#holyexecution

[ebonyforged]

@holyexecution​

She sits on by far the cleanest surface she’s found in the room, listening to the constant drip of some liquid hitting the floor some ways away, and wonders, vaguely, which is worse; Silent Hill or Limbo?

Definitely Silent Hill. At least Limbo has some color.

They have been quiet for some time, tired from their cat and mouse game. Well, she is, at least. He has not given her any indication that he was ever winded from their chase, but his annoyance was all too clear. She was just too slippery, too quick to hop over walls and dart through cracks, throwing blind shots over her shoulder. He’d far too soon just... stopped, turned, and left her alone, without another intelligent soul for miles. Even as she had trailed behind, poking and prodding for a response from a safe distance, he no longer showed the same hostility, which has left her just painfully bored.

Ebony sighs, loudly, and swings one leg over the other. She looks at him, on the other end of the room, and starts wondering aloud. Anything to fill the silence. “Is it... an identity thing? The mask?” She hasn’t gotten close enough to properly inspect, and the ever-present darkness in the place makes it hard to see anything from a distance. All she knows is that when Ivory’s bullet ricocheted off of it, he hadn’t been pleased. “Or maybe you’re just not confident. Did someone call you a butterface? You shouldn’t take those things to heart.”

[flockfell]

    Affirms and attempts comfort but more aggressively.

[lobselvitha]

*red pyramid kicks a decapitated head in their direction*

❛[   ⊗ UNPROMPTED ASKS ARE ALWAYS BEING ACCEPTED ≻

`LIKE AN IMPERFECT MARBLE. It clicks, sputters, CATCHES upon the boot of Valtiel. Fresh rubies painting the layers of YEARS upon soles // AND EYELESS FOCUS SEEMS TO DRIFT TOWARDS IT. (LOW HUFF GIVEN WAS NEITHER OF DISGUST, ANNOYANCE, OR DISINTEREST). Instead, perhaps akin to some light level of amusement-- - gloved, melded hand clasping along it. Middle digit easily worked its way within the coated, severed throat.

`HOOKS EDGE GLINTS IN IMPOSSIBLE PERIPHERALS. Attendant clambers onto walls sheer edge with ease // PLANTING THE CRANIUM NECK FIRST ONTO OBJECT. Low, wet groans come from the divine (A SEMBALANCE OF PLEASED). One hand held onto the impalement device, other hanging down as body twisted UNNATURALLY to regard the helmed one // AS IF GUAGING REACTION. // @holyexecution

[anarkissm]

continued from here. @holyexecution

trauma lives in the body, long after the memory collapses and all this suffering starts again. a psychometric wound. a muscle memory. familiar. but claudette finds no comfort in that. the pain is an echo of her first trials, the blood and barbed wire burning her feet, the cut of a spiked trap. running and running. an endless loop. with every rebirth, claudette feels more husk than human. it does not matter if she remembers the suffering, or forgets. her body remembers, like a curse. like a prison. this reality intensifies feeling, as if there are a thousand versions of her, enduring, dying, everything, all at once.

the harsh press of the executioner's fingers close around her hair. claudette braces herself, tension running through her like a lightening bolt; she is struck by the way her entire body freezes. skin vibrating as her brain short-circuits with an unexpected rush of endorphins. her breathing thins. her heart is pounding, a deafening orchestra that sings all around her. but the monster's voice is a bellowing scream inside her head. it drowns out every other noise. it sounds like a black hole. an echo inside a tragic memory inside a prison-body.

claudette thinks that this is an opportunity. she does not want to call it mercy. but it is different. feels different. and she wants it. to be different. wants anything that does not look like the claws of a greater beast. bigger, crueler. watching. her hands are trembling, nervous, as she presses her palms against the thing's massive thighs and tries to move, give herself room to just stare. up at the length of an arm, a naked torso. unnervingly humanoid. she touches skin, wet and solid, thumbing the familiar cords of muscle that make up a man's inner thigh.

claudette barely understands what she is looking at; why they are shaped like a person, feel like a person; why she does not resist. rises to her feet, spreads her legs apart. the hand does not release her. claudette inhales, eyeing the shape of something else, a phallic outline under the rag worn around his hips.

pay to play.

she touches it, like an experiment. slow, twisting strokes.  it sits, heavy, over the heel of her palm. claudette focuses on what is right in front of her, and nothing else. opens her mouth. her lips strain around a wet, turgid cockhead. feels her jaw go slack, instinctively extending her tongue flat over her bottom teeth, cushioning the underside of this monster's cock. it almost feels normal. nostalgic.

claudette shuts her eyes, moaning, embarrassed. head bobbing, anyway.

[birthedparadise]

@holyexecution​​  ⎯⟶ follow up.

Heather's face fell, and her eyes narrowed incredulously.

Did it…just laugh at her?

  Gritting teeth enough to ache, she shot to her feet, stalking tall and squaring her shoulders. Anger, unbridled and defending even when she neared a being that was drastically taller and broader than she in silence.  

It could easily snap her neck and turn her inside out, but Heather approached it, and rose up to slap her palms on the pane of its helmet. It was cruel, she knew, and guilt surfaced afterward, but Heather yelled even when there was no purpose to pursue it. Even when fear settled sickly in her stomach and she tensed up, prepared to run.

   “Don't laugh at me. Don't mock me!"

[joyfulstabbings]

@holyexecution​ - liked !

Lmao. What the fuck? What the fuck was that?

A shirtless dudebro with a fucking pyramid-shaped helmet, if his eyes didn't deceive him. They were getting creative, lol.   

   Under normal circumstances, Dan would have restraint thinner than twine. He would have ventured close, observed, and maybe even provoked. Cuz, tbh, he got off on that shit.  But, Nah, tonight-Today? Morning?-bitch had priorities and a lump of meat to beat. Hmm. Amen.   

Coming into this realm to be splayed like string cheese ain't it, Chief. Even if the thought of  teetering near death had his heart thumping and⎯ 

      Nah, tonight, he was a changed man. Mama didn't raise any whore.

 Lmao. Mama didn't raise shit.  Y'kno what else was shit? His '7 rings' ringtone fucking obliterated any chance to sneak by unnoticed.   

    Fuck.

[lobselvitha]

🚪 Tap on a wall to get my muse’s attention

❛[   ⊗ NONVERBAL PROMPTS ARE BEING ACCEPTED ≻ 🚪 Tap on a wall to get my muse’s attention

`LOWLY DID THE ATMOSPHERE DETORIRATE. The rhythmic scrapping of the task-set //  METAL WHINING AS IT TWISTED AND SNAPPED UNDERNEATH THE GRASP OF VALTIEL. (A SEEMINGLY POINTLESS ACTION // BUT ALAS THEY DID NOT DO THINGS WITHOUT REASON).

`AND SUCH AN EXPECTATION WAS SPARED TO THE REST. Especially when they were greeted with norms deviation // PATTERNISTIC NOISE. Imperfect as was, the tapping along wall was more than just stumble-- - or denizen scrambling to reach the gravity ignorant creature. (THEIR REACTION WAS NOT IMMEDIATE // BUT THEY NOTED). 

`IT WAS ONLY UPON SATISFIED COMPLETITION DID VALTIEL ACKNOWLEDGE. Only a handful of seconds after the knock had been crafted, back contorted and twisted as they bent back to give the executioner attention // HANDS SPLAYED BACK ON CEILING (A CONTORTIONIST POSE). Head canted, throaty whine vocalization of questioning-- - a canting head presenting a silent ‘is there something you need?’ // @holyexecution

[angelvivor]

#@holyexecution​​​​  ⠀ ⠀ ♡

 ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀"i ⠀ ⠀𝑠𝑤𝑒𝑎𝑟 ⠀ ⠀i ⠀ ⠀haven't ⠀ ⠀done ⠀ ⠀anything ⠀ ⠀𝒘𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒈, ⠀ ⠀mr. ⠀ ⠀pyramid ⠀ ⠀head! ⠀ ⠀‧‧‧ᵗʰᵃᵗ ⠀ ⠀ⁱ ⠀ ⠀ᶜᵃⁿ ⠀ ⠀ʳᵉᵐᵉᵐᵇᵉʳ ⠀ ⠀ᵃⁿʸʷᵃʸ‧"