#atomgun

delphine raises an eyebrow over her cup of coffee before she lowers it, pondering her thoughts before she voices them. “okay. i am glad that you trusted me with this. so, we will never be having sex again?”

          very few will pay attention to the quiet hufflepuff that skirts past quickly, quietly. head ducked with dark red hair falling to either side like curtains that make it impossible to see the troubled expression on her face. it’s by design. no one will notice her, not the way that her robes a little too rumpled to be right for her perfectionism, or the purpose to her steps. for one so generally observant, she doesn’t seem to notice in her fleeing--- and it’s definitely a flight from something or someone ---that she’s being followed.

          ducking into a hardly used classroom, she has to brace herself against the wall with her forearms tucking her head into her hands with deep shuddering breaths as she struggles to recompose herself believing herself to be far from prying eyes.

        “I believe that’s called a stroke when you have lost feeling in your face.” Lips press against the rim of her own glass, sipping. Club soda, no-alcoholic. “But just let go and dance, hm?” Beverage discarded, next to Caelan’s, freeing up her hands to take the other’s into her own. 

Trapped within the confines of a freezing meat locked, the wolf struggled against the silver chains that bound her wrists and ankles. She’d been dangling in there for a few days now, unable to give these assholes the information they sought her out for.

Caelan hadn’t been in touch for over a year---Not that she’d been keeping track. But the more she insisted they were dead to each other, the more they tortured her, hoping to pry any nugget of information they could out of Arcadia.

The handle on the door seemed to jiggle, prompting the wolf’s gaze to wander in its direction. Her mouth curled into a snarl, fangs presented to whoever might enter. A bubbling growl simmer in her throat that seemed to cut out as a few gunshots rang out, blood rushing beneath the door as it pooled around her feet. As the locker door swung open, golden hues rose to find an unexpected face staring her down. “---What the fuck are you doing here?”

twenty questionsstatus: today, yes

x || @atomgun☝: A MUSE YOU'D LIKE TO PLAY AGAIN

AAAAAHHHHH SPENCER CARLIN. Spencer my garbage child. Spencer who was my first ever attempt at a legit OC. Spencer my troubled, damaged werewolf. Spencer who couldn’t keep her grubby paws off of Georgia’s Beth Childs. Spencer who’s actual soulmate was Beth Childs. That Spencer. 

Yes. I think if I revamped her entire blog and bio, I’d totally give her another chance. 

            ❛ okay, cae -- what’s eatin’ you? ❜

cae had been silent almost the entire walk back to her house after school  today, and though she tried to strike up any kind of  conversation,  it  all  ended  in one or two word responses and  once  again --  silence. so, she’d stopped almost dead in  her  tracks,  grabbing  her  friend  lightly  by  the  arm and stubbornly demanding an answer for the cold shoulder she’d                                      been getting all afternoon.