Every villains a hero, in their own mind.








   cutie      Old friend.   

  1,660 notes19 Oct 14   

  4 notes19 Oct 14   
[ text ]: bloody hell, i miss you mate.

    —— he can’t say much the same, taking into consideration that Erik never left him.
   His loyalty, though visible presence had quivered, hadn’t strayed from his Mikaelson. 

through the others downfall, intoxicated remorse and social neglect, he’d remained to provide some guidance and company, regardless if the other had willed himself to notice or not. 

he should be back — rather then relying on the comfort of his lonesome vacation called death. It’s needless to say that he’d held hopes into crossing paths with his mother and wife, perhaps he’d be able to even see Anya. If his pulse still contributed, his heart would’ve skipped at the thought of his daughter. 
But he’s slowly letting reality set it’s coarse, heaven’s closed itself from the likes of Lucifer — closing itself from others. He wanders through this side when he’s taking an emotional break from the others he watches. There’s an immense amount of people wandering — closed off from their rightful other side, and the count is consistently rising. 

A man he despises is pressing a way for his return more than Erik himself had attempted. Even Charles had willed him to search but he remained reluctant to bother an attempt. 

                                    He’s wondering why he’s here and not there.

God — how selfish is he. Staying. Sulking in faint hope to catch a moment of them — but it’s senseless thinking. He’d never be allowed in there — his ‘good’ intentions never allowed him a pathway to anywhere else but below or between.
Self - sacrifice not fully just for Kol’s safe being — and he’s still unable to see them. 

          This pathways distant, 
          the phone remains un-responded.

                              ….——

A hesitant hand reaches to the others shoulder. 
His fingers dig into his brothers shoulder, 
and for no longer then a second, a physical connection was made.
Erik’s Far end press had left the crease of the others shirt imprinted where he’d touched. 

image

                                         one last stop. 
                                   then he’s going home.
                                        I promise.


   antagonizingx      the adventures of kol mikaelson and erik lehnsherr.      ouch.      8l.   

   14 Oct 14   

SEX. 

klaus-sadisticandcareless:

outofcharacter.

Now that I’ve acquired your attention, allow me to lead you to The Doctor. 
I’m missing my muse and considering I’ve been rewatching the series, I’m gaining muse. 

                                 click ——> [ thedoctor—who ]. 

imageI’d like to make you lot ridiculous starters.


  5 notes01 Aug 14   

   each name marks its own sin.      erik.   

  84 notes01 Aug 14   

outofcharacter.

Erik Lehnsherr has just died and his last thoughts were literally Charles, rage & serenity and writing that thread was more brutal than I had thought it’d be.

Main verse wise — he’s dead for the time being, until I bring him back .. somehow.

Any threads had going before his death will be labeled as “pre-death.”

…. but I’m pretty proud of myself and have no regrets.


   outofcharacter.      tobedeleted.   

  1 note01 Aug 14   

lame hostage 

antagonizingx ]

 icy scurried digits jolted at his wrists as the thick colossal
   chains tangled & hitched superior of his forearms soon were
   released plunged onto the cement floor, as the remainder of
   his matter collapsed with. now his patella’s basing his stance
   as  rubbed at the fresh vervain flesh which drew toxin 
   fumes solely vampires can whiff, his form now curling near 
   at his lap as he switch gears into being attentive to his wounds
   & onto the telekinetic, whom shedded no secondary thoughts 
   when wavering his pulsing wrists at the original’s face in close 
   diameter. lending a scroll of an eye at the mutant, ivory canines
   peered out before he lunge them into the limb, piercing his skin
   as he hastily devoured large gulps—- only a few to brew him back
   on his feet. recoiling his head backwards, streams of erik’s blood
   still vibrant beneath his lips. canting his head upwards, kol shot a
   malovent doughty glare.

image

Precautions are being taken, he’d miscalculated the tormentors residing in the building — there’s a shift in the iron around them. He can’t count the specific of bodies — however, can assure it’s more than either of them can handle. 

His body shifts, there’s no logical position he can hold with comfort. While his companion lashes his teeth into the depths of his wrist — in-taking more blood loss than his body’s meant to handle — he pushes his bottom lip between his teeth and presses down, concentrating on pain he can control to keep focus rather than be aware of the pain in his shoulder and wrist — threatening something deeper than sleep. 
He’s lost command of the situation — he the very least finds control in his breathing— while a spare hand reaches to the top of Kol’s hair, trailing through it once than setting his hand to his side once more. 

                         how brilliant his life entitled him — on a verge of complete loss, he’s sacrificing what he held most proud — his DNA — his blood — to the one he proclaims as his greatest vital contribution to the brotherhood he’d established. 

His heart beat steadies — soon enough rushes, when the other has had enough of his intake. The mutant falls to sit, his bitten hand keeping himself leaning up, as he peers over at his companion. 
A calm sets over him as his heart begins to pump — blood leering itself from his shoulder - blade and wrist.

                          Eager demonic-aura-filled steps grow more audible, enough for even 
orderly ears to obtain. As his eyes peer over to the other — an impulse rises. 
Kol can’t be caught — not when he has an army to lead no one else is capable of leading. 

Profound fatigue begins to set in — before relinquishing to fate — to penance, he lifts his body up, holding himself through strained muster. 

       There’s so much more to you, not just pain and anger.

Honestly — Charles, perhaps if he had chosen his emotions a bit differently, currently, had it not been for for your ambitious enlightenment — stakes would’ve taken a different course.
Rage would’ve kept him alive — anger would have left him more willing.
Magnanimous is pushing him beneath rubble.

"Thank you — for being a brother, my brother. I’d nearly forgotten what it’s like to have one.
The hinges on the windows begin to break — metal bars creak slowly as he stumbles on finding necessary strength to shape them precisely. 
"Do me a favor — take care of Charles — take care of ‘em all. 
Most importantly.
"You can’t lead chained up. 
N
ot when there’s an army to lead — when those he considers kin being enacted in something inhumanly.
 
The bars shift from their positions and take hold of Kol’s arms — wrapping themselves near his shoulders and tugging him out the window. It’s a partial drop - the bars slow down as they set closer to the ground, dragging him by the feet a safer distance, regardless of the vampires struggles against it.

In sincerity — he hadn’t predicted his end in this manner. Assumption held he’d succeed his goals and end his breaths with knowledge he’d accomplished a better race’s serenity. 
Instead — he’s putting faith in the future that others will continue his establishment for the brotherhood. 

Struggling to balance, while settling to lean against the corner, there’s a dizzying affect crashing through his minds cage and settling into a fonder — serene voice. 
For a moment he wonders if it’s Charles finding his way telepathically to his last thoughts — but he recalls the words, leading to a memory — statement that recovered his downfall.

           ( I believe the true focus lies somewhere between rage …
                                                                                               ———— and serenity. )

Charles had taught him to channel the in-between —.
              ‘It’s nearly gotten you killed all this time.’
efforts fail when the distance in-between rage & serenity cause the direct opposite of their intended purpose. 

He’s not walking away — he’s pushing forward. Lifting himself as his corner grows compact, glancing over his shoulder at the torn-apart window — he measures Kol’s a fair distance. Erik’d made certain. 

With the very pending last of his strength he musters — he lifts feeble hands, relying on the stability of his legs to keep him lifted. 
Vague vision spur as his muscles strain — the walls around them quaver — pipe lines bursting from within, features of the building distancing themselves from their natural positions. 

image

The demons begin to delve in attack — cautioning the mutant to cease. 
Lehnsherr’s arms fold as the roof-top begins to break portion by portion — intentionally separating the view between the dividing species. 
He falls against the wall once the collapsing process has begun initiating on its own — a domino affect instigates. 
His legs gave out — he’d neglected the pool of blood dripping from his shoulder, past his clothing, and landing beside him. 
There’s a light — through the cracks of the continuously falling pieces — and blissfully fades into numbness, as the ceiling collapses on-top him, breaking the floors beneath them.

                       the point between rage and serenity mattered no longer.

image


   lame hostage.      verse : main.      plot : this is war.      elitistmaniac      death thread.      and -- he's dead.   

  3 notes01 Aug 14   

cxldheartedbitch )

She’s never expected much out of him. Really, she hasn’t. Erik had given her the acceptance she had so desperately craved. Everything after that has been a matter of necessity. Of striving toward the same goal. 

No, never once has she once placed the weight of responsibility between his shoulder blades when it comes to her well being, but she had, at least, expected to have left enough of an impression on him to keep him from trying to gun her down. 

There is a slight shifting of weight as she watches him, one eyebrow quirked. Arms fold gracefully across her torso and the lines of her face seem hardened, even in their youth. She is a much different woman than the one who had followed him off that beach in Cuba all those years ago. She is colder ; more calculating. Conniving, even. Just as icy as her concealed sapphire scales would suggest her to be. 

She is Mystique, and she is unforgiving. 

image

❝ You’d not find redemption here, even if you sought it. 

There is a lacking of apathy in her tone that causes her to recoil slightly. As much as she would like to convey an utter passivity to his presence, she can’t fully pull it from herself. He is important in a way that no one has ever been important to her before. But he tried to kill her, and she couldn’t just let that go. 

What makes you think I’m interested in a treaty? 

Slave to her own emotions — logic & reasoning evades her when unforgiving manners of others settle her thoughts.
But what forgiveness does she owe when he has no apologetic statements to present her?
He knows this much — and his expectations are reasonable. 

Magneto holds no apology — Mystique holds no forgiveness. 

But their past actions will not feign weakness —— sacrifices were made and sacrifices will continue to hold hostile levity in their life. But they’ve made past those before —— and they rose before they fell.

          Perhaps they’ll rise once more ——- and their actions will comply
          with results that maintain. 

❝  We found equal grounds before.  
                                             —————————— We can again.  ❞  
   
If she’d allow him her ear.

image


   cxldheartedbitch      sorry for the late   

  3 notes01 Aug 14   

"I’ll swallow my blood before I swallow my pride."

Al Capone (via asperitasrex)

  33,564 notes30 Jul 14