Discover Top Posts Tagged with #s-aint

@s-aint.

❝ I KNOW YOU.❞ THE VOICE COMES FROM A ROOFTOP somewhere to benjamin's left. it's rare that persephone engages first — she prefers solitude, reacts with hostility to those who reach out. but it's true: she does know him. knows of him, at least. her boss briefed her on this guy a long time ago, to make sure persephone was aware of the major players in new york's faction game.

apparently the unseen nearly tried to poach him themselves. superhuman aim, ruthless killer, excellent marks from quantico. their connections in the FBI spoke of him as unforgettable. ultimately, however, they decided he was too unpredictable. the tower leads the unseen like a chessmaster: they never take on an underling they cannot infallibly control.

reading benjamin poindexter's file, persephone couldn't help a slight sting of envy. her marksmanship skills are the best among the ranks of the unseen — god knows she worked like hell to get there, and the unnatural steadiness of her mechanical arms helped push her over the edge and become the tower's right hand. but this is different. from what she's read, poindexter is able to perfectly calculate the ricochet of a projectile in a split second before he launches it. that's a skill she'd kill to see in action. but orders are orders, and she has been told to proceed with caution. worst case scenario, get up close and fight hand-to-hand.

and they're not on a job today. she's not sure what possesses her to reach out — it'd be easy enough just to tail him and observe from afar. instead, persephone makes herself visible. she approaches the edge of the roof and crouches at its edge, dark eyes studying him. ❝ bullseye. right? that's what they're calling you? ❞

#>> IN.#s-aint #>> VERSE ( mcu | through darkness; a vector; a violence. )#{ i thought it might be nice to provide some insight into hellhound's Starting Thoughts of him if that makes sense?#originally my idea was to have them as opposing forces on a job — but i don't know how dex would behave in that situation necessarily #and didnt want to assume without chatting a bit ooc first! so something more chill to start out. testing the waters. }#{ let me know if you want to do any plotting! i think it would be super interesting if he knows who she is as well but obvi not necessary :#up to you; whatever you think he would know. }#{ i'm also happy to write a new one if you wanna plot out something more tense. my fingers are a font of endless words it'd be no trouble!

For a long time there had only been nothingness, an endless stretch of dark that consumed every attempt at memory and understanding that tried to form. Karen moved through the sparse apartment with care, fingers trailing along foreign surfaces that were pristine, bare of any and all decor that heralded a life lived within the four walls.

The words that slipped out were a quiet whisper to herself more than to him. “I’ve forgotten myself and you.”

❛ I won't let you forget me. ❜ @s-aint’s words sounded sincere but something in them made that primal fear kick in deep within: muscles tensed, alarm bells blared, and every fiber of her being said to run.

Dex was her partner, her soulmate, the man she truly loved…or that was what he had told her when she came to in that hospital room, darkness fading but the nothingness still clinging to her, engulfing her. His hands clutched her own, holding tight, a physical tether to a world that nearly slipped through her own fingers.

Back in the place that should have sparked memories, the home she’d been torn from in that fatal accident, the nothing was still there, tentacles wrapped tightly around reason and understanding. When Karen turned to face the man who said he loved her, she couldn’t fight back the tears, knuckles white as she gripped the back of the dining room chair. “Dex…I…I don’t know how to be us.”

But what is us that primal voice whispered, clawing at a memory just out of reach.

#s-aint #ANSWERED.#BETWEEN THE DESIRE AND THE SPASM BETWEEN THE POTENCY AND THE EXISTENCE BETWEEN THE ESSENCE AND THE DESCENT FALLS THE SHADOW. / S-AINT.

@s-aint

Bullseye didn't know what was worse— the existence of a single devil of hell's kitchen who, frankly, was more like an annoying cherub than anything devilish— or one devil inspiring another. Just what the little fucked up ecosystem of New York needed, another holier than thou vigilante. However upon closer inspection, maybe things wouldn't be too bad. He needed something fun, and if fun came in the wrapping of tits in a cheesy outfit ( look who was thinking), maybe it was time for Bullseye to embrace Daredevil. The light in his eyes shifted, transformed, as the rest of his body leaned into the assertive touch. For being completely repulsed by a psychopath, she was awfully keen on being close. So close they could practically . . .

‘ Good thing I brushed my teeth. Smell nice and minty, yeah? ’

Bash their foreheads together and draw blood. Bullseye allowed his face to be grabbed, just as he allowed her to get THIS close to him, and allowed her to believe she had some sort of upper hand. It was hot in an odd, fucked up way; relinquishing his massive ego in a sudden game of cat-and-mouse. The mad man tilted his head though kept his chin held in her grasp. Iit was only a slight movement, but it was enough to elevate his chin and his eye level. That insufferable ego could not be subdued by more than a few pegs. Tongue dragged against lips that were, sure, slightly dehydrated, before he attempted to lean forward to blow some of the minty breath in her face.

‘ We keeping the outfits on or off? ’

As vile as she regarded him, freshly brushed teeth were a reprieve from the mutated human-crocodile breath of an Oscorp scientist or nicotine rotting teeth she passed by on the street every day. His soap and shampoo weren’t surprising, not far off the scent of military-issued products he’d have gotten in the service. Frank smelled similar, but with more pine and different aftershave. Training stuck with soldiers; familiarity in the repetition. Milla identified the fluoride and alcoholic sugar of the toothpaste. There was a higher concentration of iron in his water than her home – either an older building or he wasn’t squirreled away in Hell’s at all.

Bullseye wasn’t an easy catch. He rarely ever let it happen; Milla knew pinning him now wasn’t earned success, but her purpose only needed a minute.

“ Shut up — I’m focusing. ”

Her grip tightened, feeling the ever so slight give – not enough to hurt – of natural bones in his jaw, porous and human. So he wasn’t like Logan. The prison’s anatomical chart remained up to date in terms of added metals as far as she could tell. The reverberation from his spine when she substituted a thrown pipe for a billy club earlier sounded like standing under a peeling church bell.

Her thumb pressed against his temple to gauge his skull. The synthetic weave of his suit and mask were almost slippery under her leather gloves. How was he comfortable at all? The fabric would feel like sludged oil covering her skin if she pulled it on.

Poindexter wasn’t going to let her poke all his joints. A sniper was patient by training and some in nature, but she heard that thin patience waning. Smoothing his tongue across chapped lips sounded like scraping tree bark. Milla released his face, the heel of her palm striking against his chest to shove him backwards while testing the resiliency of the ribs over his heart. It was a child’s game: metal or not metal?

“ Cute offer. But I’m happily married. ”

#you know if it wasn’t for the animosity and dislike they’d be hot 🤷🏼‍♀️#s-aint

❝ doesn't the smell of blood just— ah, excite you? ❞

memes -> accepting!

Matt had his own reasons for hating the man the papers monikered Bullseye. Milla had her own. Mostly the number of times he tried to murder Matt, but the insurmountable anguish he brought the city and Hell's Kitchen. Born blind, her other senses focused an acute amount -- a little stronger than most with sight. The metallic scent of iron tended to linger like pennies in her mouth. It was worse now with superior senses. Chemical substances in the blood, adrenaline spiking, blood sugar rising with hormones when someone worries. It sticks like perfume in her nose, even twelve hours after the crimson drops spill. If he lived with that, maybe the smell wouldn't be so romantic. ❛ No. Because I'm not a psychopath. ❜

#s-aint #answered memes◞ ♡⭒

A slow sigh escaped the woman, tense shoulders lowering as Karen allowed all of the bubbling rage to ebb out of her, to leave her body with the exhalation that made every person near her tense in fear. Another breath was taken in, breathed out, and Karen finally opened her eyes to take in the scene before her and assess the next steps that would need to be taken.

Tied to a chair that was bolted to the concrete floor was a suited man, his face bloodied and bruised, one eye swollen completely shut and his chin tucked against his chest. There was a steady rise and fall of his chest, the one and only sign of life from him as his body slumped against his bindings. She looked between the men before her, a cold assessment of each before her gaze finally landed on Benjamin. It seemed her gaze lingered on him the longest, assessing, studying, and then it moved back to the captive.

Clicking strides moved her to @s-aint's side, the mask of indifference that was settled on her face not once slipped. His words were a whisper, a dog desperate for attention: ❛ you look really pretty right now. ❜

One hand raised to silence him, jaw tense as she inhaled and exhaled once more, a rebuff of his words. Her head tilted to the side slightly, studying the man again as recognition finally dawned on who the victim tied down to the chair was. The boldfaced wanna-be Kingpin who had tried to kill her two nights ago, tried to usurp her role in the city. There was a nod of her head, approval, and then she looked back to Benjamin. "You've done well," she murmured her approval, fingers brushing over busted knuckles delicately.

A few more strides led her over to the man, reaching out to brush blood-matted hair from his face before well-manicured fingers tangled in his hair and yanked his head back violently, rousing him back into consciousness. His groans were weak, and she leaned in close to whisper something in his ear before releasing him and taking the handkerchief handed to her from Benjamin.

"Kill him. Slowly."

#s-aint #ANSWERED.#BETWEEN THE DESIRE AND THE SPASM BETWEEN THE POTENCY AND THE EXISTENCE BETWEEN THE ESSENCE AND THE DESCENT FALLS THE SHADOW. / S-AINT.#get a room you two

❛ does the smell of blood ever just... excite you? that's not a normal question to ask, is it? ❜

@s-aint

ㅤㅤDespite the current inability to view the fullest extent of the aftermath of the event, the scent’s unmistakeably all around them, a distinctly distracted quality to the vampire’s demeanour with the parting of his lips, a deep breath taken in as the nectarous ferric tang placates and coaxes at senses ( comme la caresse d’un amant ). Lestat exhales with the barely subdued arousal of bloodlust, the depths of pupils widening until the scant semblance of iridescent violet rings remain, chin raising with the diversion of a meandering gaze. “ You ask this of one who has their own predilection for such things. ” There are glistening crimson splatters on the walls and sinking into shattered furniture, a struggle of some sort having taken place— but there’s an unfortunate lack of bodies present, the only welcome heat signature available being the opposing man posing his peculiar questions, an erroneous abnormality so readily accepted in this peculiar city. It causes for the blond to pout to himself, a new interest forming to engage ( comme c’est curieux ).

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“ This room, I detect an enticing upsurge of brutality. ” The immortal has the preternatural capability to habitually scan the other to pluck such occurrences from wisps of errant thoughts and motivations… but sometimes there’s a lurid pleasure in hearing another speak of such things, to watch how the words fall from the lips like sickly syrup to be lapped at in gluttonous rapacity, an unravelling of watercolour droplets blooming on a canvas, purposeful stains that burgeon with the revelation of such monstrosity ( la simple pensée l’excite ). “ Share what happened… ” The croon behind the emboldening request teeters on a sultry cadence, the curl of a cunning smile playing on the blond’s lips, a predatory cant of the head as line of vision snaps back to revert with newfound unwavering focus. Tracing over the mortal with an animalistic guile, a feline gait draws closer. “ I do not bite. ”

#// it's been a while uwu #s-aint #v: tbd #ℒ : des mots portés par le courant toujours enflé de la haine (asks)

" Karen, Karen, Karen . . I heard you were quite naughty before coming to New York. " Sadistic amusement touched his words and curled his lips.

@s-aint

His words still her body, an icy cool of dread and shame forcing it's way through her veins and for a single moment Karen is standing at the back of Chief Cohen's police car staring blankly at the ambulance where Kevin's lifeless body lay, covered by a think white sheet.

Slowly the blonde blinks, eyes daring to look the mad man's way. "Is that what we're doing now?" Karen replies lowly. "Comparing pasts? Is that what you learned from Dr. Mercer, Dex?"

An uneven inhale is taken before Karen pulls her gaze away from him. "You don't know what you're talking about."

#s-aint #DAMN DEX

❛ You . . me . . Karen Page — we should play. ❜ It was no loss if the offer was declined; it would leave more play between the madman and Karen.

"What'd you say?"

Quiet, barely even above a whisper.

Heart's beating louder and louder. Body tenses up. That innate instinct to protect his family coming to fruition. Eyes are wide like a wild beast. You want the Punisher, Madman? YOU'LL GET HIM. "You stay away from Karen, you hear me?"

#saint #s-aint #ANSWERED. ; IC.