#allpurposeboogeyman

[xcommon-blog]

@allpurposebogeyman liked this for a starter.

“ — Mmmmmm no. That is, most decidedly not something I’m going to do. Nope. NO THANKS. ” They slide the contract back across the table. “....You reak of death and I’m aware as to why but I’m not keen to do the same. ”

[xcommon-blog]

@allpurposebogeyman cont. from here.

Roman swallows, running their hand against the edge of their mouth where blackness drips. What the fuck is wrong with this guy? Roman tells Rod to leave and there he is fifteen minutes later, circling back into their life like he’s just stepped out for a smoke, except covered in blood. Wait? He didn’t leave?

Roman shouldn’t trust a man who stays while they eat sin, and warp black magic around like fucking hellmouth but here he is, asking them to dinner of all things. Is he asking? Or was this a suggestion. “—Erm...Sure.”

[cmissary]

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

@jamesgros

THIS IS NOT HOW IT ALL BEGINS;

her hand in his, his on the small of her back, she did not know he would be here, but she is a fool, and he is a fool, and she can still make little jokes in German in his ear as they glide around the floor. “Du hättest mir sagen sollen dass du hier bist — “ you should have told me you were here, informal, informal, — “Ich könnte Ihre Fliege fixiert haben.” I could have fixed your bow tie. She swears she sees him smile, though it could just be a trick of the light, it could just be her wanting it so, but if it was, then it would be the first time, and her heart is breaking, if it was, she knew she was in too deep, if it was — 

THIS IS NOT HOW IT ALL BEGINS, BUT; 

@beautxfulbeautxful

The Girl is small enough to hold in her arms, small enough to twirl around the office with a view of the East River behind her desk. “If you want to lead, you can lead next time, alright, lapushka? Never let anyone tell you you can’t lead or be in charge.” She spins around quickly before dipping the toddler dramatically. “It just means they’re afraid of you.” 

@allpurposebogeyman

Mr. Liu has briefed her on Mr. Kasun. ( briefed might be too formal. Danny Liu and Genevieve Bauer are partners, but also friends, but also tired of running, but also lionhearted souls twisted into something else, something awful, but something that is very good at surviving. Danny Liu is not here today, he’s busy meeting her representative to London, which is to say, he is busy trying not to brain Eric Lane with his own bust of the queen. ) Sgt. Madame Bauer has her hands extended to Mr. Kasun and a little smile in place. There is a song playing on the radio, old and slow, and she would like some company, and she would like to know how terrible Mr. Kasun’s range of motion in his arm is getting. No business, not now, just a break right before the sun rises, before the world begins to fall apart once more. 

@physixian​

THE WAR IS OVER ; 

It is good to see the Good Doctor outside of an exam room. It is good to see the Good Doctor this side of the Atlantic, away from --- well, there are things buried by the War, you know. ( she has yet to learn they always come back. ) There are no words as she comes up to his side and slips her hand around the crook of his arm. A look up, her smile falling to show the expression she wore for five years in Germany, in France, in the USSR, Little Jack, too serious for his age, his size, gone in a flash. “It didn’t close properly until ‘45,” she whispers as she moves in to kiss his cheek in parting. To erase any doubt of who she once was. ( Doctor’s orders, before going to Doc, were bedrest. Obviously, not an option in France in 1943. A small little hospital, a man Alexi trusted, and quiet words in Serbian. “Možete li da naučiti mog brata kako ga pravilno očistiti? Nikad ne sluša kada ga uputim.” Could you teach my brother how to  clean it properly? He never listens to me. A soft laugh as pain shoots through Jack’s body, pain enough to make his strong little hands shake. “Ohn vas voli.” He likes you better. ) 

@jamesgros​

He is not hers, but her head is on his chest as they move slowly about the room, his humming matching the music, his heart keeping time. It’s alright to pretend, sometimes, isn’t it? It doesn’t mean anything, the way she leans into him, the fact that there is no one else around for this show, that it’s just them in a hotel room, with a half empty bottle of whiskey, with their bloodstained clothes in a trash bag, with the smell of sulfur not quite washed out of her hair. But it’s alright, they’re alright, and she swears she feels his head rest on top of hers as she closes her eyes, maybe it’ll be alright, maybe this won’t end with his pistol pressed against her sternum. ( she will remember how little it all meant. ) 

@physixian​

Francis is not one for dancing, not unless there is a purpose, a distraction, a gnawing in her chest to touch something that will stain her hands and there are no paints around. There are men who would like to dance with one or the other of them, women, too, and Francis is Tired and Cold. The Good Doctor and his Dear Heart are Not Friends, but she sleeps in his bed and knows the sound of his pain seeping through the bandages he administered himself. They are Not Friends, but she’d kill for him, if he needed it, if there was no one else around, if it’d please him, isn’t that funny? They are Both Tired, but the dance goes on, so they might as well dance together. 

@beautxfulbeautxful

“I’m sorry, my dear, but I’m afraid I’d make a mess of following.” His head inclined ever so slightly to whisper in her ear, secrets upon secrets, Ivan the Terrible has, oh, and he’ll share if you behave, if you make sure his Darling Cousin stays safe. Suit to suit, elegant cant of heads, of shoulder, of knives gleaming in the dark, he’ll dance whenever she asks him, as long as she dances with him. ( Eloise is watching, a smile in place that looks more like a memory of one, worn away like writing in stone from millennia ago. )

[trickyvik-blog]

@allpurposebogeyman

There were a lot of rules to this line of work, things that kept you alive. The most quiet of these rules was to keep a low profile, clean up after yourself, leave no evidence. As Viktor sat in the parking lot of the slow-moving franchise, he should have kept these things in mind. No food, use gloves, and never stay long enough to leave overt evidence.

Taking another long sip of his slushee, the Russian adjusted in his seat. He was coming up on three hours of recon, though it was hardly necessary. His target had shown up about a half-hour ago, but no one would detract points for Viktor’s preparedness. For all anyone inside knew, he was just some middle-aged, half-dead father waiting for someone. Maybe his bitch of an ex-wife who only let him see his kids on supervised visits every Tuesday afternoon for pancakes. Viktor could see it, then he would go home, watch tv, ignore the hole in his heart, and wank himself to sleep using tears shed over his wasted life as lubricant. He could play that part, but he did not have to.

It’s not like anyone on the roster was paid enough to give a shit about the old man in the beat up Chevy. Besides, if the car, slushee, and security footage were reviewed, well... He wished the local police luck in tying a dead man to the crime.

Watching as the doors swung open, Viktor smiled. Reaching for the pistol holstered to his hip, he opened his car door and stepped out into the heat. “Excuse me--” he called, hoping to stop his target in his tracks.

Raising his gun, the old soldier opened fire.

[mutav]

@allpurposebogeyman | continued

“Both.” Francis is smiling on the other end of the phone; small, quiet, barely there. She likes him. Most mercenaries are terrible in different ways. How refreshing. She was getting bored and that won’t do with Genevieve gone. 

“There is the inclination to alert those she is friendly with to her disappearance, in hopes they would keep an eye out for her, or information leading to her. Not for charity, obviously.” She speaks with the calm of a telephone operator. Just another mercenary to sort through. She is patient.

[cmissary]

@allpurposebogeyman | continued

She does not know the exact plan, forgive her. This is rushed, urgent. He will be paid well, but he is not one of hers. ( they’re all dead, or they’d like to be. ) It’s the job. Even like this,all armor and claws, she’s still more pleasant to work with than most security consultants. “You were never a soldier, were you?” She’s keeping look out.  ( later, she’ll apologize for this. the rushing, the temper. she’ll bring him coffee and a homemade peach handpie and apologize for having a sharp tongue when working. then she’ll leave without a second look. )

[cmissary]

@allpurposebogeyman

The small mechanic is hidden by the body of the car, only her legs sticking out from underneath the open hood. “Oh, this ain’t too bad,” she says in surprise from inside the car, her voice muffled by metal. “For some reason, I had in my head that this car would have seen some real damage.” More than a few of her clients end up somehow going through a warzone with their vehicles. (isn’t that funny.) She laughs to herself, shaking off her nerves. “Womanly intuition ain’t always right.”