WELL I CAN'T STAND TO BE WITH MYSELF

*Independent RP blog* Multiverse, Multiship. Content rated R. Often NSFW DISCLAIMER: Richie belongs to Robert Rodriguez and Quentin Tarantino, Zane Holtz, the faceclaim, belongs to himself. No offence is intended, no profit is being made, mun and muse are 21+. Warning: blood/gore, psychosis, and violent and/or sexual content is likely to be associated with this blog. Engage at your own risk.

[preachersdaughtxr]

                           ❝It doesn’t make me feel better.                              Nothing quite makes me feel better.                              But being thrown into hell wasn’t my idea                              of a vacation. So currently, I’m trying my best not                              to think about the fact that I killed me dad, alright?                              Though, to be honest if another one of those things come                              at me? I won’t hesitate to shove something through its heart.                              So, please tell me you’re not here to eat me.❞

                 She lifts her gaze and for a few moments it stays on his,                  because she need to show him she’s not scared of him.                  Unless of course he might come at her, in which case he’ll                  have this coffee cup shoved in his face so fast he won’t even                  know what hit him.

                             Her stare narrows as her eyebrow raises. Really?                              She’s pretty sure a laugh left her lips as she tilts                              her head to the side. She sits up a bit more straight                              leaning towards him as she tries to figure out what                              exactly brought on the question.

                           ❝Now what would make you think that?                              Because we don’t talk? Would that make                              you jealous if that’s the case? Or are                              you just curious?❞

[screwlowprofile]

"I'm not here to eat you.  I would have thought you'd figured that out by now."

He couldn't say what brought on the question, beyond an almost laser-guided intuition about the things he absolutely shouldn't say and a sick compulsion to say them anyway.  He would have said it was tactical except that would have been a lie, so he just shrugs instead.  Tries for unconcerned.

"Do you want me to be jealous?"

[cobblepxt]

"I think it's broken."

"It’s not broken - it just needs some readjustment." Oswald replied, frowning down to his left shoulder. Okay, that could most likely be out of socket - great. That’s what happens when someone swings a chair at you and makes contact. "Is the address on this piece of shit, or what?" He asked with a hiss following the tail end of his question. He groped at his shoulder under his overcoat and suit jacket. The unconscious man was kicked for good measure, gritting his teeth as it sent a shock wave up to his arm. That wasn’t a smart move on his behalf. 

[cobblepxt]

The stomp behind him made Oswald turn quickly. That wasn’t a wise decision for his side, but seeing his partner’s current position, it was worth it. The question came and his wide eyes slipped away. He shrugged and gave a single nod. “A little.” Just a little. His shoulder was fucked up and it needed assistance because of that piece of garbage. A sucker punch was one thing, a sucker chair was a completely different level of assault. 

"Enough? What is enough?" Oh yeah, that sounded completely reassuring. He needed a yes or a no. He got enough.The bird slammed the back door open with his right hand. Ow. He hissed lowly, somehow each accentuated action was sending shock waves to his injured wing. "If I catch you reading on the internet before you set this, I swear.” It was an idle threat, even if his tone was trying to be intimidating. It was difficult with the pain. 

It didn’t matter, the address to where the safe was delivered was in their hands. 

[screwlowprofile]

"I've done it once before," he drawled, as if it didn't matter, as if that could hope to be any kind of practice.  It was amusing, how concerned Oswald became the minute he wouldn't assure him the way he wanted.  "It's just a matter of lining things back up, how difficult can it really be."  ...granted, if their positions were switched he would be the one whining and protesting and demanding certitudes, but they weren't.  Cobblepot's comfort was in his hands, he couldn't resist twisting the knife a little first.

"Just get in the damn car, nobody dies from a dislocated shoulder."

[midnightinwestwood-deactivated2]

It’s so hard to forget pain, but it’s even harder to remember sweetness. We have no scar to show for happiness. We learn so little from peace.

Chuck Palahniuk (via midnightinwestwood)

[cobblepxt]

"I think it's broken."

"It’s not broken - it just needs some readjustment." Oswald replied, frowning down to his left shoulder. Okay, that could most likely be out of socket - great. That’s what happens when someone swings a chair at you and makes contact. "Is the address on this piece of shit, or what?" He asked with a hiss following the tail end of his question. He groped at his shoulder under his overcoat and suit jacket. The unconscious man was kicked for good measure, gritting his teeth as it sent a shock wave up to his arm. That wasn’t a smart move on his behalf. 

[screwlowprofile]

"You keep doing that you’re going to make it worse," Richard offered blandly as he crouched down next to the guy, beginning to methodically go through his pockets.  "I’m pretty sure he can’t feel that at this point, unless you’re trying to give him more broken bones when he wakes up, in which case please, be my guest.  Fuck up your shoulder more because you’re pissed he got in a good shot."

He couldn’t keep the smirk from his face, a slight, unpleasant quirk of lips that didn’t reach his eyes.  A few more moments of searching and he stood, scrap of paper between his fingers, which he dangled in front of the bird-like man tauntingly.  “Got it.  You done?”

[cobblepxt]

The bird gritted his teeth at his partner in crime, a chesty growl came forth. Those were not the encouraging words he wanted to hear. Hell, they weren’t even encouraging! The least Richie could do was offer up some advice on the matter instead — oh, he had. Stop touching the damn thing. The right hand dropped when Oswald realized he was right. Fuck up your shoulder more, he mimicked in his mind, glaring down as the other man crouched. 

His chest heaved with a heavy exhale through his nose, looking at the paper. At least the address was here and they wouldn’t have to stop off anywhere else tonight. “Is he dead? Does it look like I’m done?” He questioned dryly, motioning to the man on the floor with his right hand. He had half the mind to grab one of those broken chair legs and slam it through the unconscious punk’s left shoulder. Then he could see how he enjoyed the pain. 

"Let’s get out of here before backup arrives." That was his way of saying that he was exhausted and in pain, he was indeed done for the night. Of course he’d never admit it. "You know how to set this?" He asked, making sure to stomp on the down man’s shin as he walked over him. 

[screwlowprofile]

He rolled his eyes, a long-suffering gesture, but reached into his coat all the same, brushed fingertips against the handle of the knife hidden there, a contemplative look on his face. He shook his head, a slight gesture, then took a step forward to jam his heel against the man's throat, pressing until he felt the crunch then holding it there a few beats longer. "There. Close enough. Happy?" He stepped away then, smirk a little wider, something darkly pleased lurking in his eyes as he passed the other man. "I know enough. Better me than the one you'll get if we stick around."

[cobblepxt]

"I think it's broken."

"It’s not broken - it just needs some readjustment." Oswald replied, frowning down to his left shoulder. Okay, that could most likely be out of socket - great. That’s what happens when someone swings a chair at you and makes contact. "Is the address on this piece of shit, or what?" He asked with a hiss following the tail end of his question. He groped at his shoulder under his overcoat and suit jacket. The unconscious man was kicked for good measure, gritting his teeth as it sent a shock wave up to his arm. That wasn’t a smart move on his behalf. 

[screwlowprofile]

"You keep doing that you're going to make it worse," Richard offered blandly as he crouched down next to the guy, beginning to methodically go through his pockets.  "I'm pretty sure he can't feel that at this point, unless you're trying to give him more broken bones when he wakes up, in which case please, be my guest.  Fuck up your shoulder more because you're pissed he got in a good shot."

He couldn't keep the smirk from his face, a slight, unpleasant quirk of lips that didn't reach his eyes.  A few more moments of searching and he stood, scrap of paper between his fingers, which he dangled in front of the bird-like man tauntingly.  "Got it.  You done?"

[preachersdaughtxr]

                           ❝Being aware of what’s going on around me,                              does scare me, Richie. I mean— I know what’s                              out there and it’s terrifying. So, maybe it’s best                              to be distracted— Unaware.❞

              Her eyes flicker to his momentarily, before falling away               and onto the coffee cup she’s been toying with for about               fifteen minutes now. How was Seth doing? Well, he didn’t               really talk about his feelings much— or about anything, really,               so she assumed he was surviving, just as much as she was.

                           ❝I think he’s doing alright.                              Misses you, I’m sure.                              We don’t really talk much.❞

[screwlowprofile]

"I refuse to believe that.  Fear's a survival instinct.  It means there's something you don't understand; you learn how to deal with it, you're not afraid anymore.  The answer isn't...pretending it's not there because it makes you feel better."

Her gaze might flit, find something else to fixate on because it's more comfortable, but his doesn't drop an inch, watching her intently, as if she's a puzzle he's trying to solve.  He doesn't understand it; if you have a problem you fix the problem, you don't try to run away from it, and he'd thought she was the same way.

Seems the Twister changed a lot more than he originally thought.

"Then what do you do," he asked, a smirk twisting his lips.  "Fuck?"  And maybe it wasn't the most appropriate insight, maybe it was rude and impolite and crossed a line, but it wasn't too far a jump to make, he thought, and at least maybe it would get some kind of real reaction out of her.  Something other than the defeated kid whistling past the graveyard to try to forget there were monsters lurking behind the headstones.

[screwlowprofile]

That's dirty

"All in how you think about it," he countered with a smirk, although admittedly yeah, he’d absolutely meant it that way, and really there were only a few different ways somebody could take it.

[anyamarshall-deactivated2015020]

The blonde didn’t bother to reply to his time limit and began to undo his pants, working the fabric at the same time she worked on her own. It wasn’t much because accommodatingly, she was wearing a knee-length skirt. He had her cornered against the wall and she couldn’t help but stare at him seductively as she tugged down his pants, then his boxers which then released his length. Her hands wrapped around his cock as she began to stroke it before going on her knees to get his member. Lips curled around the tip as she sucked a kiss and then made her way down his shaft, taking his length all in as hands did the pumping. She hummed at the base and made her way upwards, blue eyes glancing up at him to watch his lovely face. 

[screwlowprofile]

No, she was the one calling the shots now, as eyes lost their focus, not that he really minded.  "Shit, Anya," he breathed, "That works too," but he lost the train of thought after that, at least for the moment.

[screwlowprofile]

♣

Send ♣ for a drunk message

[text to KATE]: I'm just that drunk tells people I love them or wants to set them on fire. Accept that.

[anyamarshall-deactivated2015020]

ϟ

XXV: “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

[anyamarshall-deactivated2015020]

"Do you have any better ideas for a ‘sorry we missed your birthday’ card?

[screwlowprofile]

"You could always just not miss it.  I know it’s a novel concept but it usually works."

[anyamarshall-deactivated2015020]

"You are no help Richie, why did I even invite you to come with me anyways?"

[screwlowprofile]

"Because you like punishing me for things I didn't do?"

[anyamarshall-deactivated2015020]

"What the hell do you think you’re doing?"

"I’m yelling at fucking Dante because he isn’t doing what I want him to do! Is that such a problem?"

[screwlowprofile]

"Okay, next question why do you have to do it so damn close to my ear?"

[anyamarshall-deactivated2015020]

ϟ

XXV: “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

[anyamarshall-deactivated2015020]

"Do you have any better ideas for a ‘sorry we missed your birthday’ card?

[screwlowprofile]

"You could always just not miss it.  I know it's a novel concept but it usually works."

[screwlowprofile]

ϟ

VIII.  Put some clothes on!

[anyamarshall-deactivated2015020]

"You are such a prude and what the hell are you practicing anyways?"

[screwlowprofile]

"I AM NOT," he countered with a scowl, looking even more like an overgrown child as he bent over the test lock.  "What do you think I'm practicing, you don't stay at the top of the pack unless you hone your skills.  I've got a dummy for the next gen line of that model that gave me trouble last job we pulled."

[anyamarshall-deactivated2015020]

ϟ

XXV: “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

[screwlowprofile]

He shot her a critical look.  “You don’t mean that.”

[anyamarshall-deactivated2015020]

"Of course I don’t, this is what it says on the hallmark card."

[screwlowprofile]

"Well it's a stupid card."

[preachersdaughtxr]

                           ❝I’ve almost gotten killed while paying attention.                              If it’s going to happen— it’s going to happen.                              I’m done being scared.❞

                It was more like she had nothing left to loose,                 so why be scared of something she couldn’t                 change? Anyway, if she died it meant she’d be                 reunited with her parents, didn’t it? Oh no, that’s                 right. She’s going to hell. So, maybe she should                 hold off on dying.

                           ❝Yeah. He went to the bathroom….                              I think.❞

[screwlowprofile]

I'm sorry, he thought, and he was, but that wouldn't help, and anyway he couldn't get the words out, they lodged in his throat.  Trivial, in context, and too late besides.  It wasn't as if it would do anything, change anything.  "I'm not saying you have to be scared," he countered instead, frowning.  "Even if I doubt that's true.  Being aware of what's going on around you has nothing to do with fear."

And sure, she was right.  If anyone like him had any designs on her throat, there ultimately wasn't much she could do about it.  But even so.

He nodded in acknowledgment of Seth's whereabouts.  "I can wait."  A beat, wariness bleeding through despite his attempts to conceal it.  "How's he doing?"

[princessvanguard-deactivated201]

Send my character a text that was meant for them but they were never supposed to receive.

[screwlowprofile]

ϟ

XII.  “Do you wanna stay the night?”

[anyamarshall-deactivated2015020]

She rolled around a few times, brain buzzing with alcohol as the fellow thief sketched her. It had been a lovely night in, and the two had drank a few shots and enjoyed the space of the small hotel room. Seth had gone somewhere and didn’t bother to give details. Anya picked herself up from the floor and walked over to Richard, raking her fingers through her hair as she brushed it away from her face. ‘Yes, let me see Richard, I bet it’s beautiful.” she mumbled, stretching out her hand to receive the book whenever he was ready. 

[screwlowprofile]

"It's okay," he offered with a shrug before handing it to her, suddenly self-conscious.  A page or so before would be...inconvenient for her to land on, but the spread it was open too was just fine, and he hoped (even though he knew he shouldn't really expect it, the universe generally acted towards inconvenience) she would be content with the one she had.  He dropped his head, watched her sidelong as she examined it.

[houndstar]

My “people skills” are “rusty”