#radiaking

@radiaking said: ❝ i’ve had a lifetime’s fill of watching little men puff themselves up with grand titles. ❞

@radiaking said: “better a short life built on truth than immortality woven of lies.”

send the clock and i’ll make selina talk about shit she is haunted by irreparably.

“it’s super annoying. feeling… nuts.” she bounces the ball — the little rubber sphere, bright blue, bounce bounce thud, bounce bounce thud. sometimes the thing taps beneath her toes and she kicks it as it flies back, catches it to toss. her eyes never leave the ball, her body leaning back and forward with each movement. and now one must mention the chair she’s fucking leaning on, balance constant, a fulcrum. it leans back sometimes in a near diagonal— and then it’s on the floor, soundless, over and over.

“no other fucking word for it. the world looks one way to you and then you slowly learn it’s.. just not that at all. someone tells you everything is fine but your head is on a fucking swivel,” thunk. her shoulder throws easily in, the ball bouncing — corner, floor, ceiling, back to her hand with a satisfying THKK. “you see nothing and i see everything. and when i say it, i sound insane. because i am.

—you know i blew my dad’s head off? carmine falcone. the mob guy,” thK. her cigarette moves with her words, smoke rising stale through the air, “he wanted me to run his shit. didn’t even know me. knew i could be—“ THUNK. “useful.”

she says the word like it means nothing, to be commodified like this. she’s a well-oiled machine because she has to be. she keeps moving and yet not moving at all.

“i’m so good at that. being useful. but he pissed me off. so i did the only thing i could do — i grabbed his twelve gauge and i asked if that was what he wanted. i deserved it. revenge or whatever. i got it. and it doesn’t matter. not at all. you know how i feel? way no better. way, way worse.

—just as useful as i’ve always been.”

　　𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘 𝐅𝐄𝐖 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐄𝐓 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄𝐒 𝐋𝐄𝐅𝐓 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃, but they were easier to find the further away you got from the cities of old ( likely the first targets of the bombs, if she had to guess ) and sometimes they were even free of dangerous wildlife or raiders waiting to ambush. and sometimes they were even beautiful. kinsey looked over the long grass and the remains of some kind of broken wooden structure jutting out of a tree, finding a strange sense of peace that didn't come easily these days. a tire tied to a branch still swung dutifully in the evening breeze, brushing against the grass.

　　' it seems... quiet. ' save for the quiet buzzing of insects, though they seemed to be the small kind. ' i don't usually trust things when they're quiet, but it doesn't look like there's much for raiders out here. '