i'm infected. @genedebt-blog - Tumblr Blog

now is a good time for you to know that as far as cole is concerned, god made women and then god made bee.

SHE IS BETTER THAN STAR WARS.

#➤ the poster child of progress — self promo.#( lol tumblr broke all my notifications so i just ended up making a new blog while junk is broken )

hatesdecaf:

HE’S FLOORED. he’d expected her to scream and order him away long ago – instead, she’s offered an invitation for food, an excuse to keep him in the house rather than kick him out. thin lips part in surprise, and for a moment, he looks as though her selfless gesture’s about to be met with another harsh retort ; instead, the unthinkable happens, and he closes his mouth to stifle any undue cruelty. she’s lost enough, he reckons, and despite his media presence ( infamy? ) he’s not heartless enough to let her loneliness consume her. ( after all, he knows better than most what it’s like to have nothing left. )

❛ you know how to cook? ‘cause i sure as fuck don’t. ❜

shilo pauses, lips pressed together as she considers her response. of course she physically understands how to cook -- there are only so many ways to spend time, shut inside one house for an entire lifetime ( even a short one. ) she hesitates to confirm her ability, however, because anything she manages to stitch together out of whatever is still safe to eat after several weeks will fall desperately short of anything a largo is used to eating.

❝ i know -- enough, ❞ she decides aloud. ❝ it might not be that good, but i won’t burn it. ❞

#hatesdecaf #➤ but the little girl fled — post canon.

darlingmarni:

@genedebt . sc.

The chill of the night prompted the woman in the shadows to tug her jacket tighter around her form, least it nip and bite at her flesh. Everything felt different now – and the lone woman felt like a stranger in her own town. She felt like a puzzle piece that didn’t quite met the ends of those around her; falling with nothing to catch it until it threatened to end up in an abyss of saturated grays. Her feet took her here – to a tomb with a corpse that didn’t truly exist; the only evidence of her approaching the leaves mourning beneath each step that she took. She stops – caught off guard as she did not expect there to be another shadow at the tomb ; another woman – younger than she was. She hesitated, hands tucked into the pockets of her thick jacket ; an article of clothing that made her look much bulkier than she was. She wondered if she should stay where she was, or announce her presence to the stranger. Before she could come to a decision, the figure shifts ever so slightly ; enough for the bathing light of the moon to catch their facial features. And Marni Wallace feels her stomach grow just as cold as the night around her, swallowing around the sensation of ashes and soot. She knows her – she would know her even without the pictures that floated around. Her voice is soft when she speaks, barely over the soft wind that rustles the dying leaves and branches around them, “ … - Shilo? “

shilo jumps to her feet, whirling to face the woman who called out to her. the whole city knew her name -- her face -- thanks to her unwitting society DEBUT at the opera, but there is no one here for her now. the sound of her own name leaves her alert, not comforted. anyone she had cared about died that night.

despite her immediate apprehension, there is something altogether comforting in the stranger’s face, and for a confused moment, shilo is sure she seems unlike a stranger at all.

if she were to let her imagination run entirely wild, she would say that the woman reminds her of...

the thought itself frightens her, urges her feet backwards, and she grasps at the strap of her bag like it might somehow protect her from the GHOST before her. was it a trick? was someone wearing her mother’s face?

❝ who are you? ❞ she asks, trying to swallow the lump in her throat, knowing that the answer she wants to hear is simultaneously the answer that will frighten her the most.

#darlingmarni #➤ but the little girl fled — post canon.

hatesdecaf:

OH, PERFECT TIMING. at least she’s not the press, or a GenCop looking to arrest him and tack yet another misdemeanor onto a record they know won’t stick. he can feel the blood seeping through his jacket and onto his shirt, and he knows he’s made a mistake ; there’s no GenTern to offer him new clothing, no assistant from which he can yank a clean shirt and pass off his old one. the thought makes his skin crawl. with a disinterested look, he lets out a breath he’s been holding for far too long, and gives the dead man one final glance before returning his attention to the girl before him. she’s not familiar – but doesn’t she know better than to mess with him? ❛ none’a your fuckin’ business. why? you wanna join him? ❜

❝ ------ no, i--i don’t. ❞

it occurs to her that the question was surely rhetorical, but the words slip out in spite of logic. she recognizes him now, belatedly realizing how often she has seen his face on tv, advertising the MERITS of becoming an organ donor. of course, she is equally aware of the murderous scandals surrounding him on what seems like a daily basis.

shilo takes an uneasy step backwards. she had assumed, in her naivete, that the death had been justified ( in luigi’s mind, perhaps it was. ) she had expected self-defense. she’s certain now that it isn’t so.

❝ he was already like this when i got here; i didn’t see anything. ❞

#hatesdecaf #➤ raised with the best intentions — main.

brotherseen:

he’s visiting george. what’s left of him, anyway. he visits george as often as he can, comes and talks to him the way he would if he were still here. just your typical bi-weekly phone call to your brother, giving him an update on your life, except in this case he’s dead and he can’t hear you.

he’s in the middle of telling george all about the latest scandal he’s reported on when he hears a loud noise behind him and the hairs on the back of his neck raise immediately. he’s not behind on his payments, but the fear that his brain is going to be repossessed is always in the back of his borrowed mind. alternatively, he thinks of his brother, ripped apart by organ peddlers, and his stomach turns at the thought.

“—is someone there?” he asks, completely stutter-free. he pauses, waits for a response, and then straightens his spine, turning to walk toward the sound. “… hello?”

shilo’s whole body goes rigid, knees curled tightly to her chest. he’s going to find her. she can hear the stranger’s footsteps approaching, and her heart beats violently in her chest as she tries to keep her nervous breaths soft. it feels like even the smallest motions echo off the stone walls of the mausoleum.

she doesn’t assume that the stranger means her harm, but she isn’t supposed to be here, and the idea of being CAUGHT frightens her. what if something happens? what if her father finds out?

even so, a meeting seems inescapable. she decides, as his footsteps draw near, that she would rather face whatever comes of this standing than cowering, so she rises on unsteady legs, peeking out between the bars.

❝ ----- just me. ❞

#brotherseen #➤ raised with the best intentions — main.

@finalopera / ♥’d this post

❝ what did you and mom used to do together? ❞ she asks, and now that her nerves have worn down, she is positively GIDDY. how often has she daydreamed about meeting blind mag? now they are tucked away in her room like old friends.

#finalopera #➤ raised with the best intentions — main.#( au where they get to have some godmom bonding )

hatesdecaf:

WHAT DID SHE SAY? there’s a visible reaction to her words, teeth baring in a sneer of confusion as he recoils slightly, head nearly spinning at the concept of gratitude being offered to a man who all too often silenced those who dared to speak. the same man that actively encouraged her father’s death merely weeks before, gloved hands leading her across the stage in spur of the moment blocking. they have both loved and lost the most important person in their lives, their motivators, their inhibitors – and for a split second, he wonders if, perhaps, she’s being kind to him not out of pity, but understanding. there’s no arguing that she’s inherently a better person than he, and she’s only serving to prove it in this moment.

❛ whatever. you can do it your fuckin’ self now. ❜

he’s right, of course. despite struggling against a nearly overwhelming exhaustion, she is awake now, and lucid enough to take care of herself -- at least in theory. even if it weren’t the case, she isn’t BRAZEN OR FOOLHARDY enough to ask that he stay and help her again. she had left the opera with the full intention of getting away from the largo family, and all of the twisted influence they had held over her life.

but she’s never been alone before. she realizes with frightening clarity that the instant he leaves this house, it will be completely empty, nothing more than a monument to all that she’s lost.

shilo’s palms run across the crown of her head and she’s surprised by the shallow growth she finds there. she has yet to even see herself, she realizes. she isn’t even entirely sure how long ago the opera was. she turns from luigi, reaching for the knob on her bedroom door.

she can do it her fucking self now.

❝ you could eat WITH me. if you wanted to, ❞ she offers quietly. anything to delay the inevitable silence that will fill her house once there is no one else in it.

#hatesdecaf #➤ but the little girl fled — post canon.

ooc. tumblr keeps switching safe mode back on. even tumblr wants my girl to be sheltered.

#➤ sometimes i wonder how we ever got here — ooc.#( this is like 1/3rd of a shitpost )

hatesdecaf:

SO SHE DID REMEMBER. at least, to an extent. her wording makes his service seem far more sinister than actuality, and he visibly bristles at what, to his oft - chastised, sensitive ears, sounds like an accusation. ❛ well, don’t make it sound like i forced ya or nothin’. ❜ his tone is defensive, slender shoulders tightening beneath his pinstriped coat ; the backlash he’s fully learned to expect will never come – not from this frail, frightened child – but subconscious instincts fall into place none the less. to what could he relate, if not a frightened child?

❛ you looked like a goddamn corpse when i got here. ❜

although his words are still abrasive, they do not startle her as intensely the second time. she hadn’t meant it the way he’d heard it, but she doesn’t try to correct him, sensing that it might hurt more than help in this particular situation.

❝ so you did help me, ❞ she answers, choosing to take no insult from his words. she isn’t altogether certain that a CORPSE is too far from what she’d been, after all. knowing what he’d done for her -- although she cannot begin to fathom why he’d done it -- drains the fear from her stiff frame. slowly, as if in direct contrast to the way luigi’s frame locks up, her own muscles slowly relax. ❝ ---- THANK YOU. ❞

#hatesdecaf #➤ but the little girl fled — post canon.

@hatesdecaf

❝ ---- what did he do? ❞

shilo steps carefully around the body, trying to remain a respectful distance away as she eases around it, pulse throbbing from her throat to her wrists. she’s never seen a victim of repossession, but this doesn’t seem to be one of them. it doesn’t look as though anything is MISSING. on the contrary -- aside from the pool of blood beneath him, he looks entirely in tact. somehow that seems far more frightening.

#hatesdecaf #➤ raised with the best intentions — main.#( what do i do when i run out of starters to write? )#( write more starters for cole )

organdebt

you’re the world to me. / shilo and nathan wallace of repo! the genetic opera. highly nsfw. written by jude and cole.

#➤ in you is a world of promise — promo.#➤ the poster child of progress — self promo.#( casually sobs over this promo )

ooc. out of context the scene where shilo’s pretending to sing like blind mag just looks like she’s getting murdered.

#➤ sometimes i wonder how we ever got here — ooc.#( i have no idea why this is so funny to me )

@syntheticbodied / ♥’d this post

she’s only met amber sweet once before now, on one of her unplanned excursions with graverobber -- she doesn’t know what else to call him -- and she can’t say for sure that the dosed heiress she met was an entirely accurate representation. it is, however, the only memory she has to go off of. following the opera, shilo had run just as soon as she was able, as far from gene co and the horrors it had inflicted on her family.

she had returned only for her birthday, the anniversary of her mother’s death, to visit the tomb. she had not known at the time just how frenzied her arrival and immediate departure from the public eye had left the media, how IMPATIENTLY the tabloids had awaited her return.

in all honesty, she can’t remember the exact events that lead her back to sanitarium square, only that in a flurry of questions and cameras she had agreed, and for the first time since the opera she found herself face to face with one of the largo siblings.

❝ ---- they said you’re in charge now, ❞ she greets.

#syntheticbodied #➤ but the little girl fled — post canon.#( if you'd rather have something during canon let me know! )

hatesdecaf:

OH, IT’S AWKWARD. bright blue eyes watch her like a wary hawk, brow furrowing as thin lips settle into their trademark scowl. ❛ so what if i am? ❜ the words are practically spat before he can even think to withhold them, and the way his chest suddenly heaves, shoulders lifting, betrays the fact that his words have shocked ( upset? ) even himself. teeth grit in agitation as he lifts one hand and absently rubs at the base of his neck, feeling the telltale bump of his spine beneath the glove’s leather.

❛ i mean– shit. ❜ he’s struggling now, gaze flitting between the floor and the slowly - growing tufts of hair covering the expanse of her head. ❛ don’t fucking tell me you don’t remember. ❜

ALARM registers on her face only a thin second before it reaches her bare feet, which immediately skitter backwards, placing distance between herself and the eldest largo sibling. running away is an old habit.

her startled dash pauses at his following statement, brows twisting in confusion. remember? she remembers the opera, remembers leaving in the same car that brought her to it...

everything that follows is a fog of nightmares and barely conscious waking. when she concentrates -- closes her eyes and searches through the mixed up pieces -- she remembers... food? eating had required work, and it was perhaps the most awake she had been since she’d stopped taking her tainted medicine. her chipped fingernails press against her lips as she chases the memory, and as nonsensical as it seems, she finds that she associates it with luigi’s face. she almost doesn’t say it, nervous of the reaction she’ll earn from something so far-fetched.

❝ did you... FEED me? ❞

#hatesdecaf #➤ but the little girl fled — post canon.

@brotherseen / ♥’d this post

it takes a moment before she realizes there is a voice outside, and her first instinct is to cower down against the floor so no one will see her. curiosity, however, urges her toward the door of her mother’s tomb, and she lifts onto her toes as she peeks through the bars. it’s a man, speaking over a grave. she’s jealous, although she knows it’s unfair. nothing GOOD brings anyone to a graveyard, but at least he is free to visit as he pleases.

her fingers wind around the bars as she eases closer, but her spying is interrupted by a metallic CLATTER as her foot brushes the canister she’d brought to catch bugs with. immediately she drops down, back pressed to the door, heart pounding so hard it makes her dizzy. she struggles to take deep, steadying breaths. if she gets too anxious, she might pass out. she has to stay calm.

#brotherseen #➤ raised with the best intentions — main.#( chaaaaarles )

@zydratedealer / ♥’d this post

the sight of him makes her instantly wary. every time she sees him, she ends up in some kind of trouble. to his credit, he has also helped her get out of trouble with equal frequency, but she can’t help wondering what new strangeness is about to enter her life thanks to his presence.

❝ be QUIET, okay? i’m not supposed to be here! ❞ she whispers.

#zydratedealer #➤ raised with the best intentions — main.#( ugh it won't let me tag you )

starter call. i’m gonna make more icons and probably hunt down a meme or two, but in the interim, feel free to LIKE THIS POST and i’ll write you a short thing.

#➤ sometimes i wonder how we ever got here — ooc.

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i'm infected.