#thatslayer

THE MUMMY (1999) // accepting // @thatslayer sent — "Ugh, Natchios. I'm really not in the mood for you."

That goes down her throat like a tiny glass bead, gone in a blink. It would seem time doesn't heal all wounds. Not that it ever had.

She understands.

"Good. Then we won't be wasting time." Her weight shifts with an intake of breath and she feels the tension in her chest fracture, air moving through the cracks. "I need something. A location tracer on a person of interest." The request hangs for a moment, then she continues. As if this is straightforward. "And lab analyses on a sample I brought back."

The basement smells like sweat, old wood, and something vaguely scorched. Probably from the last time Buffy tried to punch a punching bag into another dimension. She rolls her shoulders back, listening to the creak and pop of tired joints that shouldn't be this tired, not at her age, not with her job description. But it’s the 2010's, and even Slayers have wear and tear.

She tightens her ponytail, more for something to do than necessity. She’s already warmed up. Already ready. This was her idea, after all. Olive branch by way of roundhouse. Because sometimes working things out means working someone over, with mutual consent and padding. She tells herself this isn’t about proving anything. That she’s grown. Matured. That this is about bonding and trust and other adult words she pretends to be fluent in.

Buffy hears the door open behind her and turns, casual but deliberate. She plants herself centre mat, hands on her hips, one eyebrow already raised like it's clocked in early. Her grin is wide and unapologetic, "I was starting to think you’d flaked, and I was this close to getting sentimental about it."

SMASH

@thatslayer sent: 'You got anything to say before I blow your brains out?' //Shane

Amusement is apparent as it plays on the man's features. It's not the first time a beautiful woman has pointed a gun at him, or threatened his life for that matter. Head nods, and he sucks his teeth with a loud smack of his lips. "Yeah, I got plenty to say." He starts, resting both hands on his hips with a slight tilt and turn at the waist when he glances their surroundings and reaches up to scratch the side of his head.

"Like how I got no plans to hurt ya, I'm just tryna scavange and get the fuck outta here. I don't think I deserve to have my brains blown out for that, do you?"

“How many witches do you know who–” he started, “–actually, that’s a question, isn’t it? How many witches do you know?” Ledan realised aloud. For some reason he’d just assumed it was a lot.

@thatslayer

Questioning Sentences, Vol. 56 ( Accepting )

@thatslayer said: "You've got a real big mouth on you, you know that?" // send me anyone, because my brain is mush and I can't think lol. I'd rather it be who you have mega muse for <3

There is a gasp leaving their lips as they go looking for the documents they need, not really amused but more annoyed than anything else because not the first time someone said that to them " Well then the door is that way, I have no time for this right now " it was already bad enough already with the current situation and they didn't need anyone telling them what was right or wrong, Alec needed to deal with this the only way they knew how, and last thing the leviathan needed was some drama.

@thatslayer liked for a starter!

❛❛ Hope I'm not the head you're huntin' for, Slayer. ❜❜ Hanging around a slayer had always struck him as an odd schtick. A demon that was supposedly destined for large things and his would be slayer, also marked by destiny, fighting for the same team instead of playing into their fates. Prime time television worthy. ❛❛ Or that you don't try to take it as a consolation prize, since you're late for the party. ❜❜