ᅟᅟ‍‍ ‍‍ * ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍⋮ 𝐊𝐄𝐑͟𝐁͟𝐄͟𝐑͟𝐎𝐒 🔞 (@_redtriad) header
ᅟᅟ‍‍ ‍‍ * ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍⋮ 𝐊𝐄𝐑͟𝐁͟𝐄͟𝐑͟𝐎𝐒 🔞 (@_redtriad) profile picture

‍‍ ‍ ‍‍ ‍ㅤ⠀⠀ㅤ ‍‍ ‍ ‍‍ ‍ㅤ⠀ ‍‍ ‍ ‍‍ ‍ㅤ⠀⠀ㅤ

+18 | mdni | all art credited
Joined January 2025
ᅠᅠ ᅠᅠ<< don’t lose your stride, little ghost. i do like your constant energy afterall. are you going to faint on me? >> he keeps teasing, gloved fingers filling the precise gap of hers. . . just so he can pull at her cheek. ᅠᅠ
y-y-you... .ᐟ.ᐟ playing with a girls feelings like that, how cruel . . . eve was right about you .
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ᅠᅠ ᅠᅠthe wink lands on 𝘃𝗮𝗹𝘂𝗻 like a pebble on water; the impassive juggernaut goes still for a second, studies the bottom of his glass with great interest, and the tips of his ears turn a shade that wouldn’t belong, if anyone could peek past that armour. ( + ) ᅠᅠ
Replying to @OniHeiress
"i wanna know who tipped them off and i wanna know where my shit is. i don't give a fuck how you do it, just that it's done-- and 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘺." that last part is an honest plea; sometimes, she is.
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ᅠᅠ ᅠᅠ<< someone double-crossing you, perhaps? >> it is not what she would like to hear, moles always carry uncomfortable implications for any tight-knit community, but a counter-intelligence officer can't afford to neglect any possibility. she must understand. ( + ) ᅠᅠ
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ᅠᅠ ᅠᅠ<< is the courier alive? >> 𝘃𝗮𝗹𝘂𝗻 asks, and it’s a careful question, because he always asks about the person before the cargo. 𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗲𝗹𝗮 holds up one finger, and he falls silent. << do you believe it's the claws trying to run you out of town? >> ᅠᅠ
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ᅟᅟ‍‍ ‍‍ * ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍⋮ 𝐊𝐄𝐑͟𝐁͟𝐄͟𝐑͟𝐎𝐒 🔞 retweeted
i want to talk about her so so so so bad
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pyro.xn--6ii putting this here for new people who would like to write but aren't sure how to break the ice 🙏
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ᅠᅠ ᅠᅠ𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗲𝗹𝗮’s sight frays at the edges until it fizzles out. static floods the visor, white noise, then a sick swimming smear of color; he feels the interference behind his eyes, a faint electric itch. 𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳, he thinks, and finds he's not surprised. ( + ) ᅠᅠ
Replying to @_NCserpent
he would hear her. boots clanking against metal as she hauls herself up the ladder of the silo. she isn't trying to be quiet, after all. his vision would return to gaze down the length of a barrel-- at the other end, the dread of any red blooded man. [ GOT YOUUUU (,; ⩌ ;,) ]
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ᅠᅠ ᅠᅠhis right comes up under the line of her arm with the knife flat, and the blade relays what he can't eyeball: the resistance of fabric, the slide along the outside of her forearm, a thin red scrape just deep enough to make her flinch and release her grip. ( + ) ᅠᅠ
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ᅠᅠ ᅠᅠthe rifle slips, its barrel slipping into his index and middle finger. 𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗲𝗹𝗮 turns it, set carefully against the rail where it can’t be reached in a hurry. perhaps a last courtesy. his ruined lips, mismatched in metal and flesh, climb to a sly smile. ᅠᅠ
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