SADISTIC.

his back is pressed against the wall, knees pulled up to his chest and fingers tangled in blonde locks as he tries to stop the hot tears that are streaking down his cheeks. none of this makes sense, he can still remember the feeling of the gun pressed to his head and the feeling of everything slowly deteriorating as he succumbed to the disease. had WICKED been messing with him this entire time? had it all been another horrible trial? his head jerks up at the sound of footsteps. “what do ya want?” his voice is oddly firm for someone who is crying but he’s just so tired. 

                  ❛     i want you to quit whining in front of my door     ------     it’s distracting. stop it.     ❜           her arms are crossed over her chest ( her black leather top barely allows it ) & she’s glaring down at the mess of a boy who’s sitting on the hallway’s dirty floor. however, she’s quick to change her mind & soften up     ------     he’s just a kid after all.           ❛     listen, kid ... whoever made you weep is an asshole & i can single-handedly rip their heart out, just ... don’t cry, okay ?? it’s useless.       ❜

        it was a clear night and from the rooftop of her apartment building, dot could almost see the clutter of stars in the sky. if this was back home and not the brightly lit (( and highly polluted )) city of new york, the stars would likely appear to be endless. she missed that about home and she was hoping this would make her feel better. she wasn’t counting on the stars not being all that visible, though she should’ve known. as the young warner stared at the nearly empty sky, sitting on the edge of the rooftop feeling disappointed, she heard the door open and a set of lone footsteps. she turned to the sound and gave a small smile. ❝ hi. what brings you up here ?? ❞

                   tabitha was hoping she’d be able to enjoy some solitude up there. the whole city’s crowded all the time & it’s almost impossible to get some peace & quiet in her apartment, so she wanted to go to the rooftop & perhaps try to make her hand work again. she has her trusty whip & a collection of knives with her     ——     wrapping her fingers around them was supposed to be step one, and only after completing that, would she be able to move on to handling them & perhaps throwing her knives at a target. she’s immediately disheartened once she sees a girl in front of herself, but she doesn’t let it show. perhaps she can scare her off     ——     she’s good at that.           ❛     wanted to throw my latest victim off the roof, make it look like a suicide, you know ?? it’s what i call typical monday night. same question goes to you.    ❜         not that she cares.

is a  g h o s t  of you

❛ it seems that AWFUL, little mark has magically disappeared from my arm. maybe I SHOULD count my blessings. now, do tell me where in the bloody hell I am and if you’ve seen my family out and about; the mikaelsons. perhaps you’ve heard of us. ❜

                    ❛     how fortunate.     ❜           she comments flatly, tasting the bitterness on her own tongue, and gives the blonde an indifferent look. she’s somewhat hiding her unresponsive hand behind her hip; yet again she tries to squeeze it into a fist, but to no avail.           ❛     dear lord, would it hurt to word it as an actual, polite question rather than a command ??     ------     i haven’t heard of you, thankfully. what, are you the new kardashians ?? you have a tv show & names that all start with an m ??       ❜

(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧