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averylee12:

jamesriordan:

We were made to destroy each other. See you down under, mate.

This will be forever reblogged by me. 

STILL REBLOGGING THIS.  

(Source: mason-lloyd)

Yup.

mason-lloyd:

Aw, what’s the matter, Lloyd? Can’t find anyone to catch your interest - or did somebody finally get that gun away from you?

jamesriordan:

We were made to destroy each other. See you down under, mate.

This will be forever reblogged by me. 

(Source: mason-lloyd)

mason-lloyd:

Seems like London’s getting a bunch of new faces about, though it’s nothing surprising. Here’s to seein’ how long all these tourists coming in will really last. I reckon they should do those of us native to the damn place a good number before they either snuff it or run tail between their fucking legs. I’m getting bored of this ol’ city and its usual haunts, and what with the crowds London gets you’d think there’d be something new everyday. But the structure don’t much change, do they? Just the damn faces.

I think it would be rather nice to get myself a bit of a construction job out in Westminster, but maybe it’d take a nice London bombing to get to it. Pointless scare tactics though, never been a method of mine. I prefer discreet to gettin’ what I want.

Discreet? I didn’t even know that word was in your repertoire, Lloyd.  You’ve never been one for hiding your intentions, and if I remember correctly, you were more than willing to go to extremes to get what you wanted.

This might be my favorite crackship gif. ever. of. all. time.

Requested by the one and only Alexander Karkov

Unfortunately, I still agree.  Must be the sadist in me…

Blindness - Avery/Mason

mason-lloyd:

The nails were scraping into the scalp, sinking its way against the skin before a rough pull was made, and, curling his arm about her body, he threw her onto the bed in the adjoined room, violently. His shoes squeaked against the floor along the way, before he stumbled upon carpet where the bed lay, and the moment her body lay against the covers atop that thick mattress, naked and still ridden with the smell of sex, he crawled atop her. His left hand, had already been moving down his own leg, and the other clamped itself roughly about her mouth, stifling those cries. “You stupid fucking bitch.” A low rumble, from somewhere deep inside, the sounds of his own vocal chords when he spoke. “Stop bloody whining I said!” A roar in his voice as he pulled back from atop her just enough to reach down and slap her face agonizingly hard, with all his might. And in the midst of the entire process, his opposing hand revealed itself, and in it, a sharp object meant for cutting things. 

There were hiccups, the sound of choked strangled sobs. His hand was gripping her jaw now, gripping it for her to face him, to look at him. “Shh…don’t cry, don’t cry, darling…” The gentleness in his voice preceded him, as his lips brushed all along her face, and the red mark he had left in the slight of his hand. His lips brushed against those tear-ridden lashes, hovered and caressed the curve of her brow, the bridge of her nose. And in the process, he grazed against her throat, lovely and full of the flesh of life, the sharp knife he had brought along for the ride, running its blade up and down her skin just barely, tickling it. “Shh…don’t cry…” His voice came even softer now, crooning as though she were a child he was in the midst of trying to make sleep. And as he gauged her reaction more each time, his green-eyed gaze without a hint of remorse in it locked to hers calmly, voice interrupting any form of placidity that had displayed itself.

“I’m going to ask you calmly, once more, babe.” He paused, not for effect, but to keep his emotions in check. How badly he wanted to simply just quickly slash against her throat from where that blade dug its fine countenance into. How lovingly he wished to cause this useless waste of space to spill her fine bloody about the sheets the laid upon, and to stain them with the memory of a kill. The slammer was all but begging for him to sleep in it’s close-knit walls, begging to swallow him whole and make him receive the treatment he deserved. But no, no there were more important thing to handle than taking the life of a measly whore. “Tell me what you know.”

His fingers dug into her scalp, tightening their grip around her hair - certain to pull out a handful when they released their hold.  The naked flesh of her body struggled against his clothes, frantic in its need to get away from the source of her pain and terror.  The way his arm wrapped around her had the nausea welling up in her stomach, wanting to distance herself as much as possible.  The force behind his shove was enough to have her almost sailing through the air for a moment, before she tumbled onto the soft comforter covering her bed.  The weight of him on top of her was too much, keeping her from putting up much of a struggle.  It was one of those times when she wished she was a child again, when her biggest concern was choosing which color crayon to use next. 

The calloused hand pressed over her mouth, and Avery struggled to suppress the urge to bite down on his skin as hard as she could.  The scent of her desire was on his hands, causing a fresh wave of disgust to wash over her, but no, no.  She would be stronger than that.  To lose that last bit of grip over her emotions would be to let him win.  That would not happen.  “Shh…don’t cry, don’t cry, darling…”  The sudden change in his demeanor had her mind working overtime.  The man hadn’t appeared to be capable of true human emotion, so what was this?  Her brows furrowed, the blue of her eyes searching his for answers, for what to do. 

Then the cold steel of the blade pressed against her throat.

‘There’s the psychopath you’ve come to know and despise, Ave’, she thought, as his voice crooned above her.  This was no longer a game of lust or hatred - it was a game of survival.  Losing meant she’d lose her life, something that would also not happen.  She looked straight ahead, locking her emotions away, fully prepared to have an emotional breakdown as soon as the coast was clear.  As the blade tickled her skin, his warm breath traveled over her face in an act that she would’ve found endearing once upon a time.  “I don’t even know him that well.  He’s walked with me a few times, I tried to sleep with him.  I called him ‘angel’, he freaked out - and that was it.”

(Source: averylee12)

Blindness - Avery/Mason

mason-lloyd:

averylee12:

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Blindness - Avery/Mason

mason-lloyd:

When everything would become a blur, all that would remain was the haziness and the heightened senses of physical activity. Hands groping, callous hands moving about as though flustered, and each perspective would yield a different reaction. Perhaps Avery would remember the way she would have gasped for air in the tub, or the way Mason’s hands pressed down against the back of her hand to keep her still. For Mason, he would perhaps remember the way she struggled against him. Fingers curling into that stringy mess of hair, fingers digging their way through that threat and his other hand, his other constantly searching for an exit, not an entrance. As though he wished to rip the life out of her from the most unbecoming place possible, the one place that was meant to be pleasured, not destroyed. But what was destruction but the caress of the skin and the love of another? Perhaps, that was the greatest downfall of all, and not the one which comprised of fear and distaste. But who was he to say she wouldn’t enjoy what he was about to rage upon her? Who was he to say? This woman, whom he had once slept with prior, and had moaned in delight as she was screaming in terror now…who was to say she wouldn’t enjoy it, as she once had?

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(Source: averylee12)