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moved to @dignitaes
most drafts are being moved and continued !
moved to @dignitaes
most drafts are being moved and continued !
moved to @dignitaes
most drafts are being moved and continued !
bentrule, derek hale.
he can still see it. bars of inhumane metal between two men who were forced to face reality far too quickly. separating the human from the immortal ── like they were two monsters destined to be locked away. he still remembers the anguish, the pain that stabbed him in the gut like a relentless sadist every time the thought crossed his mind. flames ── his whole childhood engulfed in the embers that held the ones he kept closest. as he was ripping at the doors, the heat unbearably scorching fragile skin of his palms, he was torn away. taken prisoner. the next thing he remembers is waking up next to him. a similarly grief - stricken stranger at the time, but eventually the reason he was able to hold on.
derek spent the years following his untimely escape with loss plaguing his heart like a morbid & rampant virus. he had nothing left to cling to but the memories of the torture. of the needles stuck into every vein inside of his body, the pain inflicted with the excuse of experimentation. every breath he took was another sad tale of grief. a sick & grueling reminder of what he was mourning. the family home that was now abandoned in smithereens as a keepsake of tragedy to the quiet town. the friend that he had left behind, without bothering to turn back. a trauma response, is what he read. a selfish decision, is what he decided.
he shut it off. decades passed with the hurt being swallowed & ignored like the bitter taste of cold medicine. dreading doing it, feeling like it was an easy way out from the pain that many go through in their every day, human lives. but the simple path or not, it relieved the anguish. even if the solution was temporary. it may not be a decision that others could make ── but he wasn’t human. death was ripped from him at a time he needed it most ── not feeling was his only practical means of unwanted survival.
the ground is ripped from beneath his feet ── as quick as it went, the steadiness of the revolving earth returned. even with the years that had passed, he can recognize the floorboards that lay rotten under his mud tainted shoes. he can still smell the remaining ash that exists as a result of untouched tragedy, an agreement to preserve the memories he wishes to forget. his eyes tear away from the familiar broken glass of the front window, focusing instead on the phantom. it’s a delusion! ❝ how can you… ❞ raspy voice trails off, swallowing the knot that threatens to suffocate him. ❝ how are you here? ❞
there it is, his humanity elongating its traitorous claws and making an inexorable attempt to part the floodgates keeping it locked away. it’s risk-free there, it’s at peace there, it’s devoid of any more suffering there. enzo grew weary of it unfailingly getting in the way, he’s called it a hindrance on more than one occasion, and as he continues without said humanity intact, it’s how he vows to so remain. yet with derek standing before him, scintillating emerald now gazing back at him, the vampire can’t help but note the ghosts that still haunt those eyes, just as they did when in those cells. while everyone’s chosen to so willingly leave enzo behind one way or another, he recalls derek’s family being involuntarily torn from his very hands. a blazing fire had raged, torching them one by one until oxygenation was snuffed from their lungs, until all that remained was ash.
the clawed clutches of humanity, there they go giving the doors of his soul yet another violent tug. that’s the funny thing about flipping the switch, it may free one from the constraints of heart and soul, prohibit the manner in which recollections wound, influence, and debilitate, but it does not eliminate them. memories remain, and sometimes with a particular person, such recollections can stir fierce enough sentiment until it breaks free — resurfacing to once again be a hindrance. for a split second, it’s what occurs within enzo, for a deep ache churns within, jolting and augmenting until the evidencing emotion is trounced by masked apathy and detachment. that alone should’ve been his telltale sign, that derek hale still had such power over him, well he’d be damned to continue allowing it.
gaze snaps free of @bentrule, russet hues trailing the rotting hardwood beneath their feet as he takes a step back and begins to turn with agonized leisure. his body angles away just a fraction at first, until he pivots entirely, he doesn’t know what he’d do with the hybrid still so close — within arms length — and he wasn’t about to find out. ❛ how am i here. ❜ he echoes bitterly, bitingly for his own ears but for another, a care wouldn’t as little as be detected in his voice. ❛ you mean mostly breathing and not a pile of swept up ash in a wrought iron cell ? i could ask you the very same, mate. ❜ hands slip into pockets of dark denim, shoulder hazardously taking a rest against a soon to be decayed banister. ❛ let’s just say that a certain scientist wasn’t the best at his job. i was eventually freed. ❜
images flash behind his eyes — sharing blood rations, recounting tales to keep one another off the brink of insanity. honesty, secrecy, trust, grief — they shared it all. after a long while, nothing appeared to be off the table for them. until now. it’s now safe to say that derek hadn’t died, so had he left him, too ? something torrid rages within enzo then, we’ll call it that pesky humanity, and it’s screaming for liberation. he doesn’t know what to think, he doesn’t know what had happened to derek, all he knows is that yet again, another may have chosen to abandon him. he doesn't face him, back to derek’s front, enzo’s shoulder continues pressed against splintered wood and his gaze is settled on a broken window. ❛ all those years after damon left us in that cell. i believed you’d died. ❜ a pause, pin drop silence in the space between them, around then, until it’s filled with what would’ve been the deepest ache. ❛ tell me, derek, did you leave with him ? ❜

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soulsired, angelus.
❝ you know, you really brought this on yourself. ❞ he really likes to hear himself talk when he's like this. soul gone, demon returned. and a hell of a chip on his shoulder guiding him to be the scourge of mystic falls. ❝ i had high hopes for you, enzo. i really did. ❞ didn’t he tell the other to turn off that nasty humanity? flip the switch. but no, he chose not to. and now angelus is doing everything he can to make the guy suffer.
he started off with a little taunting. a stuffed teddy bear ( from what he gathers, with the name ’ miss cuddles ’ ) having been beheaded and displayed on a bloody mantle for all to find. this was a warning. he’ll eventually make his rounds and go after bonnie. but this time – this night was dedicated to caroline forbes. the blonde tied down to a chair, having already undergone the angelus special of a vervain shower.
❝ you belong on my side, enzo. why do you want so badly to fit in with these. . . lesser beings. ❞ the ones who try so hard to be human. or worse, the actual humans he fraternizes with. . . the one he’s involved with. ❝ this can end. you know what i want. ❞
@theyburied , starter call.
despite his wavering composure for caroline’s sake, white-hot rage surges through him. it’s a tidal wave of fury, irascibility, and the itch to murder that’ll never fully leave him. after all, he is a murderous vampire. but, that’s what he wants — to drive his fist past angelus’ ribcage and yank that lifeless heart straight from his chest. he wants to use that hand as a hatchet and swipe his vexing head clean off his shoulders, whatever would do the trick. but he doesn’t. enzo’s unable to, for he made a promise to bonnie that they’d ensure the other’s soul returned and intact prior to making any rash decisions. if it were solely up to enzo, the nuisance would’ve been long decapitated.
he stalks forth instead, with the stride of a beast pursuing its prey, fangs briefly breaching past gums before retreating with menacing deliberation. ❛ right, flip my switch ? i know that’s what you want, but it’s something that at this very moment i’m simply. . . . unable to give. besides, i don’t take too well to orders given by vampires that have gone and bloody lost their souls. ❜ time for an arrangement, a bargain. ❛ look, you tell me where the perky blonde is, i take a few days to consider your request, and nobody has to get hurt. ❜ lost is the typical charm flooding his voice, in its place is one that’s low, dangerously so as he approaches. enzo’s countenance is unruffled and calm, too calm, and it is nothing but incongruent with the vexation thrashing within. but not his mind, that remains serene — calculative, for one knows that calmer heads will invariably prevail. they’re toe to toe now, or just about, and he’s never felt steadier. ❛ because if any of them do, angelus, you’ll be sleeping with one eye open when i’m through with you. in fact, you won’t be sleeping at all. ❜
maimedaffair, henry detamble.
❝ YOU DIDN’T BRING ANY CLOTHES , @theyburied —————– ❞ awkward laugh is given , seeing as gomez & charisse are right there && he just landed butt-naked in the middle of their living room. ❝ ———- AM I LATE FOR GAME NIGHT ? ❞
there’s a relative translucence to deep, sapphire eyes, even one’s that are now widened like saucers for a fleeting moment at her soon to be husband ( or if we’re speaking technicalities, then already husband ) emerging out of thin air. she tends to wonder if it feels like being vacuumed and spit out, but in another time, not merely another room. she’ll make a mental note to probe about it someday — since they have just about the rest of their lives ahead of them, together. ❛ i didn’t know to expect you. ❜ hints of a smile tease at the corners of her lips, a certain clemency polishing her features. it’s him. ❛ but you have a pair of pants in my room, and you can grab one of gomez’s shirts hanging in the hall. ❜ she averts her gaze then, simultaneously peeking at the board games strewn about and dismissing gomez’s protests before abruptly rising to her feet. ❛ actually, i can just show you. ❜ she steps out from behind the table, beelining for the room as she strides past henry, fully expecting him to trail behind.
crowdeads, paige matthews.
❝ here’s something that isn’t in the book of shadows: i hate it when you’re right, especially when it’s my off day and the only plans i had were to have an early date with ben & jerry. ❞ / @theyburied.
❛ you can hate it all you want now but you’ll love me for it later when we’re not laying in piles of our own ashes after getting burnt to crisps by those upper-level demons. ❜ let it be known that the entirety of her retort was expelled in an isolated breath, formidable gaze holding. she steps down just a fraction though, empathy slipping through. ❛ look, paige, ❜ she embarks anew, tone softer, an octave less demanding. ❛ i wish we could have all the days off in the world, but sadly our lives sometimes don’t really allow that. i’ll buy you all the ben and jerry’s as soon as we’re done, ‘kay ? ❜
mythsonly, mele georgiou.
@theyburied → FROM MELE TO ENZO : starter
❛ ❛ let’s be clear — i trust no one. ❜ ❜
❛ and yet here we are, the only two vampires in town — working alongside one another. it appears we share vastly different definitions for the word trust, love. ❜ he’s playing with fire, he knows that. but who’s enzo if not a fiend for some thrill. her abilities exceed any vampire’s he’s come to encounter, her power absorption and transference a very force to be reckoned with on their own. he should tread carefully if he knows what’s good for him. booted feet pivot towards her, hands ascending to steeple and idle against his lips in transient thought before returning to his sides. ❛ let’s get one thing clear, shall we ? i wouldn’t be here if i didn’t need you. so, i obviously hold some degree of trust for you, i’m going to need you to do the same if we’re to work together. ❜
maimedaffair, henry detamble.
❝ NOT YOU AGAIN ———– ❞ distaste is clear on the YOUNGER DETAMBLE’S face as he shrugs into his jacket. ❝ look , i don’t have time for you today , @theyburied. i’m going to meet ingrid. ❞
❛ yeah, me again. ingrid can wait twenty minutes. she has no problem with you being late tonight anyway. trust me, i remember. ❜ matured eyes flicker over the younger, far more disheveled, variant of himself so objectionably stationed before him. henry’s grown accustomed to glancing over their shoulders, scouting their vicinity. when you’re a time traveler, threats could be waiting at any and every corner, despite sensibly knowing there wouldn’t be a risk there, not that night. a hand elevates to descend atop the same shoulder he glanced over, almost as if to forcibly root the man in place. as if that’d ever work ❛ you’re gonna wanna hear this. ❜

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desafia, magnolia castillo.
@theyburied matías sent: ❝ i don’t really like letting people see them. ❞
there is a reverence she holds towards a topic such as this. beneath mesh sleeves and the soft fabrics of her dress, rest multiple markings of her own she prefers remain hidden. there is nothing beautiful in the remnants of suffering. though, it is easy to find value in the healing of others than to see beauty in her own marred skin and bruised soul. people can be like art, the flaws and damages reflect rich history and humanity. but she feels neither like a person or like one of her purposefully ripped canvases. ❛ me too, ❜ signed admittance with a gentleness in her eyes ❛ scars are like…having pieces of your soul on the outside. ❜
her head tilts to the side as she surveys her companion, carefully considering how best to navigate. ❛ they’re just pieces, though. you know? the whole of you is worth seeing and knowing. ❜
his marred flesh is a derisive keepsake of penalty and exile. he wonders if it’s truly a punishment when he did long for the touch of humanity. for touches of life. perhaps he doesn’t see it as punishment then, perhaps it just feels like one. he conceals them well, beneath shirts and jackets that cling securely around his back. but there are times such as these, when skin becomes slightly too exposed, too bare and subject to pity, disgust, or fright. these times aversion and hostility seep into his mind as a first line of defense. but around her, it wasn’t so bad. around mags, he felt like he wasn’t alone in such feeling. he’d peeled off his tattered shirt in the hallway moments earlier as it’d been caught in a brawl’s crossfire, leaving him in a black tank top as he rests against the island, lower back to edge of countertop. he’d caught sight of her elevated hands in his peripheral, deep brown flickering up and observing closely as she signs. but her words steer him toward melancholia because of how true they ring. they sink into his bones, and arms fold across his breast. ❛ tienes razón. ❜ head falls forward for a moment as he considers his next words, gaze readjusting to settle on her once decided. ❛ i just don’t think there’s a whole of me left, magnolia. not after everything. ❜
bentrule, elena gilbert.
there’s a shaky breath that leaves slightly parted lips, but she doesn’t feel the exhale or the relief that’s meant to come after. her body is numb, her eyes a deadened stare on the grave of her younger brother. ( how ridiculous to have a grave with no body, what semblance of comfort is it supposed to provide? her brother’s body is nothing but a mountain of ashes mixed in with where they were raised, he holds no stake over this plot of land. ) she feels stiles’ hands, the touch breaking the disconnect between her mind and her physical form and pulling her back to solid ground. she blinks up at him through flooded eyes, the ocean spilling onto reddened cheeks as she leans into his body. ❝ i can’t, i don’t know how. ❞
he continues crouched, still towering over her in their positions kneeled atop soil. fingers, albeit gentle at first, curl into her shoulders — still merciful but now defeated by a touch of disquietude. it could be perceived in the frenetic set of a wavering brow, in the anxious quiver of his lips as words haphazardly spill from them, even in the tremors traveling through his hands. ❛ you can, are you kidding me ? ❜ prove it to her that she can do it, make her believe that she can survive this. god, somehow. come on, stiles, it’s not the first time you’re caught grasping at straws. ❛ elena, listen to me, ❜ his head ducks to meet her at eye level despite tear-brimmed eyes already settled upon him, unease blooming in the center of his breast and disseminating. ❛ you can. i haven’t seen anyone survive half of the crap you have, they all end up out of their damn minds or— ❜ dead, they all end up dead. he sighs in a meek attempt to arrange his thoughts, empathy welling and spouting for her. ❛ you’re not alone. ❜
sinshe, amara petros.
@theyburied, ❛ i would rather break the world than lose you. ❜
they’re both worried about what’s to come. amara knows she won’t have a choice once qetsiyah begins to set her plans in motion. if she is no longer the anchor, that would either mean she was fully dead or simply gone. into the abyss. a place in which matías wasn’t capable of going, he wouldn’t be able to find her again. head comes to rest against his chest, arms wrapping around him. “don’t say that,” she whispers, emotion threatening to spill over. “we won’t lose each other.” he was the only thing to make this hell bearable. if it was up to her, amara would never go where matías couldn’t follow. their spirits would follow each other’s forever. “it can’t end like this.”
this had been her dismal reality, but it is a reality that’d became theirs. a place where he could go, even if provisionally, to be with her. for her to feel less lonely, less shackled to the chains of eternal nullity and suffering. he once wondered if their time would ever be up, as most thing are with him, but he never envisioned what it would feel like if it did. when it did. he stands before her, an apparition of his body at most, she resides where they can see but cannot touch. it springs from the influence of connection, from not merely what he’s meant to be for her but from how much they mean to one another. that keeps him anchored there, even if for a time with limits. and that time is woefully up. qetsiyah’s rounding up her plan, one matías can gather snippets of, but it’s one he’s unable to alter. ❛ qetsiyah will untether you from this place, ❜ from me, from this, ❛ and then i can’t reach you, amara. not unless i follow. ❜ not unless you’re stripped of all divinity coursing through your veins and you too, die, matías. she grasps at him, but she embraces nothing, there’s no touch — and yet a hand ascends to cradle the back of where her head is, not quite meeting brunette strands. merely hovering. he wishes to ease her fears, and thus he summons his next words from of a place of solace. ❛ it’ll be okay, we’ll be okay, amor. ❜
sinshe, amara petros.
@theyburied, ❛ you’re being forgetful. or kind. ❜
“i don’t forget things, tobias.” he would come to see, come to understand that she wasn’t someone who spoke or did things just for the sake of it. mind like an unyielding trap, her father used to say. for better or worse. “but i lived in an unimaginable hurt for two-thousand years. i lost everything and i got my revenge.” in losing silas and taking qetsiyah’s powers for herself, all amara had was the present; a chance to live a completely different life now that she could. she would not make the same mistakes twice. “kindness comes easy when you’re starting at the beginning again.”
jaw muscle twitches beneath grating teeth, a vice he’s unfavorably acquired as of late. it was one antecedently reserved for instances where he stood alert, vigilant, awaiting impending onslaught. now he appears to do it even when ever composed or serene, such as now as he sinks back into an all too exorbitant couch cushion. klaus is nowhere in sight, his home typically swarming in hybrids especially uninhabited that afternoon. thus four, also an ever submissive hybrid much to his indignation, sits with one of the witches who so luckily seems to be on his side. by his side — aware that he doesn’t wish to serve the way he’s been urged to against his will. ❛ wise words. ❜ all he ever heard from her were wise words, he figured it’d be so since she’s been around for such lengths. he wonders if time had ever been lost on her. ❛ i appreciate your kindness though. you being here. ❜ body goes rigid all too abruptly, artifice sparking behind intent, russet hues. he surges forth in the seat beneath him, hands clasped between spread knees as forearms come to rest on quads. attention undivided. ❛ you don’t happen to have any spare desire for some revenge, do you ? i’ve got tyler on my side, but i could use a witch. ❜
sinshe, amara petros.
it is a rare juncture to not feel death. no matter how it happens, the frequency is what drains her the most. even if a supernatural soul passes through her in peace, amara isn’t able to hold onto it. before matías there was nothing she found solace in. the silence before he ‘entered her world’ drove her just as mad as the pain. “it’s all right — you are painting a picture for me.” she begins, offering a kind and inquisitive reply of her own. it’s almost a gift; to hear of the things beyond her realm of understanding. she’s no longer clueless. “i have never received warnings.” instead ,amara feels what comes from the other side with violent bursts. “i can only equate it to how you might feel to be struck in the total darkness of night. it shocks you.” if she wasn’t immortal, she imagines the repetitious surprise of such brutality might have ended her life completely. “your counsel is a form of enlightenment. albeit a depressing form at times.”
there was once a time where he apperceived peace and harmony, perfect serenity without a single care of who came or went, of which civilizations fell to ruins and which prospered. he knew of them all during this time, when omnipotence was one with him. now it guardedly tarries between nerves and ligaments, solely serving to rejuvenate, to aid, to maintain just enough divinity and his immortal life, but for nothing else. the surge of knowledge, albeit remained intact, at times can feel distant and out of close reach as if he’s grasping for remembrance. such as with amara, when he recounts tales of fallen empires, the legends do not come to him with immediacy as they once would, they are no longer as if he’d once lived them. though he never did as they were times long before him, it was still how he was made to recall them. that is, until he fell. ❛ no lo puedo imaginar, being stuck in complete darkness ? i’m sorry you’ve been cursed to live this life, amara. ❜ it’s true, he’s sorry. he wishes to heave her out of this oblivion and devastate the other side, as without it there would be no demand of an anchor. but he’s aware that he can’t do such a thing, such an illusion wholly impracticable. a sigh escapes him in the dead of night, brown hues flickering down from the stars above to an undernourished feline balancing its way across a ledge in the streets below. ❛ tell me, what is your favorite part of these pictures i paint for you ? ❜ because i will create as many as i can as long as i’m here.

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maimedaffair, allie hamilton.
silly noah ,
forget you ? HOW COULD ANYONE FORGET YOU ? as if you’d let them. you wouldn’t let me forget you when we met , && i’m sure as heck not forgetting you now. not after everything we’ve been through. HOW COULD I ? you’re the other half of me. always have been. always will be. don’t ever forget that , alright ? no matter what my parents say , you’re it for me , noah.
YOU WRITE LIKE A POET , NOAH. i wish i had the same tact. but i just wanna write down everything i’m thinking , exactly how i’m thinking it. i hope you don’t mind. & i promise my letters to school admissions are much more proper & well thought out ——– my studying payed off , i swear ! i’m just too excited to be talking to you again. i never thought i’d get the chance again.
i’m supposed to be in art lessons right now. look at me , rebelling the second i get one of your letters. maybe mama was right about something ——— YOU GET IN MY HEAD TOO EASY NOAH CALHOUN. you know i love painting , but i love you more , so here i am , scribblin away & smiling to myself because i know you’ll be holding this letter soon enough & thinking of me. just knowing i haven’t let your mind makes me feel like we haven’t been separated all this time. YOU NEVER LEFT MY MIND , EITHER. && there’s no light in me without you. i’ve been kinda like a lantern turned all the way down until i got a letter from you , noah. now i could lead myself all the way back to you on foot with the light coming out of me.
all yours , forever , allie.
my dearest allie,
the fire you planted in my heart wouldn’t let me forget you. it wouldn’t let me let you forget me. how could i when you changed me ? i haven’t quite figured out how yet, but i think i’m better because of you. you’ve made me care about things i probably never would’ve before. from the moment i first saw you, i knew there’d be more of you and i. i haven’t quite figured out if that’s good or bad yet, but it definitely feels good, and honestly, allie, i never wanted that feeling to end.
seabrook hasn’t been the same without you, my dad says the same thing, he says the nights are quiet without your shameless laugh — breakfast for dinner not as savory. but he knows you’re off probably doing amazing things, so do i. sarah lawrence ? they’re lucky to have you. i’m sure your admission letters read like a whitman poem, or something close to one at least. i want you to write down everything you’re thinking, every thought, no matter how aimless, i wouldn’t have it any other way. i miss your voice, allie, i even miss it when you’re yelling at me for doing something dumb but typical of me. i long for it all, your touch more than anything, though. nothing compares to that, but your letters and the faint scent of you they carry can surely make up for it. for now.
how have your art lessons been going ? now don’t let me get in the way of those, not when that’s the only real thing you do for you, allie. i hope you’re not still doing everything else for other people, i hope you’re taking the time to do things for you aside from just painting. but do paint, okay ? if not for yourself, then do it for me. don’t let my letters get in the way when they aren’t going anywhere. we found each other again, allie, and i’ll be crazy to let you go, again.
yours, noah.
wait do me do me ❔
SEND ❔ FOR MUSES THAT I’D THROW AT YOURS ( DYNAMIC INCLUDED ) ! no longer accepting, since i still have a few to do.
1 ) john wick, does mags want to know a current or former hitman, someone seriously pissed off for his pup being killed. because what if the son of the gangster he’s been after knows a tantalus handler and john just goes unhinged and tries to go after them all before tantalus became known to the public. or you know, literally anything i’m down for whatever lol. 2 ) barry allen, he’s a sweet speedster who makes for very nice company. 3 ) beth harmon, my neurodivergent girl would honestly just think mags is phenomenal, this dynamic could be very sweet. beth’s masking as she grew up and i just think, them. 4 ) tobias eaton, for emphasis because i think what we had started plotting was so neat leading them into your arc iii or something. 5 ) selene, though technically she isn’t a dead vampire and does age but just can’t die from old age because underworld lore, maybe she gets infected with another vampire virus strain on top of the corvinus strain. making her immortal and living throughout the ages. vampy things with vampire mags if you’d like.