‘ feet off the coffee table, please. ‘
paternal instincts still run rampant. ratonhnhaké:ton—or,
connor—is younger than some, older than others, but still
young enough to be his son. he does not mean to belittle
him in any way, but rather guide him in a fashion akin to a
father. jack has no children. he does not need any when
the youngest member of his team is only 19. this fatherly
consternation extends to every member of the resurgence.
‘ if your cybernetics ever wear down,
torby is the best engineer you’ll ever
find. he’ll help you. ‘
ogling skyward ❪ a ceiling so . . . austere ❫, hazel maneuvered downcast at unclad feet preceding their removal. laconic vernacular seized his tongue -- secrecy a machete connor clasped to his HEART. ❝ . . . tor-- . . . oh. ❞ hard frown substituted his neutral visage. apprehension already published, the cyborg s e l d o m pushed open gates to unmask himself to everyone. toes curled & uncurled; left hand resting on correspondent knee, other lethargic on his seat. ❝ as of now, nothing has malfunctioned. the doctor necessitates a ten-year check up: i have another eight years to go. ❞
he exhibited no apparent conviction in the team, his presence among them reasonably new. yet communication decelerated to a comprehensible level around jack -- GRADUALLY, the boy will learn.
izzy806
blakekathryn
vaporwave
tangentwithtanner
jacobvanloon
