#nexusvorti

[geminaes-a]

@nexusvorti​​ wanted someone to kiss Hope’s boo boo’s.

“Room service?” Except she comes empty handed, with a soft knock against the door frame and tentative steps towards Hope’s bed, where she sits and leans down to kiss the top of her head, with a toothy smile –– “Actually, I lied about the room service. I... tried but all my efforts to make something remotely edible were futile and I thought bringing you water was just insulting, so here ––” She tilts Hope’s chin, kisses her once. “–– How are you feeling?” 

[bayouroyalty-a]

@nexusvorti​

Magic has a way with the unexplainable, though Hayley wouldn’t quite leave this entirely up to only mystical forces. Starting with how she ended up at Hogwarts in the first place, with a teaching position she wonders she’s entirely qualified for, and seeing her daughter for the first time in sixteen years, sitting on the same desks she once sat, wearing the same crest, and the same uniform she wore such a long time ago sometimes it feels like a hazy dream, not even a memory, just the ghost of the person Hayley used to be before she had to give up her daughter to protect her from something bigger and greater than any of them would ever have been able to battle.

She also knows that magic has nothing to do with how Hope ends up unconscious in her office, after she’d found her in the forbidden forest on her own, corralled by a hoard of dementors she hadn’t seem to be able to fend off on her own. Only after dispersing them with a powerful, bright wolf from the end of her wand, did Hayley pick her up and carried her back inside the castle, where she’d wrapped her up in a blanket and laid her down on the couch next to her desk. Hayley sits on the arm of it, next to Hope, gently holding her hand to her clammy forehead while something burns beside them. It smells like lavender, but with an edge (its meant to calm her nerves. Both their nerves), but Hayley doesn’t move her hand away until Hope stirs, and she reaches for the chocolate she’d left on her desk while she’d let Hope sleep on her couch.

❛ Hope —❜ She says; the name sounds so entirely foreign on her lips but she says it like something almost holy, like it weighs on her, holding out the pieces of chocolate on her open hand. ❛ Hey, its okay. You’re safe now. You’re okay. You should eat some of these, they’ll make you feel a lot better.❜ 

[lcftwild]

@nexusvorti​  /  liked.

          what do you mean she won't wake up?  they had tried everything to get hope out of the self induced coma she had put herself in, had even gone as far to contemplate taking her to an actual hospital. but the tribrid wasn't in any actual danger  --  she was completely healthy aside from not wanting to wake up. they had decided it might do more damage than good, and in the end had left her where she was; keeping her safe the best they could. but days had turned into weeks, and they were all reaching the end of their ropes when it came to solutions to their problem.  we can't just leave her in there.  what if you get stuck, too?  it's a bit of a fight to get everyone to agree with josie's plan, more so with her dad than anyone else, but in the end he caves  (  if only because she lays on a little guilt, reminding the man that hope was only stuck because she had risked it all to save his daughter  ). they set up more precautions this time around, fail safes that they think will pull josie out if she gets stuck the way hope did. stepping into the tribrid's subconscious feels a bit like trespassing, but she pushes that away, glancing around as she tries to gather her bearings and figure out where exactly they were.   "hope?"

[asiphon-archive]

@nexusvorti​ ASKED “…didn’t know where else to go…” for human/werewolf verse

         Thunderstorms were usually a calming time for Josie. The low rumbles soothe away the day’s stress, and calm the racing thoughts that usually plague her mind. She sits on her front porch, one knee pulled up to her chest, watching the flashes of lights across the clouds in the night sky. It’s not raining yet, but she can smell it in the warmth surrounding her. All of this is a welcome reprieve. Her family is always a point of contention, but her school life had become very confusing over the last few weeks. But really.. that was all her fault, wasn’t it? Not to mention the reason it had become so complicated: Hope. Another, louder clap of thunder shakes the house underneath her and the rain starts immediately— as if someone carved a hole in the heavens to let it cleanse the Earth. 

Josie takes a deep breath with closed eyes, letting the moment take her and the sound of the rain wash away all the tension in her body. Footsteps pull her from serenity. The creak of the wood on her steps sends a jolt through her, and all the anxiety and thoughts slam back into her as if they’d never left. The small figure she sets her eyes on is both familiar and not ( the posture hunched and limping ). It takes her a moment to get up and meet her before she gets to the door, pulling her away from the windows and into the shadow. The figure nearly collapses and recognition finally floods her. It’s the very person she was just trying to not think about. 

Now closer, she’s able to make note of the labored breathing, the shake in her shoulders, the blood on her face. Her eyes widen and her lower lip is pulled between her teeth, biting down hard enough to almost draw blood herself. A glance down tells her that there’s more pooling around Hope’s fingers. The panic worsens and she can hear her heartbeat in her ears. “Oh, fuck.” 

It rips from her, choked with worry. The fear claws up and settles heavy in her chest and throat. “Come.. fuck, come on. Through the back.” She doesn’t wait for an answer and tries not to think about how her— her.. friend, may be bleeding out in her backyard. There’s almost a sense of relief as she feels Hope’s weight against her, as she’s leading her to the backdoor. Her mind is flitting through thought after thought. Should she try to stop the bleeding? Call someone? Before she realizes it, the thoughts are coming out unfiltered without even a pause for breath. “Do you need me to call an ambulance to come pick you up? Your parents? Where do you live? What happened?” Another hard bite down on her lip to force herself to stop and she takes a deep breath, trying to focus on the task at hand: getting Hope inside the house and to her room. 

[departingsouls]

@edwrd​ & @nexusvorti​

“ I have honestly never felt more judged ”. She’s sitting on one side of the bed, tossing the cover of the water bottle to the nearest trash bin, where it goes in without a hassle, and she takes a big gulp of the water Hope handed her just a few moments ago, and she’s laughing, in a way that makes her throw her head back and look at both of them behind her, before she scoots back and half-sprawls her legs over Edward’s lap. “As someone who has come face-to-face with Klaus Mikaelson himself, I have never felt more exposed than when I accidentally ran past your entire family like a dead girl walking. Jury is still out whether its because I’m human and sitting naked on your bed or because I’m an Argent. My guess is on the latter but I don’t discard the possibility of the naked hypothesis”. 

[rippermorality]

🍓

mutuals send me a 🍓 and ill compliment u! at nexusvorti

holy compliments batman!, we haven’t interacted yet! and we should change that JJ because you are such quality content on my dash. honestly, just vibe with the idea of stefan being grumpy groundkeeper of the Salvatore school and him knowing hope. because honestly, stefan vibes with hope. but back to JJ! like I said, we haven’t interacted much beside here and there shitposts and i vibe with that but we need to do more! I know i follow you on my klaus too and the quality is off the charts. and when i mention quality is not just writing compliments, but like a person. drama free, light and kind. exactly what this year needs. honestly, I’m just glad I had the balls to finally follow you because it’s a blessing, please please, keep it up and if you are ever in need of rp or just talk about anything and rambling, i’m your woman! xoxo

[leroiloup]

► @nexusvorti​

       With Hell long since obliterated by Bonnie Bennet, Klaus was sent to a different place altogether after his death ; or rather, he was sent nowhere. Peace wasn’t his to have –– not even his self sacrifice to save his daughter could truly erase the thousand years’ worth of atrocities created by his own hand. There was also the matter of Hope : she who he sacrificed himself for. His death was meant to rid the world of the Hollow’s curse and usher in an era of wellbeing for his daughter. Instead, she was plagued constantly the tribulations of being a tribrid in a tumultuous world. As such, peace would never find the dead original hybrid.

The endless stretch of black nothing was Klaus’s only companion. Time quickly became irrelevant. At first, he welcomed the quiet, but soon found its constant meaninglessness full of despair. Through it all, though, if Klaus retained one piece of himself, it was his mind. Never once did his will waver, even as madness slowly began creeping in. Perhaps, he wondered, that was the benefit of living in such chaos for much of his life. He was well equipped to deal with the worst life held for humanity.

It was that very comfort that he clung to that let him know something was amiss. Before, there was nothing but the absence of light as far as the eye could see –– - then suddenly there was a forest. How he came to be traipsing through the woods, the original didn’t have a clue. A piece of his mind had finally succumbed to the corrosion of death, he figured. Unsure if it was a new limbo, or perhaps heaven, he continued his walking. It was as though his feet knew exactly where to take him. The moon was bright above in the night sky and he could hear the sounds of nocturnal critters all around. Klaus couldn’t help but wonder if this was in fact Valhalla or Fólkvangr –– but all such notions of whimsy were dispelled when he was able to register the smells around him.

The dirt of the forest floor, the aroma of the leaves on the trees, the blood that pumped through the veins of the animals around him –– -

           Klaus froze as true realization dawned on him. This wasn’t death ; this was LIFE.

The fact that he couldn’t recall how he got there, or where he was heading, deeply troubled the hybrid. Yet as he continued forward, he felt a pull towards a very specific location. As much as he wanted to deny it, he knew precisely where his target lie : Mystic Falls.

                                                                               ✧

The Salvatore School was dark in the late hours of the night, but it was barely an effort for the resurrected hybrid to break in. Whatever wards were in place, didn’t seem to effect him, he noted. Although he should have no reason to know where the door he sought was, his feet continued to carry him towards the girls’ dormitories. 

He only stopped when he reached her room, and for a long moment, Klaus was wondering what he was doing. He was of perfect, sound mind in the Nothing –– but now he felt himself going mad. Everything was real, that much he was certain of. What he couldn’t calculate was how or even why. While it wasn’t impossible to resurrect a dead original, it would take great power. Yet, Klaus couldn’t recall a witch or a ritual. All he knew was that one minute he was dead, and the next, he was walking through the woods.

Blue eyes lifted to the door in front of him and he knocked, his heart pounding with uncertainty. Despite any unrest in his mind, there one thing that remained clear : he had to see her. Klaus had to see his daughter.

[wclfout]

@nexusvorti​ / plotted starter

           ‘Hope Mikaelson.’ A singular name that repeated in his mind as he trudged through the streets of New Orleans, directed towards the French Quarter by a skittish looking witch. He wasn’t sure if it was his eyes that gave him away, or the bloody mess that was his face, but one of the last things he’d heard before his escape was they were almost ready. Ready for what, Rafael wasn’t sure, but maybe this Hope knew. When he finally made it to the compound, Raf was taken aback. He had been expecting some kind of badass matriarch or Alpha, not a girl his age and half his size. “I’m uh, here about Kingmaker and Lucien Castle. I don’t know how much you’ve heard about this but they’ve been hunting werewolves in the area, stealing their venom for some shady shit. Someone said you might be the person to talk to.”

[storiesmade]

@nexusvorti​ said : “Are you alright?” - for pansy

there was a reason the forest was called forbidden forest — students weren’t supposed, or allowed, to go there. the sun was almost going down but there she was, wandering through the dense trees, looking for draco. how foolish of her. she was walking slowly, cursing her fellow slytherin classmates for choosing such an absurd location for a meeting, moving branches away from her face as she found herself deeper into the forest. she called for them but no one replied back. holding her arms to keep herself warm, pansy gave up and decided to turn around and head back to the castle. whenever they arrived, she would tell draco what professor umbridge had asked of them. however, within a few steps, there was a noise that scared her to death. she wanted to run but her body felt frozen with fear and one look back, the brunette was faced with a giant acromantula. she still tried to reach for her wand but fell on her back, and while screaming, pansy was both terrified and ready for her death. that was until something appeared. or someone, it appeared. there was a spell she didn’t recognize that made the spider fly 50 meters away. pansy held the offered hand to get up and as she adjusted her robe, she realized who she owed her life to. hope mikaelson, the werewolf.  ❛ thank you. ❜ she muttered, not looking the other in the eye. of all people that could have saved, why her? she already hated the feeling of owing someone like her a favor, of any kind. not to mention she was ashamed she had needed help in the first place.  ❛ i’m fine. you didn’t have— why did you help me? ❜  it was a honest question. pansy had never been kind to hope, or anyone who didn’t wear green and silver. if she had been in the other’s shoes, she probably would have run and left her there to die.

[fightforbetter-a]

🌈 am i allowed to send this even though i've known you for two seconds?

let me love you - accepting 

Of course you are! // @nexusvorti

Okay, well, I will admit to have been stalking your blog for a while before I made Hayley and entered this fandom, so let me tell you: you are a great writer and I was intimidated to approach you because you are such a great Hope with an in depth understanding of your character and I didn’t think you’d want to write with me when you’ve got so many great threads going on with other brilliant writers. But then you proved me wrong because you were so kind and welcoming and we just jumped right into plotting, which I love! Our plotted verse is going to break my heart in the best way and I look forward to many more great threads with you in future! :)

[geminaes-a]

@nexusvorti​ being an MVP and also liking my drabble post

She’s too late. Behind the double doors of what once upon a time, used to be the mystic grill, there’s a carnage. Metal and rust fill her nostrils as she steps over a pool of blood below her feet, leaving bootprints as she examines the damage of Hope’s disengaged humanity left behind in a blood-thirst. Some of them, she thinks, might still be alive, barely hanging on by a tether. Lizzie counts them, but when the number rises past the fifth she stops, and she kneels down to press her fingertips against the side of a still breathing human’s neck who begs for her help –– she frowns, examines the blood on her fingertips and wipes them on the side of her uniform skirt. 

As she crosses the booth and pulls out her cellphone from her pockets, she can’t help but feel the weight of the responsibility of this on her shoulders. If Josie were here to see this, it would weigh down on her even harder. She’d been only a fraction of a second too late, and Josie, consumed by darkness, had been eager for Hope to wake up without an emotional tether to stop her. By the time Josie had gone back to normal (and tucked her magic away in hopes of one day, learning to control herself around it once again), Hope had left not only the Salvatore School behind, but their otherwise sturdy relationship in the dust. 

This wasn’t the Hope Mikaelson she knew and loved. It reminded her of something else, someone else. Everyone talks about how children bare the seeds of their parent’s worst qualities ready to bloom when the opportunity strikes, but she knows that, the Hope she’d grown to love above all, fought the urges of the darkness of her legacy just as hard as she did. They were both broken in some way –– Hope, carrying the Mikaelson’s history on her back and forced to face their mistakes every day at the sake of everyone else’s entertainment, and Lizzie, carrying the burden of a coven not short from insanity. 

She calls her father first. 

And later, when he instructs her to do everything she can to keep those who remained alive breathing, and Lizzie rounds them up in a line against the far end wall of the building with a careful use of her magic and any and all healing spells she can think of, she hears the distant sound of police sirens wailing towards the building. 

It is only then, as her feet leave another bloody footprint on the ground as she steps out into the back alley, that she picks up the phone, and calls someone she only vowed to call when she’d run out of options, with shaky fingers and a shaky breath, and tears in her eyes.

“Hey –– its Lizzie. Sorry, I know its late. Remember what we talked about last week? About Hope? We should... I think we should meet up... No, its okay. I can take a bus to New Orleans. I just don’t know what to do anymore... Okay. Hey, Freya?... Thanks”.

[anunquietgrave]

@nexusvorti​

The same night that word spread around the coven in the French Quarter that the deceased Klaus Mikaelson’s daughter may be reaching out to reform the old council with the leaders of each faction under the rule of the Mikaelsons, one powerful witch decides to take matters into her own well-manicured hands. In the dead of night, carried by the sigh of a warm, calm Louisiana breeze, Cheryl Blossom– covered in a large red hood– makes her way to The Abattoir with a level, unblinking gaze and a candelabra in hand, dancing flames ablaze at her side. She stops just before the vampires on guard at the gate and flashes them a venomous, red-lipped smile that forms around her lie. “Take me to your leader, fodder. The Coven sent me.”

With the candle flames lighting her face under her hood, Cheryl steps into the room she’s led to, past the creeping vines in the courtyard and the classic architecture française that lives up to the name of the neighborhood, and stands square with the girl across the way. “I don’t care what my Coven says, freak of nature. They may accept your alliance, but I will play no part in cozying up with the daughter of the dastardly murderer known as Klaus Mikaelson.” She takes another step into the room and raises her hand, magically closing the door in the face of the vampires who led her there so she may have some privacy without the incessant growling by her ear. And cuts off Hope’s backup. The ancestors are on her side, and she likes to think her beloved Jay-Jay is among them. “No spawn of he who has defiled the memory of my twin will get my support. Not now, not in the eternal ever. So you can take your audacity and shove it.” There’s nothing else she has to lose, no amount of pain that can match that of her loss. It’s set in her eyes, her stance, and the way her voice quakes with fury and sadness despite the brave face she puts on. The girl in front of her is her mortal enemy in place of the man who did the deed, sins passed down through bloodlines. “Feel free to drop dead.” 

[sevenswcrds]

🍓

@nexusvorti || SEND A STRAWBERRY FOR SOME LOVE || Accepting 

Honestly I’m a little intimidated by you in general so we’ll just start with that. Your writing style is incredibly rich and flowing, and dynamic as all hell- it’s like there’s a picture being painted when I read it, and you put so much attention and dedication into your muses that it’s genuinely impressive. 

I’m just!!!! Yeah you’re really cool.

[asiphon-archive]

@nexusvorti​

New Orleans would be fun, they said. Fun, lively, musical. Right now, the only music she heard was the wind whipping through a gate, the iron creaking with the sway-- drips of wax and flicker of candles. Maybe it would rain soon and that sound would be able to lull her to sleep and escape to something a bit more accommodating in her dreams. 

Something as simple as a research trip had gone so awry so quickly, Josie wasn’t sure how to to connect the dots and make sense of it. At first, she’d been visiting a very obvious tourist trap, but she’d been drawn to the real herbs and crystals lining it’s windows. Following the call of learning new types of magic ( ancestral, she’d thought she’d read? ), it piqued her curiosity. Which meant exploring shops.

The rush of the next few days events were almost a blur in her mind, nearly cracked and whispered away from the abused she’d faced at these witches’ hands. Not on purpose, they’d said, as they’d locked her in this-- mausoleum? Tomb? Grave? while clearing the blood from her brow. At some point, she’d struggled and jerked away, muttering the words to a spell and wishing like hell that she’d been able to learn more wordless magic sooner. 

But they needed the siphoner--- One of the last of the Gemini Coven--- to help them overtake the King. A refusal meant she was a prisoner until she agreed. Until they could find the button to press and weakness to exploit to make her beg to help them. It also meant sleeping with the dead, bound with non-magical bonds, and a barrier spell feet away. The first few days, she’d tried pulling against the ropes and chains to get to it, just for a whisper of a touch. Now, she sat against the wall, staring at the stone ceiling. Waiting for the next visit. The next attempt.

Her bones ached. Her head throbbed. She wanted to go home.

[cursedbcrn-a]

@nexusvorti​ sent in 🍓 for some holiday serotonin

There are few people in the world who tolerate me for very long, and I’m happy to count you among them. Sometimes I think about where we started as itty bitty rp babies and the worlds we built back then, and I’m so proud to see how far you’ve come, kicking ass and taking names and showing up for the next generation of stories with badass women who like to smooch other badass women. Your writing is stellar, definitely one of the writers on my dash that I find myself reading more often than not. It doesn’t matter if you’re playing Hope or JJ or Amy, because I can feel your love for them in every reply and headcanon post, and you are able to seamlessly step into their shoes, and I will never not be in awe of that.

[tofeelthecold]

plotted || @nexusvorti​

All Buffy wanted was to live a normal life, she didn’t want this to be her life but it seemed like she had not choice. Her mother was here for a new job that was supposed to pay more and to get away from her father, who still lived in Los Angeles. Moving hadn’t really been part of Buffy’s plan but neither was being the vampire slayer. All she could do was hope that this place wasn’t plagued like the last place had been. She’d gotten expelled for setting the gym on fire but that hadn’t been her fault, not really though she couldn’t explain that she’d done it because of vampires. But here she was, with a feeling in her gut that told her she shouldn’t get too comfortable just yet.

They were still settling in and she had the rest of day to settle in before school tomorrow so she’d decided to take a break from helping to unpack and went to the Grill. It wasn’t so much that she was hungry as it was that she wanted get a feel for the people then and it was just easier to not be suspicious if she ordered something. Sitting at an empty table she tried to relax and just hoped that this was just a normal town with nothing weird going on.