archived.

KINGMAKETH : SER CRISTON COLE, UNVEILED BY MELANIE. the most inaccurate recollection of histories of the life of 𝖘𝖊𝖗 𝖈𝖗𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖔𝖓 𝖈𝖔𝖑𝖊, as told through the lense of the most unreliable narrator. 

when the apocalypse calls, beep me.

i'm not acting out. i'm a witch.

your brain isn't connected to your mouth, is it?

bite me.

you got any of those little marshmallows?

occasionally, i'm callous and strange.

i laugh in the face of danger. then i hide until it goes away.

i'm so evil and skanky. and i think i'm kinda gay.

isn't it crazy how slaying just always makes you hungry and horny?

yeah, i could do that. but i'm paralyzed with not caring very much.

we saved the world. i say we party.

i'm afraid we have a slight apocalypse.

i've seen honest faces. they usually come attached to liars.

you're not special. you're extraordinary.

maybe i'm not evil. but i don't think i can be good.

oh god, we're gonna die, aren't we?

were you planning on killing a bunch of people tomorrow?

i can be surrounded by people and be completely alone.

i'm the thing that monsters have nightmares about.

then we'll die together. it's romantic.

i may be love's bitch, but at least i'm man enough to admit it.

we made a demon? bad us.

and remember, if you hurt her, i will beat you to death with a shovel.

she irons her jeans. she's evil.

we can drop a piano on her! it always works for that creepy cartoon rabbit.

you can't fire me. i'm vision girl.

bored now.

can you just be kissing me now?

we don't need the law. we are the law.

it hurts so much. every day it's like a giant hole and it's not getting better.

i used to tell the truth all the time when i was evil.

embrace the pain, spank your inner moppet. whatever. just get over it.

the road to redemption is a rocky path.

when we're apart, it's easier. it hurts everyday. but i live with it.

as long as you don't go scratching at me or humpin my leg, we're five-by-five, you know?

excuse me, who gave you permission to exist?

thank god we're hot chicks with superpowers.

i'm under your spell.

it doesn't matter what kinda vibe you get off a person. nine times out of ten, the face they're showing you is not the real one.

what can i tell you, baby? i've always been bad.

like a carebear with fangs?

i just want you to have some kind of normal life. we can never have that.

to forgive is an act of compassion, __. it's not done because people deserve it.

trust has to be built again on both sides.

bunnies frighten me.

am i real? am i anything?

what is your childhood trauma?!

he's evil again.

out for a walk, bitch.

# 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐁𝐎𝐑𝐍 is an independent, private, highly selective && mutuals only roleplay blog dedicated to the portrayal of alicent hightower, drawing inspiration from fire and blood, as well as the hbo television adaptation house of the dragon. this interpretation is grounded in extensive character study, thoughtfully developed personal headcanons, and a variety of alternate universe influences, all approached with deliberate care and narrative intention. themes explored may be mature in nature. 21+ only. est timezone. minors dni. written by snow.

college is different. for once they're living normal lives again. well, as normal as a couple of werewolves can be. (they're not constantly running for their lives or playing in the alpha-beta games. it's definitely a step up.) but with this new sense of normality comes the change in their schedules. some days she almost misses those last couple of years in beacon hills when they went to school and then came home together. now she finds herself missing him more often than not. he's busy with the lacrosse team and her new curriculum is more intense than she expected. (she has to remind herself that there's only a few more weeks to the semester – they will have a more compatible schedule soon.) this is the third time this week plans had to be cancelled. if it wasn't one of her study sessions, it was his practice that got in their way. normally she'd get a text as a head's up, but this time erica's, “𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚢?” was met with radio silence. after the two hour mark, she called it in. dolled up erica was replaced with a messy bun, one of isaac's shirts, and pajama shorts. she'd been been spooning at a pint of häagen-dazs when she heard the knock to her door. the lid was quickly replaced and both the carton and spoon were abandoned on the side table before she found herself opening the door and being met with the usual explanation. ❝ i was dead asleep, lahey, ❞ she murmurs, head coming to rest against the doorframe she's yet to make space at to allow him entry. ❝ it's late. ❞ if one can count nine-thirty on a friday night late. 

it's not a future he'd seen for himself , not after the bite and certainly not before ... isaac always figured he'd wind up digging graves for the rest of his life , stuck in the darkness that had been his father's shadow. but derek had come along and offered him something he couldn't refuse , and his father had rather conveniently ended up dead. the werewolf era of beacon hills had been an improvement , other than his temporary stint in the county jail ... but higher education had still felt ... out of reach. unnecessary. entrenched in a supernatural warzone and navigating the werewolf pack hierarchies and disputes had never left a lot of time to study ... hell , without erica , isaac doubts he would have even graduated in the first place , which ...