@theartofmadeline
Xuebing Du
No title available
PR's Tumblrdome
oozey mess
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
★
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
noise dept.
wallacepolsom
if i look back, i am lost
$LAYYYTER
Sweet Seals For You, Always
🪼
No title available
One Nice Bug Per Day
YOU ARE THE REASON
祝日 / Permanent Vacation
izzy's playlists!
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
seen from United States
seen from Georgia
seen from Nepal
seen from Spain
seen from Russia
seen from Germany
seen from Spain
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Uzbekistan
seen from United Kingdom
seen from France
seen from United States
seen from Norway
seen from Egypt
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from India
seen from Singapore
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
@psychekinesis
Next April when Thanksgiving happens I already know what I'm gonna tell the Thanks Turkey. I'm gonna say, thanks so much for filling the outside with fun things and real pretty people-- an' thanks for making it so big and huge. It's my favorite part about the outside, definitely.
It'll be great. Like a real American tradition!
Hey- listen! Hey listen hey listen!
I just saw you right at this exact moment but I gotta tell you stranger-- hoohoo, you've got like at least the third-best face I've ever seen in my whole life! It made me real happy just now!
I know I know-- hoohoo, everyone I ever met was prolly super duper worried about me an' where I was an' what I was doin'! But I'm here, there, every single where to put all the worries to rest an' 'fess up about my whereabouts!
I was out getting my shit kicked in! It was the best thing that's happened since Animal Crossing!
Slade is good at asking the vital questions, applying deliberate stimuli to acquire desired results, but this, as in any true jackpot win, was down to sheer good fortune.
Unbelievable good fortune. Jump City has pushed an unsupervised telekinetic into his path. For a second, the second Ness’s attention is diverted, his eye widens; he stares at the laces tying themselves and doesn’t dare to blink.
When the second is over, his unimpressed appearance slides back into place. It’s a practiced shift, and, to his mind, it has all the significance of a starting flag: race conditions optimal, grand prize waiting, on your mark, get set…
Go.
There’s a telekinetic fifteen-year-old who talks like he’s five years younger, minimum, brazenly showing his powers to a stranger. Where is he headed? Are there parent or guardian figures in the picture? How deep does the naivete run, assuming it’s not an act; does it dampen his fight-or-flight instinct? (Do the Titans know him? Could this all be a very unlikely trap?) If he’s not careful, he will bring those answers down on himself in the worst possible way. Best to keep the ‘reasonably concerned adult’ act going for the moment.
"Hmph." Sounding too dismissive might push the boy away, so he balances the rumble by making it sound considering. Slade grips with his captured hand, makes an impromptu handshake out of Ness’s overeager gesture.
"Slade Wilson. Not ‘Mr. Fox’, though I’ve been told I’m crazy like one." Small talk tastes almost as saccharine as those ridiculous hooting laughs—he’s going to put a stop to those, if the kid comes to work for him—but it’s a necessary evil. Countering the possessive urge that’s already sprung up, he breaks the handshake. (Though if Ness wanted to keep hold, he wouldn’t have to try too hard.)
Now, the vital moment. Phrase this question wrong and it’s all over. “Ness. Should I be worried that your mother’s about to come around the corner, furious that you’ve run off?” He keeps staring the telepath down, direct, stern, but his words are conspiratorial, punctuated with the beginnings of a smirk.
Because Ness couldn't do anything by halves if he tried, his disappointment in the breaking of contact isn't subtle, but a palpable force-- an overexaggerated frown, an open look of sharp and sudden focus at the hand he had just been holding. But, because Ness was well-trained, once upon a time, he doesn't twitch a single muscle toward Slade in spite of the sudden hunger that saturates his expression; only there for a moment before he remembers this is a different time, a different place, and Macklemore didn't free the gays so that Ness Loud could forget he's a human nowadays. Not a weapon.
"Slade Wilson! Sla--ade. Wilson!" Tested in his mouth, the name sounds good; he grins again at Slade, bright as the sun, and shouts, "Hoo-- hoohoohoo, it's real nice to meet you Slade Wilson!
Something glints in the corner of Ness' vision, a starburst distraction from the question posed to him. He turns his face half-away, tracks the movement of light for a half-second. No threat, the glass and chrome parts of his thought process supply. Just light reflected on metal-- remember how adults don't like it when your focus shifts?
"--Nah!" He chirps, belated, "Mommy's at home still in like a whole other state or something, probably. Hoohoo-- 'less she got smashed!"
Not that she would, Ness thinks. S is too practical to smash such a useful piece of equipment as Mommy, no matter how mad he gets.
i should change ness loud's url bc as much as i love gratuitous earthbound jokes from a kid who literally named himself after the game, i feel maybe it is a little confusing for other ppl
but idk i am so barely on this blog and i only ever rp with like four people on it so maybe it doesnt matter
this is the only thing i care about. after the sun has collapsed and the universe has retracted into a singularity i hope this video continues to exist somewhere in paradox space.
i do not think this guy needs that coffee
this guy definitely does not need that coffee
Let’s see, more information to unravel—that flinch, for instance. The contrast between untroubled grin and tense shoulders. What kind of kid flinches, but doesn’t yell out when grabbed by a stranger on the street? He’s not too sheltered to know better; he’s walking alone in the middle of Jump. A shout would’ve been easy to deflect: a quick hands-off and some remonstrating words in his best old codger impression would work. But there’s no need.
So maybe the kid—yes, you, don’t be cute—isn’t so bright, and not fond of being touched. It could be that easy. (Slade really hopes it isn’t that easy.)
Ness? Loud? Who names their child Ness Loud?
None of this internal analysis comes anywhere near his surface expression, except to lend a dose of added emphasis to a quizzical head-tilt. He doesn’t bother to attempt to even the height difference between them. “You’re fifteen and you can’t remember to tie your shoes, Ness Loud, but you flirt with senior citizens?” Slade glances pointedly down at the offending shoelaces, lets his eyebrows do the real talking. That should buy him one more moment to think.
Unless this is an unusually dull fifteen-year-old, which isn’t entirely out of the question, he should have provoked more alarm in Ness. The shoulder-hold wasn’t exactly gentle. And the only other explanations for such a lack of concern are either that the boy is mentally unstable, or that he somehow thinks he can handle himself against a grown man.
Perhaps both.
The stranger's question draws a confused blink from Ness: he looks down at the dragging laces, as if it had never occurred to him before that perhaps those strings were meant to be tied. Maybe it hadn't-- he mostly remembers slippers, back home (in the lab) and never really thought about why his shoes were too loose to run in when he could simply float.
Of course, the blessed moment of confusion (and Ness Loud's complete and total silence) comes to an end almost before it begins. He looks away from his laces, lets them knot themselves into sloppy Gordian tangles with a burst of thought; and instead of thinking about what he just did, in public, he raises his little chin to look the stranger in the eye.
"I only flirt with really attractive people, 'specially if they're senior citizens--" the strange emphasis place on the phrase gives it away: Ness has no idea what a senior citizen is, "--an', you're like a silver fox, Mr. Fox!"
He also doesn't quite understand the phrase silver fox, except in the basest of terms, but Ness has really never let that sort of thing stop him. Instead of ruminating on his own cluelessness, he bounces forward and catches one of the man's hands with all the earnestness and gravitas of someone who really and truly believes that flirting is the key to human happiness.
"Like the silverest fox even. Hoohoohoo-- you believe me, right Mr. Fox?"
The boy isn’t ten, not judging by his vocal range, but that saccharine apology could have come straight from the mouth of a kindergarten kid. Far from charming. He can just imagine what comes next…yes. The excuse, the quip. What is it with this city and predictable irresponsible teen stereotypes?
Slade doesn’t quite take a step, but he’s leaning, edging around the boy and the predictably inane sentence that he won’t be sticking around to hear—
—or not.
Two moments pass. In one, he blinks, frozen, thought suspended. Internal error. Reloading….
Then the second moment comes, and he’s got this anomaly by the shoulder, and they’re moving off the sidewalk into the shade of a bistro’s awning. There’s something to be gained here. Naivete, innuendo, possible lack of internal filter, and offhanded mentions of illegal conduct. Life might as well have written ‘pet project’ in bright yellow paint on the concrete where they stand.
"How old are you, kid?"
High, tense shoulders are the only giveaway that Ness might have been surprised to be touched so suddenly, or that he might have jolted with nervous telekinetic energy. His first instinct is to toss his new conversational partner as far as he can, in one hard burst of animal fear.
Instead though, the hard twitch that the man's touch elicits is followed with another much-too-bright smile, all guileless edges and sharp stupidity: the firm grip is a sense-memory of white corridors and K's pinching grasp, played out in a crowded city street and a too-strong stranger.
(Though Ness' instincts seize and flutter to throw the man, his training keeps his feet on the ground and his entire body an invitation-- one that says, "I'm harmless, I like you.")
"Hoohoo-- who, me?" His lungs whistle on the inhale, a wheezy and light-headed noise of warning utterly ignored in favor of dragging his gaze up and up and up-- he declares, as matter-of-fact as he can, "I'm fifteen and a minute an' my name's Ness Loud!"
"And you have a name too! What's your name, Mister Fox? Why'd you grab me, Mister Fox? I'll have you know-- I only let especially good-looking people grab me like that, so feel lucky!"
+ earthboundaries
Look, cities are busy places, he understands that. But it’s one thing to bump into someone and it’s another to flat-out collapse onto them.
How old is this kid? Ten? All right, so he’s being uncharitable, but the boy would certainly look a bit older if he bothered to tie his shoes.
It’s all he can do not to haul the brat up by the back of his shirt.
"Try to watch where you’re going, would you?”
"So-oorryyy!" The word is stretched thin in a childish bid to sound more sincere, a technique Ness Loud learned from one too many reruns of Little Einsteins played just loud enough to make Flare complain of migraines.
"I was watching where I was going see, just--" Here, Ness interrupts himself with a hooting laugh, bouncing on his toes with a little more force than strictly necessary and only just clinging to the illusion of gravity. Whatever he had been about to say fades into silence, and he drags a twitchy gaze over the man's features before breaking into a bright, sincere smile.
"I definitely wouldn't run into a handsome guy like you on purpose! Unless it was to get your, your digits! Or like to plant evidence or something! Hi!"
Today I smoked my very first cigarette!
Soon I'll be the hardest motherfucker on these streets, hoohoo!
Surprise, bitch! Bet you thought you'd seen the last of me!
...Did I say it right! Macklemore didn't free the gays so I could say it wrong!
crawls online im sorry im a little stoned i probably shouldnt be peckin at replies at this hour but
Sweet and sour chicken pizza.
And you can call me Falcon.
The very best pizza ever invented! Falcon, sir, it's the best in the whole world!
[ A bird codename, though. Like, Agent Albatross? Ness is pretty sure that's fictional, but what if there really is a bird-themed world police officer on the conspiracy radar? ]
This is your daily reminder that trousers were invented by Satan and that if you want to keep your soul you should never wear them.
harlemsguardian replied to your post:+ aprofoundduplicity + harlemsguardian Guten...
That’s what they’re calling for. What’s your name, kid?
Last name, Loud! First name, Ness!
The Test Tube Casanova and undisputed king of sweet and sour chicken pizza, hoohoo! What's your name sir, huh, what is it!
-I will bear the shame of this genocide forever -No. You will be remembered as a hero. -I will be remembered as a killer
