#au: odnoglazyy ubiytsa
Text
okay so i'm currently hinging all of my unhingedness on my modern au for my horrid trifecta for definitely specific reasons hhshsngh and i've been thinking about what their carrrs arrre so lessgoooooo
xigbar:
a grey 1980s eldorado cadillac convertible. the pic is for the make model---it's actually beat all to hell and, as i said on his previous blog, "would likely make a vintage car aficionado burst into tears"
kimbley:
1970s black cadillac fleetwood miller/meteor landau three-way hearse. it's kept clean and pristine at all times despite the countless blood splatters it has seen
kuja
okay listen. i'm not saying that he would have a golden palanquin on hand for his various dramatic entrances---
buuuuut when he has to go via wheels...
a purple e-type jaguar. unlike xig and kimbley, he's all about being overtly flashy and having everyone gasp at how gorgeous his ride is. he also prefers to have a chauffeur because.. yknow.... that's How He Is
#headcanons: the fatal marksman#au: odnoglazyy ubiytsa#headcanons: the crimson monster#au: night surgeon#headcanons: the reaper most capricious#au: queenpin
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
AGGRESSION // SEXUAL TENSION . | Accepting!
@jupatera sent: 🔪 // put a knife to my muse’s throat .
She’s got a damn impressive spunk---he’d give her that much. And the way she handled a knife indicated years of practice and dedication to the art. But she was still undeniably wet behind the ears, definitely not prepared to fight in the big leagues, her stance suggesting lack of formal training, the way she let her anger control her during their sparring allowing her to make stupid mistakes.
Ultimately, he’d allowed her some leeway, ending with his back against the wall, and likely, she thought this round was over---that she’d won. That she could relax, lower her guard, declare victory.
But he’d not tapped out just yet.
Swiftly disarming her was the injury---claiming the blade for himself the insult. However, unlike the way she’d held it to his throat---pricking the skin, threatening to slice him open before, after several heated huffs of breath, withdrawn---he allowed it to dangle loosely between his fingers, almost mockingly, yet again using the phrase in his mother tongue that he’d quickly learned grated on her nerves:
“Poprobovat’ snova.”
7 notes
·
View notes
Text
@nocturne-sitar said: "It's been awhile." Came a familiar voice behind him. Quiet and nervous.
The old assassin had patiently awaited his arrival, the only sounds present in the emptied-out estate the crackling flame in the fireplace at the far wall, and the measured click-click of the switchblade in a single, scarred hand---smooth, polished silver flicked out from its hilt---flicked back in. Swift movements, practiced motions---something to fill the void of silence. Something to kill the time until the inevitable encounter.
Of course, there was no way Demyx would figure he could sneak in completely undetected. There was no denying he’d climbed the ladder of skill during his time in the Org, but for him to think that student could outwit teacher---this teacher in particular---would be simply foolish. So the only alternative was that he’d wanted to be seen---wanted Xigbar to follow his movements: through the back yard, to the garden gate, springing up and scaling the wall, sneaking through the rooftop window. All in the cover of shadow, with all the caution and speed he’d been taught.
And thus the waiting---thus the James Bond-esque villain intro, complete with the plush, leather armchair turned toward the open, roaring fire, one last flick of the blade in hand coinciding with his previous pupil’s final step into the room, followed by the dramatic rise from his lavish yet lonely throne. Nothing more than an imposing silhouette to greet Demyx, the sliver of his golden eye capturing the glow from the flame before darkening with the rest of his frame.
“Awhile,” and there was certainly no disguising the bitterness in his tone as the word hammered against the darkness---bitterness that had not been drowned out with a single one of the slew of deplorable habits Xigbar was wont to engage in, when the hours turned hopeless and the weeks stretched into months stretched into a year and a half.
“Yeah, guess it has been, huh?”
8 notes
·
View notes
Text
[[ continued from X because xig is a nightmare heathen ]]
@iknowwhatihavetodo
“C’moooooooon, kiddo, ya suuuure ya don’t wanna just chill with me ‘n’ toss the ol’ ball around?”
#just u and me and... ur hot mom.................. ovo#iknowwhatihavetodo#rp#v: oopsy daisy#au: odnoglazyy ubiytsa#[[ can we pick up from his assassin verse where he just chills there bc he's traveling around and feels the need to be a pain?? cuz yeAH ]]
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
word prompts compilation | accepting!
@nocturne-sitar said: [ love ] for your muse to touch mine as a show of affection or reassurance
Xigbar had always been acutely meticulous about never letting his emotional guard down, even during the time the two of them had spent together, so allowing himself to be so exposed like this---when the reunion was still fresh, and old wounds had come unstitched---it was no simple task to abate the urge to shrink away from the gentle affection.
But the drink had softened his resolve---taken off the edge from the daylight frustration and left him with the sullen dullness of a darkening night. Helped him relinquish himself to the caress, wordlessly, even if the enjoyment from it was a distant sort---the ghost of fondness.
It was still something, though---something other than sadness.
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
❥ 𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 [ 𝐀 𝐒𝐘𝐌𝐁𝐎𝐋 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐄 ] . | Accepting!
@huntsins said: 💢 : your muse picks mine up & carries them over their shoulder .
“See, now, this here? Is what’cha get for bein’ fussy.”
Though, honestly, whatever the outcome had been from their sparring---win, lose, or draw---it would have come to this, of course: her, tossed over his bare and sweat-slick shoulder---him marching the two of them towards the bathroom to give her a toss into the bathtub. Maybe add some bubbles, light some candles, play some mood music.
You know, the whole shebang.
1 note
·
View note
Text
@ruinedrot said: "bite me." [ a request or threat? who knows! ]
He had her twisted into a headlock, though he was cautious to make sure that her neck wasn’t completely crushed between the crook of his bicep and forearm. The barked demand for her surrender had been followed by that brusque retort---which did nothing but get the exhale of a chuckle from him.
“Well, it’s either that,” he addressed her, actually somewhat winded from how much of a fight she’d put up until this point of her capture, “or you figure how to get yourself outta this pickle. Cuz other folks you’d be fightin’, out there? Ain’t gonna be as nice as I am in trainin’ ya.”
1 note
·
View note
Text
@celestianvices said: "Alright you can join our organization but you have to learn how to snap in sync for intimidation purposes" (Here have this mercenary verse fff)
“First of all, I got an org a’ my own to run, so I sure as hell don’t need an invite to... whatever it is you’re apparently doin’. And second of all, West Side Story is painfully overrated. It’s Wicked or nothin’, angel,” with that last little cooed pet-name pronounced in his mother tongue.
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐃 & 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐅𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 | ACCEPTING!
@seekjoy said: ❛ gun . / from aurelia in whatever verse ya like !
This wouldn’t be the first time she’d leveled a gun in his face---and, he was sure, it wouldn’t be the last. But wasn’t that the fun in these little games of theirs? Wasn’t this their main method of flirtation? No flowers, no poems---no chocolates or candies or jewelry. Just the two of them and the primal bloodlust that seemed to fuel them---what narrowed down literally everything else around them until it was just him, her, and whatever weapons they happened to be wielding. What could cut throats or rend flesh or end their life in but an instant---turned into instruments of affection.
This time, it was a pistol---a COP .357 Derringer, to be more precise. Cleaned and polished to pristine perfection, a chamber containing four shots. Double-action, compact yet powerful. Sleek yet deadly---just like her.
And despite all of this, he leaned his forehead until it was pressed against the end of the barrel---leaned willing towards that danger, until the cold steel sang a song of sensation against his vulnerable flesh.
“Ledyanaya Koroleva---you won’t pull the trigger. We both know ya won’t,” and he tilted his head back, but only just enough to accompany the motion with the rise of his hand, the extension of his index finger to lower the barrel towards his mouth---to form a pout and kiss the end of the murderous metal opening, a lascivious gleam in his eye. Confident, seductive---after extending his tongue to savor the satisfying chill of stainless steel, his voice dropped to a purr of a murmur, “Ya like me too damn much.”
1 note
·
View note
Text
𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐃 & 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐅𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 | ACCEPTING!
@seekjoy said: ❛ abrupt . / from leda, maaaaaybe in that lara croft-esque au
This certainly wouldn’t be the first time Leda had invited him on one of her many extended excursions, their acquaintance thus far maintained primarily through their shared passion for exploration to faraway lands overseas, and into the depths of the beautiful and unique. However, what set this particular departure apart from the adventures previous was that, instead of inviting any other of her usual fellow associates, the party had been narrowed down to just the two of them. Which, of course, made Xigbar---though he was loathe to accept it at first, but realized there was no denying his gut response---somewhat suspicious.
Had he been discovered, he had to wonder, as they located and established their base of operations, tents set up and various necessities put in their places before the arrival of nightfall. Had she somehow become privy to his intentions concerning Typhon---somehow come into knowledge of the contract he had on the man’s head, to be carried out at Xigbar’s earliest convenience? (Which had somehow become an undetermined date on the calendar as of late…)
But after the light of day had been extinguished, the moon the only glow bathing their encampment, such paranoia was promptly abandoned. His guard down as he tended to his bedding, the padding of her approaching bare feet silent---her caressing hands upon his scarred back, and when he turned to face her---
Damn. It had been a while since he’d been kissed like that.
And when she parted from him, her lovely face aglow in the orange-tinted lamplight, flushed cheeks framed perfectly by her dark curls, her hands pressed flush against his chest---he didn’t bother to take even a moment to catch his breath before hungrily claiming her mouth once again.
#feybled#celestialwit#rp#ask#loud and deafening silence meme#au: odnoglazyy ubiytsa#[[yEAH YEAH YEAHHH!!!! ]]
1 note
·
View note
Text
smacks ur asses w/ modern assassin au xig and his sexy tats 👏
#these may or may not be final but i just wanted to get a ~feel for the look#mun draws#au: odnoglazyy ubiytsa#the dude himself#tattoos#also it’s messy af and my tablet is still not?? working :| of course
13 notes
·
View notes
Text
🌺 “I WANT TO KNOW…” Prompts | No longer accepting
@ruinedrot said: “I want to know why you stayed.”
A half-burned cigarette dangles listlessly between lips pulled into a grimace, unchecked amidst the haze of one too many glasses of whiskey, eye focusing not on the face of his companion, but on the darkening horizon from their balcony perch. It’s most definitely a question Xigbar has asked himself before, within the twilight hours, when he’s got nothing but a drink in his hand and the thoughts in his head: why deal with this whole Organization bullshit? And, unbeknownst to all but himself, why does he go out of his way lead it? What does he have to prove? Does he really need all this power?
But then he considers: what else would he be doing, if not this? Merely dragging his continually-sagging carcass through the typical sort of daily grind as every other mundane person, simply waiting for his own turn to expire?
No, he’s left that sort of existence behind him.
Removing the cigarette from his mouth and transferring it between his index and middle fingers, he shields his vision with his eyelid, exhales a sigh tinged with smoke, then replies, “It’s just too late to turn back now, babe. You should know that better than anyone else.”
1 note
·
View note
Text
SEND 📔 FOR A JOURNAL ENTRY WRITTEN BY MY MUSE. | Accepting!
@ruinedrot said: 📔 + eve
Jotted down in a small notepad meant for brief notations, originally scrawled in a specifically-structured Russian code for the sake of privacy, but when translated reads as follows:
[[ transcript under read more ]]
Trainee Regimen Notes:
-- Acts brashly during missions occasionally due to emotional impulses - requires meditation and breathing exercises.
-- Build upper body strength.*
-- Improve long-distance combat skills.
* No need to focus on leg day - could already crush a watermelon between those thighs.
1 note
·
View note
Text
in a modern setting Xig would have a YouTube called “xigbakes” where he makes beautiful gourmet pastries but he’s probably wearing a horse mask or smth the whole time :|
6 notes
·
View notes
Text
@ruinedrot said: give her kisses or be weak : |
weeell... seeing as how he’s most definitely not a weakling....... B)
1 note
·
View note
Text
@the-android-and-the-wielder said: “Unfortunately, I don’t have the programming for emotion yet.” [Assassin AU a few months into Syntha being transferred from her home base in the Rockies to the actual Organization :>]
It was simply in Xigbar’s nature to tease and joke with literally anyone he encountered, but he really should not have been surprised when this one ended up falling flat in the face of dealing with his androidal companion. And personally, he’d thought it was a particularly good one---a robot pun that would have made even the daddliest of dads roll their eyes in embarrassment---but he decided it was best not to take the lack of amusement and subsequent cricket chirping personally.
“Ah yeah, I remember Doc Freeze tellin’ me ya still had a ways to go in that particular department,” he reflected, leaning back in his chair and resting his folded hands upon his torso. He also recalled, during Vexen’s extensive and meandering ramblings, that her A.I. allowed environmental adaptation, and that eventually, with enough exposure to human behavior and socialization, she would learn how to at least mimic emotion.
And so, kicking his legs from their position on his cluttered desk and planting them on the floor, he stood and stretched, so continuing once he dropped his arms pointedly to his sides, “Tell ya what, kiddo---if you’re gonna be blendin’ in with the likes of us, you’re gonna hafta learn how to properly human. So why don’tcha put on a jacket and I’ll take ya to see a movie. Let’cha get an eyeful of that silver screen and all the hard work those actors put into their bread and circuses.”
1 note
·
View note
Last Seen Blogs
heretostealyogirl
Certified Ganonfucker™
jovenyperdidaenestemundo
Sad...
jovenyperdidaenestemundo
Sad...
not-the-balloons
Not The Balloons!