eyes catch eyes , standing a few inches from one another, was always a danger with the initial attraction that remained regardless especially in a serious situation. ❝ i'mma need ya to step back darlin'. ❞
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eyes catch eyes , standing a few inches from one another, was always a danger with the initial attraction that remained regardless especially in a serious situation. ❝ i'mma need ya to step back darlin'. ❞
@executiioner liked for a tiny starter

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it's okay if you're unhappy—just take a look around. there's no one here that's happy either.
memes. / always accepting.
He hates it when people try to read him. They only ever manage to see what they think Billy is and seldom what he actually is. There is a piqued glint to his bright blue hues. That irritatablity was so evident as it painted its way over his countenance. "Congrada-fucking-lations. You are one observant motherfucker." His potty mouth was so second nature and crude at times. Something he truly couldn't help even if he tried. "What would I have done without that keen assessment?"
But it was true. Perhaps it annoys him more because of that fact. Or that his reasons would never been seen as easily as his rage was. And that seemed like the unfairest thing of all.
@executiioner | gets a teeny tiny baby starter , as a treat .
THE RUINS OF THE DAY PAINT THE SKY , rosy fingered dawn spreading loving fingers over the new york skyline , leaving the city painted in the hues of fading light . loki stands above it all , rigged temp - pad in one hand , the other sparking vibrant green for mere moments before sinking into shadow once more .
time in the tva was . . . strange , passing all at once far too quickly and glacially slow until loki was left altogether unsure how long it'd been since they'd been ripped from their time line and unceremoniously reminded just how small they were in the grand scheme of things . a rather rude wake up call , though long over - due . now , as they gaze out at the city they'd last seen in ruins below them , there's a small part that is thankful for its continued existence , though largely they find the hustle and bustle of the human city to be rather . . . annoying . the sounds below bleed into each other , deafening in volume until approaching footsteps barely sound against concrete . years of training has head turning at approach , narrowing upon the pale slip of a thing approaching their perch atop park bench .
" when trying to sneak up on someone , it's largely anticipated one should employ some stealth , you know ? " a smile , more baring of teeth , stretches thin 'cross porcelain features .
for our muses to have sex in the kitchen instead of finishing breakfast after making coffee
Nothing was cooking. Nothing in the oven to be some comical plot device later to interrupt them when it started to burn. Eggs were left uncooked, the carton and pan and spatula sat waiting and ready near the stove. All that had been managed was the coffee and both mugs sat at varying levels of somewhat touched off to the side and outside the danger zone.
Maybe it was their own levels of stress going on in their own individual lives or maybe this was just what they did now. Regardless, they'd found themselves tangled up in one another in the peace of his overly clean kitchen in the early morning hours. Sudden kissing had led to sudden groping and then suddenly shirts were open, pants were shoved down, and they were both left in states have hardly and halfway dressed.
❝ I dare not consider what a third party might describe us as right now. ❞ he rumbled lowly, arousal tainted with light-hearted amusement. He'd bent her over the cleared kitchen bar, hand smoothing down her back. His fingers traced briefly over the back strap of her bra-—mercifully left on if only to spare her to chill of the cool counter surface.
Clark could have just marveled and gawked if not pushed to do more. Both hands greedily roamed over flesh at an agonizingly slow pace. ❝-—You attacked first. What do you want, hm? I don't think either of us have the time and you not the patience for what I want. Best you direct. ❞
His hands settled at the globes of her ass, squeezed the flesh there as if to give a bit more urgency to her reply. He was, if anything after all, a bit of a bastard in these regards.
the fingernail of his ring finger digs into the pad of his thumb. old nervous habit. bucky shakes his head as he adjusts his backpack over his shoulder. words expressed firmly , conclusively. “ maybe you've mistaken me for someone else. “
+﹒⟢﹒bucky starter call. , for @executiioner

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@executiioner liked for a playlist starter. halsey - gasoline.
the well had dried and he had been desperate. he had been attacked twice since he had met her and it had started to get old. they had woken a hurricane inside of him … and it was close to a full moon. his emotions were unbalanced, reached to a fever pitch with no end in sight. this was not a dream. a fantasy world where there was a hero and a villain. there was no black or white. and as the vampire in his hand struggled against him, lincoln thought about how this was going to end. he was not human. “ where is junie and who the fuck keeps sendin’ the zombies after me ? “
“ i - i don’t know! honest! i would never lie to you linc! “ the vampire pleaded. “ we’re family ! " he tossed the vampire across the room and crashed into the display of early man. daniel wasn’t there and the museum was closed. but, did he care ? no. the vampire whined or groaned, he wasn’t sure nor did he care as he stepped up to him with glowing red eyes. “ i’m giving you one more chance t’ answer me riley. where the fuck is junie ? lie t’me and i’ll give you over to her. “ lincoln knew she was there. the familiar pull of her magic was an intoxication he could never escape. once he was done with his cousin … no, the traitor he would talk to her. right now, his focus was on the vampire on the floor, looking frightened up at him.
“ i don’t know who the hell junie is, linc ! why don’t you talk to daniel ? i’m sure he could – gah ! “ lincoln pressed his boot to riley’s throat, pinning him to the ground as he turned his head and spoke to anita from over his shoulder.
“ werewolves didn’t rip you apart then ? you get attack recently ? “ he asked, ignoring his cousin under his foot.
deathless ♚ sentence meme
@executiioner asked: ❛ you've been playing with me! ❜
THAT'S A bit of a strong statement , she thinks . PLAYING WITH implies a certain level of intended malintent . something almost sadistic in its purpose . crowley just thought it a little amusing to give the creature hunter a bit of a RUN AROUND .
❝ - - - yeah , a bit . not really a vampire . ❞ he bares a grin that shows no fangs , yellow eyes dancing behind his glasses . ❝ do love a good chase though . good job . ❞
There was a gloom to the day — – gray clouds overhead pregnant with rain that threatened to burst at any moment. It was in the air, the smell of a coming storm and it seemed fitting for the thing that Jericho Tanner had been hired to hunt. He had gone out of his way to find the case, knowing that it would deal with the corrupted undead. All through the city, there were patches of areas where the supernatural and the mystical liked to dabble. Territories that had hard lines drawn that if crossed would cause issues. He played the part of a naive private investigator well enough that he had pegged his client being part of the entire unchecked magics. It amused him that playing dumb often gained more information. Oh, hey there! I’m a half-elf that’s just itching to put a bullet in something. Wanna hire me ? That never seemed as if it would end too well for him.
He had followed the client to one of those territories that no one was supposed to cross. So deep in dark magic that even the normals avoided it because it caused their hairs to stand on end. Jericho had been fortunate and had followed the trial easily. The client only knew basic tactics that some idiot would see in a movie. Were he not trained to track, they may have gotten away. The apartment building he slowly entered had been abandoned for years. Used for drug addicts and squatters — – and from the smell of it, the living dead. That was perfect for him. He had the pistol drawn, the hammer cocked, and a full clip of blessed bullets loaded.
It had been too quiet, until he was close to the stairs to the second floor and had heard the creak of flooring from one of the abandoned units. He held his breath, listened, and moved toward the opened door with the pistol posed for attack. Until he peeked inside and saw a very familiar face. Fuck me, he thought. Of course she would be here since it dealt with the dead. The pistol was still drawn but aimed away from Anita Blake as he slipped into the room. “This is my fuckin’ mark, Blake. Go play Marshal Barbie somewhere else.”
@executiioner liked for a starter. survival check roll: 21, perception check roll: 19