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me, rewatching the museum scene with bilquis and tb again because i love them and the dynamics of that scene: look at this... look at this person who uses sexuality as a tool to fuel and defend herself encounter an asexual who’s got this dichotomy between connection and disconnect, this old and young meeting, and they’re equally intimidated by the other but they’re both way too proud to back down.
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@tchboy said: adopt me.
I AM NOT ADOPTING YOU. YOU TRIED TO KILL ME AND YOUR MOTHER KEEPS TRYING TO SHOW ME HER TITS.
IRRITATION’S BECOME SECOND NATURE TO SHADOW : like the blood that thrums in veins, the way lungs constrict and relax to allow oxygen into his body. irritation seeps from his pores like a vile stench he can’t seem to get rid of. of course anger is becoming a close second now : when dark hues land upon the boy who lynched him not too long ago. fingers instinctively move to his neck, still sore and bruised, mouth set into a hard line. ❛ attacking me once wasn’t enough ? ❜ doesn’t seem like the other is about to speak yet ( which is weird, given how he wouldn’t shut up initally. ) ❛ what do you want, kid ? ❜ this whole mess is beginning to get out of control. he was meant to be a bodyguard. nothing more, nothing less . . . but it looks like he’s on his way back to jail at this point. // ♥’d for a starter ! @tchboy
Media: *hat flies off*
Tech Boy: *shoves her out the way* MOVE IT BITCH THAT HAT IS GUCCI
-------
---------- After the first bite is devoured, and his gluttony subdued for a bit, he can finally savor the buttery taste and texture between his teeth, humming at the sweet and salty playing tricks on his taste buds.
Popcorn, he will always be a sucker for it.
Per usual there is that one stubborn kennel that gets stuck, and he struggles with it in the shadows of the theater, only a minute into the movie that casts flashes of orange and red over a very annoyed face.
Static. A flicker of it passing the large screen, and his tongue stops wiggling, eyes narrowing at the screen.
[ @technogod ]
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catch tb screaming about having no new clothes while media kills zombies in the bg with a crazed look in their eyes
catch media covered in God Knows What while laughing like a fucking maniac and telling tb “GO RAID VIA BELLAGIO AND BRING ME BACK SOME JIMMY CHOOS”
tchboy replied to your post: tchboy replied to your post: ...
i hope im adopted
WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU HOPE THAT
&& @tchboy ;;
HE HAD NOT SHOWN UP TO THE SHAM OF A BATTLE: she’d asked in a monotone voice at first; languid, soft: only a hint of COLD FURY flitting about the edges when asked if she’d known about World. Where is The Technical Boy? Radio silence. She’d twitched; gone down the ranks. Where? Where? STATIC. The bitch with phosphor dots across her face like a CONSTELLATION muttered something about the fucking pixie cave and she started to speed walk. The shoes came off. Left those in the dust as she broke into a sprint. No time to answer the press; a blur of New Gods packing up into limos and sports cars: ALL EYES ON HER. Not today. Not now. She smelt him before she found him: a heady, sickening scent of smoke and fire: something ELECTRICAL that had gone on the fritz in the darkness of the cave. Fuck. FUCK. Nothing good, nothing PEACHY ever came of that. The scent of oil; the scent of BLOOD and ROT. By the light of an electric lantern, she could make out the shapes of what had recently been Mister World and Laura Moon. Both bloody; both still, one had died with a comical look of horror on his scarred face and the other was SERENE. The scent was stronger now: covered up the flesh and blood; her eyes lingering upon the man who had never been Mister World. “You fucking idiot. Fucking piece of SHIT.” A hiss; she made a point to step on him as she moved; relished the CRACK of bone underfoot. Where was he? Where, where -- Oh.
“Shit.” A fucking Burberry raincoat. That’s what he’d been covered in by a SNAKE who’d no business touching him; no reason to. She dragged it off with a grunt; suit askew, dirty; found him OOZING and bleeding; short-circuiting like a SYSTEM CRASH had taken place. Eyes widened: static buzzed in the air like flies and she could not tell if he was still breathing. “Fucking -- Kid, you better be alive.” Hands tapped at his cheeks: there wasn’t a POWER BUTTON to hit. “Come on, come on: you’re tougher than that bitch on the ground!”
