#99soren

[zacharyx99-blog]

zachariah bennett abraham parsinger: 31 years of so done with your shit

[99styx]

+Reputation;

@99soren

about a year earlier...

He had seen him around a couple of times. As one of the hosts and main fighters, Amir’s bound to recognize those who start becoming regulars. Most of the times a lot of newcomers get in the ring thinking it’s all just child’s play, that you’d just throw a couple of punches and be done with it. Unfortunately for them, the Underdome isn’t just for rough housing. Those overconfident little people often end their first visit squirming on the floor, they’re lucky if they still keep their teeth and nose in one piece. So when someone survives this and actually returns for more, they’re worth the attention. 

After watching him throw a clean uppercut to another newbie, Amir started to ask around. It wasn’t that he was afraid of the man or anything. Had it been any other day, the fighter would have made his way to the other instantly after the fight, but the glint of the golden eye had him second guess his nature. If that man was actually a Proto, he wouldn’t just fight to win, he’d fight to death. 

Much to his displeasure, the man turned out to be a human. A tattoo artist to be precise, well known in the underground for his talent with the ink and his brazen attitude in the ring. Now that his illusions had been broken Amir didn’t have that much desire to fight the man has he had before. It wouldn’t be as thrilling and even though the bionic eye could prove a challenge, he knew that he would still win. He was the Styx after all and he made sure all his opponents knew that before they’re crawling off with what was left of their dignity.

Still a sudden idea struck him at the thought of his name. The man was a tattoo artist, maybe he could get a tattoo for free. He had been toying with the idea for a while, a large trident that went from his neck to his tail bone. Finely detailed at the top, sharp enough to look like it would cut if anyone were to touch him. It was perfect in his mind and now he had a chance to get it. All he needed to do was to convince the stranger into the ring with him. 

Approaching the man after his fight ended, Amir claps loudly to get his attention while wearing his signature taunting smirk. 

“Nicely done there, couldn’t have done it better myself.” He offers his hand in courtesy. 

“Name’s Styx, you’ve probably heard about me.” 

[zacharyx99-blog]

🔑 + admit it, you think about me naked, don't you?

cursed with an honesty spell : accepting

it’s nothing new to be spoken to by soren in such a manner. the younger male seems to spout nonsense left and right with no filter nor level of composure whatsoever, and zachary tends to ignore questions like this one as best as he can. but of course the little shit had to find him today of all days, when whatever it is that struck him when he was talking in the bar with gael still has its claws in him solidly.

so he turns his gaze over to soren with a little sigh escaping him almost automatically, then shrugs his shoulders lightly. “actually not usually. but now that you’ve mentioned it, the thought did strike me for a second there. it was only a small thought, though. much like the junk you’re sporting.” he shows a smile that is too cold to be genuine, but he knows soren won’t care. this is how they work after all. one shithead to another.

then he feels himself preparing to speak again, and automatically already dreads what is going to come next. “that’s a joke,” he states calmly, continuing to explain as if that is the most normal thing for him to do in the world. “your dick is of average size. same with your balls. the literal ones, that is. i would say your metaphorical balls are of herculean size, what with the way you keep taking on things that could kill you in a heartbeat.”

despite the words coming out of his mouth, he levels his gaze with soren’s with an unperturbed calmness that makes it seem like he was always planning to say things like that out loud. “well, now i have spent quite a bit more time than just a second considering your nakedness. does that satisfy your primordial urges?”

[zacharyx99-blog]

🔑 + so now that we've established you think of me naked, when are we gonna fuck?

cursed with an honesty spell : accepting

zachary can’t help himself; he laughs. it’s a genuine sound for a second there, actually amused by the suggestion offered. then the sound dies away, but the mirth temporarily remains visible in his features. and it is perhaps that certain warmth to his expression that makes his next words sound all the more like the truth, despite being spoken almost off-handedly.

“i only fuck what i pay for,” he tells the younger male, once again locking gazes with him to make sure soren knows he’s speaking the truth, that he means what he says. he picks up his glass and raises it ever so slightly at his companion, as if toasting to him, then drains the rest of its contents. he gets up from his stool then, putting a hand on soren’s shoulder as he does so, so he can lean in to make sure the younger will still understand him through the ambient noise of the bar.

“and you’d come much too cheap, my friend.”

with that, he throws some coins on the bar to pay for their drinks, then leaves soren behind as he heads straight for the door to get out of there. yet as he takes his first steps outside of the establishment, he breathes out a small, amused smile still.

[99lleon]

“This is like some crazy witch burning shit.”

( SENSE8 SENTENCE STARTERS | accepting )

     it’s rare that leon has a pen and paper at hand, especially around other people. riku has told him enough times that writing and drawing as a leisurely activity was a red alarm for a proto, considering he wanted to keep his consciousness a secret. it’s only nighttime he picks them up to write a journal entry, other times, he sticks to other things to pass the time, since there’s an abundance of such for a curious proto.

     the setting is different this time, leon is sitting on a stool while soren works on his own sketches. he trusts soren, and it’s his creativity that astounds leon, how the other can come up with these designs, both those that adorn his body, and those that decorate bodies of others. creativity is something horribly difficult for artificial intelligence to put its finger on, and even though leon knows its dictionary definition verbatim, it doesn’t feel like it’s anywhere near what it is in reality.

     he watches intently as the human works, doing his best not to be a nuisance and balance that with the urge to ask questions again and again. “it’s truly fascinating — that you can come up with all of that. i don’t think i’ve ever seen anything similar to it before.” the compliment falls from his lips easily, shifting a little so he can see the movement of soren’s hands better, ink leaving marks in its wake, each line a part of something bigger.

     it’s a while later he picks up a pen and paper himself, pursing his lips as he clutches it in his hand. he doesn’t know how to do this — even the handwriting he uses is similar to one from a computer, all the letters alike, far from something personal as humans would have written. drawing is pretty similar to that as well, and once he conjures up a image in his mind, it doesn’t take too long before it’s on paper, lines straight and the shading is similar to something that would come out of a printer.

     he shows it to soren with a frown, and he laughs at the reply, shrugging a little. “i just… copy whatever’s in here. we all have eidetic memory, i suppose. however, it’s impossible for me to come up with something like that —” leon lets out, motioning towards the paper in front of soren, a little wistfully but with a wide smile on his face nonetheless. “it is truly fascinating, i mean it. i wouldn’t know where to start. whatever i come up with… i don’t think it’ll ever be something original.”

[sgnjongin]

set all the zippers free

@99soren

to hold a gun, when you are a gun, when you are every scrap and piece of weapon, when you are melted tenfold from every type of bomb, bazooka, harpoon, when you are all iron and bullets and shards of tangled, disheveled wiring, faulty and malfunctioning perpetually, to hold a gun is to hold virtually nothing at all. for ares, it’s akin to shaking hands with himself, his knuckles curling securely around an extension of what he is, of who he is, the barrel connected to the bone, connected to the joints, connected to the rhythm his heart plays against his ribcage, the dazzling dance of it thrumming through the edges of him, bringing his lips up to a grin. ares can’t help it, can’t hold back from it, can’t shed the poison from his veins, the way the gunpowder scent in his nostrils only makes him want to laugh, like an aphrodisiac, like a drug, like a curse.

“come out, come out wherever you are, twinkle toes.” his voice carries through the late evening fog, unlike light, unlike motion, his tone lilting and sweet, deceptively coy even though it’s an obviously bluff, his back pressed against the edge of a long-forgotten building, the abandoned stasis of it creating the perfect sparring grounds for the proto and his pet plaything. soren always agrees to these excursions even as ill-fated as they tend to always be for the human, but neither of them have made it a habit to back down or cool off, despite however much disapproval gael would say to it, or kitts, or any of their other mutual friendships-- ares loses count sometimes, stops caring if he ever started in the first place.

red eyes glow dimly as he peeks around the bend, stepping further and further into the matte grey atmosphere, the clouds lining the ground being the most moisture a planet such as this one would ever manage to collect. ares hates it, face contorting in disgust at the soppy wetness, ignoring it as best he can for his prey, the words tumbling from his lips like a prayer, a whisper to imaginary gods. “i can hear you breathing, human.”

[zacharyx99-blog]

“what the hell is this?”

movie quotes meme: accepting

zachary raises his head from the paperwork on his desk to glance over at the tattooist and figure out what soren is talking about this time. eyes catching hold of the lidded jar soren is peering at from rather up close, he can’t help smirking.

“those are brains,” he states quite matter-of-factly, but his gaze remains on the male a little bit longer, interested to see how the tattooist is going to react to his declaration. of course he can’t leave the comment as is, with the opportunity lying right in front of him, ready to be grabbed.

“given your absolute lack of them it’s not very surprising you didn’t recognise them, though.”

the smirk that appears on his features is rather smug, his eyes lingering on soren only a moment longer before they wander back down to the paperwork. he finishes filling out a few more things, then gets up and walks over to the medicine cupboard so he can take out three painkillers for the other man.

walking over to the tattooist, he reaches out the small bottle with the three painkillers to his current patient. “try to remember to take one of these alongside your dinner for the next couple of days.” there is no amusement or mockery left in his voice nor demeanour as he speaks again, the man having returned to business at hand.

“you should be fine again in no time.”

[zacharyx99-blog]

[ et puis chacun pour soi ]

@99soren

zach’s eyes follow the dark haired man as he walks away from him, then quickly shift over to the finger that is raised at him during soren’s retreat. it’s not the first time he’s being flipped off by the younger, so he’s not exactly surprised, but where he usually would have kept his silence, he now speaks up after all.

“that middle finger is not going to make you any less right, rennie,” he calmly speaks up, deliberately using the tattooist’s least favourite nickname in order to properly capture his attention. “you can raise all the fingers you want and make all the obscene gestures you want, but i’m telling you that that leg needs to be looked at or else you won’t be able to walk away from me as often as you want in the very near future.”

calmly leaning back onto his desk, zachary’s eyes take in the retreating form of his quite regular customer, a little smirk playing at his lips. someone else might have been served with a very well-aimed scalpel to the back, or he might have sent his proto after them, but not soren. there’s something of an understanding he holds with the younger, stemming from the simple fact that it’s soren’s hands that have worked tirelessly to adorn his upper body with the lines of his tattoo.

the dark imprint is a matter of pride for the doctor, and so as its maker, soren is given a little bit more leniency than most. a little bit.

“don’t forget if you walk out the door without paying you’ll get shot in the back,” he states somewhat belatedly, calmly crossing his arms in front of his chest as he waits for the tattooist to come back to him. “and when that happens, i won’t stitch you back up.”