[nokills]

now when you sacrifice a goat and you rip its heart out with your bare hands, do you then summon hellfire? or do you just send out for a pizza?

independent alex law from danny boyle's shallow grave. written by gabrielle. highly selective/private. more information can be found beneath the cut.

basic roleplay etiquette/human decency applies.

psd credit goes to @/ariapsds. (crushin' with edits made by me.)

mutuals only, 21+ only, and expect sporadic activity. activity is classified as here when i want to be.

most likely iconless. super low maintenance. idc idc idc.

[obiwan]

#hope this doesn’t awaken anything in me.

[nokills]

no one understands how this has rewired my brain

[nokills]

[hightabled]

how vulgar. the marquis' stern stare narrows into slits as he studies his company, the flash of river-green irises disappearing into the stygian shade of his pupils. now they are face to face with the rumours about their existence put rightfully aside, vincent cannot help but feel somewhat underwhelmed. lobby whisperings constructed larger-than-life foes out of the ordinary man, theories surrounding mortals that extended beyond the mere composition of flesh and blood. [ not only must the man be killed, but the idea, that it would be possible to even reach the elevated high table. ] all alex law had were the lips to condemn them, and the marquis had all the means at his disposal in order to silence them. it was cruelly unjust, as were all his dealings. he wouldn't make them if they weren't. but the marquis was interested, nonetheless, of what alex could possibly want out of their encounter, and what he could possibly gain in return.

❛ in france, we have a saying that patience is bitter but it bears sweet fruit. ❜ his full lips purse together as though he is forced to endure a rotten taste, swallowing back the acidity of his irritation as it crosses over his tastebuds. he studies his company with the languid undulation of slow-moving eyes. the marquis is nothing if not observant, but his prior expectations of alex and his motives are not compatible with the image he presents. greed was a grotesque little trait that the marquis could weed out from the mere air of a man, how the foible delighted and disgusted him all the same. how his respect for the individual would rapidly disintegrate as his artifices took over. but he finds it less than easy to gather a complete idea of alex upon this first encounter, since money doesn't appear to be his folly. for a short second, the marquis wonders if this is a sincere man. perhaps even a good man. [ but there are no good men in their world, only those who can mask it better. ] ❛ you would be wise to remember that. ❜

[nokills]

the continental hotel is an atmosphere he doesn't belong in, even with the size of his newfound wallet. designer clothes, glimmering chandeliers, & everything else a poor man desires. (his wet dream.) but him, on the contrary, is dressed in an olive corduroy blazer, beige slacks, bulky brown belt, & a red checkered tie — a sore sight for eyes. he takes note of the man's survey of him, enough for alex to subconsciously size himself down — retrieving his pumped-out bravado with a fist, cerulean stare ever so slightly faltering under the other man's as he glances over to the side. (the fucking side.) a nerve is struck inside him / a momentary lapse as his guts stumble out of his stomach — he collects them, along with his remaining pride. jaw tensing, shoulders squaring, he reminds himself of something: he's in their playground. (if you want a seat at the big kids table, you have to earn it. & if you can't earn it — fake it until you make it.) ❛ i don't give a fuck what they tell you in france. qui qui for all i care. i care about my fucking time! ❜ head twisting around, his fingers snap the hotel bartender over, & a request is made — two glasses of champagne for both him & the marquis. (no exact champagne is given. he doesn't know any type of champagnes, but respect was earned. this is how you earned respect.)

a dog who's all bark with no bite. it's a reminder when he takes a glance around the hotel. all these people, dressed in their fancy clothes with booming smiles, are all assassins who could stab his back. they could kill him. & he's suddenly staring right back into david's eyes & then juliet's eyes — the kiss of judas. the marquis is no different. (he's in too deep. he's crossed a line. this is going to be his grave.) the dawning spreads across his face, realization hitting him like a slab of bricks, eyes widening like a doe in car headlights. when the champagne glasses are brought over to them, nimble fingers take the stem of one of the glasses, composure grabbed with a slight voice crack, ❛ to the high table, & my health. ❜

[ewandaily]

EWAN McGREGOR behind the scenes Shallow Grave (1994)

[nokills]

plots/things i'm looking for on this blogue:

pegging. lots of pegging.

alex being ARRESTED at the end of the movie and having a lil pen pal in scottish prison <3 someone he can write to <3 letter threads plz <3

an i know what you did last summer-esque type plot... someone who knows abt alex & the rest of the roomies stealing hugo's money and blackmailing them abt it!

more j/hn wick verse stuff... plz... i beg...

[notmorbid]

the snow child, pt. 1.

dialogue prompts from the snow child by eowyn ivey.

i went to the river today.

would you like me to come and help?

do you think we’ll make it?

we don’t have much choice, do we?

you’ll drive yourself crazy looking for something that isn’t there.

never seen anything like it.

can i get you a cup of coffee and some breakfast?

mind if i join you?

have you lost your ever-loving mind?

i’m backed up against a wall.

can make the day go faster, to have company.

are you sure there’s nothing i can do?

just relax and make yourself at home.

we needed to do things for ourselves.

hang in there. it’ll all work out.

we’re too old for this.

i’m doing the best i can.

you look positively worn out.

maybe you can just give me a few pointers?

truth is, i’m in over my head.

too many men, in my opinion.

i don’t know if you ever get used to it, really.

weren’t you getting ready to tell me something?

what did you see?

this is not your fault.

is that what i look like?

i won’t believe you anymore. you’re making it up.

i’ve never met anyone like ___.

maybe i’m not as brave as you.

dance with me. please.

is ___ your friend?

[nokills]

alex gets pegged biweekly

[nokills]

@vincentbisset :~)

he had always been a journalist at heart. hungry for the truth, eager to expose the secrets that others attempted to keep hidden in the dark. with the fortune he'd accumulated from that infamous edinburgh flat, he also had a newfound freedom: the ability to pursue his passion without the constraints of financial worry. but little did he know that his thirst would begin down a dark and hazardous path; a chance encounter at a local pub, an overheard conversation from a group of men discussing their ties to the high table. curiosity piqued, who wouldn't decide to dig deeper? using contacts and resources to uncover the web of assassins that operated in the shadows of london, later to be discovered as the shadows of the entire globe, he found himself as simply an observer. a curious journalist who had stumbled upon something too big to ignore. however, as he delved further into the seedy underbelly of the city, he found himself drawn into the world — eventually a leash around his own neck.

a willing pawn, he became: someone who could be used to disseminate information or serve as a mouthpiece when needed. the straddle of two worlds > one of journalism and one of death. it was a precarious position to be in, but he couldn't deny the rush he felt as he navigated the murky waters of the underground world. he finds himself seated inside the london continental hotel, a meeting called to order by a high-ranking member of the high table, eyes watching as a man finally sits beside him — two hours of waiting paying off.

“oye, if i knew this was going to be an all-night affair, i would've packed a fucking overnight bag.”

[screen-studies]

EWAN MCGREGOR as “Alex Law” Shallow Grave (1995) dir. Danny Boyle