𝐍𝐔𝐋𝐋 & 𝐕𝐎𝐈𝐃

guidelines & muses . open starters . wishlist .

starter call - these are almost always open ( if they aren’t i’ll edit it onto the post ) so please feel free to like, unlike, and like if you want another starter sometime!

interest check - mutuals or not, i just use this as a way to get a gauge on who’s still interested with interacting on here!

shipping check - i always have the fear of bringing up ships when it’s not wanted ( i know it’s not everyone’s thing! ) so if you like this post then it’s ships ahoy!

ask memes - these never have an expiration date on them. all i ask is that you tell me which muses they’re for & from!

"It is bad for your health to drink two pots of coffee a day?'

BONES CRACKED UNDER THE WEIGHT OF CARBON FIBER as hellhound locked her target into a chokehold and squeezed until his neck snapped, her head tilted back to avoid his pathetic scrabbling arms. the body crumpled to the ground with a muffled thud –– last one, thank christ, and arguably the least bloody of her kills tonight.  what could she say? it was an outlet.  the other bitch was never meant to be a partner. as far as hellhound knew, the entire lot had to be wiped out, and group jobs meant no sniper rifle; hence the up-close-and-personal murder. but she didn’t expect another party to be interested in these particular targets. it called into question which of her employer’s rivals had received the same intel, until she saw who it was: boone, one of lionel’s coworkers.  concerning. but not her problem right now. he was losing his shit, teeth sharpened into fangs and a bloodrage in his eyes that she recognized from the mirror on nights the hound howled. fuck. ❝ really? now? ❞ she snapped, whirling towards him as he visibly shook with the effort of keeping himself together.  perhaps if she were anyone else, hellhound would be sympathetic. but she’d just murdered six people without a twinge of remorse; at least, that was what she told herself. in truth, something did stir underneath the numbness when she looked at him. a sense of familiarity, if nothing else.  ❝ fine. ❞ in one fluid movement, hellhound slipped into a fighting stance and raised her arms, taking note of boone’s openings so that she could deliver nonlethal strikes. probably best to avoid killing lionel’s… colleague, friend, whatever the fuck he was.

Something akin to a pathetic warble was pressed out. An affirmation that, yes, really – right now. Or rather, within the very near future. He’d be damned to not try and keep the frenzy at bay, but it’s a battle he’s bound to lose with this much carnage around. 

Shit, his throat’s horribly dry. 

The corners of his lips drew back in an attempted smile. All that showed was a grimace, a twisted resignation that the bore fangs as it became impossible to not salivate. “Many.. thanks.” Two measly words before the coherent conversation was rendered useless. A slight shift in the reddened eyes, darkened in hue and blown wide. 

Then he was off. 

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