#apexhearted

[bastardsunlight]

[RE!Hawk@Leon] “You wanna see something fucked up?” She’s testing him, as she does often — it is as if she cannot believe he is not afraid of her, is not disgusted by her. This time it is not merely bristling scales or multiplied tendrils; she has managed to halt her transformation in a condition that leaves her piloting the beginnings of Manticore — extended limbs, what appears to be a proto-head arched up behind her own in a manner weirdly like some resting long-necked water bird, and heavy mane-tendrils sprouting here and there. Her original, human arms are still free, and in one of them she is holding a wine cooler which she is sipping casually, as if she is not currently a ten-foot spaghetti monster.

“That looks like one of those fuckin’ anime things Jamie’s always watching,” says Leon over a mug of absolutely not coffee. The thing reads “#1 Twink” and Hawker had purchased it for him as a joke. It is now the only mug he will use. They have tried hiding it in all manner of places; he always seems to turn up with it. It currently contains some kind of smooth, expensive whiskey with a cursory amount of hot chocolate.

“Like one of the really fucked up ones,” he adds after a moment, not knowing the difference, but having wandered by enough times to know where that shit is going. “Hang on, can you hold like, four beers at once?”

Leon immediately sets his mug aside and moves for the fridge. What can possibly go wrong?

#response #lionhawk #shoottheminthehead #apexhearted

[ex-socom]

[16] “C’mon.” Even just one word is rare from the Apex, but Krauser is trusted company (for what “trust” is worth, anyway) and it is an indicator of his intent as he lightly shoves the bigger man. Were it true aggression, it would have been silence and a harder shove — or maybe even the unsheathing of the blade across his chest armor. The bioweapon seems to have some pent-up energy, which isn’t unusual, but that he’d rather spend it instigating a practice match suggests he’s in uncharacteristically good spirits. Jack just…happens to be his debatably fortunate target.

The word gets his attention, the shove gets his ire, as the large man turns his attention fully towards 16, giving him a hard glare. At first, he doesn't move, watching for a moment, before attempting to wrestle the man, almost like two dogs would play.

"You dick," he rumbles, trying to suppress the almost joy in his voice. Thank goodness he'd come along. Jack was getting bored.

#apexhearted #v; main

[daughterofnero]

[16@Jake] He is circling lazily in his enclosure — little more than a tank recessed into the floors and worthy of a Bond villain lair, really — in the wake of a counter-BOW test that had gone exactly as expected. 16 is a little less likely to snap at researchers after he’s just torn apart a small pack of Lickers, but they don’t know that, and in the wake of such furious aggression they have deemed it wise to give the Manticore some space to cool off. This, evidently, is taking too long for his liking and he periodically bumps into the glass with a shoulder or his nose and when his bids for attention continue to go unanswered he eventually hauls his long body out of the water and commences an exceptionally obnoxious display of flared fins, bioluminescence, and howling. So much howling. He is experiencing a severe belly rub deficit and no one present is worthy or bold enough to remedy this.

Jake was bored. There was had been no one to bother all day, stuck doing school worksheets and his piano practice after having been coldly informed that everyone was busy, he needed to entertain himself. So, the howling late into the day was essentially music to Jake's ears; finally, someone who wasn't busy! Jake made his way unimpeded through the labs before sneaking his way past the final layer of security. Everyone was so focused on nervously checking the 16 didn't breach it, they didn't realize Jake had breached the security until he was already at 16's side, carbon fiber gloves on to protect from any numbing goop.

"Finally you're done! Today was soooo boring." It was time to put these little gloved hands of his to good use, patting and rubbing the 'exposed' underbelly presented to him. "I think I broke a record getting in here though."

#shardhearted #apexhearted #[16] #[Jake] #{look at these crazy brothers} #{gotta keep safe from that neurotoxin!!}

[merchantofwhispers]

“Nah ah. Been ‘round long ‘nuff t’know a red’ead gonna’ be only bad.” @apexhearted​

#c; Cinead #;main #apexhearted

[tacticalvest]

@apexhearted​​ sent: [RE!Hawk - post-5 sometime?] “You. Rest. Now.” → from this meme

They’d almost missed her amidst the hubbub in the volcano with Wesker; Chris had thought he was imagining when he saw her on one of the last safe formations in the lava, and Josh had nearly refused to land. In the end, however, Hawker was seen and had come with them in their escape, but unlike Jill-- currently back in the U.S. following Wesker’s abuse-- Hawker is in Ghana, still. Considering the internal investigation of the BSAA following the Tricell reveal, it’d been agreed that it would be safer if she stayed out of sight for now, especially considering her condition.

These days, Chris has been staying with her in a safehouse about a half hour away from Accra City (Sheva had told him with a sad smile on her face that it was Delta Team’s to use just in case, but now that nobody would use it, it wouldn’t hurt for he and Hawker to use it instead). Sometimes he wonders why it is she agreed to stay-- she doesn’t seem the sort to stay somewhere for long-- but he doesn’t question it any more than he has to. In a strange way, in the two weeks that Chris has been through meetings and processes and other such procedures since the Kijuju Incident, he’s gotten used to having a roommate... that, and he’s gotten used to lying at work when he jokes about blowing all his cash staying in a hotel.

He doesn’t think he’s used to being called out at five in the morning for not sleeping, though.

“Let me finish typing this,” Chris tells Hawker in turn, lifting his head from the laptop and having to blink as his eyes try to adjust to not looking directly at a screen. “Look, they’ve got a lot of paperwork for me to do...”

...except it isn’t nearly so bad that Chris has to take it home with him until five in the fucking morning. Truthfully, he’s just been having trouble sleeping at all the past two weeks, but given the fact he’d gone through all the unread books he brought with him the previous nights he’d been up, all he has now is the excuse of having work to do.

Even if he doesn’t have to do it. Technically.

#idk if this works but let me know if it doesnt or if you need any edits LOL #apexhearted #cr.

[viirusbuilt]

// @apexhearted // ALBERT WESKER

↣ ❛ --- My, my... aren’t you a beauty? ❛ Wesker eyes the beast with ADMIRATION. He had to have her, a creature like that would serve Wesker well. 

#apexhearted #↣ god complex; wesker

[xresistance]

inbox // @apexworthy / @apexhearted said: [RE2!Hawk @ Claire] After countless hours out here, alone, she almost doesn’t believe her eyes. A person. And she’s NOT stumbling, growling, or half shredded and still walking around. Sarah watches her for a few minutes just to make sure, and when she at last gets the angle she wants — showing her eyes that are clear and bright, and a face that’s only strained from exhaustion rather than decay — she shows herself, venturing out onto the street. “H..hey..”

The city was overrun by the walking dead, zombies, whatever you wanted to call the infected people stumbling around trying to feast on flesh. Claire was determined to get out and get to safety, but she was more concerned and focused solely on getting Sherry to safety first. And Sherry certainly wasn’t safe since she wasn’t at her side.

She held her handgun with both hands, lowered but ready. Her thumb pressed against the metal near the safety to make it an easy flick when she needed to shoot. The gun was drawn up quickly, motion still a little jerky and unfamiliar, and she aimed it at the movement on the street. Upon seeing it was an actual person, Claire lowered the gun slightly but not completely, not entirely trusting people now.

“Hey,” she greeted back, not hiding her wariness. Her gun lowered further despite her caution. “I’m Claire. What’s your name?”

#apexworthy #{ the tenacious; (claire) } #{ v02 : the tenacious; (claire) } #{ v: re2remake! } #apexhearted

[virusvirtuesa]

// @apexhearted​ // 

“you sure cost a pretty penny, sweet-cheeks.” 

#ic. irving. #interactions. resident evil. #verse. main. #apexhearted #[time for hawk to RAGEEEE MOTHERFUCKING RAGGGGE]

[shardhearted]

hi I wanna love y’all so mutuals like for a random muse in your inbox for funsies

#summoner of...stuff ( ooc / zulu ). #also available in resident evil flavor over on APEXHEARTED for you new frens #ZERO obligation of threads tbh some of these might even be smol doodles lmao

[thunderdilf]

Wake up, choose violence, sleep, repeat.

@apexhearted of Kidd Thunder

#kidd thunder #mk shitposting #sleep is debatable

[puttingfingerstokeys]

how to date the god of thunder

this title is officially the worst, like, worse by far than reception but I’m SOOOO tired of just holding this shit back because of shitty titles or weird little misgivings about aligning the timelines. Dedicated to @apexhearted / @shardhearted who reminded me that none of it matters ‘cause it’s all riding on my imagination anyway. 

pre-faraday cage, shaolin rowdy boys implied, happens after a friend but by how much, idk

prevented timeline

“It is uncanny, but there really is nothing to it,” Liu Kang observed, arms crossed, in the shade of a wall at the Wu-Shi academy. His companion, notably absent the wide, bladed hat, shook his head.

 “I am TELLING you, there has to be something going on—there HAS to be! How many mortals do you think can just… walk up and do… THAT!” Kung Lao gestured at the well timed movement of an arm, tossing itself carelessly about the shoulders (the attempt was there, anyway) of the thunder god. The owner of the arm was, almost predictably, Johnny Cage. Johnny was gesturing as if to display the far horizon to the deity, who was nodding and shaking his head in turns, potentially conversing, but possibly just grunting at the interminable stream of words that came from the Hollywood superstar. 

 The man had been in special forces a long time, initially dividing himself, then committing wholly to SF and, now that the war was ostensibly over (and what a conclusion!), had returned in a part-time capacity. He had been considering retirement, but there was still so much to do. With the Triarchy establishing itself, the Tarkatans still fighting the Shokan, and the remainder of the Kytinn in the Shokan ancestral home, Outworld had its hands full. The soldiers and monks and assassin clans of Earthrealm were more than happy to help, of course, but it did demand extra training. That was why SF was here. 

 “I am sure, Kung Lao, that if I wished to lay a hand upon Lord Raiden in friendship, he would permit it,” responded the Chosen One mildly. “Now come, just because SF is here for training does not mean we can neglect OURS. We are their example.”

 “Always training with you,” Lao grumbled. Liu Kang shook his head as his friend summoned his sacred accessory and they headed off toward the sparring rings. “Anyway, have you ever tried?”

 Liu Kang reflected that he had not, but once more buried the thought in favor of his duty. He was the Chosen One of Earthrealm and, though his duty had been rudely thrust aside by Shao Kahn’s advances, Raiden’s refusal to participate in whatever farcical nonsense the Outworld dictator had attempted was giving Liu and Lao another chance at earning their place among the pantheon of Earthrealm heroes. Lao’s neck still bore the evidence of the blow dealt him by a deceitful Shao Kahn, who had attacked him after being defeated in fair kombat. 

 The part which burned Kung Lao most was that the blow was not even meant for him, not really. Evidently, Shao Kahn had assumed that by murdering his best friend, the Chosen One would have been thrown into an uncontrollable rage. In fact, he very nearly had. Kung Lao reflected that he should not, perhaps, be so suspicious of Lord Raiden; the deity HAD saved his life, expending great effort to do so. Going from doubting Thomas to skeptical debtor was an uncomfortable change for the arrogant man.

 Be that as it may, Kung Lao still thought it was odd that Raiden had decided to make one of his infrequent appearances on the temple grounds the very day Special Forces arrived, however. He had seen them in action plenty of times, was well aware of their capabilities, and had no real, visible reason to be here. ‘It is not for us to know’ was not yet an appropriate explanation for things the thunder deity did or did not do. 

 Between Special Forces and the White Lotus, the Shirai-Ryu (being carefully tended by Grandmaster Hanzo Hasashi, a restored wraith), and the Lin Kuei (with Kuai Liang, brother of Bi-Han, holding the titles of Grandmaster AND Sub-Zero), they were well positioned to hold the line against any other realms who sought to invade. Outworld was off the chessboard, for the time being, but the fact that there were other options worried Kung Lao and took his mind off the Johnny Cage conundrum for a while.

 The war had lasted twenty-some-odd years, with plenty of bumps and bruises along the way. After the initial tournament and betrayal, Johnny and Sonya had attempted to make a life for themselves, conceiving Cassie. Shao Kahn’s incursions had started in earnest within a few years of Raiden’s refusal to play the Outworld dictator’s games, however. Despite pleas to the Elder Gods, there were evidently no rules being broken here and so, unwilling to sacrifice those he had come to love best, Raiden had asked of them all their combined strength, to fight the battle he had sought to prevent by initiating the first Mortal Kombat tournament.

 Sonya rejoined the fight, but Johnny, with their little girl to think about—Cassie was now a formidable foe and a lieutenant commander in SF, a chip off the old Sonya-shaped block—had fled kombat entirely, focusing on his acting career, raising his girl, and doing his best to get along largely without his ex-wife. Loneliness had entered the game and Johnny was weak, but he held on by the skin of his teeth for Cassie. Temptation arose many times and he was certain to have given in had it not been for the presence of many friends. He would have been the first to admit it, if asked. 

 What had prompted him to rejoin the battle was unclear, but once Cassie was old enough to understand why he might do something like that, he had done it. She spent plenty of time at Uncle Jax’s farm with her sister from another mister, Jacqui. In the end, however, she, too, had become a formidable kombatant and worked within Cassie’s unit. The two were a force with which to be reckoned. Johnny couldn’t have been more proud of his little girl and he had pride to spare for Jacqui, whose father was resentful of her choices, but held his tongue as civilly as he could, recognizing her talent and the necessity.

 And now Johnny was here, a SF special agent of some kind—the details were “Cagey” in his words—and chatting with a few of the Wu Shi leaders, shoulder-to-shoulder (relatively speaking) with the god of thunder. His proximity and evident lack of deference unnerved the old men, but did not seem to have upset Raiden in the least. He continued his conference with the abbot and his assistants as if nothing was amiss, having an actor-turned-soldier part of the conversation. If he respected Johnny, they felt they should also do this, but it was difficult.

 “Johnny Cage,” Raiden said, turning aside presently. “Perhaps you would like a tour of the temple grounds; they are breathtaking this time of the year.”

 “You honor us with your compliments, Lord Raiden,” said the abbot, bowing low. His closest acolytes mimicked the action, in awe, as always, of the rumbling declarations of their patron deity. Clad all in blue and white, he was the picture of statuesque grace, power, and—if a certain sorcerer had been asked, though he had not been, nor was he present, thank the Elder Gods—exquisite beauty. His face was fine-boned, despite the broadness of his shoulders and even Johnny could not help noticing the way his waistline tapered to create an intensely pleasing hourglass shape. 

 “Yeah,” Johnny said, “sounds good—where’re the Shaolin Rowdy Boys? Bet they’d dig the chance to show off.”

 Johnny jogged away, leaving the abbot and his followers stunned once more, groping for words. Finally, the abbot himself spoke. “Forgive my presumption, Lord Raiden, but—”

 “You wonder why I tolerate him, Master Li Bing,” Raiden filled in, interrupting but not unkindly, “why he is allowed to irreverently refer to me by whatever name comes to his mind.”

 In the course of their conversation (and on approach), Johnny Cage had referred to the god of thunder as “Ol’ Sparky”, “Electric Slide”, and “Raidude”, with many more, the abbot was sure, bouncing around in his otherwise empty brain. The current head of the Wu Shi was quite elderly, and had seen much, but he had never, in all his life, witnessed this kind of blasphemy—and directed toward the god himself. What was even more curious was that Lord Raiden seemed to respond to it with placid resignation, bordering on fondness, as if he could not have stopped the man if he had wanted to do so.

 “Forgive me, Lord Raiden,” repeated Li Bing, bowing low. “My humble mind cannot comprehend—”

 “It is the same reason you have allowed Kung Lao, in the past, to sleep in a tree behind the temple while your class was in session and you gave him lines, rather than the cane,” said Raiden with the ghost of a smile upon his lips. “Simply put, I am fond of Johnny Cage. He has a potential which is almost limitless and to judge him based on the façade he affects would be foolish. I believe that is one of the Wu Shi’s teachings, is it not, Master Li Bing?”

 “It is, wise one,” admitted the abbot, face flushed with embarrassment. “I will endeavor to remember that the next time he refers to you as… Thunder Cat.”

 “See that you do,” Raiden rumbled, not without humor. “For the time being, however, I must take my leave. Thank you for speaking with me.”

 “You honor us,” the abbot reassured the deity, bowing low. Once more, the acolytes mimicked the gesture and then, in a flash of lightning, Raiden was gone. They all breathed a sigh of relief and went about their business, minds full of the strange preferences of gods.

 “Oh—yup, there ‘e goes,” grunted Johnny, noting the unseasonable thunder clap with a grin as he strutted about the temple complex, searching for familiar red pants and a headband. Lao’s hat was easy to identify as well, but it was likely to be in the air and looking for it might not guide him to the man… initially, anyway.

 He wandered a little farther until he heard the sounds of rhythmic practice. Here were assembled the neophytes of the order. Within their ranks, Johnny was surprised to see Liu Kang, though he reflected he should not have been. Ever the humble monk, Liu would take every opportunity to drill the basics of his order into his mind, that he should never forget them.

 “I do not understand it either,” said a voice emerging from a nearby doorway. By the sound of it, the mouth was full and, as Johnny turned, he saw that it was Kung Lao, pushing the rest of a piece of toasted bread into his mouth and swiping crumbs off his cheeks and chin. “But it is his way, and he will not be convinced otherwise.”

 “He’s like... the perfect monk,” Johnny groaned, gesturing. Lao pulled a face.

 “Do not remind me.”

 Johnny grinned and laughed through his nose as Lao retrieved his hat from where it was lodged in a nearby stump. Johnny kicked himself for not noticing that before, but excused himself on the grounds that he had been busy staring at Liu Kang’s muscular back. 

 The actor was far beyond making any secret of what he thought of his hot friends. Of course, he would never have made any kind of advances; he was just about sure there was some kind of vow of chastity thing happening here. But looking was free. Anyway, his mind was elsewhere.

 “Lao, I got one for ya,” he said suddenly, turning to his friend. 

 “Yes?” Kung Lao’s eyes narrowed, the crows feet around their outer edges just now visible.

 “How do I tell someone I kinda wanna blow their back out, but that I also wanna say they’re doing their best without sounding—”

 “Like Johnny Cage?”

 “Ouch.”

 Lao’s lips, still fairly full in his middle age, were pursed in thought, wondering just where Johnny was even going with this. It was incongruous, of course, to be asking something like this in the temple of light, or really any holy place. Then again, Kung Lao was dubious with regards to the sanctity of a place where he could hide in a broom closet with his best friend and… experiment. 

 “Where are you going with this?” Lao crossed his arms and looked Johnny up and down, clearly assessing him for the presence of bullshit. The guy seemed sincere, but of course, as usual, his phrasing needed some work. 

 “Not sure yet,” Johnny responded, his attention waning as if often did. It had shifted to Liu Kang, who was approaching them, adjusting the braid of his long, black hair. It was shot through with silver in places, but of course, he being Liu Kang, it looked distinguished. Johnny definitely understood Kung Lao’s frustration. 

 “I am guessing you would like the… ten cent tour?” Liu’s voice was laced with amusement as he stopped a little ways off and gestured that he was free to play tour guide. 

 “If you’re down, Liu,” said Johnny, “else I was just gunna rope Lao into it, so…” He shrugged, as if indicating one chesty monk was as good as another. In truth, he wanted them both along, and not for the usual Johnny Cage reasons. He genuinely valued their insight, much as he also enjoyed flirting at them. 

 Liu Kang’s smile was sun on a cloudy day and Johnny would forever be enamored with it. The chosen one turned and gestured that Johnny should follow. Lao was content to tag along as well, having nothing better to do at the moment, or perhaps just not wanting to do anything else. Besides, what Johnny had asked him had caught his attention and he needed to see its conclusion. 

 Each building was more beautiful, serene, and older than the last until finally, they reached the chambers of the Jinsei, the sacred dragon grotto. Per procedure, Johnny had been blindfolded as Liu and Lao deactivated and led him past the traps, all the while enduring his BDSM-based humor for that particular situation, and wondering if he would ever run out. 

 He did not, and only ceased when they were before the intricately carved stone and blue-white “water” of Earthrealm’s life force. Johnny’s eyes were wide and he actually removed his sunglasses for this particular view. He had heard stories, of course, but given their current situation, the chance had not exactly presented itself to simply “pop in” to the Wu Shi academy and the temple of light. 

 “It is a lot to take in,” Liu confirmed, surreptitiously wiping moisture from his lower eyelid while Lao pretended he was not doing the same, swallowing hard and crossing his arms tightly over his chest. 

 “So that’s… earth blood, pretty much, right?” Johnny was not fully comprehending the various intricacies of divinity and all that entailed at the moment, nor would he ever, and neither monk saw fit to correct him or embellish.

 “Essentially,” said Liu, nodding. “And it is harmful to mortals, so take care.”

 “Why’s everything pretty gotta hurt so much?” Johnny’s comment, though spoken sotto voce and in an offhand sort of way, caught the attention of both monks and they turned toward him. 

 “What do you mean, Johnny?” Lao was beginning to make a few connections and assume this statement, as well, was linked somehow to his earlier inquiry regarding how to express one’s amorous affection without being abrasive. With that and a few other suspicions which had been taking up residence in his brain since SF touched down, Kung Lao had started to paint a very strange picture indeed. 

 “Oh y’know… how stuff that’s worth it is always hard, it always hurts.” The response was generic, not untrue, but did not reach the heart of the matter. He could not meet Lao’s gaze, or Liu’s, and so he focused on the ever-flowing stream of Jinsei from the mouth of a coiled, stone dragon. 

 He had never been here, but felt, in this place, of all places, he was supposed to be, that his existence was not in futility, that it had worth and that it mattered to someone, perhaps many someones. He knew his friends, those to which he had earlier referred as “Shaolin Rowdy Boys”, cared for him. He knew his late ex-wife had cared, in her way. He understood well that Cassie cared, that it was why she spoke so sharply and in such earnestness as she did with him. There was trust and love there.

 But what am I to him? Johnny wondered, his mind painting a picture of the broad-shouldered, narrow-waisted deity in question. He did not know what Raiden looked like under his hat, but Johnny’s imagination filled that in, as well, with the long, white, silken hair he had once seen on Raiden’s brother, Fujin. The combination was strange, but not unpleasant, and heady with the intoxication merely of allowing one’s mind to wander. Johnny wondered if it was his proximity to the Jinsei that prompted these thoughts. 

 “Are you home, Hollywood?” It was Lao, waving his hand gently before Johnny’s face. Snapping back to reality, he turned and met the gazes of both monks, who looked genuinely concerned. 

 “Just thinkin’,” he admitted. 

 “Well that is a first,” Liu jabbed.

 To the mutual surprise of both Shaolin, Johnny Cage did not retort. He did not seem abashed, either. His mind was awash with other thoughts and he had no desire to offer riposte. Liu Kang and Kung Lao locked eyes for a few moments before moving to usher Johnny away from the Jinsei, coming to the conclusion that the fumes were getting to him. There were no fumes, of course, but the alternative was far stranger:

 Johnny Cage was nursing deep, affectionate feelings toward a deity, an elemental, an unquantifiable entity of another class entirely, however friendly. 

 And that simply could not be the case. 

 Could it?

#cc #cw #mortal kombat #faraday cage #shaolin rowdy boys #liu kang #raiden #johnny cage #kung lao #god the spacing is awful oh well fuck it tadaa here u go #liulao

[bastardsunlight]

Little spoon Hawkfield “…but I’m gonna complain the whole time”

“If you tell a soul,” growls Sarah Hawker as she presses her face into Chris’s ample chest. In the darkness, she cannot see his cheeks go red as he tries his best to find an appropriate and safe place to put his arms. Drawing her in is easy, of course; she wants to be here, but she is going to make it abundantly clear that he is not allowed to point that out.

“You’re going to what,” he offers, “gouge out my other eye?”

She stops, considers this, and then snorts into his chest, wiggling her entire body with gales of laughter, careful not to gut him with the deadly “murder arm”. It currently has an industrial oven mitt over the business end, but those claws can and will shred it and she knows that. Chris feels the weird press of it on his lower back as she calms herself and draws closer.

“You practice that one all night?”

“Most of it, yeah.”

Big spoon, little spoon

#response #chris 'monster lover' redfield #see how much nicer his title is than leon's? #hawkfield #thumbsupgunsout #aboutchrismeta #apexhearted

[ex-socom]

[RE!Hawk] “Harm him, and you’ll wish I had the decency to kill you.”

@apexhearted

"Hilarious you think I care about your threats," he rumbled in return.

#apexhearted

[daughterofnero]

[apexhearted/manticore!hawk] It's 3 AM. It's the middle of a (quiet, for now) urban war zone. And that is a quadrupedal, multi-eyed, tentacled horror-beast rummaging through a dumpster because she caught the scent of leftover pizza. Either she is utterly unfazed by the reek of garbage or so singularly driven by food (as most infected mutants are) that she does not care. She also doesn't care that she's being watched...or maybe judged.

Jake is not scared. He is 16, has lost the only person that matters on this hellhole of a planet, and has been a fucking mercenary for three years. Just because he is watching The Holy Shit What Is Tha-AHH MY NECK Manticore eating garbage out of a dumpster does not mean he’s scared.

It means he’s kinda terrified and also stupid.

“If it’s pizza you want, go two streets down, their dumpster pizza is way better. I don’t know who that man bribes to get fresh mozzarella in a literal war.”

#[Jake] #[hawker] #[Manticore] #apexhearted #{listen his frontal lobe hasn’t fully developed hes the stupid}

[merchantofwhispers]

🧛[go ahead, mess with nasty RE!Hawk/apexhearted 😈]

send me a  “ 🧛 ” for my muse to sink their teeth into your muses neck, drawing their blood. || @apexhearted || Accepting

The bolt jutted out from her side, buried deep into what she could only assume was her spleen. It definitely felt like spleen pain. She wasn’t coughing up enough blood for it to be a proper lung shot. It would figure that the one night she hadn’t left the house expecting murder someone would change her plans. Gemina hobbled along the alleyway, hand pressed to her side to try to keep the steel rammed into her side from wiggling with her movements. One day she’d have to go have a talk with whatever Hollywood executives decided vampires were impervious to pain. 

They were idiots.

She focused forward, ignoring the way shadows danced at the edges of her sight or how her knees desperately wanted to buckle beneath her. It wasn’t death, but certainly an unplanned nap in the alley if she didn’t find someone soon. Poor soul, but that’s just how the food chain worked. Eventually a shadow ahead caught her attention and a new vigor filled her limbs, carrying her forward with the last bit of speed she had left. Long claws gripped at the back of a jacket as her rapidly drove straight into the exposed flesh of a neck, dragging the individual backwards into the alley they would be found in the next morning.

Except -- not.

Her teeth dug in as a thick ooze seeped onto her tongue, a foul taste flooding her senses and making her gag against the flesh of her meal. She didn’t stay latched for very long as she suddenly lifted her mouth, still gripping onto the other woman with tight claws, and whispered a disgusted “what the fuck?!”

#apexhearted #c; Gemina #;main #/gemina babe you have fucked up #;Queue

[survivalspecialist]

❤  𝐏𝐄𝐎𝐏𝐋𝐄 𝐈'𝐃 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑!

1. alias / name: Lee, Bean, LeeBean, BeaniestLee 2. birthday: 29th June 3. zodiac sign: Cancer or for the Chinese Zodiac: bunbun 4. height: 5′3 5. hobbies: Reading, Writing, Gaming, Movie Watching 6. favorite color: Blue 7. favorite book: The Riyria Chronicles (it’s a series not a book but idc) 8. last song: Wanna Dance with Somebody - Whitney Houston 9. last film / show: RE: Vendetta 10. recent reads: Do visual novels count? When The Night Comes. 11. inspiration: Uhh pass? Escapism? 12. story behind url: I’M BAD AT URLS OKAY? 13. fun fact about me: I’ve fed lions.

Tagged by: @tacticalvest Tagging: @themageofmany @xresistance @gotasmokeamigo @lasplaga @apexhearted and anyone else who fancies doing it.

#ooc