A Windmill Full of Corpses

Noun: búistéir m. ‎ (genitive singular búistéara, nominative plural búistéirí) Butcher. Read rules before interacting.

[itwasntrainingyet]

[koukouvayia]

all hail.

[buisteir-blog]

schadenfreudx:

“ Aw, but at least I always win at strip poker. ” Kazik laughed. He helped Jones by tossing away his own tie, coat, and boots. He leaned forward to work off the undead mans shirt. There was a certain amount of playfulness in the way he twisted it over Jones’ arms.

Once Jones’ shirt was thrown into the growing pile of clothes, Kazik stole another loving kiss, less rough than the first time. 

He leaned into Kazik with this one, wrapping his arms back around the other’s shoulders. Jones pulled him close, kissing along Kazik’s neck and undoing vest buttons with shaky hands. “Ya means ya always cheat at strip poker, right?” 

He bites and it’s light, but threatening to get sharper. With the vest gone he could work on the shirt. “Should I get the matches?” He asks, rubbing a hand against Kazik’s stomach again. 

[buisteir-blog]

schadenfreudx:

The loan shark placed teasing kisses along Jones’ jaw line, pecks of equal affection and excitement. He meticulously began to undo his husbands belt; purposely drawing out the action but then the clasp gave a satisfying click. With that it was discarded to the floor. 

Kazik lightly shoved Jones in the direction of the bed as he gripped onto the hem of the others shirt.

“ I’m just hoping I won’t be doing all the work again. ” He grinned and gave Jones a kiss on the corner of his lips.  

“With that kinda attitude, I just might make ya do all the work.” Jones couldn’t help but smile as he was shoved down onto the bed. He kicked off his shoes quickly and batted Kazik’s hands away. 

“Oi, ya say ya don’t wanna do all the work and then proceed t’ do all the work.” He drags the other over between his legs by the hips and starts to undo the buttons of his jacket. “Consider less layers.” He huffed, choosing to push a hand under the other’s shirt instead of actually waiting to strip him down. “This would take a lot less time.”

[buisteir-blog]

@schadenfreudx

Kazik’s warmer compared to him. It’s one of the first things he notices when the other settles against him. It’s nice. Jones leans into the kiss, wrapping his arms tightly around his neck and keeping their faces as close together as possible. When Kazik parts, Jones can’t help but giggle at the prospect of the evening taking on a different tone. He’s excited, giddy, happy. 

“I don’ mind in the slightest, baby.” His hands wandered up and squeezed at the back of Kazik’s neck. 

[mehrere-musen]

“I’m starting to remember….I remember the final kill…I remember the ones who took me…what’s happening to me?”

@buisteir

[buisteir-blog]

Jones frowns, sitting up and tapping his fingers against his knees. The call had come in the middle of the night and he was already exhausted. But this had brought him back to a more dangerous place. “I... Shell? I don’t understand what yer talkin’ about.”

[buisteir-blog]

@schadenfreudx

“So that’s a no, then?”

[schadenfreudx]

“ What? You want full, unrestricted access to my bank account while I’m at it? Consider my social security number as a free, added bonus. ”

His tone was heavy with sarcasm and he let out a light laugh. Kazik didn’t really have a reason to distrust Jones; and while Ark was competition he was on much better terms with her than previously. (Their marriage certainly helped with that.)

“ But I’m fine, it’s not a huge deal to me. You honestly haven’t taken advantage of my wealth and I sincerely doubt you will any time soon – but if you have been then I will admit that you’re the better thief in this house. ”

[buisteir-blog]

“Couldn’t bring myself to do it.” Jones decided to invite himself right into Kazik’s office. And right up to the desk too. He sits on the very edge of the desk, grinning. Less trying to start something and more trying to... Well, keep Kazik’s attention. 

“What would I want with all yer money anyways? Faol’s taken care of and I’m married t’ the love of my life. Hate t’ get fuckin’ sappy, but it’s true. I’m not about t’ deny it.” There’a  hint of a shrug lingering on his shoulders but he drops to lift himself and slide a little further onto the desk. 

At this point, he’s just trying to make a mess of things. 

[wanderingfalconer]

Zonda, a juvenile Grey Buzzard Eagle, being cute!

[guscraw-deactivated20210725]

Reblogging for noises

[buisteir-blog]

@schadenfreudx

Okay. That’s a little surprising. Even if they’d be married for-goddamn, how long had it been? Awhile? Was he really keeping track? The dead have a poor sense of time so, he’d leave it at that. 

He leans against the doorway and fixes Kazik with an odd look. “Ya trust me? A person who works fer yer competition? Ya feelin’ alright? Not running a fever or anything? I get that we’re married but don’t ya think that’s a little too trustin’ of ya?”

“... And I’ll give a maybe t’ that dinner offer.”

[buisteir-blog]

@the-demon-scribe

It had been an early night for him. A quick job and he was back to his apartment, already looking over more files and reading up on the next case. Things just were getting messier and messier. It was already almost one in the morning by the time he chanced a glance at the clock. 

“Shit.” 

He stacked all the files up neatly and went around the small apartment, shutting off the lights before settling back on the couch in the somewhat dimmer room. Jones had been planning to go to bed but something caught his eye before he could settle down for the night. 

A figure in the far back of the room looking out from the shadows. 

“... Thought we agreed you’d knock.” He says to the figure, standing and shuffling the files somewhere where they would be safer. “Unless yer not him. In which case, yer spooky and need t’ get that checked.”

[buisteir-blog]

LIKE for a starter 

SLEEP for a nap 

STAY IN BED because you’re TIRED

[mehrere-musen]

Death turned his attention to the dead man, already knowing that he was there. He shifted his scythe again to the other shoulder, gliding towards the house to get closer. Of course he knew Shell wasn’t in. He was the one who sent her after that Wraith, so she wouldn’t be back for another day at least. He didn’t speak with his mouth, but that tell-tale voice appeared in Jones’ head, as it had done the last time they spoke.

“Perhaps.” The voice was raspy, deep and had an otherworldly tone to it, almost like an accent. He didn’t come to the house on purpose, knowing his thoughts brought him here. The towering creature shifted once again, his cloak blowing in the slight breeze.

“We did not have much time to speak the previous time.” He spoke. “Tonight is slow, for once. I have time now.”

He approached Jones, bones rattling slightly. His grip on his scythe tightened slightly. His skeletal hand was difficult to see in the darkness, but it was easy to tell just by the sound of his bones.

[buisteir-blog]

Slow night. Well, that was true for both of them. He had a short break from his work and then he’d be back in New York, picking up cases and dealing with his strange little family. Not that he particularly minded the strangeness of it. It was better than anything else he had (or could remember having). 

“Come here t’ talk me down again, I see how it is.” He blows smoke out his nose, watching it curl up around his head. “Yer goin’ after me fer somethin’ I don’t even remember happenin’. At least, that’s what ya were on about the last time I came.” There’s a deep, rattling sigh from his chest. Maybe he should have picked up another job while he was here. 

“Look, I’m not interested in fightin’ so let’s cut t’ the chase. If I don’t know what I did or have no memory of it, then what yer doin’ is wrong and I don’t have t’ listen t’ it.” He shrugs. Alright, so maybe it was more his hostility about being living dead at Death himself... Who knew, really?

[gnarledchildren]

"Why are you doing this?" -buisteir

“Why wouldn’t I??” The man’s response is almost mocking. Evil’s head cocked to the side as he glanced down at the corpse from where he’d chained the other to the wall. “No, no, better question - why shouldn’t I??” A warm tongue ghosts over jagged fangs as he grins down at him, slipping his bowie knife from his pocket. “Jonesy, have you missed me?” If the other statements weren’t mocking, this one was for sure.

[gnarledchildren]

“Poor baby,” he hums mockingly, and grabs a handful of Jones’s hair, holding his head up by force so he’s looking back at those golden eyes. Golden eyes which - aren’t the same. Golden eyes that no longer hold his husband, golden eyes that no longer show love.

“He begged me not to hurt you, you know?” He drags his thumb along Jones’s lower lip. “He was too weak to put up much of a fight, but lord, he begged me with his last little breath not to touch you..” He grins, fangs appearing even more crooked in the moonlight seeping in from the basement window.

“He was such a sad little thing.. couldn’t even tell you he was getting worse..”

[buisteir-blog]

Jones has half a mind to bite that thumb off but he’s too busy struggling with a collapsing lung to notice the gentle touch of the other. He hates it. Hates it more than anything. “He decided. He made a choice and stuck with it. He had every chance to improve, every chance to get better and instead he left it where he could and turned into you.” There’s a low growl and this time he does bite at fingers. 

“I’ll tell ya who’s gonna get worse. I’ll tell ya who’s gonna be beggin’ me not t’ hurt them anymore. I don’t care who ya are, I don’t give a shit who ya were t’ me. I’ll kill ya if I have to. Now, before I start cuttin’ ya up like the disgustin’ pig ya know ya are, I’ve got one question fer ya.” At this, he sits up a little straighter and stares at him. 

“Did ya even care about anything in the first place?”

[gnarledchildren]

"Why are you doing this?" -buisteir

“Why wouldn’t I??” The man’s response is almost mocking. Evil’s head cocked to the side as he glanced down at the corpse from where he’d chained the other to the wall. “No, no, better question - why shouldn’t I??” A warm tongue ghosts over jagged fangs as he grins down at him, slipping his bowie knife from his pocket. “Jonesy, have you missed me?” If the other statements weren’t mocking, this one was for sure.

[gnarledchildren]

As the other headbutts him in the chest he snickers, letting out another soft cackle before he calms once more, digging the knife in a little deeper. The man has the audacity to raise Jones’s head and kiss his forehead, fangs leaving a small mark. How could he be so soft and so rough at once..? So.. full of rage and completely calm at the same time? This wasn’t Ev, no, Ev had left. Ev had been dwindling for quite a while, when he met Jones, he almost had hope he’d be able to pull himself up from the darkness. But the sickness inside of him persisted, until he was gone. 

“D-do you know what he told me that night..??” 

[buisteir-blog]

“I hope he kills you.” It’s a low growl. Everything hurts so much and he’s afraid and angry and it’s a whirlwind but he’s not about to look away from this. He’s not about to curl up and admit that he’s scared because if there is a person in the world who doesn’t deserve that, it’s Evil. 

“I hope he gets to hurt ya in Hell. I hope he drags ya down himself just because he wants to.” Jones bears his teeth, all blood and white. “I hope he does it and he will.”

[gnarledchildren]

"Why are you doing this?" -buisteir

“Why wouldn’t I??” The man’s response is almost mocking. Evil’s head cocked to the side as he glanced down at the corpse from where he’d chained the other to the wall. “No, no, better question - why shouldn’t I??” A warm tongue ghosts over jagged fangs as he grins down at him, slipping his bowie knife from his pocket. “Jonesy, have you missed me?” If the other statements weren’t mocking, this one was for sure.

[gnarledchildren]

His own blood’s on his face, and he stares in slight surprise before he starts laughing so loudly, cackling with his lack of sanity in the cold of the basement. “Oh-oh,” he hums as he comes back down from the reel of laughter, “I LOVE you..!” He pulls the blade from the floor once more, and he sinks it into Jones’s side, tearing clothing and dead flesh as he does. “S-so much verocity.. hmmn.. yes.. that’s what I saw in you.. what did you see in me.. Jones.. Jonesy.. … fucking.. corpse..”

[buisteir-blog]

There’s a low hiss in his throat. He’s pretty sure somewhere along the line his shoulder was dislocated from the pulling and his lung might have been pierced where he was stabbed. A distant thought echoes through his head that Kazik is going to be pissed when he finds out what happened and especially pissed that he knows who did it. He coughs and slams forward, still intent on causing damage. He headbutts Evil, growling in pain. “I hate you. I have ya more than anything right now. I can’t wait t’ snap yer fuckin’ neck just so you’ll shut the fuck up.”

[gnarledchildren]

"Why are you doing this?" -buisteir

“Why wouldn’t I??” The man’s response is almost mocking. Evil’s head cocked to the side as he glanced down at the corpse from where he’d chained the other to the wall. “No, no, better question - why shouldn’t I??” A warm tongue ghosts over jagged fangs as he grins down at him, slipping his bowie knife from his pocket. “Jonesy, have you missed me?” If the other statements weren’t mocking, this one was for sure.

[gnarledchildren]

It’s the kick to the face that brings him back to reality, Hell, if only for a moment. He grabs Jones’s leg and tugs on it until the other is pressed against him. He smirks disgustingly down at his ex lover underneath of him. “Sweetie, nooo, that’s what makes you special.. you don’t have any blood to spill.. it’s just.. so nice.. to think about.. to think about..” the smirk softens, ever so slightly, his pupils shrinking. “Cutting into flesh and not feeling that warmth on my hands for once..”

[buisteir-blog]

If there were more words he knew that meant disgusted, he would use them. Disgusting, unwelcome warmth pressing up against him. A mockery of something he had once held dear and something he had parted with on (what he thought had been) fair terms. He sinks his teeth into Evil’s face, feeling half-crazed with his anger, with the sheer force of it pounding on blast door in the back of his head. He rips away viciously, growling low in his throat and spitting blood back in the other’s face. “Get off me.”