#murdersinthemaking

[the-graves-family]

🎲 @murdersinthemaking

Just because Ace does not partake in the darker aspects of the family business, doesn't mean people don't know who he is. The force of bodyguards that accompany him everywhere surely helps with making offenders reconsider their stance in his presence.

He is a Graves, after all.

Stepping into the alley, hands folded in front of him, he gazes silently at the people harassing his boyfriend for a few moments, before tilting his head to the side. "You have five minutes."

A warning. A promise. A threat. They either leave, or he makes them. Not him, of course, never him. He does not have a single drop of blood on his hands. But the murderous bodyguards behind him, and the army of agents working for his father, have no such problems.

[lost-soul-in-time]

🕊️

@murdersinthemaking

Ever since Murdock’s first appearance, Oliver’s realized just how many times he’s forgotten to cleanse his home afterwards. He’s told himself up until now that the only reason he’s allowed it to slip his mind is because he has other things to do, when in reality, that’s as far from the truth as ever. His life in the woods is quiet, slow, and unremarkable. The only real tasks he ever has to go through with is his job of caring for the animals here and purifying the lake and his home. He should be worried of the possibility of his presence being easier to access now.

However, part of him shouldn’t be hoping it’s easier for Murdock to roam around now.

Oliver remembers a pattern Murdock had taught him if the angel ever wanted to ‘chat’, and at the moment, he had brushed him off just as he always does. Now, however, he wonders if the incessant chattering and the prude comments might distract him from his own mind… with a quivering hand, he pats the wood of his nest of a bed to match the memorized pattern, hoping for the best once he’s finished and his hand falls back down to grip at the blankets.

[perfectly-intoxicated]

Taking any hits was a rare and unfortunate occasion, but the money wasn’t too bad. Creativity liberties couldn’t be taken according to his employer, wanting the hit to be dumped in an empty oil drum that would be waiting a mile off from the club his target was meant to be. Murdock had to be a little more conspicuous in his new outfit, ditching the trench coat and the rest of his theatre villain ensemble. Not his finest clothing, but it would do. A carefully ironed suit jacket, but still wearing his sunglasses in the dim light of the bar.

“Let me get you a drink, how about that Brandon?” Branded as an associate for a gang looking for an arms dealer, Murdock manages to smile at the target without being sick. Creepy as fuck in every way, but the assassin is only there to kill him because he was fucking the bosses wife.

@murdersinthemaking

Having someone get in the middle of her job was so fucking annoying.

She did not spend the last half hour goading to this man’s ego and wasting away her evening only to come back and have someone doing the same thing after having excused herself to fix her make-up. Prick.

“Making some more friends while I’m away?” Hannah’s gloved hands move to rest over the man’s shoulder, her chin laying on top of them as she takes in the stranger with a slow, blatant once-over. If the guy wasn’t in the middle of throwing all her work out the window (which actually wasn’t too much, but in her impatient mind, it felt like hours-worth), she wouldn’t be so stubborn as to admit he was easy on the eyes.

“Bringing in a third. Didn’t take you for being into that.” She lightly purrs, lips lifting up in a knowing smile.

[freebirdyance]

👨‍👧‍👦 “I can’t deny that murder is wrong, it’s what I do every single day, practically speaking. But you..I murder people just like you. Your lucky your son is good, especially in bed. Otherwise I would’ve strung him up like you.”

“I know you won’t budge, you’re dead and stubborn. So, let me make it as uncomfortable for you as possible.”

@murdersinthemaking

Anthony looks utterly disgusted, merely shaking his head as he glares at you. He's speechless, it seems, not an easy task. Either he's that uncomfortable, or he isn't looking to get stabbed, even if he's technically dead. It could even be both.

[the-graves-family]

Sure, it's not as nice as some of Aaron's other clients, but it's still leagues ahead of Aaron's own apartment. Much less black mold, for starters.

"Let me get ready in the bathroom," Aaron asks, because no, he wasn't about to make a long drive on a motorcycle wearing nothing but chains under leather. He smiles at Murdock, cocking his hips to the side.

"I won't be five minutes."

“Take the lead? You’re a mile ahead of me.” Aaron had been naked aside from the jewellery, but seeing him in leather was extremely intriguing. Hopefully another time. Murdock unlocks the door, leading his rent boy through the house. It wasn’t well done, the drywall cracking and lightbulbs either cracked or flickering. At least the bedroom had some effort into it, passing for an above average motel room.

“Just sit down for a bit, let me get myself organized. You’re cute, but I don’t want to let you get carried away with me. Still wearing the chains darling?”

[late-night-cabaret]

That darling little caged bird. Such an interesting creature, so alluring to him. Yancy may have tried to live a clean life, but he was never against the occasional indulgence with Murdocks life. After all, the murderer couldn’t forget the dream so lovingly shared only a few weeks after they’d met. And how can he not give him that?

Before his lover ever touches the table, he’s given the last of a gentle touch. Quiet laughs shared between them as Murdock undresses him, Yancy lifting the sunglasses off of him before they’re set in place to give him the threatening allure he’s almost always broken. Less intricately tied than he wanted, only held down by the straps on his arms and wrists.

“Oh darling, open your mouth for me. I’m not going to be using it just yet tonight.” Murdock pulls out a gag, pushing the ring into the waiting mouth and tightening it around his head. “You’d really let me take all this from you? Filthy whore.”

@murdersinthemaking

Being incarcerated as young as he was, Yancy never had a chance for much exploration of things he was into. Sure, contraband of various types always had a habit of making its way into Happy Trails, but the real learning came after he got out. The man who had taught him the most is also a serial killer who's strapping him to the table where he usually handles his victims.

If the blood that's supposed to operate his brain wasn't currently rushing to his cock, he might have been able to ponder why that's so fucking arousing.

Yancy does as he's told and opens his mouth. The ring is different, but not bad, and he's glad he was able to get a feel of it before all this. What he isn't expecting is Murdock to call him... that. But even as he goes to make a noise of indignation, something hot burns beneath the skin. It's embarrassment, but it's mixed with another thing that makes him whine and stare up at Murdock pleadingly. He nods.

[merrick-of-violet]

He never should’ve accepted the quest. All within the span of a week, his horse was stolen, half of his purse lost in a river, and an infected wound in his calf. All for thirty pieces of gold and a piece of jewelry. Murdock wasn’t greedy, he was desperate. Worse, because picking and choosing wasn’t his choice. No one of any merit would take the disgraced son of a disgraced lord to do anything higher than saving small animals from trees.

Carrying his pack across his shoulders and his sword tucked beside his belt, he finds his first sign of good direction. In the right village, he hears rumours of the ancient witch in the forest. Guarding a treasure, exactly what he needs to deliver. One incorrectly paid for meal, and Murdock is on his way to his pay.

@murdersinthemaking

The forest could be a tricky thing to navigate sometimes.

At first, it appears to be normal. Dense with trees and foliage, various small game animals skitter through the underbrush, and birdsong fills the air. But the longer Murdock walks, things begin to change. Well... in a way.

Did he pass that odd shaped boulder once already? Did the fog always have a purple tint to it? Had there been fog before? Should the sun already be setting at this time of day?

How long has he been walking for?

The fog continues to pour in, making it difficult to see more than a few feet in front of one's face. The birdsong turns to the screeching of crows high up in the trees. What had sounded like rabbits and foxes moving through the forest now sound... larger. And then...

A black cat about twice as large as a normal cat sits on the path ahead, the fog seeming to clear up around him. His eyes are the color of molten amber and glowing as he stares at Murdock, or rather through him.

[save-the-horse]

Was he that desperate? Yes. Donovan had been between bad relationships for so long and now he had the tiniest spark of a decent relationship. The depravity after was an accident. An older gentleman with a lovely tenor and hands that had wandered over his waist before. First dreaming of the mechanics hands on his hips, no barriers between them. Then more followed, night after night. Harlens hands slipping further down, disappearing further across his body before the dreams end. Forcing him awake with the low drawl of Harlens voice trailing out of his ears. “Just relax darlin’.”

A week had passed since brunch with his mother and the breakdown of his car. Donovan still saw him on Saturday classes, demoing each step with him and letting Harlen lead him through each motion. Heavy hands on his hips and thighs when they move into a lift low enough that he has to excuse himself half way through class and recompose his manners.

Late that night, only 8pm when he gives in. There was something he’d felt between them, Harlen willing to come to him in the middle of the night when his car broke down and meeting his mother the next day. A few unfortunate years have told him that the romantics weren’t open to him. Donovan had forgotten what it was like to be romanced and wooed, going off of what everyone else had wanted in him. Sex, body, form. A half hour of taking painstakingly angled photos later, he thinks he’s ready. Nothing too provocative, just a few shots from his thighs and a few glimpses of his ass.

[Harley: Loved having your hands on me again tonight.]

@murdersinthemaking

Harlen's barely been able to stop thinking about Donovan all week, almost obsessing over him and how sweet he is despite his best efforts not to.

Brunch had gone super well, at least he thinks so — Colette seemed to live him and they all had a pretty good time. A win is a win.

And dance classes have sprouted some interesting thoughts, mostly centred around Donovan's thighs and other contexts where he could touch them.

God, he's never been more embarrassed by his own mind before. Well, not recently.

The pictures catch Harlen very off-guard in the best way possible. He's been trying to work up the courage to ask Donovan out to dinner and he still wants to do that but holy shit. Apparently, now is not the time for romance just yet.

Harlen sends a picture back — his chest being the main thing, his shirt partly unbuttoned and pulled aside slightly by his nicer hand to display the top half of his pecs ,muscular and lightly hairy.

[Absolute sweetheart: Happy to hear it, baby.]

[skies-painted-pink]

It really was this now. Murdock random hookups and quick fixes were losing their edge. All of them wanted him on top and in charge, expecting him to let off steam in the most obvious way. The card was found from a few friends, where various services were offered to the ‘discerning gentleman’. Being neither of them didn’t disqualify him, calling up the mysterious woman and arranging a session. He’d even planned a kill the day before.

What he needed was to be controlled. Forced to break and kneel no matter what it took. Force, punishment, the whole nine yards. After being invited in and led into the room, he’s given three instructions. No clothes, wait on his knees, and use the traffic light system. Murdock kneels beside an armchair, anxiously awaiting her return.

@murdersinthemaking

Leiana had been genuinely excited about this particular client, though she can't quite explain why. Though, when she finally sees him, it all clicks into place. He's not used to this. Whether it's his very first time or if it's just been a while is unclear but this isn't a regular thing for him.

This should be interesting.

Walking slowly into the room with a white velvet back, she stops in front of Murdock, looking down at him with a smile, taking in the sight in front of her silently.

[the-graves-family]

He’s always angry. Murdock finds himself in alleyways most nights, trying to start some kind of fight and feel it break his body. Just to make himself more upset, make everything more agonizingly enjoyable. Last week, he finally killed someone. Smashing their skull into a garbage can and stealing twenty dollars out of their wallet. It was the happiest he’d ever been. Soon, he was looking up what more murderers and killers did to get their kicks. Kidnapping? He could do that.

For two weeks, he’s watched the house. One almost never leaves the building except twice a week. Only to the local grocery store before holing up back inside. No one visits to ever see him.

Murdock waits in the parking lot, watching his target walk over to grocery store doors. It’s time. “Hey! Hey you! Can you come over? My cars broken down, can you give me a hand?”

@murdersinthemaking

Ace does not like leaving the house. There are people outside and that's just not a good time for anyone involved. But he also feels obligated to help his moms, so he goes shopping for them twice a week. He takes their list and he goes to the store.

Today is no different. He spent all morning working on his projects in the garage and left around midday for the store, after getting dressed in something a little less revealing. Less people at this hour. He's about to go in when a voice breaks him out of his thoughts and he looks over at the stranger.

It's a man. He's not a fan of that. Ace looks at him warily for a moment, eyeing him up and down, before he hears what the stranger is saying. A car. He can help with that. It would probably even be fun for him.

Ace is also not very good at remembering that other people can lie.

He approaches the man slowly, tilting his head to the side. "I can help," he mumbles quietly. "What's wrong with it?"

[lost-soul-in-time]

This was rock bottom. Murdock once was a golden figure throughout his county, the son of the lord and one of the best knights in the little cluster of villages his family ruled over. Now, he was climbing the walls of a castle just so he could keep eating. One of the windows happened to be only a few meters high, leading into one of the kitchens. Across his back was everything he owned, the pack strapped around his chest and looped over his arms as he climbed. He was sure he was quiet, creeping past the doors until he started to find trinkets to sell. A few gold flowers snapped from picture frames, tassels of silk cut from curtains and rugs, and jewels plucked from their set place in delicate furniture.

Guards walk by in shifts, counted out carefully by Murdock as he ducks into empty quarters each time he nears the countdown. Finding a few sizeable gems made him lose count, walking out of the room and straight into the path of two guards. Only two feet from the window, he’s pushed into the rough stone of the wall. One of them rips the straps off of him, seizing his bag while the other drags him down the hallway. Someone is awake.

@murdersinthemaking

Evenings were the most stressful part of his day.

Whether he’s fabricating further plans or tearing off a vital bodily function when answers aren’t given to him (or simply to blow off steam), his personnel are always forewarned on secluding themselves and keeping away from the villainous creature they blindly served. So when one of his watchman interrupt the sounds of agonized wails he’d been pulling from his latest victim — a pompous man swimming in wealth who had no issue attempting to send a dog after his scent to gain glory from killing him — he’s already not pleased.

Oliver doesn’t take the time to clean off the splatters of crimson on the side of his face, only slipping on his gloves and wool coat before being lead towards the informed intruder.

His face is always devoid of emotion, but it doesn’t take a brilliant mind to sense his displeasure in his steps nor his annoyance in his gaze.

A harsh blow from a foot hitting the back of Murdock’s knee sends him to the floor, held down and forced to kneel as he enters the room. A hand rests over the sword in its sheathe on his hip, and once he’s close enough, a hand grabs the exiled knight firmly by the jaw, forced to stare up at him.

“This is what you waste my time with?” He scolds at the two men, voice cold and barely sparing a glance at them before addressing Murdock for the first time. “State your purpose here.” Oliver collectedly commands, leaving little to no room for protest.

[perfectly-intoxicated]

👀!

@murdersinthemaking

Red looks so good on her 💖

[carnivalofchaos]

🍭 (:3)

@murdersinthemaking

Wilford was needy. Was that truly a surprise to anyone? He was especially needy around Murdock especially. Not a day went by where he ask him for affection. The fact he was able to make such a cold man into a softie, oh, he adored it.

But today was a different kind of needy. Today was an especially hard day at work. One that called for a lot of forgetting, and a lot of relief.

He portaled himself straight to Murdocks place, with his collar in hand. It jingled in his hand as he walked in. "My love... Where are you?"

[freebirdyance]

In order to keep the lights on and pay for the various renovations of the theatre, numerous performances were packed into one showcase to fundraise for the rest of the year. Every two years, the wooden boards of the stage had to be replaced from the constant movement, along with half a dozen more things that managers were never too clear on. All they said was to make a good show and thank the patrons like they were heaven sent.

Donovan is still in the fae costume after the show, fake horns pinned into his hair and sheer clothing wrapped around his body. L’Après-midi d’un Faune was a riskier dance, a quick enough performance to keep the show short enough and interesting enough for the audience to keep looking. As long as they weren’t too interested in all the interpretation.

In the after party, a theatre manager keeps finding Donovan amidst his small talk. A hand keeps running over his spin, pulling at the fake deer tail and slipping his fingertips just below the seam of his tights. Shaking him away to find the bar, he hesitates over the tray of shot glasses before settling on the weakest cocktail he can get.

@murdersinthemaking

Yancy didn't attend the ballet very often. He was more inclined to go and see a musical than anything else. Regardless, he would always have a soft spot for the arts and had no trouble making sizeable donations to keep them running. Music and theater quite literally saved his life in high school, an escape he would always appreciate.

Someone told him about the slightly more risqué nature of the performance he's attending tonight, and he couldn't lie; it piqued his interest. And by the time the performance is over, he's glad he decided to show up.

He doesn't think he's ever seen someone move as gracefully as the faun. Lithe yet strong in a way that had his vision tunneling. Yancy has had countless models in shibari, and he can't help but imagine what he would look like...

But he's getting ahead of himself, surely.

He attends the after party, and while he's polite and amicable, his eyes are searching for the star performer. Finally, spotting him at the bar, he excuses himself and approaches. It's difficult not to let his gaze sweep over him in the costume, but he manages as he keeps about a foot of distance between them. "Excuse me," he rumbles to get his attention. "I just wanted to tell you that yer performance was extraordinary. Yer incredibly talented."

[the-graves-family]

Ace is completely unaware of what Murdock is feeling and thinking, just pleased that he has met a new human and that human likes him. This is what friends are. He thinks. He's not completely sure anymore.

Looking down at the extended finger, he's about to ask what it is about, when Murdock answer that for him. Oh. Tentatively, he locks his own pinky finger with Murdock's. "You will be cak. You promised." As if that's the most important thing in the world.

Lonely. Did the androids that sat disassembled and barely alive feel lonely? Did parts of them feel lonely, knowing that the rest of themselves no longer belong to them? Ace makes him feel unfortunate things, as if he’s coding them in with the lost puppy demeanour and quiet understandings.

“I’ll be back to see you and your fish, I promise.” Holding out his hand, Murdock extends his pinky towards Ace. “If we lock fingers, it means I will be back.”

[funflirtsandfuckall]

It had taken hours to drag this vermin out of the bar he’d convinced him to meet him in. Three drinks in before Murdock managed to slip in a few sedatives. Even still, it decided to nurse that drink for almost an hour. Hauling his half conscious friend outside, he has to pull it half over his shoulder to get him through the door. Pausing in an alleyway to readjust the victim, Murdock drops him on the floor.

“You’re such a fucking rat,” he hisses, cracking his back against a dumpster while staring at his semi-conscious victim, “Can’t believe I’m the only one to ever try killing you.”

@murdersinthemaking

Target on the move, leaving the bar.

This one didn't pay much. Just your standard jackass that needed to be taken care of. A few thousand dollars at the best. But hey, it would help pay the bills. And get him a bite to eat on the way home.

Paying his tab, Curtis grabs his suit jacket and heads out. Following far enough to where there would be no suspicion, but close to where he could hit his target.

As they turn into the alley, Curtis ducks away to hide himself. One simple shot would be all it took.