#finalvlog

@finalvlog​ says: Alex leans back in his chair, balancing precariously before letting it balance back out on all four legs. "Be honest with me, if you weren't being paid a ludicrous amount, how much would you hate me? Scale of one to ten." They'd been going over documents together in preparation and Alex was getting tired, which meant he had to fill the silence with something. Trying to get under John's skin was as good a pastime as any.

John’s resolve was chipping away by the minute; only an hour ‘til his client’s deposition. With a hip leaned against the large oak desk, the lawyer watched Alex’s movements closely. ( 🇹​🇭​🇮​🇸​ 🇨​🇭​🇦​🇮​🇷​ 🇮​🇸​ 🇲​🇦​🇩​🇪​ 🇴​🇫​ 🇲​🇪​🇽​🇮​🇨​🇦​🇳​ 🇵​🇮​🇳​🇪​ ﹣ 🇹​🇴​🇴​ 🇵​🇷​🇮​🇨​🇪​🇱​🇪​🇸​🇸​ 🇹​🇴​ 🇧​🇪​ 🇷​🇪​🇵​🇱​🇦​🇨​🇪​🇩​ 🇦​🇹​ 🇹​🇭​🇪​ 🇱​🇴​🇨​🇦​🇱​ 🇼​🇦​🇱​🇲​🇦​🇷​🇹​ !! ) Half-tempted to wait it out and witness a tumble, he hesitated snapping his fingers in protest.  ❝Whether or not I’m being paid, you’re still...❞ There was a contemplated sigh of disapproval before he continued,  ❝Less than tolerable.❞ John replied, the corners of his mouth still resisting a frown. Although the words rang true, nothing could break his mask. 

❝Good thing I’m not here to be your bestfriend, right?❞

there   are   very   few   times   that   her   business   email   offers   her   anything   more   than   bogus   ads   and   the   occasional   fan   message,   and   when   helena   logs   in   to   clean   out   her   messages,   she’s   not   expecting   to   see   the   name   attached   to   her   most   recent   email.   lashes   blink   and   she   clicks   it   open,   a   smile   forming   along   her   mouth.   she’d   seen   their   videos,   had   known   alex   by   name   but   not   because   they   were   friends.   truthfully,   she’d   spent   more   than   a   couple   nights   binging   videos   on   their   channel   and   even   left   a   couple   of   comments.   never   once   did   it   cross   her   mind   to   collab.   there’s   a   moment   before   she   replies,   fingers   hovering   over   her   keyboard   and   then:

 dear   alex,    thank   you!   i   have   to   admit,   i’m   quite   the   fan   of   yours   as   well.   opinions   on   collabs?   well,   just   tell   me   when   and   where   and   i’m   in!    looking   forward   to   hearing   back   from   you                     -   helena

sunday prompts

@finalvlog

dancing on my own. my muse getting close and personal on the dancefloor.

Isaiah doesn’t come out to places like this often. Maybe when he was younger, first learning about the world outside his small town, he was a more frequent visitor. It was a quick and easy way to hook up with someone, another thing he’d liked back in his younger years. Back when everything had been... Not simple, not by a long shot, but all he had on his mind was finding and confronting his brother, not fully realized as what he was. 

Had those been the days, as some people said? He wasn’t sure. Not really. The days he looked back most fondly on were his childhood, when he and Elijah were together. Not the road alone. Not the road looking for him. 

prompt.   /    accepting.

𝚕𝚒𝚙𝚜    𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚛𝚔    𝚞𝚙𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚜   𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘    𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎    𝚑𝚊𝚕𝚏𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚎𝚍    𝚜𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚎,   the    thought    that   someone    as    well   loved    as    the   one    before    him   could    be    anything   but    revered    by   his    family    was   ...    near    laughable   to    miller.    or   rather,    it    would   be,    if    it    wasn’t   so    bitterly    familiar   a    feeling    as   sharing    some    unspoken   tension    with    people   who    were    supposed   to    be    your   family.    then    again,   alex    only    had   the    one,    assumedly.    so   he    supposes    it’s   a    bit    different.    better   or    worse    though,   that’s    what    he   couldn’t    place.    those   eyes    ---    those   eyes!    how    they   glint    with    some   curious    nature,    focused   and    cold    but   hungry    to    know   more.    as    if   he    could    garner   an    understand    of   his    whole    life   simply    by    giving   him    some    cursory    once   over.    better    than   the    gaze    of   the    beast,    he’d   suppose,    though    just   as    strong    and   holding    all    the   power    his    own   does.    dead    eyes,   that’s    what    the   people    in    town   said    he    had,   milky    white    and   empty.    the    look   of    something    drudged   from    the    grave   that    cut    through   you    with    ease.   and    the    same   blade    was    held   in    the    gaze   he    looked    upon   him    with    now,   before    flickering    away.   how    familiar    it   was    for    someone   like    him    to   find    solace    in   dumping    upon    a    stranger    the   intricacies    of    his   family.    clearly    never   intended    to    see   him    again    after   this,    worn    suddenly   by    the    reminder   that    this    was   all    he’d    ever   have.    half    baked   understandings    with    people   who    flitted    in   and    out    of   his    path,    he   was    someone    comfortable    to   those    lost    like   him    ---    but   meant    for    more.   yet    how    thrilling   it    would    be,   to    imagine    he   could    be    someone   like    him.    kind,   strong,    and    meant   for    so    much   more.

                            ❛    yeah?   ...    huh,    weird   ...    not    that   it’s    ---                                       i    mean,    i    just    kinda   figured    someone    like   you    just                                     ...    i    dunno,   had    everything    together?   like    ---    your                                   parents    are    smart   as    shit,    you’re   smart    as    shit,                                   you    help    people   everywhere    you    go.   guess    i    kinda                                   forgot    all    families   got    their    whole    ----                               '    we    don’t   talk    about    that   ’    garbage.    ❜

It's lunch time. She knows that much, if only from the relative silence of the halls. Most of the patients aren't in their cells anymore; they've been escorted to the cafeteria, save for the ones too violent to be let out even under supervision. Val knows she hasn't been badly behaved enough this week to officially lose lunch privileges, which leaves one of two options; either today's guard on duty wants some alone time with her, or he's got a personal grudge. 

Footsteps in the distance bring her answers. She leans against the outer wall of her cell, arms hanging out between the bars as she cranes her neck to get a better look. She hears him before she sees him, talking too loudly to a yet unseen companion; the tall lanky one who thinks he's too good for this place despite being at the very bottom of the Mount Massive hierarchy. 

It makes sense, then, why she's already missed half of her lunch hour. It's a bullshit power play to leave her wondering if she'll be getting fed today or not. He's yet to understand that she doesn't care. One skipped meal isn't going to ruin her day, and neither are the slurs he typically flings at her that she's already heard a hundred times over from Papa Knoth. He's not special. Not intimidating. He is, however, a pain in the ass. Usually she makes him well aware of how she feels about him. But, today is different. Today, he's brought her a gift.

As they come closer down the hallway, she's able to see them. The lanky guard and the fresh meat that he's been talking to, telling him where the different hallways lead and which patients to watch out for. She presses a little closer against the bars, the subconscious urge to touch taking over. She can't get a read on the man with big eyes and messy hair, can't tell yet if he's going to be as docile as he looks. But, as the older guard continues, it seems as though she's going to get her chance to find out. 

"Oops, looks like somebody forgot this one." The guard shoots her a look as though it's an inside joke and not his own negligence. But, he's behaving, and so she behaves. She knows exactly what he's doing, as he fumbles with his keys and unlocks her cell; he thinks it's a cute practical joke to leave the newbie alone with the pervert. She plays along, at the risk of him thinking he's won. But, a lion doesn't worry about the motivations of it's keeper; it's simply grateful for the raw meat thrown into it's pen. 

      ❝ Manners would suffice, rather than perhaps picking apart ones belongings. Although, I don’t blame one such as yourself to be curious.❞

      Room is shrouded in a dull darkness, amber light echoing off in corners of the large space. Tall, looming windows vailed over by thick velvet curtains that keep the space retained from any natural light. A room gifted to the professor by one of the Lords, that had become a study, a safe hovel. Books litter the wall’s shelves like a library, and steps lead to a disorganized desk littered with charts, notes, diagrams. 

      Extended blade keeps him and the stranger held apart, both bodies taking up but a small space in the observatory. A disturbance that shook the doctor from the sun’s forced rest, one of the many attributes that carried over from the implant that now resided in his very core. Clattering shoes in his home while he rested. Unknown hands shifting through plans and observations. 

      A questionable look lined Edgar’s peculiar glance as he takes a slow step forward, grip is causal on the sword. The heavy metal that is grasped seeming to be nothing more than air, and much like his experienced medical touch was, they do not tremble.

      The heartbeat, it had been another reason to have drawn attention even in such a delirious state. Mortal among the immortal, and he does applaud the man for his efforts, as he too was of the curious sort.