Calm, casual. Like she’s not already narrowing it all down in her head. "Do you need help finding something?" she asks, voice easy, almost warm. "Or are you just trying not to be noticed?"