#leechedya

anyone with eyes would see it. clock the way his shoulders sit more lax.. how troy throws his head back when he laughs. without the weight of his sister there to stifle him, why wouldn't he feel lighter ? take the risks he wants to take, deep in another boiling cesspit, one pack of scavs giving way to another. their rifles raised.. their heads bowed. sort of the reception a god king deserved, right ?

he laps it up. smiles broad, gold teeth shining in firelight, " well that's good, cause it looks fucking gross. " a bullet wound, through and through — he'd thumbed the hole when noticing it. dipped a painted nail into the pucker to see how much she'd flinch. that she hadn't ? that's why she's here. ushered towards a line of pilfered crates, empty of their splendor, set up like mock triage for him to play doctor. mech and muscle weren't all that different. pull a wire, pull a nerve, he's rolling a blade, short and narrow between metal fingers while he waits.

" c'mon, i'll be gentle, " lacks conviction with that gleam in blue eyes. a shine in the red that rings the left. glows a long, long line down towards the gloved hand tapping at his station. " we'll worry about how you're gonna thank me, later. "

he doesn't know @redemptioninterlude. not outside of the imprint of her body on the front of his ride. beat the fender all to shit.. was looking at a flat tire if he'd backed over her like he'd considered, engine purring in idle. ignore the pretty face and the blood smeared all over it. do the smart thing, tyreen would've said.

but the cats away and his interests are mousy.

It wasn’t coming out as authoritative in practise--throat closing up, he shook his head quickly to regain himself. At this point, he was far more used to hostage situations than he would ever care to admit. Unfortunately, if he was the damsel in distress, his “knight in shining armor” was clearly taking their sweet time showing up... and his “dragon” was just some whackjob who looked like he’d hit ‘randomize’ on the character creation screen.

“L-like, just--just---dude, come on. What’d I do to you? Like... personally?” 

 He’d mentioned that a few times now, but it didn’t seem to have gotten through to anyone--least of all Troy Calypso, who was currently perched across the room from him, distracted by his tablet. As far as he knew, he’d never actually crossed the Calypsos himself--hadn’t even really known who they were until they started dropping bandits all over Promethea to bolster Maliwan’s forces. So the whole situation kinda struck him as... bullshit?

But if the CoV had wanted to kill him, they could’ve done it already; clearly, whatever it was, they wanted him alive for it. Maybe Katagawa was finally proving to be too much of a pain to deal with--that he’d believe--and they wanted to change sponsors? If that was the case, they were out of luck; Rhys had a policy of not working with people who tried to kill him... any more. What he didn’t always have was a policy for honesty. That thing about it being the ‘best’? Not so true when it came to the intergalactic corporate arms race.

“Doesn’t have to be like this... I could hook you up. You know Maliwan totally puts planned-obsolescence chips in half their flashy garbage, right?”

first off, i wanna thank god—but also, the devil ( @vilifyme ) for enabling me in these self-indulgent artistic endeavors. we basically have created 101 aus with these dumpster fire bois and as it turns out if you put them in a neverwhere/hellboy-esque au where one of them is a sad immortal that shelters misfit nonhumans and the other is a needy fishie somehow their trashiness sorta cancels out (but not really???)

Awareness pricked the corner of Luxu’s available eye from beneath the brim of his hat, but he made no physical movement. Not a threat, he could surmise, so retaliation would be unnecessary---merely a curious intruder, he figured, invading his personal space. Immediately noticeable were two brilliant blue eyes beneath a jagged curtain of jet hair, all framed by black feathers and slightly lopsided from Luxu’s viewpoint---then a broad flash of golden fangs and white teeth set in metallic silver once his attention was had.

His face turned fully towards the nuisance---followed by a quick assessment. Taller than the average human, gangly in stature, tanned and toned flesh. However, the hand that had tilted up the article upon his head was the same sort of shine as the invader’s prosthetic mandible---the arm connected following suit, all twisted wires and steel plating, and bejeweled with materia of every possible shade. 

Luxu had, obviously, seen far stranger folks than this creature, and yet, despite how he was keenly aware that he should be annoyed on some level, he felt that such a unique boldness merited an upward quirk corner of his mouth, his own fangs glistening in the low neon light of the bar.

me: oh....... i see................. guess you just couldn’t handle.........

me, a genius, a visionary, a fucking legend, banned from the local denny’s: