jackalsmiile

[jackalsmiile]

[jackalsmiile]

What makes you talk to me in that tone of voice? I’m making a counteroffer.

[jackalsmiile]

three word starters pt. 2

“don’t you dare.”

“look at me.”

“just forget it.”

“i’m not mad.”

“you’re being mean.”

“what a mess.”

“you are perfect.”

“jesus fucking christ.”

“you’ll be okay.”

“take a seat.”

“don’t let go.”

“oh my god.”

“you’re the worst.”

“you’re my favorite.”

“i ruined everything.”

“you ruined everything.”

“just trust me.”

“i’m not drunk.”

“i feel lost.”

“i’m so alone.”

“you’re not alone.”

“hold onto me.”

“just come here.”

“stay the night.”

“please just go.”

“please don’t go.”

[jackalsmiile]

derrydeathly‌:

starter call || @jackalsmiile

Appearances were always deceiving. To all but one dreadful creature, Abigail was the visage of sweet, dainty. She had the appearance of one that would never harm a fly. But centuries of remaining silent, of doing nothing to stop the very creature that truly knew her since she’d been bound to Derry, had hardened her to the death and violence of others. Only one thing struck fear within her lithe frame and it wasn’t the very mortal beings around her. The mortals that called Derry home or those that were simply passing through were of no match to the immortal. Pennywise could use their bones to pick at it’s teeth.  

He wasn’t a child, but he could still be a fulfilling morsel to the monstrous being. A grown man being devoured would always be better than the loss of the young. An innocent smile spread upon her lips, blue eyes set upon the mortal as words held her best attempt at flirtation in the modern age.

“Hi. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around here.”  

@musewritten​​

Although the town was wholly unfamiliar to him, Stratton moved through Derry with a self-assured stride and a keen eye consuming all that he could. He wasn’t here for a mere pleasure trip; this was business. A little bird had let him know he was likely to find what he’d been searching for here.

When the woman approached him, he took his hands from his pockets and smiled at her. “No, you wouldn’t have,” he said. “I’m merely visiting an old friend here. Heard she was in town and wanted to drop by.”

[jackalsmiile]

inadxquacy·:

“People do like to store things here, where I come from not many can afford it.” It was luxury to hold onto a lot of things, especially if you forgot them and end up paying for nothing. Laura was more of the type to hide the most important things in a box and let go of the rest although like with all certain baggage tend to follow like a parasite. “Better a private business than another chain, building these days is a challenge but it seems you’ve beaten the odds and made it to the American Dream.” Unlike Laura, she was in what was certainly a form of purgatory, but it was her own fault she was there and getting out was difficult. But for once she was feeling like she could take a quick step out with the help of good company. “So what do you do when you are not storing stuff or drinking vodka? Or saving women in distress?” She smirked softly, curious who he was inside the business mask. 

Leaning forward, he raised his glass to his lips again, polished off the drink and settled back in his seat. Soon, he would rise again to get himself another but for now he’d engage in some friendly conversation with her, see where the night could take them. “I’m a bit of a workaholic,” he said with a light touch at his chest as though he were embarrassed by the confession. “My business takes up most of my time. It’s so rare that I have time to save damsels in distress.” Not entirely true, but he was willing to fill the role left in her open-ended question. “What’s even more rare,” he continued, “is having a free night to enjoy a meal with said damsel in distress. Speaking of, have you had a chance to order anything yet?”

[jackalsmiile]

sociopathichero‌:

The slam of the door pulled Danila out of his thoughts. He looked around and spotted a man on the second floor. It was that Stratton-hairstyle again. A couple of seconds later it hit him; the man wasn’t sporting just the same hairstyle as Stratton – he was Stratton.

“Shit!”

Danila flicked his cigarette to the ground and ran. He dashed across the street and tires screeched as he almost got mowed down by a pickup truck.

This couldn’t be happening. Of all the places, he had run into Stratton in a cheap motel. How was it even possible that they had chosen the same one? There were dozens upon dozens of them in Chicago alone!

He headed towards the car dealership. Maybe he could hide between the rows of shining cars.

Would Stratton be crazy enough to try something even if there would be witnesses around?

Probably.

Stratton’s grip was tight on the gun in his hand, finger lay flat against the underside of the barrel. He’d be damned if he lost track of that good for nothing hitman again. Feet thudded heavily on the walkway as he thundered down the stairs out onto the parking lot.

There was a brief moment where he lost visual on the fleeing man behind a pickup truck. It was risky to engage in such a pursuit, especially with weapon in hand, in broad daylight, and where he carried no sway with the authorities. Even ground some might say, but he preferred doing business on his own territory. He’d have to hope any possible witnesses would ultimately decide interfering would be too much trouble for them.

With a quick pause to take off the safety of his pistol and glance up and down the street, he ran toward the car dealership. If he didn’t catch up soon, he knew he wouldn’t be able to maintain the pursuit and would likely lose the man for good. Either that or he’d be forced to shoot--never a good thing on unfamiliar ground--people may not think to call the cops for a foot chase, but they’d definitely call in to report shots fired.

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Vacancy, Pueblo CO, RA Clayton, 

[jackalsmiile]

“If someone thinks they have the upper hand, break it.”

— L.J. Gibbs (via zaldrizotala)

[jackalsmiile]

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inadxquacy·:

“Currently I just tutor a few students and help out at an old bookstore. I was hoping to teach but the system here is different than in Norway so I can’t yet. And with the blindness, it might be difficult.” She still aimed for it, if anything she could keep tutoring and maybe eventually teach at least a few. Giving piano lessons wouldn’t be too far fetched either. Helping out, in her case teaching, was what she was good at. She was already part time harbouring a teen from her troubled mother and helping her through high school so she would have the chance to go to a good university. “And you? I can’t tell by the looks but is it far fetched to suspect you’re a business man of some kind?” It was in his presence, the type who didn’t take any shit or excuses from anyone.

“Indeed I am,” he said. Maybe she couldn’t tell by looks, but a lot can be said for the way a man carried himself. “The sole owner and proprietor of my own business, built from the ground up.” Although his business—in the eyes of the common rabble—was a front, he held a healthy amount of pride in it nonetheless. Below the surface, his facility served as a home base for his drug empire. “It’s nothing extraordinary,” he said, playing the part of modest man. “If you know of the self-storage place at the edge of town, that’s mine.”

[jackalsmiile]

me?????? an explosive temper???????? yeah leave me alone 

[jackalsmiile]

It seemed, ever since Marianne betrayed him, Stratton’s luck had begun to run dry. Deal after deal turned sour in his attempts to expand his business eastward, Marianne continuously eluded his attempts to locate her, the damn hitman he’d hired to gun her down had all but disappeared off the map, hell, even the fucking cops had to put on a show of busting some of his low level dealers. He was in a foul fucking mood, and he had nothing to show for the troubles except for the headache pulsing at his temples.

Stepping outside, Stratton pinched the bridge of his nose. He needed a fucking break. There was only so much that could wrong in a row, right? It was high time for things to tip back in his favor, and if they didn’t, he’d force it.

The air outside the too-small motel room was significantly better, though the sunlight didn’t ease the headache much. Squinting in the light, he leaned against the metal railings and looked out over the parking lot. If he didn’t know better, he’d say he recognized the man smoking across the lot. He didn’t know anyone out this far from his home base, but he wasn’t one to forget a face. Squinting further, he cocked his head as he peered at the stranger.

“Fuck me,” he said under his breath.

It was that son of a bitch hitman.

Disappearing temporarily inside his room, he retrieved the semi-automatic pistol he’d brought along with him for the trip and slammed the door behind him as he went back out to confront the dead man walking.

Danila stood at a half-empty parking lot of a motel, breathing in the cool night air. It was one of those stereotypical motels you see in movies; two stories worth of cheap rooms on the side of a road. All around American. This particular carbon copy was located in the suburbs of Chicago.

He lit a cigarette and stared at something invisible behind the car dealership across the street, immersed in his own thoughts. He was on his way to meet his brother in prison again. Knowing he would get to see Viktor soon had him excited, but it wasn’t enough to make him forget Stratton and Marianne. Even though it had been weeks since he had gone MIA on Stratton, he still tensed whenever he passed a man with a hairstyle like his.

To be honest, he didn’t know if Stratton was even after him. Maybe he thought he had been killed on the job. Or maybe he had become another obsession to him, like Marianne – someone he had to find and get rid of.

All Danila could do was wait and see.

@jackalsmiile