@farfromdomesticated

arwenundomielofrivendell:

Arwen doesn’t mind the bracelets nor the muscles. She assumed he’s a hunter or a bounty hunter. Perhaps she should suggest to him that Wargs are quite the fiercesome creatures to fight. She kneels and places her hand in water. Her hand glows and she touches his face lightly whispering some elvish words. She smiles as she sees the scars on his face fade away. “Do you have any other wounds?” She asks softly.

     Her hand looks so petite and unmarred compared to his cut-up face, but the contusions and incisions fade away when she gently caresses him and mutters those indiscernible words of her’s.
     ”Well,” he chuckles, “if that’s how y’re gon’ heal ‘em, then yeah, baby, I got some wounds ya can heal.” He hadn’t cared if she was offended with whether or not he was being vulgar, he’d be a damn liar if he didn’t think she was somethin’ else…
     Especially in light of her recently revealed ‘talents.’ Victor’s general interest, intrigued. 

mandythedemon:

“Afternoon, love. What can I do ya for?” She smiles up at the much larger man.

     ”Howzitbout a kiss?”

shesahungryqueen:

She observes him, something about him more animal than most men.  That’s not what’s uncomfortable - it’s not knowing where she stands with the stranger.

“Victor?”  She repeats, sampling the name, nodding.  No sense arguing or asking if it was his ‘real name’ or anything.  He towers over her, and he offers it quickly.  It either is his real name - or he’s too skilled to break under a quick question.  (Well, what the fuck ever, she was going to lie to him too.)    In term, she offers him, “B.”

     Her heartbeat’s quickened by just a bit, having then discerned that she wasn’t telling the complete truth, Victor didn’t necessarily take it upon himself to act out a full-on interrogation and let it ride. 
     ”B.” Reiterating to himself as he pours some Monte Alban into his shot glass after establishing a tab with the barkeep, “Short n’ sweet.”

     The tip of his right forefinger runs circles around the top of the glass that’s set in front of him, “I like it.” After that he had picked up the shot and knocked it back without so much as a flinch.
     ”Heh.” A satisfied gasp let his lips as he turned to B, “Howzitbout that drink?”

(Source: farfromdomesticated)

• notkoolaidman has entered yer neck o’ th’ woods.

     ”Oh,” raising his head
          (or at least as much as he could)
     to envision the hulking blood-red skinned behemoth who he’s heard so much ruckus about, “n’ whaddaya we have ourselves here?” Restrained in his cell here in The Vault— a penitentiary for the super criminal variety— Victor Creed had been a mutant, a feral-type at that. A Lupine. Those who’re theorized to have been evolved from wolf-like ancestors as opposed to the primate ancestors Darwin foretold for the rest of humankind. 
     ”Tell me y’ain’t my lawyer… nothin’ against ya, big fella, just y’know… I don’t see th’ Public Defense bein’ all level-headed wit’ a giant like yersel’ as my goddamn attorney.
     ”Then again, that She-Hulk chickadee could pull it off… why not you? Heh.”

shesahungryqueen:

Typical male strangers.  No manners. Crossing her arms, she rolled her eyes, as if to say ‘let me exaggerate how unenthusiastic I am about this.’  ”Wouldn’t be the first time someone accused me of that.”  She shot back.  ”And look, you got one too.  We have so much in common.”

     Sassy. A trait that adds a bit of spice to the imaginary ledger that’s being painted on to convey whatever it is that Victor perceived of her at that point in time. Standing at a height of six foot six inches, he remained lurched over the bar where the two had acquainted themselves at with a fifth of Jim Beam sitting patiently in his big hairy right hand. The nails protruding out from each fat digit are more reminiscent to an animal’s claws, lightly tapping against the glass of the shot he’s about to down in a gulp. 
     ”Oh,” he reaches for the bottle, “I’m only teasin’. Don’t be such a sourpuss.” Laughter breaks from the primitive-looking male’s lips as he watches the contents of his glass swirl about. Deep, smothering blue eyes keep themselves on her.

     ”Well, half-teasin’ if I’m honest… tend t’ be in a grumpy mood every now n’ again. Anyway,” he finds himself downing the shot he poured and turning his attention back to his female associate, “name’s Victor.”

(Source: farfromdomesticated)

(Source: toohightogiveafuckk)

shesahungryqueen:

“I dunno.  Who the fucks asking?”

     As if on cue, Victor couldn’t help but scoff to himself. Chickadee’s got balls, he figures as he watches his new acquaintance with a rejuvenated sense of interest, arms cross and mahogany supports his elbows.
     Lips curl up into a mischievous smile, “Ooh… got th’ mouth on ya, huh, darlin’?”
 

(Source: farfromdomesticated)

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• shesahungryqueen has entered yer neck o’ th’ woods.

     ”N’ who th’ Hell’re ya s’pposed t’ be, girlie?”

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