#nxtabeliever

[heleftmealcne-blog]

          "there is something wrong here." the bennett witch tried to            focus on something else but all this energy around them            makes her nervous. "Elena, we need to leave now. don't            you s m e l l it?"

                                @nxtabeliever​ liked for a starter.

[tenebriisxarchive]

Don’t You Ever Tame Your Demons

nxtabeliever

The scruff lining his chin itched. He assumed he would never grow used to it. Why had he never known such an inconvenience? The least he could do was remember his adjustment to the sensation. The doctors had assured him he was not a day younger than twenty-three, and if that were the case, he must have known it before, right? Perhaps not. There was so much he had not known. How could he when he remembered nothing from the past twenty some years? The least of his worries should have been his acceptance of stubble.

He scratched at it frequently, not because it slowed his mind or dulled the force of his thoughts, but because he wanted to believe that his biggest concern could in fact be how itchy facial hair was. They weren't allowed razors in places like this, not that he would be able to use one on his own. Anything with the ability to harm had been banned from this place. Then how come they had yet to remove the brain from his skull or the thoughts from his mind? He was not impressed. They were not sufficient.

Who is he? A cutthroat killer... They say no one forgets the name of a legend. However, you cannot remember something which does not exist, and his name did not. Not here, not now. He tried to remember that logic each time he was consumed by his nightmares because he knew that if these were memories rushing back, they had to be real. They had to come from somewhere, but had they come from him? It was yet to be seen, but everyone outside of those sterile white walls believed so. And so he lived with that weight because where could he put it when he had nothing but the person who looked back at him in the mirror. Still, his shadow, faceless and swift to abandon him in the darkest of times, was more familiar than that man in the mirror. Odd.

"There's a pretty lady here to see ya, Johnny." So many nicknames for a man being charged for double-digit murders, and this guy chooses Johnny. Of course, every chart documenting him said John Doe, and the guy didn't look all that creative to start. Still, the man without a name wouldn't know, couldn’t care. He could only take a guess due to the wry smirk and the playful demeanor the orderly was sporting. Curiosity was not wasted on such a thing however. It was fixated on the fact that he had a visitor. Yes, visitor meant a delay on the meds, but that didn’t sate him. Who could possibly be there to visit him? Had someone claimed him? Or was it another detective trying to get him to confess to it all. The last one had come in bearing gruesome pictures, images he knew all too well and yet, didn't know at all, ones that sent him into a fit leaving a table shattered against a wall. "Who - who is it?" he breathed, eyes on his hands which he now clasped together. The tremble was unnerving. "Who's here? Please don't - I don't need another talk. I don't."

[tenebriisxarchive]

nxtabeliever​

"elena? hey, hey, elena, wake up. what happened? hey, you okay?"

[deimosunbound]

The undone and the divine | Closed RP

nxtabeliever​

Control was a skill that required a constant sharpening, honing it over days, months, years. For Jules, it had been something he had fixated on since he was a child, the tales of his father and aunt doing the opposite of what they had intended to do. The elders of his surrogate pack had wanted to mold him into a man like his father and a leader like his aunt. Cunning and cruel, ruthless and impenetrable. His sweet disposition, albeit forever marred by the contempt for his father, had disrupted this process from the start, but they had made admirable attempts to breed a monster. And when he triggered his curse, he was almost sure that they had. Nonetheless, it had been no more than a few months since the day of infamy in the depths of the New Orleans bayou, a flock of vampires drifting into their village by accident and slaughtering dozens before they were neutralized. The elders had attempted to keep him out of the fight, but it had only been successful for a minimal amount of time before he was engaged with a choice to either try and run or fight. He fought because if there was one characteristic that he had proudly sustained from his aunt, it was her bold will to stand her ground. Months later, and New Orleans was a supernatural cesspool, Jules blending into the city when he knew that if someone came snooping for the twelve missing vampires, the last thing they needed to find was the last living descendent of the Guerrera wolves. He found it easy to fit in, keeping his distance from the vampire faction and being cautious of the fact that Crescent wolves roamed the bayou under the curse of being bound to their wolf form everyday except for the full moon. It was a nice change from the backwoods, but danger was no friend of his. It remained a threat in all aspects, and he did well to keep out of it all. Until the night of his fourth full moon. Being conscious of one's actions during a phase was yet another lesson to be learned through experience, but Jules had managed to integrate with relative ease. The elders insisted it was due to his own need for control and dominance of self, and he wouldn't question it. Tonight he had been treading near the tree line just outside of the city, the highway a substantial distance away and other wolves maintaining a distance. However, trouble, as rare as it was, tended to catch the attention of anyone who happened to be in the vicinity, and that fell upon Jules that night. A predatory growl and several sounds of surprise propelled him towards the road at a swift sprint, breaking through the trees and out near the highway slope.

[tenebriisxarchive]

All Falls Down | Carry On My Wayward Heart

nxtabeliever

Time had a way of smoothing things over, allowing one to build up substantial mental strength and confidence that constructed the ability to deal and cope with certain circumstances. It had done so for Damon. Worry and doubt gradually morphed into childish excitement and unyielding determination. He was going to be a father, a father to Elena Gilbert's child, and if there was anything in his life that he had done right, it was fighting for Elena. He had never changed for her. Many would like to believe so, but that wasn't the truth. He had merely evolved, grown into the man he had always been meant to be. She had aided him in cleaning the grime that had collected on his mind due to constant patronization and criticism. She had given him a second chance, a place to mature and find himself again. It was in those moments where he swapped pool nights with the guys at work for reading baby books that he realized she had been right. He could do this. He could be enough. All he needed to do was want to be. And he did. Oh, God, he did, but as per his luck, wanting to be was not enough, and reality struck hard and fast.. The sporadic jostling of blankets and sheets wasn't particularly rare, Damon understanding that finding a comfortable position to sleep in could not be easy with a tiny human in your stomach. His arm would usually go from draped over her waist to hanging off the bed in a matter of hours, their legs tangled and her body either on top of his or several feet away. Intertwined always. It was a wonder he didn't feel the warmth that had begun to stain the sheets, soil his happiness, taint what was left of his faith in a future that didn't consist of blame and regret. He had been so sure. He should know better than to believe that he deserved anything akin to happiness. He didn't. So when Elena's groans turned into a full blown cries, jolting him from slumber, he crumbled underneath the pressure. The walls caved in, and he was helpless. Always so helpless. Bolting upright in bed, ice blue eyes snapped open, searching the room for the culprit. Slowly, his senses caught up, wading through his sleep-induced haze so as to register the discomfort that seemed to have impregnated the air. There was something...moist...warm. Too warm. Looking to Elena, the color drained from his face. "Hey, hey, what - what's - what's wrong? Elena?" Fumbling for the lamp, he turned it on, ripping the blankets from his wife. The sight that he was met with shook him to his core, his eyes widening and his jaw going slack. Blood. So much blood. He had heard horror stories about the blood, those instances where everything fell apart, those cases where it became the start of an end. "I - I- Elena, what-" His body was trembling before he stumbled out of bed, reaching for his phone to dial 9-1-1. However, by the time he was able to remember the damn number, his brain had short circuited, the dispatcher booming in his ear unable to drown out the cries of his wife. And he froze up. Everything just - stopped. "Oh, shit, look at that one!" Damon's cry of elation was met with a firm reprimand that caused him to cringe and hiss. "Whoops. Sorry, but look! That crib looks like the impala! I mean, check it out! It's got the wheels and everything! The perfect shade of blue. Even if we get surprised at the last moment and he is actually a she, I could always just paint it a different color. Actually, I mean, this blue is very unisex contrary to popular belief. See, babies adapt well to cooler colors of tranquility like soft blue. Pink is actually not the best choice—ever. Neither is yellow because it could really irritate them when they first start seeing colors. It's too bright, like looking into the sun. We don't want that. Green is good depending on the shade, not lime green. That's harsh, but blue is always a safe haven, so-" By now, Damon was unaware that most of the women in the immediate vicinity were staring at him in awe. Yes had read the baby books. He had to if he wanted to be a good father. He had read as many of them as possible. "What?" But no baby book could prepare him for this.

[ofabominations]

nxtabeliever ha dicho: I’ll take heart stomped into the dust and run over with an eighteen wheeler for five hundred D:

crying because i have so many headcanons about Kai's scars

[magicabomination-blog]

nxtabeliever; started following

"I cannot believe you dragged me into this."

[niiklausx]

nxtabeliever started following you

He set his glass down on the coffee table eying the female figure standing before him, looking at her directly a small smile touched his lips.        "Now how may I help you? I don't believe we have any business to discuss."