Ｔｒｕｓｔㅤ ＭｙㅤＲａｇｅ

＇＇Ｈｅㅤｒａｎㅤａｗａｙㅤｆｒｏｍㅤｔｈｅｉｒㅤｗｏｒｌｄ，ㅤｔｈｅｉｒㅤｅｎｄｌｅｓｓㅤｇｏｌｄㅤｃｈａｉｎｓ，ㅤｔｏㅤｃｏｍｅㅤｔｏㅤｔｈｉｓㅤｄｅａｄㅤｌａｎｄㅤｏｆㅤｆｒｏｚｅｎ  ｒａｉｎｓ . ＇＇

[allothi]

                                                      ℐ n d e p e n d e n t   ℋ a n n i b a l                                                                                                                                               ▬                                                                                N B C                                                             + 7 years of roleplay experience                                                                                                                 + Poetic and descriptive writing style                                                                     { writing sample }                                                                 { Ⅰ }   —    { Ⅱ }   —    { Ⅲ }

[traditorem]

Once you receive this, write 5 facts about yourself and pass it on to 10 of your favourite followers (´◠ω◠`)

Oh my god I'm on of your favorite followers?1. My birthday is on January 17th.2. I am an I.N.T.J. personality type, which 0.5 to 0.8 of woman have--personality type wise. Introversion, Intuition, Thinking and Judgement. 3. I am of Norwegian, Irish, Dutch and Native American descent.4. Um5. I can't think of anything else, my apologies.

[tomhazeldine]

[equesobscurus]

; something's just about to break

                     There isn’t anything terribly gripping about the New Years Eve party. The girls are pretty, the champagne is dry and expensive. The company’s decent enough, at least to those social climbers eager to get their way to the top or those interested in superficial conversation. Unfortunately for Bruce Wayne, who has a party hat on his head with the numbers 2014 splayed across the top, he is interested in neither. And, despite the blaring music, he finds himself lulled to sleep by the simple dullness of his guests.

                     Unfortunately, he can’t exactly duck out, considering this is his party and it’s New Year’s Eve, so he’s stuck in the middle of the dance floor, forced to listen to Blurred Lines for the fifth time tonight and letting some model grind up against him. At some point, he gets the sense to squeeze away and leave the floor.

                     However, as he contemplates heading to the balcony or at least the periphery of the party, his eyes set upon a man adjacent from him, whose eyes are set upon him. It’s hard to focus in the flashing strobe lights, but he knows the familiarity of that face, knows that he knows that face. It’s a magnetic-like pull and he can’t stop it (and he doesn’t particularly want to stop it.) And so, he finds himself inexplicably following the man, who’s, thankfully, heading out to the balcony, where only a few guests remain. 

                     Bruce is grateful for the cold air that smacks him in the face once he heads out those doors, and finds himself suddenly near the other, perched over the edge, facing a city that he’s sworn his protection and his life to; a city that’s done nothing but slowly kill him over the years, like cancer. 

[traditorem]

The party is loud, music blaring in his ears as he moves through the crowd.  Turquoise orbs catch the hue of oak, and a moment passes before he begins to slink away and onto the balcony.  A soft breath trickles out like condensation from a leaky faucet through his lips, a whisper of fog slipping through teeth.          Heels of dress shoes are the next things he hears, recognizing them easily, though he keeps his eyes on the city before him.  Gotham was certainly not the most beautiful view in the world, though it was better than other things he had seen in his life.

                                                             ❝Greetings, Mr. Wayne.❞

[johnletsplaymurder]

[elenahelfrecht]

Callous Lovers.

Life feels so cold sometimes. Maybe we should drown each other.

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[gayloki]

THIS IS MAYHEM  — ”Mischief is a small thing, a tool I’ve well used and discarded. This isn’t mischief, this is mayhem. Just watch.”

→ listen

[traditorem]

n o t i c e  ;     ----First of all, my sincere apologies for the lack of activity from this blog--I had been mainly on my Thranduil blog since I had seen The Hobbit : The Desolation of Smaug earlier this week.     ----Secondly, I am going to be cleaning up this blog, which means that I am going to redesign the theme, most likely change my url {there will be a post with my new url in it, with my previous one and then an arrow pointing to my new one.}, along with a few other things.          Thank you to all of you followers who have stuck with me.  

[traditorem]

--☨

[xcruel-prince-pure-olympusx-dea]

 Dark blog . Source - x

[traditorem]

--☨

[actualodinson]

[tomhiddleston-gifs]

Loki’s costume + character Evolution Appreciation Post

[societydxrling-archive-blog]

There was something almost peculiar about the icy gaze of the man looking at her from across the bar as Selina perched delicately on her stool, smoothing a finger over the rim of her glass—- of water. The perks of being a pregnant woman who enjoyed frequenting bars, everyone.

The man’s hair was slicked back, his lips curled in an almost malicious fashion, and his eyes were shadowed with something Selina couldn’t place a name on. But eyes cast upon her for such an extended period of time could make anyone suspicious, much less a thief like Selina who was taught to watch her back as much as she did already.

"Take a picture, it’ll last longer," She drawled over in the direction of her mysterious man, eying the languid way he draped on the bar counter. Potential danger, then. She’d be on her watch; musing this quietly while shifting on the stool, crossing her legs again and taking a slow sip of water, looking as relaxed as usual.

[traditorem]

Orbs of frosted-over grass turned towards the direction of the brunette, eyes squinted ever so lightly and brows pulled down in interest and concentration. As the gaze of the woman turned to him, the corners of his lips gradually tugged upwards as if he were a double-hooked trout.          And it was the comment that passed through those plump lips that released him from the curved harpoons settling into his cheeks, letting them recede to their natural state. Raven-hued eyebrows raised now as if the plummeting action of his arched lips were a weight that had been held up, dropped at the combinations of syllables that had left this woman's mouth like sheep released from a small, fenced in area and into a greatly larger plain.           ❝I am not sure that it would; and please disregard my glances.❞

[traditorem]

+

[incorruptivus]

"Another 4 hours, at the very least, I’m afraid."

"At least it’s for a good cause?"

[traditorem]

❝Damn. And I suppose.❞

[traditorem]

❝So, how long until those damned bells for charities stop ringing?❞