Having different opinions on tumblr:
Having different opinions on tumblr:
My OTP makes me go from “Oh my God, they are so cute" to "SLAM THAT BITCH AGAINST A WALL AND FUCK HIM UNTIL HE BEGS FOR MERCY”
"Mauve" as they’d nicknamed him had only just appeared a few days ago at Vaas’ summons and rightly he’d almost forgotten what it was like to be amongst his own all congregated into this one place. Yet…he also rightly didn’t miss the interactions either. They all looked at him side ways before, they still did now. He hadn’t the slightest idea as to why that was of course. He’d never done anything to them…yet. And the thing with Maverick was that he rightly didn’t need any reason to not hurt you at any given hour of the day.
And while he’d been leaning against one of the shanty’s, his tongue worked the cherry flavored lollipop in his mouth, he’d been so distracted with the meandering form of their sometimes hapless boss in the distance. Shuffling around, doing things, mostly nothing though - just being his generally imposing self in the sunshine with his bad jokes and laughing at things that weren’t remotely funny, that made Mauve’s mouth water something fierce as his eyes squinted in the shade.
"Mauvey baby, ‘sup?"
The voice caught in his ear with a little difficulty, and honestly if his name hadn’t been said he’d have tuned out the second pirate totally. But a tingle ran up his back as his nearly black eyes turned from Vaas to find the likeness of Brandon instead, Brandon without his pet it looked like…but everyone knew that dog was never too far behind. And leering at the much bigger man then he through a lock of hair that had fallen in his face from a messily constructed bun he hummed in his throat, reaching up to pull the lolli from his mouth with a loud suckle while he swallowed his now cherry flavored spit.
"Yes? ‘Chu want sweetheart?" Mauve asked sweetly, but quietly, while he stared at Brandon with an intensity that rivaled Vaas’ crazy eyes sometimes.
"Mm," Brandon chuckled, sticking the sucker back into his mouth. "Keep talkin’ dirty to me," he said around the stick.
And of course, the best cockblocker in the world had to come along and soil Brandon’s fun. Dang.
As Brandon approached Mauve, eyes wandering and smile ever the predatory smile, paper stick ground between his teeth. he was hit with an unusually heavy force that knocked him to the side, struggling to keep a firm foot in the sand before he wretched away his would be tackler.
"What the fuck man!" he shouted to his burned companion, the man with the dyed red Mohawk raising his arms defensively and giggled, smiling like he couldn’t frown.
"I’m trying to talk over here!" Brandon continued, grabbing hold of the lock and chain about Pyro’s neck and shoving him down to the ground, twisting the chain in his hand while the slightly shorter man pulled at his wrists feebly so. "The hell do you want?" he seethed to the maniacal pirate that was Pyro, the fire loving fire starter with a liking for coke and pussy.
"How bout that sucker?" Pyro replied innocently, blowing a kiss to the angered behemoth above him. "Pretty please?"
Sighing exasperatingly so, Brandon let go of the chain after a final push, pulling Mauve’s lolli from his mouth and thrusting it into Pyro’s. “Now leave me alone, I’m busy,” he said, standing straight and smiling back down to Mauve as if the entire encounter never happened. “So, where were we?”
"Hear about the girls?" piped Pyro as he came to stand next to his tattooed comrade, He swirled the sucker around in his mouth before pulling it out with a pop, "Fab scarf by the way, is that Gucci?" he asked, pointing the sucker at the long haired man and giggling.
"Again with the girls," Brandon said with a roll of his shoulders and an annoyed look down to his friend. "Everyone always with the ‘girls this’ and ‘bitches that’…I got other things on my mind, when Vaas gives the go, then yeah, hurray bitches, but till then…get gone," and he lightly pushed his friend away with his fingertips like he was some sort of toxic container of toxic toxicity. Brandon again turned back to Mauve, smiling a fangtoothed smile as he eyed the Arab from boots to hair. "Sorry ‘bout that…so…ya wanna see my room?" He asked, as if they were teenagers and he just got the newest gaming system to show off.
Mauve never was one to make friends really, nor to care about one’s ranking, or who did what. What mattered most was who the boss was and who he wanted dead at any given point in time. But if there was anyone around that was worth being friendly with it would have been the P.C King himself. Not only for the added buffer of being ‘inner circle’ but also for other reason’s that absently Mauve found himself staring at intently. Mauve did that a lot, he coveted with his eyes. First it had been Brandon’s eyes, their blue hue was bright and distracting in contrast to his jet black hair. And then the teeth he used to smile at him, teeth he wanted to feel scrapping against his skin. And down to all of the rest of him…and there was a lot of him to go around. Compared to Mauve’s slim but powerful physic, Brandon might as well have been a giant. Not that Maverick really minded, he knew he could throw him if he wanted to. That was the quirk about Mauve really, he looked and sounded quiet until he wasn’t anymore and you wound up missing an arm before you could even blink. He only hoped Brandon pushed him…so he could revel in the sound of that boy screaming for mercy…or more. Whichever one came first didn’t matter to him.
The idea made the Syrian’s smirk widen as his eyes snapped onto the flash of red he’d seen coming long before Brandon ever did. And when the impact happened, again, Mauve certainly wasn’t surprised, just wishing he still has his lollipop to suck on. Which it became more and more obvious that it was not going to return to his possession. Pyro wasn’t a beast that he was all too familiar with, only in passing and heard of through wild stories which were all as true and they could come. The little red mohawk was one of them wild cards around here, not the kind you really wanted loose without supervision, but highly effective in also getting shit done. And that was something Mauve could respect…but even more so the man who could control him. And Brandon certainly did not disappoint him as he pulled on the leash of his dog to bring him to heel, even if it was all just a game to Pyro. He liked the way he handled him … made him all tickled pink and shit…but more so made him want to do the same thing to Brandon himself, to shove him onto his knee’s and make him his bitch. But something told him that there was gonna be a fight for the top – and all he needed was a fresh bump to give him the energy to do just that. Course Mauve wasn’t even known to be a sore loser either…hell either way it went he was still winning.
He could feel the shakes starting in and slowly he moved up from the post to stand at his full height. “Prada, actually.” Mauve replied with a light note when in reality he had no fucking idea what it was – he taken it off some bitch some years ago because it made him look pretty. Whore pink was his color and fuck all if he wasn’t going to wear his color all day every damn day. And quietly he chuckled as Pyro was pushed off, a Pyro he could tell might just have been anxious to go bitch hunting, and to be fair so was he but… all in due time. Other things had come up that were more important then two uppity little sluts running around in the jungle.
“He’s cute.” Came Mauve’s reply, a heavy step closing the distance between he and Brandon while he eyed the self proclaimed Pirate King over yonder – he was distracted by his camera again, and Mauve was sick of waiting for him to let the theoretical dogs off their leashes…if Vaas wanted him to do things he could come and find him and tell him. And for a second Mauve was silent, looking back at Brandon with a darkness in his eyes as he pulled his machete from it’s sling, bringing the razor sharpened weapon to rest against Brandon’s crotch.
“Unless you wanna go right here? I don’t give a fuck, they can watch.” He replied, gently rubbing the cold metal against the fabric of the second man’s pants while he blew a very much unwanted, unwarranted, and frighteningly sweet kiss to a passing Heavy – who walked faster then any Heavy had ever walked in his entire life.
To say that Brandon was a patient man would be an overstatement. No actually, his patience was hair thin, espeically when it came to people, for he loathed the species as a whole, admiring them yes, but the abundance of stupidity among his fellow people was enough to make him want to claw his eyes out, or the eyes of the nearest living thing, whichever was more in his reach. That was business though. When it came to a partner, well, Brandon didn’t take up acting for nothing. Lying through his teeth he got any poor sap to believe any sob story he spewed out of his mouth. He could also play the romantic, the comic, and the dramatic. And the oh so not subtle…perv.
Mauve blowing that death of a kiss, taking his eyes off him was the ever arousing opportunity. He kicked away the man’s machete hand and grabbed it under his own, grabbing onto Mauve’s scarf of nameless design with his free hand and all but slamming him into the nearest wall. Pinning his massive body against lil ol Mauve, he smiled, swiping his tongue over a fang, a peculiar purr rumbling from his chest.
"Baby, baby, baby," he mused huskily over the man, blue eyes alight with humor. "You really know how to lead a girl on."
"Eugh," came the disgusted grunt of the scarred man, ever by Brandon’s side. "I get the feeling this is gonna end in a sword fight either way," he grumbled, though still retained his smirk. "What’s wrong with fucking titties, man!" he complained, slapping Brandon on the back of the shoulder.
"Titties is trouble," the giant mumbled back, eyes never wavering off the Arab in his hands.
Mauve had let out a sharp growl as he suddenly met with the wall of the shanty, his machete having slipped from his digits the second he’d been unexpectedly kicked. He might have been a menace in this place…but he was still human at the end of the day. And it wasn’t like his was really in any danger, Brandon wasn’t a loose bitch with a gun after all. Brandon was well… a king by any other name. But also Brandon was one of his own and while Mauve hardly trusted anyone he could read their intentions easily enough.
After years of sitting in on violent and inhumane interrogations Mauve learned how to detect things in a person without them ever speaking anything more then crying for mercy. Yet Mauve had always been temperamental when his father’s eyes weren’t watching and nothing of that had changed at all. And as his brain began to shift from high to low so did the Syrian in Brandon’s hold who smirked but looked as pissed off as ever all at once. He knew what Brandon wanted, he wanted it too….but he wanted his drugs more.
“Get the fuck off.” The Arab growled, twitching in Brandon’s grasp while he leered upwards at the fanged king, “Or I’ll rip your dick off you.”
Pretend like there is snow, okay? Or don’t. Maybe their muse is crazy. Who knows?