killer king ;

this is where you come to beg, unborn and unshaven, killing fields of fire to a congress of ravens. this is what we do, baby, we nightmare you.

[targaryenhouse]

[demitrivladikov]

tahliaft:

the girl didn’t notice the lying coming from between his teeth, and only emerged herself into the conversation. the girl’s face was sworn with sympathy, “yeah, i have had some bad experiences around here,” she spoke, shuddering when she reconciled with the scar on her shoulder. though it had been inflicted by a vicious animal and not a group of humans, it seemed as if around here there wasn’t much of a difference, “actually, the same without the whole conflict part. i walk a lot, i love it out here” the girl took a deep inhale of smoke, exhaling the remains that didn’t stain her lungs, “there’s something about the greenery and the blue skies during the day or the stars during the night that just make me feel more at home than my actual home.”

“oh really? i’m sorry. you should try to walk with someone, they usually don’t go after groups. along the border people can get vicious because they try to get arcadians.” he shook his head, taking another drag, licking his lips afterwards, savoring the nicotine flavor, knowing this would be his last cigarette for a little while. “it is nice, the trees provide a certain cover.” he glanced over at her, suddenly curious. “where are you from then?”

[demitrivladikov]

blanchemoore:

she contemplated his words for a few moments, walking in silence beside him as she mulled them over. it was true, they were going to have to spend the rest of their lives together, against her will, but she tried not to think about the life sentence she’d been dealt. “it’s not just you,” she finally responded, blue eyes focused on the streets before them, “i wanted to be a single. my parents wouldn’t let me. so while it does have a lot to do with you, it’s also the idea of you. what you stand for…,” she trailed off at that, running a hand through her hair and letting a sigh escape her lips. deciding she’d had enough of this conversation, she went in a different direction. “if you want me to stand you, you can’t make me go to bullshit political events and not show up.”

“i can understand wanting to be single, but at this point, we don’t have another choice blanche. why should we be in misery? i’m sure there’s at least one thing about me you don’t totally loathe, right?” he shook his head. “and we could start from there. but... you make a fair point, i apologize for not showing up, i was... preoccupied and it took longer than i thought. i won’t make you go to those unless i’m there, and even then, there are a few you don’t have to go to.” he was just sick of this being such a hardship -- matches weren’t supposed to be this hard. “we don’t have to fall in love -- in fact, please, let’s fucking not. let’s just... try to stand each other.”

[demitrivladikov]

willoughbylidell:

it was a dangerous flirtation they shared, birthed through the hell and brimstone behind every tick of demitri’s coiled muscles and the psychotic wonderland that filled will’s unyeilding eyes. even with the shimmer of fresh blood reflecting into his gaze from the knife held in a tight grip, will refused to take ownership of any qualms with his following actions. his face remained rather complacent as he let the dry air simmer in the heat of demitri’s loathing. “you might wanna watch how close you get to me. don’t wanna lose control because of—” the ice in his stare shot a glance at the other boy’s crotch and returned in a blink, “yanno, like, I bet you’re still hot and bothered from whatever you just cleaned up.” will looked at demitri’s shirt once again. “kind of.“

“if i was the sort of person to... lose control, as you so sweetly put it -- it wouldn’t be for someone like you -- ever.” he sneered, his hand shaking slightly, the urge to press the knife inside of the other, to rip, to tear, to smear his blood on the ground was so great that he had to physically restrain himself. unfortunately, will was just too high profile for him to take out that night. but oh, how he wanted to. he entertained all the ideas of how he could die in his head for a moment -- which seemed to calm him down. “i have a match, and she satisfies me fine.” it was a lie -- blanche and him were barely on speaking terms let alone fucking terms.

[demitrivladikov]

tahliaft:

once the man lowered his knife, she felt the slightest bit more comfortable. in the dark, she could barely see the dark stains on his shirt or the questionable intrigued look on his face. of course, if she could see his expression, she would have probably took it as a flattering compliment instead of a red flag. the girl tugged at her purse which hung across her body, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and handing one to the boy, “i hope you like menthols” she gave him a convincing smile, sitting on the ground of which they had been standing. she lit another cigarette that was already dangling from her lips, talking through the filter, “so, what are you doing out here so late at night? it’s pretty dangerous around these parts – well, i guess you know that since you’re holding a knife and you’ve got what seems to be blood on your shirt.”

he took a cigarette from her hands and, pulling a lighter out of his pocket, lit it, taking a long drag. it had been too long since he’d indulged. “it’s not a nice area -- i had to actually defend myself.” he grimaced, every inch of him dripping fake sincerity. “these guys just came at me -- maybe they recognized me or something, i don’t know, but it got messy. i was honestly just going for a walk.” he looked at her for a second and took another drag. “what about you?”

[demitrivladikov]

blanchemoore:

“i do keep myself safe.” she replied through gritted teeth, annoyed with demitri’s faux concern for her safety. it wasn’t rooted out of anything real, merely a political obligation. at his words about being her match and the responsibility he felt, she merely rolled her eyes. “i actually could help myself. i’m not as weak as you seem to think, mitri.” of course this was probably a lie, but she didn’t back down from the stance, falling in step with the boy in a tense silence. at his attempt to start a conversation, she shrugged, replying curtly, “it was going well, until you interrupted it.” 

“do you just insist on... always making our interactions unpleasant?” his frown deepened and he shook his head. “i know i’m not... the easiest to get along with all the time. i know we don’t exactly mix. and i know you don’t like me. but can’t we at least try to get along? i mean, we are technically stuck with each other for the rest of our lives. we’re going to have children together. don’t you... want to at least try to... stand each other?” 

[playlist-anbul-blog]

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[demitrivladikov]

you're gonna lose your soul tonight, tonight. oh, you're gonna lose control, tonight.

[demitrivladikov]

basilkhaled:

he’s on full alert by now, movements slow and hasty. it isn’t until the other walks into a light that basil recognizes him, and immediately he’s washed over by a sense of superiority rather than the opposite. “could ask you the same.” he mutters, an attempt to keep his voice low. “did you miss me or something?”

“miss you? hardly. i was just going for a walk.” the knife doesn’t leave his hand. “just contemplating life and the meaning of life and all that shit -- i’m just curious what you’re doing in such an... unsavory area.” casually cleaning his fingernails with the blade, he narrowed his eyes, trying to figure him out.

[demitrivladikov]

tahliaft:

tahlia had been wandering around the border late at night for a few days now, just begging for some trouble. the girl didn’t really understand the concept of in or out, but she surely knew she couldn’t stay in arcadia. once you’re out, you’re out for good. the girl was now walking through a black abyss of what she once recognized as a border, but in the pitch black just seemed like any other walk she had in the nethers. the petite libra was known for testing her limits ignorantly, usually on some other drug to cause her reasoning skills to be blocked. tonight was no different, high off marijuana, and experiencing a buzz from the bitter taste of nicotine which danced on her tongue with each drag. puff puff, and blow. what she hadn’t expected to see was another individual, doing whatever it is that a normal person would do around the arcadian border. tahlia blew out smoke in front of her, which upon disappearance, revealed a tall boy holding a knife tightly by his hand. she halted in her tracks, terrified that this may be the moment that her reckless attitude had her caught, “wait –” she whispered, “don’t use that please.” she spoke softly, trying to calm the man into putting his weapon down. she had no idea his intentions, and when you live in the nethers, you always assume they weren’t good.

his eyes zeroed in on a pretty girl in front of him, a cigarette in her hand. he didn’t exactly drop the knife but he lowered it, putting his left hand up in a gesture of near surrender (but not complete), he shook his head. “just a precaution. can’t be too careful around here.” he glanced around, but straightened up, no longer in such an offensive position. “do you have another cigarette? i could use one right about now.” he figured he could unravel who exactly this girl was over a good smoke, and then decide whether she was worth killing or not.

[triggererextraordinaire]

im pretty sure i just found someone throwing a dead body into a lake on google maps

[demitrivladikov]

blanchemoore:

the way he said nethers, the condescending tone he took, as if those people were beneath him, made the skin at the back of her neck crawl. everything about him aggravated her, and though she knew she should make some effort to get along with him, as it was going to be a long life spent constantly around him, she just couldn’t bring herself to. not with the way he tried to buy her affections, the way he treated everyone around him. “like i said, i’ll run wherever i please, mitri.” the words came out harsher than they needed to be, especially since demitri had said ‘please’, but she also knew there was no way she would take his wants into consideration. she wouldn’t take anyone’s wants into consideration besides her own. at his next words, she let a sigh fall from her lips, uncrossing her arms and reaching up to pull her hair down, running a hand through the tangled locks. “fine, you can walk me home. not that i need a chaperone.”

“you should keep yourself safe, blanche. i know you don’t... give a shit about what i have to say, but it’s a safety thing.” grimacing, he ran a hand through his already messy hair and looked around, trying to remember the way home. “i know you don’t need a chaperone, but i’m your match, and i know that means absolute shit to you, but to me, it means i have the responsibility to keep you safe. and if some criminal comes running at you with his gang of others, you won’t be able to help yourself. just... walk with me.” after a few seconds, he attempted conversation. “how was your run?”

[mysecondlifehi]

[demitrivladikov]

willoughbylidell:

today was meant to be just as ordinary as the rest of the days lived out by the ever changing lifestyle of willoughby. and it was, until the path he occasionally took home led him to a devilish scene. while visibility was limited to the long abandoned solar powered light dangling from it’s rusted post, the situation displayed itself quite colorfully. the murky red contrasted against stark white of his shirt was the first element will took notice of. it’s messy trail led to a note of caution, and he decided to take a seat upon the weak-willed bench just yards away from the clutched whispers emanating from the male. the squeak as his knee rested over the other was what gave his presence away, as he could see it in the jolt of demitri’s muscles. “whatcha up to, kitten?” to most souls this question would be preposterous, given the situation, but, of course, only one with a heart bleeding gunpowder from its rigid cracks could deliver the message the way it’s intended — like the bullet of a shotgun.

the soft words that were uttered from the figure’s mouth and the fucking squeak -- he nearly throws the knife right then and there. the idea of a knife implanted between those two sparkling, annoying, mischievous eyes made him practically grin with delight -- and so he did grin, not putting his knife away, and instead, standing up straighter and walking toward the man. “you.” he shook his head. “why does it not surprise me that you’re out lurking. and don’t call me -- kitten, really? out of everything your faggy little head could come up with, you come up with that?” he scoffed, walking over, the knife still firmly within his grasp, glimmering -- as it was still slightly wet from his last kill. 

[demitrivladikov]

blanchemoore:

her lips set in a thin line at his words, arms crossed over her chest, almost in a defensive maneuver. she had seen the knife he had held, watched as he slid the dark shape back into its hiding spot; though she made none of this known. she kept her face cold, calculated, only  a frown gracing her features, which could easily be interpreted as her reaction to seeing the boy, rather than the item he had hidden. “unsavory sorts?” she repeated his phrase, words ice cold, rolling her eyes as they fell from her lips. “i’ll run wherever i please, mitri. i don’t need you to look out for me. i can take care of myself.” there it was, her independent nature showing itself, along with her distaste for her match. blanche wanted to get back to her run, to leave mitri in her dust, but doing so would reveal to him that she snuck out across the border, and she wasn’t willing to do that. so she resigned herself to her fate: a conversation with demitri. “besides, you’re out here. does that make you unsavory?”

“i’m sure you can take care of yourself,” he half scoffed, “but i don’t need you getting in trouble with anyone from the nethers.” the word felt like the worst curse on his tongue and he nearly wanted to spit to rid his body of the filth of even saying the word. “you should run closer, please.” he only added the please because he didn’t want to antagonize her further -- although he was pretty sure he’d do that anyway. he always managed to. his parents hated each other, and he knew it, and they made it obvious. but his father would just buy things for his mother and she’d shut up for a while. that didn’t work with blanche, and he wished he knew how to strike a peace between them. they didn’t have to like each other but this animosity was getting tiring. “no. i’m not, you know that. i’m just... i was going somewhere to think, okay?” he rubbed his hand over his face. “at least let me walk you home.”

[gaslightwhiskey]

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[demitrivladikov]

All of these things people told me keep messing with my head You should've picked honesty Then you may not have b l o w n it

[demitrivladikov]

blanchemoore:

she was out for her nightly run, her hair pulled back tightly at the top of her head and a thin sheen of sweat glistening just above her brow. she was peaceful, serene, because when she was running, she was in complete control of her situation. the steady rhythm of her heart matched the pounding of her feet against the pavement, and as she edged closer to the nethers, this sense of control only increased. she was certain nothing could break her from her trance, could cause her to lose the sense of tranquility she’d acquired on her run, the fresh air in her lungs only causing her to feel more at east. but as she inched closer to the gate that would allow her to slip out of arcadia and venture beyond its borders, she came across another figure. all too soon she was halting, mere feet from demitri, eyes shifting from the knife in his hand up to his eyes, lips turned down in a scowl as she regained her breath. “what the fuck are you doing out here?” her words didn’t come out as harsh as she’d intended, hindered by her restless heart and her erratic breathing that had yet to return to normal.

rolling his dark eyes, he slid the knife back into it’s place. “i’m out, for a walk. thinking. and you’re obviously out for a run.” sliding his gaze over her body, he crossed his arms over the chest, hoping she wouldn’t make out the blood in the dimly lit night. she was his match, and he’d hate for her to know this about him, it would be bad for publicity if she got to scared to be around him -- or if he had to terminate her. that would actually be a shame because even if they disliked each other, she wasn’t a bad match. biologically, they’d have lovely children in a year or so. sighing deeply, he shook his head. “you probably shouldn’t run here, though, it’s close to the border. sometimes people who aren’t... well, some unsavory sorts tend to lurk about.”

[demitrivladikov]

basilkhaled:

basil’s gotten quite skilled at sneaking past the border, especially late into the night. he makes a mental note to thank axel especially, seeing as he near well commits treachery — one that the very world cuddled in the palm of his hands upholds so intently, one that puts the future of the same world at risk. but his morals are never in question; he’s done a fine job at making sure of that. it shows in the way that he passes through peacefully and makes careful note that his suit is untouched. hours spent in the nethers, and he still manages to keep his collar tight. perhaps this is the only way he himself can come to terms with this. but his train of thought is cut short because there’s a figure along the fence line and his breathing is growing erratic. he’s unsure of how to approach, caught in between defense and attack as he tries to calm himself. so he just stands there, basking in the low lit light of the moon, waiting for the darkness to engulf him. 

he can see a figure through the trees and he steps closer, trying to get a better look. cocking his head to the side, he stood up straight, squinting even further. he crouched down, waiting to see if the other would make a move but then shook his head and moved toward the figure, his steps loud in the night. unfortunately, he recognized the boy, and slid his knife back, hoping the other didn’t see it. “...basil.” he frowns, his brow furrowing deeply. “what’re you doing here?”