#executiioner

[v1ctimplagued]

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.

[diablries-2]

@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 .

[kxllersmut]

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.

[souldered]

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

[efoyisk]

                                    @executiioner liked for a starter

   shame is all he feels, but little care to ask for forgiveness.   the mere thought claws at his neck and forces his fingers to tremble, heart palpating in such a painful manner that the trickster is certain his ribs shatter.   an unfeasible thing, of course, though nonetheless fearful.   perhaps he shouldn’t have come at all.   falling on one’s knees and begging for absolution was simply not enough.   it would have never been enough for him, had somebody done to loki what he had done to anita.

  though humans operate on the hastiness their lifespans demand and thus, loki hopes—prays—that anita may be inclined to, if not forgive him, at least not attack him. give an acknowledging look and be on her way.

  and so the trickster lingered outside anita’s building, tirelessly leaned against a lamppost, expecting her to emerge from her apartment.   loki had patience.   he could wait.   he had a lot more time on his hands that she ever would.   he’d wait.   it took hours before he felt the hairs on the back of his neck rising.   goosebumps crawled down his spine into an impossible shiver.

  a few moments later, the agent stepped outside the front door and loki was there to greet her with nothing but a careful look, chin dipped in, face somehow lowered—his only way to ask for patience.   “anita.” 

[iviaw]

@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.

[desiredprince]

executiioner asked: "we’re a team. we always have each other's backs."

❝ Are you CERTAIN that you always have my back? You seem to be distracted lately & far from my reach. — ( It was likely because they diverted & have been more intimate lately during the NIGHT hours. Daily, they kept to themselves, as if a little embarrassed as to just how close they have gotten during the time together. Hunters were SOMETHING else entirely when it came to destroying his own kind. He knew very little who had the compacity to kill so many & keep moving forward. He had wondered if she was becoming more aware of he fact that throughout the time of him killing his own was becoming exhausting MENTALLY for him. ) Come to me, mon amour. Beside me again so I can LIFT you up from the rut you seem to be in. ❞ They have come a long way, the both of them, from hating one another gut's to acknowledging how hard it was for their lives to be entangled as it was.

[timeconqueror]

"You know, this would be so much easier if you were a-- teacher in Arkansas or a P.I. in the Midwest, like some of the others. I wouldn't even have to come down, you'd barely notice." Give him a second to take out his frustrations on his circular TemPad, the neighboring trees and foliage 'glitching' in and out of existence for a singular moment before clicking back into place.

"New York? New York isn't all that its cracked out to be, trust me on that, it's just a housing scam. Try the West Coast, there is way less exposure, @executiioner-- and headaches."

[iobartach]

@executiioner // continued from here

Intervening to prevent calamity had formed part and parcel of the remit he had so arduously adhered himself to. A duty, self-imposed, that took priority over all other concerns, to the point of causing conflict with those that associated themselves with him -- willingly or otherwise. It's part of why, when exposed to the scorching heat of the other's seething words, Miguel remains uncharred. It's nothing he hasn't heard over a dozen times before.

"Cálmate." The response he issues was little more than a pittance, a meagre attempt to make amends for the disruption he's caused. Oblivious to the fact that in thwarting her progression, he's made a separate situation all the more worse for it, he keeps up the trend of poor first impressions by remaining obstinate, reluctant to buy her elaborate tale upon his initial hearing of it.

"Yeah, as if I'd take the word of someone armed to the teeth as credible." Dismissive, at least on the surface, he had in fact listened carefully, his attention in particular snagging on the mention of ripping open portals in time. Not entirely certain how large of an issue this could mean for him, before he delved any deeper, the mention of magic swerves his concerns in another direction. The complete antithesis of the world of science and technology that had reared him to adulthood, he didn't like its mention a single bit, a stance kept as private as the cluelessness he possessed in regards to the effect his very proximity was having on the deviant before him.

Uttering a curse beneath his breath, bothered by their idleness, Miguel lowers his hidden gaze to the floor, a reluctance slowly gathering strength within him that was already starting to make him rethink his views on the other's absurd claims. He was loathe to admit it wasn't entirely impossible to believe them, especially in a city as vast and terrible as this one.

"But fine. Say I buy your story -- what then?"

[soughtknowledge]

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 . ❞

[esoterium]

@executiioner || a meme from yonder here! || accepting!

"your face broke my hand" (malcolm)

hand up, he cups over his nose where he can smell the tangy, coppery scent of blood trickling down towards his upper lip. she god damn rung his bell. and then some. the un-official profiler (or whatever you wanna call him, his head's too busy swimming to think of whatever title they wanted to throw his way today) leans back against the dingy brick wall of the alley that he'd chased the same shadow down that--apparently--anita was chasing, too.

which is why..

she and her whole damn self was locked and loaded when he came running up behind her like some sort've madman determined not to let the person he'd been after for months get away. again. he swears to whoever or whatever or some kinda deity or thing that this guy's able to disappear into the dark. but not tonight...until.

a blast of bright white pain filled his entire face and left him blind to anything but agony until he was able to breathe through it and gain some sense of his thoughts back. enough that he could crack open an eye and give her a blink, blink.

"yeah and i think your hand broke my face.." or at least his nose. pulling back to look down at a palm full of blood had him groaning before he flicked it away from himself and rooted with his free hand through each pocket..hoping..hoping..for some kinda means of sopping it up. nothing there. why would there be? shit.

hand back in place, he bleeds freely into his palm. no doubt gathering the attention of whatever was in the shadows he's been so damn determined to catch. well. not only him.. huh, anita?

[embalmic]

@executiioner || a meme from here! || accepting!

∗ 15﹕ sender  and  receiver  make  eye  contact  across  a  busy  room .

she's sitting just outside a bar in saint louis. some random stop along the way to nowhere. seems like that's where they're going. some aimless route on the way to three people's destinations that they're somehow tangling up together to make it theirs. laura's minding her own business when she slides off the stone wall and walks back inside.

fists balled up in the pockets of a red, satin coat--she lets chestnut brown strands that've been newly washed at the hotel they've booked for the night together swing to partially block her face from view.

she's pale but not too pale. least the flies haven't come back yet. she's got that going for her. and the asshole isn't complaining about her stinking yet. that's a plus. her nose turns towards herself and she inhales like she'd be able to tell. nothing. ziltch. it'd have to be a damn stetch to trigger her muted senses. so it's either not bad. or not there.

she's hoping it's not there. a cursory look at the people she passes and they pay her no mind. one guy kinda checks her out. he's gross. chest hair rolling out of the top button of a polyester shirt. who wears those anymore? ten out of ten, she bets there's a gold chain in there and he's got a ron jeremy collection back home. an eye roll later, she's gotta bite her tongue stop herself from asking if dead chicks are his thing. fuck with his head? he'd deserve it just for that look that makes her feel like she needs to go back home and shower.

so far? fuck saint louis.

she's trying to pluck the sight of a red headed giant out of the crowd when she locks eyes with someone just about her size. and it's not in the gross way porno guy tried to catch her eye. no. it's in a way that makes her stop and tilt her head. push her brows together and stare back. she damn near feels like there's a silent greeting between the two of them.

and hello. and a what are you? it makes her throat feel tight. laura's not sure if it's good or neutral or..if she should just leave. so she doesn't move. she just sort've blinks. a motion that happens only once. like she's gotta remind herself to do it. a hand comes up. fingers twitch in a small wave. who the hell is she?

[rclldamage]

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

[tr4umaborn]

“ people have died and that can’t go unpunished. ”

he's tried so damn hard to live a simple life here. not make a name for himself. not have anyone question his existence. he's certain there's someone out there ( besides armand, daniel, and lestat ) who know the newest member of tulane's history faculty is different. most professors don't just teach night classes and keep weird office hours after all.

it doesn't mean he expects to be followed by a woman smelling of death in the midst of a feed.

this all looks rather precarious -- louis' lips dripping with the blood of the man now sleeping post orgasm safely in his own bed. to louis this is survival; a means to an end. everyone got what they wanted out of it. usually the next step is louis putting out some kind of snack and glass of water at the man's bedside table, cleaning himself off, and getting himself back home to work on grading before bed.

easy. it's all easy. there's a routine to it that just makes sense for him.

he's stopped at the step before cleaning up, now in some handsome man's living room with lady who smells like death questioning him about a crime scene he had never been to. " if you can't tell, that's not my m.o. " the vampire crosses his arms over his chest, hating the feeling of the blood drying onto his chin. it's a bitch and a half to get off at that point. " seems there's another vampire in new orleans. wouldn't be the first time someone came to this city and started leavin' a trail of bodies. "

[efoyisk]

                                              @executiioner liked for a starter<3

   “i struggle to believe you always wished to be this country’s lap dog.   and there must be greater careers for a necromancer to pursue.” loki sat crammed in the passenger’s seat, staring ahead at the door he was so eagerly wishing would open.   he had offered something oh so convenient;   none can lie whilst his magic filters through their brains.   they’d take all the information they needed, without their suspect remembering a thing.   and most importantly, they’d not need wait for her to lead them to her master.   boss, whatever.

  “see, it somehow does not align with this headstrong, stubborn woman i’ve come to know.   how is it you’ve settled for a role befitting of a servant?” perhaps he was assuming too much, hoping for too much.   sometimes great rivers require surveillance.   to be drained here, to be guided through a canal there.   guilt grows easier through the cracks of independence.   each and every mistake is nobody’s but yours.   though when you answer to someone behind a desk, perhaps you can sleep easier at night.

  “you could have been a magician of your own.   your re-animation act would have surely been the crowd’s favourite.”

[iviaw]

he knew the moment her scent filled the dining room what she had been. it had been close to closing but not enough to warrant him forcing her out. being alone was a blessing. not all of her kind killed on sight. he dried his hands and came out from the kitchen where he had been washing the dishes. cloth slowing drying off the water finger by finger as he kept his gaze on her. " ain't everyday that a hunter's got looks that could kill, " he smirked and tossed the towel to the side, resting his hands on his hips. " what are you wantin' here ? je ne veux pas d'ennuis. "

@executiioner liked for a starter.