DEVIL IN DISGUISE

[devilsiniquity]

“ the deepest of convictions are the darkest of positions —- best not to roll the dice and play the fool. ”

[devilsiniquity]

rcisehclls​:

(  tagging  @devilsiniquity​  )

the   drawback  of  stepping  through  a  portal  of  unknown  origin  is  that  there’s  not necessarily  someone  on  the  other  side  waiting  to  bring  you  back.  he’d  waited  around  for  awhile,  trying  everything  he  could  think  of  to  find  his  way  back,  only  to  come  up  empty-handed.  wherever  this  reprieve  was,  whether  it  be  in  their  dimension  or  a  mirror  universe,  for  the  time  being  —  he  was  stuck.

stuck  but  also  free  of  the  clave’s  clutches. there  were  worse  cages  to  be  trapped  in.

mirror  universe  or  not,  thankfully  things  like  barsremain  consistent.   he  slips  inside  and  settles  one  one  of  the  stools,  ordering  himself  something  strong  from  the  menu  as  he  lets  his  eyes  cast  around.   call  it  a  sixth  sense  but  he  can  feel  eyes  on  him;   senses  something  prickling  at  the  back  of  his  neck.   he  spots  the  man  and  makes  eye  contact,  giving  him  a  once-over  before  turning  back  to  wait  for  his  drink.

no  runes.  clearly  not  a  shadowhunter. there’s  something  about  him  that  makes  him  uneasy  however  and  once  his  drink’s  in  hand,  he  decides  to  indulge  his  curiosity.   

“  you  look  just  about  as  thrilled  as  i  am  to  be  here. ”   he  comments  once  he’s  approached  the  stranger’s  table,  sinking  into  the  seat  opposite  him  without  invitation.  

...

it  had  gotten   F A C I L E   to  be  pressed  into  the  smallest  space:  to  hear  water  against  metal  and  associate  it  with  suffering  (  purposeful at least and yet he missed it or certainly the hand of knowledge over the worth of his suffering  ).  not  draining  the  first  collateral  footing  in  his  step  to  aid  himself  back  to  health  wasn’t  without  PURPOSE  —-  paranoia  filtering  through  every  tiny  crack.  filling  a  larger  pot  ready  to  blow  just  in  time  for  foes  to  see  his  ashes;  he  was  scared,  an  UNCERTAIN  narrative  regarding  the  survival  of  his  family.  that  they  lived,  hayley  had  brought  them  back  and  their  daughter...he’d  hardly  stand  for  anything  bar  her  SAFETY.  alas,  the  threads  weren’t  adding  up:  the  calm  tones  of  blues  and  yellows  did  nothing  to  drive  comfort  but  to  find  the  hollow  confines  of  harsh  reds...blacks  (  when one couldn’t control life, it was often best to strive for it until his hand broke again and again from clutching a little too hard  ). 

the  demand  for  answers  falls  short:  stewing  BLISSFULLY  in  the  back  of  his  mind  was  a  recipe  for  the  destruction  of  WHOEVER  had  given  him  refuge  here.  CRUEL  FATE  HAD  PULLED  THE  STOCKS  ON  A  THOUSAND  YEARS  OF  BAD  KARMA  —-  he’ll  drink  to  that.  scotch,  bourbon.  he’d  lost  count  of  the  flat-tasting  versions,  of  vegetarian  options,  for  immortals  without  the  stomach  to  indulge  in  EXACTLY  what  they  needed.  (  leggy blonde, the guy in the corner with the annoyingly out of place mullet? both raring options for a pick me up and yet it’s the hollow gaze of another like him that he seems to gravitate towards...call it prior convictions to judging a person before knowing them  ). 

a  quick  throwback;  the  last  of  the  bourbon  eliminated  from  the  war  that  rages  on.  he’s  HARDLY  surprised  by  the  approach.  finds  it  best  to  wait  for  the  ticking  time  bomb  of  whatever  profane  monologue  was  bound  to  leave  the  other’s  mouth  or  curiosity  may  just  kill  the  cat  —-  a  worthy  sacrifice  in  the  name  of  his  survival  (  selfishly led but should leaving a trail of the man’s organs be enough to grant him access to a map, he’d do so without guilt  ).  “ but perhaps not as...presumptive as a man choosing to step into the belly of the beast, ”  a  quiet  melodrama,  a  harsh  and  often  merciless  glow  to  features  that  don’t  ever  reach  emotions  beyond  darker  constructs  (  certainly not for those that weren’t family  ).  “ thrill-seeker or a fool? —- pick wisely, there’s a ticking time bomb beneath this chessboard and it’s certain to go off with one wrong move. ”  metaphors  he’s  almost  willing  to  smile  for:  the  thrilling  joy  of  poetry  never  quite  did  more  than  set  aflame  to  a  candle  destined  to  go  out. 

[tvdversegifs]

[devilsiniquity]

@lcvebuilt

[devilsiniquity]

( joseph morgan, 29/1000+, he/him )  welcome to reprieve, NIKLAUS MIKAELSON who is from THE ORIGINALS, SEASON 4.  rumor has it they are a ORIGINAL HYBRID, but only they could tell you the truth! when i close my eyes, i think of them and imagine BLOODY HEARTS, VIOLIN MUSIC, SMEARS OF PAINT & SMASHED GLASS.

    HISTORY:  in depth can be found here all of the tvd stuff is canon & won't be included here.

                                            PRESENT/RUNDOWN.

following marcel’s attack on his siblings and freya’s poison: neither with a cure. klaus knowing the only life line his siblings have, remains with his survival and suffering, makes his way to marcel, rebekah being the decider of his continued survival which offers time for hayley to find them all a cure. 

it’s been five years, suffering has become almost natural though the sound of thumping hearts never quite sits right with him anymore as if causing his throat to swell up. 

imprisoned one second and free the next though not a freedom without cost, regardless of being away from new orleans and his daughter. he’s also concerned at the status of his family; was his suffering for nothing...

[ostin-e]

[originalsdaily]

“Always and forever” - 6/??

[ptonkin]

oh darling, even rome fell

[mikaelsonsource]

[klaussgifs]

[joey-prue]

Smile like you mean it + Joseph Bonus

[maziekeen]

[joey-prue]

Joseph Morgan shirtless appreciation post