#thisbloodlust

                                        ❛   now   i’m   mad   about   i   don’t   know   what .   ❜

Oh.

Jesus.

Liv cracks an eye open, curling harder into the mattress underneath her with a groan. Her ears were ringing, which was never a good sigh as far as hangovers went. She remembered … getting here, at least. Getting into bed. Fingers search to find a pillow to pull over her head before she relents and looks at him.

She tells herself this is about closure, but Cami knows better than to believe her own rationalizations. Closure is a myth people chase to feel less haunted. And Klaus Mikaelson? He was never built for clean endings. She stands in front of his door. That beautiful, ancient threshold that’s seen more pain than most confessionals, and she hesitates, just long enough to feel the war inside her. Part of her wants to leave, walk away before she unearths something she’s spent months trying to bury. But the other part, the reckless part he always seemed to speak to. The part that wanted to understand him even when it hurt. That part wins. It always has.

When the door swings open, and she sees him. Unchanged, unshaken. Something twists in her. Of course he looks the same. Grief hasn’t aged him. Time hasn’t touched him. And that should make her angry, but instead it makes her tired. Because she has changed. Her voice comes quiet, dry at the edges, but unflinching. She never lets him see her flinch. "You look the same. That’s either comforting or terrifying. I haven’t decided."

{ attraction meme } — accepting — @thisbloodlust @thatslayer

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"sometimes i feel like i trusted you too well." | @thisbloodlust

Lou's eyes, her whole expression, definitely convey the shock his statement has caused, despite her trying to temper it completely. He trusted her too well? She hadn't thought he trusted her at all, let alone beyond what Klaus considered comfortable. Hell, Lou just assumed any sort of trust, especially considering a mere mortal such as herself, was a big ol' no-no to the guy, but now he's here conveying a level of disappointment she never dreamed she'd reach?

What a trip.

"I'm... sorry?" Is she though? Not really, but it's more due to the confusion and the mindfuck this conversation is than any sort of defiance. "Not sure what I did to gain your trust and then lose it, I guess, so maybe you can clarify here? So I can try to rectify... whatever this is?"

she   loved   new   york.   but   she   knew   that   living   there   could   come   with   some   serious   risk   —-   risk   of   being   jumped,   robbed,   attacked.   there   was   some   sort   of danger   that   lurked   around   every   dark   alley   and   she   tried   her   damnedest   to   avoid it,   but   it   was   only   a   matter   of   time.   two   muggers   with   ill   intent   cornering   her   while   she   tried   to   walk   home   —   ripping   her   bag   from   off   her   shoulder   and   she   winced   at   the   sound   of   ceramic   breaking   within   the   fabric   —   a   small   set   of   cups   she   had   made   and   painted   at   her   friends   studio.   one   of   them   got   a   good   swing   in   when   she   screamed   for   help,   busting   her   bottom   lip   open   to   spill   out   fresh   blood.   but   just   as   soon   as   they   had   arrived,   and   she   had   screamed   for   help   —   they   were   laying   bloody   at   her   feet.   the   shock   of   it   all   caused   her   to   nearly   choke   on   air,   trying   to   remember   how   to   breathe.            ‘   uh   —   ’         she   cleared   her   throat,   meeting   the   face   of   her   ‘savior’   or   whatever.            ‘   yeah   —   or   anyone   else.   ’         she   adds,   slowly   shuffling   to   her   bag   where   she   delicately   placed   it   back   over   her   shoulder   while   she   wiped   away   blood   from   her   mouth   with   the   back   of   her   hand.            ‘   what   are   you   like   —   batman ?   ’            she’s   joking   only   because   she’s   uncomfortable   —   scared.            ‘   what   now,   huh ?   we   call   the   cops ?   or   —   you   run   off   to   your   bat   mobile   somewhere ?   ’ / @thisbloodlust