#angclwept

[beaststarved]

' so like. . . are you what the kids these days call a furry? ' 👁

❝ What did you call me ? ❞ He's never heard of this term before, but he's pretty sure he might snap the neck of anyone who would call him one regardless !

[phobiael]

he's wearing a little birthday hat, party blowout dangling between his lips as he jerks the string off a party popper and confetti explodes up into äs nödt's face(: happy birthday!!!!

╭ 𝓕. ・ ° birthday ask ° — ʳᵉᵖˡⁱᵉᵈˑ , @angclwept

" [ ... ] happiness, " he hums, voice was an iced whisper, " is such a fleeting sensation. it withers & fades like a flame extinguished by dread. but [ ... ] this display of festivity— " gloved hand twitched ever so slightly, HIS FORM DULL, movement unnervingly slow, " —is amusingly absurd. "

[devilsparda]

' Heeeeeeeeeey, you're kinda cute! Want to grab a drink sometime and look at my guns? ' 🔫🦾💪 (get it, like three gun.... like.... tri-)

HE CIRCLES HIM LIKE A STRAY THOUGHT orbiting a half-forgotten memory, his gaze grazing the jacket with that peculiar brand of nodding approbation that skirts the borders of praise without ever truly crossing into its sanctum. ❛ not so bad yourself. ❜ his own hangs off him like a bad joke — the fabric hangs in ribbons, perforated by histories too inelegant to recount, as though the garment itself had been enlisted in every battle and left unpaid. a monument to his hell-forged body’s stubborn refusal to die when it should.

❛ what, you show me yours and i’ll show you mine? ❜ his words linger, not with the eager gleam of challenge, but with a certain knowing. an undercurrent of awareness, a fleeting, almost imperceptible acknowledgment that he might well be stepping into a snare, yet the recognition passes swiftly, nothing more than a passing shadow, a fleeting inconvenience in the grand theatre of existence.

[devilsparda]

Your orbs and brims are looking mighty gorgeous today bro 👁👄👁✨️

brims? that’s tiers to you, wit….

[deadn30n-arch]

'so what's the deal with you?' he asks as the bottom of his beer mug gently tamps against the wooden counter. teal eyes peek over his glasses towards the other, brows marrying together on his forehead as he attempts to discern just WHAT it was that they were. even partially inebriated, he knows that there's nothing human about them. while for any other would have found that fact alone to be unsettling, the gunslinger takes comfort in knowing that they were more or less harmless to the world around them. at least for the time being, it seemed.

                  Eden  is  used  to  being  heavily  scrutinized  by  this  point   –   if  not  by  somebody  they  know,  like  him,  then  by  complete  strangers.  their  unusual  stature  is  a  magnet;  an  indicator,  a  glaring  reminder  that  they  don't  fit  in,  and  has  pulled  more  people  than  just  Vash  underneath  their  thumb,  whether  they  want  them  there  or  not.  they  haven't  much  of  a  choice.  humans  are  inevitably  drawn  to  that  which  they  don't  understand,  and  while  Eden  is  capable  of  only  providing  vague  insinuations  at  best   –   in  order  to  avoid  drawing  suspicion  from  their  own  creator   –   they've  never  been  one  to  outright  hide  things  either.

                  his  words  are  met  by  a  flicker  of  digital,  violet  eyes.  two  bright  lights  that  could  pierce  through  the  veil  of  even  the  darkest  night.  outside  is  sunset,  but  indoors,  in  this  bar,  there  are  candles  everywhere,  effectively  throwing  many  things  into  shadow.  including  Eden.  a  drink  sits  in  front  of  them,  left  untouched  for  the  time  being.  mechanical  as  they  are,  it  doesn't  stop  them  from  indulging  in  human  pleasures,  even  if  they,  themselves,  are  not  human.  it's  only  that  they  aren't  interested  in  drinking  right  now.  Eden  would  much  rather  focus  on  their  surroundings;  absorb  what's  painted  in  front  of  them,  parse  the  details,  carving  each  one  carefully  through  constructed  coding,  and  commit  it  to  memory.  so  they  don't  drink,  they  simply  observe.

                  “  haven't  i  already  told  you?  ”   their  tone  tarries  on  the  edges  between  flat  and  vaguely  amused.  they  think;  do  i  have  to  repeat  myself?  humans  are  funny  constructs  themselves.  a  gloved  hand  lifts;  lavender  touched  locks  are  tucked  behind  an  ear.   “  what  i  am  closely  related  to  is  an  angel.  or…  maybe  i  should  include  that  i  am  mechanical.  a  mechanical  angel.  does  this  serve  as  a  suitable  answer?  ”

[ardenssolis]

‘dusty toybox’ sentence meme; no longer accepting || @angclwept

' we make a pretty good team ! '

GOOD TEAM, HE SAID… Ozymandias wasn’t really sure one could call that team work. If anything, from watching Vash, it seemed more or less as if he was trying to take most of the attention with his tomfoolery. Such was unnecessary, of course, since these feeble bullets would do nothing to him, but it wasn’t as if they were aware of that. ❝I believe you handled most of it without my assistance. I felt like I was more or less just there for support.❞ With an amused smirk, he slipped his gun back into his holster, still very much not used to the weight of such metal by his side. People used these things now, did they? They were intriguing weapons, even if terrifying in their ease of killing. Rather than an unsheathed a blade, or a knife pulled from a hidden place, instead, all you need do is pull these metal contraptions forth, and BAM BAM – all enemies were dead (maybe). Though in this case, there was no one who was dead… Just groaning bounty hunters covered in dust beneath a burning sun.

     ❝Is it normal for you to be hunted like this? What did you do, exactly? Perhaps you should lay low and remove that bright, red jacket of yours.❞ That seemed to be what triggered these attacks every now and then. He’d notice just because someone would peer at the other’s wanted poster, then look at Vash, and then the poster again. Those were never really good signs. He knew the other was worth some…obscene…amount of coin just by the plethora of zeros, but that was about it. ❝I might not be around to come to your aid.❞ Such words were spoken with pride as if he had singlehandedly swooped in and saved the day (he hadn’t – his aim left some things to be desired), his hands coming to rest upon his hips. ❝You can thank me for my generosity by buying me a drink.❞

[skullkxd]

@angclwept

'so what's the deal kiddo?' he sits down beside them, with two ice cream cones in hand. his voice is soft, the quiet hint of concern in his tone before glancing over at them. eventually, he extends one hand with the cone towards the kid as a peace offering, brows lifting on his forehead. 'you really shouldn't be out here by yourself. where are your parents?'

He looks like their brother.

That’s … really their first thought. It shocked them so much when he first bumped into them that they didn’t fight him on buying them an ice cream as an apology. They’re pretty sure he noticed them having to struggle to get up, because their stupid pain is worse today than normal, but not hurting enough for using the wheelchair, and felt bad about it.

(He’s not Renji. They know that. They know that. Renji is far away, in Kanto, and they have letters from him. Apologizing for not realizing their parents abandoned them. Apologizing for not choosing Ree over his dreams. Ree keeps those letters shoved in their dresser and reads them when they need a good cry.)

Ree scowls a little, recoiling into themself a bit, cane in their lap. They glare down at the ground, cheeks gone ruddy; embarrassed that this guy is fussing over them. Clearly, he doesn’t know who they are— and they’ll keep it that way, too.

“Hell if I know where they are. I haven’t seen em in ten years,” they say, guarded and embarrassed. They’re eyeing that ice cream and pretending they don’t know it’s for them. “I have a new dad, but he ain’t worried about my independence. I’m old enough to do stuff on my own, yknow.”

[deadn30n-arch]

🌿、· ⋆ 。 starter call ╏ @angclwept

“    i   have…   much   to   learn   about   this   world.    ”   there   is   a   pointed   pause   from   the   machine   as   they   take   the   time   to   parse   through   the   sequence   of   events   they   just   witnessed,   and   commit   it   carefully   to   the   correct   folder   in   their   memory   storage.   it's   vital   to   them   that   they   file   away   every   instance   they   encounter   so   that   if   it   needs   to   be   touched   upon   later   on,   they   can   easily   access   that   information   again.    “    i   did   not   know   such   fighting   styles   existed.    ”    it's   an   offhanded   remark   made   with   good   intentions   behind   it,   despite   how   nonchalant   it   actually   sounds.   they   really   are   impressed   by   what   they've   just   seen,   and   made   it   very   clear   they   wouldn't   mind   seeing   it   again.    “    did   you   learn   this   yourself,   or   were   you   taught   by   someone?    ”    thankfully   it's   a   little   more   difficult   to   discern   the   machinery   beneath   their   flesh,   but   they   haven't   done   their   best   to   conceal   the   fact   that   they're   out   of   place   here.   hopefully   that   knowledge   doesn't   tarnish   any   chance   of   them   learning   something   new,   though.