I can't exactly quit, because other shows don't have Elena Gilbert, you know?
LOL that they most certainly do not! A major plus side for me in coming back to TVD after such a long absence is definitely this new found LOVE (LOVE LOVE) and appreciation I now have for all things Nina Dobrev, just HOW WAS I NOT SEEING THIS BEFORE *sighs at self*
ALSO LOVE YOU FOR CHOOSING A DAVINA CENTRIC PROMPT BECAUSE SHE IS THE NEW LIGHT OF MY LIFE TBH <44
Sometimes Davina wonders if she could make spells of her own. The very thought of it, of creating something that is hers, and hers alone--that hasn't been tainted by them--thrills her. There are days where her mind wanders for minutes, hours (for what does she have but time), thinking up spells that may or may not be out there (for what concrete knowledge she has is so little, after all). There's a voice in her head, one that is not unlike her mother's, that chides her (oh you silly, silly girl). She steps on it, again and again and again (the same way she does memories of kissed bruises and nights tucked into bed and oh, my lovely, lovely girl). There are days when she's certain she can make spells of her own, days when the breadth of her power thrums beneath her flesh and she know, just knows, there isn't a thing in this world she can't do. And then there are days (the ones where the lights flicker and the wooden boards vibrate beneath her feet) where the briefest thought of it terrifies her.
LOL that they most certainly do not! A major plus side for me in coming back to TVD after such a long absence is definitely this new found LOVE (LOVE LOVE) and appreciation I now have for all things Nina Dobrev, just HOW WAS I NOT SEEING THIS BEFORE *sighs at self*
ALSO LOVE YOU FOR CHOOSING A DAVINA CENTRIC PROMPT BECAUSE SHE IS THE NEW LIGHT OF MY LIFE TBH <44
Sometimes Davina wonders if she could make spells of her own. The very thought of it, of creating something that is hers, and hers alone--that hasn't been tainted by them--thrills her. There are days where her mind wanders for minutes, hours (for what does she have but time), thinking up spells that may or may not be out there (for what concrete knowledge she has is so little, after all). There's a voice in her head, one that is not unlike her mother's, that chides her (oh you silly, silly girl). She steps on it, again and again and again (the same way she does memories of kissed bruises and nights tucked into bed and oh, my lovely, lovely girl). There are days when she's certain she can make spells of her own, days when the breadth of her power thrums beneath her flesh and she know, just knows, there isn't a thing in this world she can't do. And then there are days (the ones where the lights flicker and the wooden boards vibrate beneath her feet) where the briefest thought of it terrifies her.
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