ohmygod how did you end up on my dash again HOW
raisedhunter replied to your post
Well I can always trade for the sexiest with you but—
Pls, Ash. We both know I’m not lacking in that department.
raisedhunter replied to your post
well you’re psycho and i’m brilliant we’d fit in nice
i was going to argue the opposite, but well…
She Dreamed of Paradise || Debekah
{ She dreamed of para-para-paradise every time she
closedher eyes }The steady crashing of waves gently pulled Rebekah to reality, eyes fluttering open ever-so-briefly before they closed once more trying to hold onto the dream that she had left, unwilling to part with it just yet. There had been a beach, the sand cleaner and softer than any she had seen before and there had been a guy. A guy to bring her whatever she desired with a mere snap of her fingers (something she had taken advantage of, naturally) and she had to admit, even by her high standards, he was attractive. Eye-candy if ever she had seen it. It was only as she was recalling some of the finer details of her dream that it occurred to her just how soft the bed was. Almost cat-like Rebekah stretched herself out from the foetal position she had assumed while she slept.
Until her hand came to rest on a bare chest that was. Confused Rebekah slowly opened her eyes, at a loss as to what she was expecting to see. It took a moment to register the body next to hers as Damon’s but as she did the fingers on his chest curled slightly, a small smile playing on her lips. Without making a sound she simply laid there for a moment, her eyes locked on him as she tried to get a firm grip on reality and separate it from the dream that seemed less and less dream-like the longer she laid there. After a minute Rebekah softly moved closer to him, resting her head on his chest while she traced soft patterns over his skin, waiting for him to eventually wake up.
Falling asleep on the beach, contrary to popular belief, was far less comfortable than it appeared. To begin with, the issue of sand, was, that it’d inevitably get everywhere, in several new places Damon discovered that he hadn’t known about before. Then there was the issue of insects, and the chill of the morning that brought the tropical air down to startling cold temperatures. When dawn broke over the horizon and cast its rays of gold and bronze across the sky, like a photograph on a stereotypical postcard Damon would always scoff at, he didn’t notice the sand or the insects or the cold. It was the warmth curled up against his chest, soft waves of blonde brushing against his chin that made him peer down, blinking away the last remnants of sleep. A lazy smile, softened by his hazy half-awake state, widened on his face.
”Hey,” he murmured under his breath, a hand rising slowly to thread through hair turned to gold in the first hints of sunlight. Damon was content, to let his fingers play at her hair, blinking at her through his lashes, for a few moments longer. His other arm was thrown around her waist, tucked across the curve of her hip, possessively drawing her even closer. Blissfully naked, with only a pair of khaki shorts on for him, and a light sundress that did nothing to hide her body on her, they had drifted asleep on a blanket tossed hastily beneath them. Sex on the beach, was after all, one of the first requisites of visiting a tropical island, and this was only their second day holidaying in the breathtaking archipelago of the Caribbean. Damon had fought long and hard for the glistening waters and tranquil beauty of these islands against Rebekah’s equally convincing argument of Paris and Vienna and all the other picturesque European destinations they had yet to visit together. But in the end, she’d given into him, as he’d expected all along, and he didn’t intend to give her a single reason to regret it.
A yawn slipped from his mouth then, his head arching back a little to glance up at the sky to determine the time. “You hungry? I could go for some seafood barbecue and a cocktail or two,” he said, glancing over at Rebekah to give her a mischevous smile. The fingers wrapped around her hip tightened all of a sudden, a blur of flesh and limbs and he had switched their positions, trapping her with his body as he hovered above her with a wicked gleam in his eyes. “Although… I wouldn’t be opposed to lying here a little longer either.” And just to prove his point, he bent swiftly to capture her lips in a kiss, his chest pressed flush against hers. Humming his satisfaction against her lips, tongue swiping out to lick playfully against them, he pulled back, but left his fingers tangled in her hair, thumb brushing against the curve of her cheek. “Your choice, really.”
raisedhunter replied to your post
take me with you claudia
i’m just
i can’t
hugh dancy and mads mikkelson. BEAUTIFUL CRAZY PEOPLE IN A SHOW ABOUT SERIAL KILLERS AND CANNIBALS OK
and yes. mindblowingly talented fannibals and their psychoanalysing the psychoanalysers kasjfksjdfh
Look at that
[eyebrow raise] Color me surprised. Since you spend most of your time in class hitting on unsuspecting girls and boys I didn’t think you’d even heard a word about my lesson. [takes a seat on his desk] What can I do for you?
I wouldn’t say unsuspecting, sir, I believe they’re all quite aware of my sex appeal. [ grinning. ] I’m quite efficient in the art of multi-tasking actually. Well, as you already know, I passed with quite a disappointing grade in the last assessment you set us. So I was wondering if there was anything I could do, professor, to make up that grade?
brb moving to the hannibal fandom
Adelaid wasn’t truly in the mood for confrontation, not tonight at least. He’d finally gotten all five books and not without any hardship. He didn’t have to look to his right, to know whom was suddenly looming there. “It was three weeks ago Damon, get over it.” He simply murmured, still a tad bitter from they’re past meetings. It weighed heavily on him to have hurt a friend—or someone he considered a friend.
He sipped his scotch slightly, setting it on its coaster long enough to rub at his forehead. His heart hammered in a odd mixture of nervousness, guilt and an odd sense of happiness. He was happy to see Damon, though it was rather tense between them. “I don’t see anyone reclaiming this seat, nor do I desire to move. And I strongly doubt you’d move me.” He responded with a soft smile. After a long moment of silence, he downed his drink and jumped out of his seat.
“Have it your way. Goodnight, sweet prince.” He was a bit tipsy; it’d been a while since he’d been sitting and drinking. He shouldered gently past Damon and walked on, into the night, unknowingly dropping a picture from his pocket before heading out the bar.
Almost immediately, steel blue gaze narrowed critically, a moment passing in rigid silence before it was broken with a razor edge of a smirk. The vampire swung down into the seat beside him, sleek leather brushing against the counter as his fingers tapped against the varnished wood. “Really? I wouldn’t have guessed that myself. You know how time passes faster for vampires. –– Three weeks, three decades, who really cares?” The words were offered far too easily to be such a simple dismissal, but it was enough to see the displeasure on Adelaid’s face at his appearance, for now.
Signalling the bartender to place an order for his own drink, Damon watched the other man’s eyes flicker between his drink and then to him. Though he had arrived with seemingly civil intentions, he delighted in the werewolf’s discomfort. Their last meeting, had after all, ended with Damon battered and bruised with a severe aching migraine to accompany the rest of his injuries. Whilst his wounds had successfully healed, the great slight to his pride had not. “Oh, no need to worry, Wolfy,” he muttered scathingly, lifting his glass to the werewolf in a sardonic toast. “I have no plans of wasting any more of my time on you.”
Triumphant, Damon settled into his seat, smug expression lighting on his features. It didn’t escape his careful scrutiny that Adelaid’s stride was unstable, even as he forced his way past him to storm out of the establishment. Very classy. The only reply he deigned to give was a sardonic snort at the moniker he’d been given, uncertain as to whether that was meant to signify some kind of misplaced affection or caustic mockery. Superhuman vision had granted him a sharpness that the human eye lacked and Damon tipped his head curiously at the small, white paper that seemed to have slipped from Adelaid’s pocket before he had left.
It was a photograph, he realised, gingerly fingering the edges of the weathered paper. Adelaid was almost unrecognisable without his usual impeccable suit and styled hair, but it was him nonetheless. Gleaming blue eyes turned downwards to a little boy he cradled in his arms, an expression of pure wonderment on his face that made Damon’s face soften unknowingly. With a defeated sigh, Damon turned to the door to chase the owner of this treasured photograph out into the darkness. As soon as he caught sight of him, back turned, Damon called out, the picture tucked between slender fingers: “–– Adelaid! You… you left something behind.”
