#burncut

[ai-framework]

A Different Pair

Starter for @burncut

It was the first time Airos had registered a higher depth of sensations like those. The more he interacted with Samson, the bigger those sensations were. He could comprehend them, when they were expressed by humans, yet... what could it mean when it was him ‘feeling’ it? And to such a degree? Was that even possible?

Artificial fingers got closer to the one by his side. It had been a calm day, a serene moment between the two. For the time being, Airos couldn’t register the world outside, it was only them two. A cold touch seeped itself in between the other’s fingers and soon the android noticed he was holding Samson’s hand. Yet, his eyes were shifting from the hand towards human eyes. Full of a tired life, full of whatever soul possessed him... 

Why couldn’t he make up anything consistent? Why was it that those eyes, that whole being, blocked his reasoning? Now, face to constructed face, Airos searched for something with eyes that didn’t do justice to the interest that covered him. He grew closer, just a little closer... and stopped.

“I need to tell you something... Can I?” he whispered, helpless and lost, as if it were a crime for him to speak even a tad bit louder, as if he didn’t have any other choice. His fingers gripped just a bit tighter, attempting to keep the other close.

[ofturtlesanddemodogs-archive]

❝Easy, there. Try to sit up.❞

@burncut

“Dude, you’re that weird girl,” Rich mumbled  His chin rested on the side of the bath tub he’d just puked in and he smiled up at her dumbly. 

[hxdxgun-archive]

q u i c k   e s c a p e  ;  p l o t t e d  .

     LONG FINGERS, rough, one  c a l l u s e d  palm against her contrasting smooth one. They lie one his bed, EYES UP AT THE CEILING, sheets   t o u s l e d  between them. A LIGHT WHISPER from his record player as   E c h o  &  t h e  B u n n y m e n  fade into the air. How they’d ended up at his place was by MISTAKE. Simply wandering around,  w a s t i n g   t i m e  with joints between their lips. Until Mark had let feet lead the way, SUBCONSCIOUSLY navigating them to the back part of town;  t o  t h e  h o u s e .  At least HE wasn’t home. But there was no telling when that would change.

     MIND FREE, CARELESS, light with no worries as the two merely  l i e  in delicate, SHARED SILENCE. A soft part to his lips, a  g l i n t  to the eye. There’s a light hum from hers, A SATISFIED AFFECTION.

     ALL PEACE IS INTERRUPTED; a low  c r a c k l e  from outside the window glass. To the unaccustomed ear it might not REGISTER. But Mark’s could pick it up from a  m i l e  away. 

     “SHIT.” he’s quick to throw himself out of bed, pull on a tshirt and  h o b b l e  into jeans. Shoes on without socks, COUNTING SECONDS as the heart pounds faster.  “ S h i t . ”  repeated, BELT FUMBLED INTO LOOPS as he’s hopping over to the window,  e x p e r t  f i n g e r s  peeling into blinds to check. No explanation, no hesitation. "WE GOTTA GO- “               @burncut

[myownhxro-blog]

@burncut || from

“I mean...” Nancy’s hands stayed where she’d pressed them against the wall, a blush on her cheeks. She figured when she’d stopped on Christy they’d just have her spin again, but then they were suddenly shoved in a closet with a timer and... “isn’t the point of a party to say ‘fuck it?’“

[barbarahollxnd-blog]

—@burncut

❛     are you understanding any of this math lesson ?    ❜   barb turned around in her desk and whispered to christy. ❛   because i’m lost.  ❜

[runforrecovery]

Knuckles // Cash & Christy

@burncut continued from here. 

“Christy, you know it’s complicated.” Cash said with his lips pressed. He pulled away his hand and shook his head. “Everything I do is for the kids and all I do is think about them. They want to do their sports and stuff--it’s not cheap.” 

[flcshinglights-blog]

burncut replied to your post: sometimes i look at the dashboard and wonder what...

does this include christy now? can christy officially be one of her children?

My boys already adopted you so I guess it’s official?

[ofturtlesanddemodogs-archive]

"My type is “angry man I found in the trash who has no redeeming qualities"."

@burncut

Michael’s mouth fell open at the description--maybe it was the weed, but something about that vibed with his aesthetic. “No job? Smelly? No wonder he’s pissed off,” he mused. “My type is Asian hipster chick who only listens to chipmunk music I can’t understand that.”