A DOG-EAT-DOG WORLD.

𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐫

[milk5]

if shes your girl then why am I in her uncles dms lowballing his ebay listings

[rottweilerrr]

"Don’t   make   me   chase   you." - from decker 💕

tension liner prompts.     /     selectively accepting

     “Chase me?!” he barks, all crooked teeth and puffs of smoke, then laughs in a way that doesn't suit him. He should probably be more concerned about this — more vigilant when all he knows about Decker is his name and the scars that he doesn't speak of. More suspicious about the fact that he always manages to find him and never tells him why or how. Rottweiler is not a friendly guy and he knows better than believing anyone else would be. But the picture of Decker chasing him – literally, on all fours like a naughty dog after a screaming child, or not as literally like those two blokes after a thief in that black and white movie he's seen about half of before falling asleep the other night – is more compelling than worry. Or considering that this is not what he means at all. Then the jukebox jumps from Stand By Me by Ben E. King to This Corrosion by Sisters Of Mercy and Rottweiler downs the Jägerbomb that's been sitting between them for the past ten minutes.

“I'm right here, mate.”

[rottweilerrr]

"Stop   looking   at   me   like   that." - from decker

tension liner prompts.     /     selectively accepting

     He didn't know he was staring, realizes only now that Decker is pointing it out that he was even looking at him—or rather at the poster behind him on the wall that he has been trying to decipher for the past five minutes. Something about drugs, or drinking responsibly, or how you should call this or that number if your spouse beats you and your children. Either way, his mouth is faster than his brain.

“Like wha'?”

[rottweilerrr]

     He's seen him before—only seen, never spoken to, never heard him speak either, not as far as he remembers. ( There's the vague memory of him at sundown: a black leather coat and gloved hands, a pair of sunglasses that show nothing except his own 14-year old reflection in the distance, the slow, soundless movement of lips and teeth and a piece of gold that glints between them. A mere rumor of a man that vanished along with his brother years ago. But unlike Mark, who fled from Luton and Dunstable University Hospital just to supposedly throw himself off a bridge, choosing death over a life sentence and leaving nothing but a shoe, the other seems far more real. So: ) He locks in, returns the idle stare without coming closer.

@kurjaks.

[rottweilerrr]

"You’re   just   making   it   worse."

tension liner prompts.     /     accepting

     He's wiping the floor almost frantically, draws big, smudged circles of red onto the white kitchen tiles. To say that he's panicking would be an understatement, and the fact that Robert is calm like this doesn't feel less unnerving. Reaching for another wad of paper towels, he looks up briefly, then stops mid-movement when he realizes that the other, instead of his usual guarded, almost dismissive expression, is sporting a grin that sits even less well with him.

“Oh, fuck off——”

He gets up, throws the dirty towels into the trash can and grabs whatever's left of the cranberry juice that he tried to make a drink with earlier.

“You do it then, wanker.”

[gloomglimmer]

›       TENSION   LINER   PROMPTS     

"I   dare   you   to   try."

"Do   you   always   get   close?"

"You’re   pushing   my   limits."

"Stop   looking   at   me   like   that."

"I’m   losing   control   here."

"You   have   no   idea,   do   you?"

"I   can’t   resist   you   anymore."

"Stay   back,   or   don’t."

"I   know   what   you   want."

"This   is   getting   dangerous   now."

"You’re   too   tempting   for   me."

"I   shouldn’t   want   this,   but…"

"I   don’t   play   fair,   remember?"

"Careful,   you’re   testing   me."

"You’re   just   making   it   worse."

"You’re   too   close   for   comfort."

"Do   you   always   push   buttons?"

"Stop   before   I   kiss   you."

"You’re   making   it   too   hard."

"I   can’t   stop   thinking   about   you."

"I   want   you   too   much."

"You   know   exactly   what   you’re   doing."

"I’m   not   playing   games   here."

"You’ve   crossed   the   line   now."

"Keep   pushing,   and   you’ll   regret   it."

"This   is   dangerous,   isn’t   it?"

"I’m   trying   not   to   care."

"Don’t   make   me   regret   this."

"You’re   playing   with   fire."

"You   don’t   know   what’s   coming."

"I   shouldn’t   be   this   close."

"We’re   getting   dangerously   close   now."

"I   can   feel   the   heat."

"Don’t   test   me   right   now."

"I   want   you   too   badly."

"Don’t   make   me   chase   you."

"You’re   distracting   me,   you   know."

"I   won’t   fall   for   this."

"I   want   you,   but…"

"What   do   you   want   from   me?"

"I’ll   never   give   in."

"I’m   trying   not   to   care."

"You’re   playing   with   my   patience."

"Don’t   make   this   harder,   please."

"I   can’t   stop   this   feeling."

"I’m   already   in   too   deep."

"You   won’t   walk   away   unscathed."

"You’re   walking   a   fine   line."

"I’m   trying   to   stay   calm."

"What   are   you   doing   to   me?"

[ispyspookymansion]

horror movie enjoyers will be having a terrible day and be like fuuuuuck i need to unwind….maybe nows the time to finally check out shit piss deathfest 2 . For a bit of lighthearted entertainment

[rottweilerrr]

     There is a wasp circling his glass, eager to get in, have a taste, and then die there. He covers it with a slightly dirty, slightly soggy coaster, which has it land on the squashed pack of Marlboros instead. That definitely crosses a line now, so he swats at it and then retreats with a jolt as it aims straight for his face that's turning an alarming shade of red in the unexpectedly hot spring weather.

“Bastard.”

open.

[rottweilerrr]

WHAT DOES YOUR HEART LOOK LIKE?

iced over, out of the sun,

your heart is very lonely, isn’t it? is your fortress of ice self-made? are others afraid of you, or are you afraid of them? are you afraid of hurting them, or of being hurt? vulnerability and connection can be frightening, but that’s no reason to shy away from their light, to tuck yourself small into corners, to build up frigid walls to keep yourself from feeling. you will heal when you allow yourself to draw closer to the flames and thaw.

tagged by: @kurjaks heehee :* tagging: @kingsmanne @normaltothemax @medicbled and everyone else!!

[rottweilerrr]

041.   the street of an unfamiliar city at night . / daisy

setting prompts.     /     accepting

     The invitation comes unexpected, something about her friend not being able to make it that has her talk fast and shaky on the phone like she’s trying to not sound upset about it. To say that this is short notice would be an understatement considering it’s already past 10pm and he is, admittedly very unlike him, just prepping for bed. He doesn’t even know to get gas money given it’s the end of the month and he still has bills to pay. Even so, the fact that she called him of all people doesn’t go amiss with him. So instead of asking what happened or explaining his own situation to her, he just says yes. He’ll figure everything else out tomorrow morning.

And now they’re actually here, in Manchester, walking towards the the parking lot still thirty minutes away after the concert of a band that he hasn’t even heard of before this very evening. She’s swinging her purse and he’s carrying the t-shirt she bought.

“Yeah, they were pretty good,” he says, though he isn’t quite sure if he fully grasped the intricate concept of The Tramp Gazing. “Very interesting.”

[rottweilerrr]

028.   an empty playground with squeaky swings . - decker

setting prompts.     /     accepting

     They have carved out this little space for each other in their lives, are a usual suspect more than an unexpected outlier by now, and yet, Rottweiler isn’t sure how to feel about it. It wasn’t unusual for people get into trouble at the Black prince and still keep coming back; some people – like Eggsy, Dean, and sometimes himself – even did so on purpose. But the fact that Decker, despite being on bad terms with everyone else in this place and, in his opinion, never having a good time either, so consistently keeps leaving him out of that equation, is making him uneasy. Has been for a while.

As the other slowly swings back and forth, Rottweiler finally comes to a halt. Both feet on the poured rubber ground, he lets a beat of silence pass before turning his head towards him. When he speaks up, his voice sounds assertive in a way that feels strange to him.

“Why you doin’ this?”

[rottweilerrr]

having a normal one with @kingsmanne

[rottweilerrr]

❛ unfortunately, i wanna have sex with you. ❜ ( 😳 )

     “Unfortunately?!” he laughs and jolts forward, causing the armchair to move just slightly.

“You’re so generous.” His free hand reaches for the pint on the living room table and he takes a sip. Maybe for distraction.

“And what else do you want?” he tips the cards towards him, then rests them flat against his thigh. “Y’know I ain’t gonna let y’win, right?”

[kingsmanne]

✂ i need this suffering

You’re not really a tailor, aren’t you?

He never asked too many questions, which was what she appreciated about him. There wasn’t much to discuss beyond the odd realities of their lives that were far too removed from each other to really care for one another. It was one thing accepting their differences, another acknowledging them. In the end, it hadn’t even been one of the oddities about her life that had made him suspicious; why she knew too much about rifles, why she could explain how a certain poison worked, how she was too interested in a shady nightclub owner. Seeing her with Galahad and during lunch with Arthur too was enough to make even him make the link.

She had been too comfortable with this, too complacent. 

Remove him, Arthur had commanded, looking over the rim of her glasses. Caring for him and feeding him, calling him darling; it didn’t matter much when it came to keeping Kingsman a secret. They could be happy that Rottweiler wasn’t much of a talker, but he still was too much of a hazard to keep him. Buying his silence? Arthur had laughed at this. He’s not one of us. Tie him to some tracks and see how fast he’ll sing. She knew him better, after all. And letting Yvain do it, was a blessing for both. Take care of your own business, and he won’t vomit blood on Arthur’s marble counters. Something fast and clean. 

That’s what tailors do, tying up loose ends. 

A strand too frayed at the edges of a sleeve, and if someone were to pull too strong, it would give up too easily. Yes, very easy to ruin a good suit with one loose thread, and this was something they couldn’t afford at this moment.

She was in his bathroom as she mounted the suppressor to her Tokarev, sitting on the edge of the bathtub. I will explain everything to you, just... give me a moment. He had agreed, at least. His body felt tense, he was ready to bite; just like when someone at the pub had accidentally spilled some ale on the new polo. One wrong word, and he’d probably attack. So it was self-defence after all. Better to do it now than waste words. She had once wasted words. And she was a professional. 

The gun was hidden behind her back as she exited the bathroom. He sat on the pleather couch, head turn towards her, gaze piercing. She knew how betrayal looked like. She knew how it felt like. She wouldn’t feel it again. 

“You’re right, I am not a tailor.”

Even before he could raise his voice, she had lifted the gun. He wanted to get up, of course, maybe there was an instinct to fight for his life; but there was no room for hesitation, no time for emotion, as she pulled the trigger. 

Neck. He had such a pretty neck, sharp and pale, and she had rested her head on his shoulder, and her hair had touched the neck, and he tried to brush it away. It was crimson now, and he slumped over, hands pressed to the wound, gurgling and gasping. He stumbled, maybe trying to lift himself for one last hurrah, and he hit his head on the coffee table. 

He was still writhing as his lungs filled with blood. 

She took a few steps over, and he saw how she looked at him. No time for emotion, indeed. She aimed. 

Left eye. He immediately fell still, soaked in his own blood, and his eyes weren’t hazel any more. Leaning down, she removed the limp hand from the neck, index and middlefinger pushing on the wrist, just to make sure. Wouldn’t leave him alone to die, now. 

“I need a clean-up at my location.”

source: KILL YOUR MUSE (always accepting) | @rottweilerrr

[rottweilerrr]

024.   an underground / illegal fighting club . (HEHEHEHE)

setting prompts.     /     accepting

     A childhood full of teeth, Rottweiler has learned to show his early on. Sometimes out of fear, sometimes out of anger. Sometimes to defend a reasonable cause, sometimes, and maybe more oftentimes, not. But despite that, he’s never considered fighting in a professional way (professional meaning: for money, against an opponent who knows what he’s getting himself into, and with people watching who aren’t just curious passers-by). It doesn’t mean that no one has ever tried to convince him to do so, however.

Dean, who enjoys hurting strangers as much as he does his own children, has tried many times. Through a thin, unpleasant smile he’d say: C’mon, boy, I know ya need the money, while Dobermann, who’s been doing Muay Thai since he was seventeen and knows him a little better than that, suggests he might actually be good at it. Neither of these arguments could change the fact that he just wasn’t interested. So when he realizes what kind of event she’s so excitedly invited him to for this Friday night, he’s nothing short of spiteful.

“That’s stupid,” he sneers, hurtful in his own way, which is one of the many pitfalls of unwanted gifts.

“You really into that?”

Blood splatters and it might be an unnecessary question if he didn’t assume she was a tailor.

“And since when y’ wearin’ glasses?”

[rottweilerrr]

001.   the seaside ,  as the sun is setting . (what if road trip??)

setting prompts.     /     accepting

     The seaside is crisp at this time of year, feels sharp and unforgiving against one’s skin, so only few people actually frequent it. It’s mostly walkers with their dogs, zipped up to their chin in bright colored jackets that make them look like buoys in the vast sea of fog and sand. They slightly bob with every step before they, as quietly as they have appeared, vanish into the distance again. She hasn’t told him why she wanted to go to Wales of all places, but he, himself, had no places to be, so he agreed.

Now they are here, on top of a steep hill where the icy wind turns her cheeks and the tip of her nose red, and he shoves both his hands into his pockets, clueless.

Isn’t it gorgeous? she shouts through the howling and he bends over to hear her better.

“You are daft, poppet,” he says and pulls a mini sausage roll out of his pocket, rips the packet open and takes a bite. But before he can add anything else she already hooks her arm into his and pulls him further. Her boots leave hard tracks in the damp, muddy grass, his sneakers less so. Just as the sun begins to set over the cliffs, they finally reach the pub on the edge of the nearby village. Nestling into a corner right next to the window, she rubs her hands together and smiles. And he can’t but smile back, uneven but genuine through his crooked teeth.

“Pint or cuppa?”

[rottweilerrr]

@ people who are more savvy in the new editor than i am:

how do you make it turn " into ” ? it used to do it automatically but apparently not anymore