no control
27/8/18 00:26![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
scubatankfilledwithfarts For a being (a dickhole) who controls darkness, who thrives and writhes in darkness, is intimate with the cold climb of tendrils around his neck and wrists like chains, he doesn’t know much about presentation.
[oh, but he knows the sweep of that true darkness, the lightness of this thing humans call souls, and just when did some fucker piggyback off it when he hadn’t noticed?]
Instead of his body disintegrating into the black crimson pools from his belly, his body feels heavy instead of weightless. But Xigbar’s head isn’t too fuzzy that he can’t, again, be horrid in presentation.
“You crying for me, kid? Knew you liked me a little bit.”
For Badou, darkness is another story. It’s one half of his vision steeped in heartbreak—it’s the somehow comforting road to the future thanks to this salt and pepper haired fuck.
[once upon a time, when the black had shuttered over his eye, he waited and waited and waited for the light to return but it hadn’t]
“WHO WOULD CRY FOR YOUR CHAPPED LIPPED ASS?!” The teen shrieks, blood smeared hands pressed into Xigbar’s stomach. His eye is fiercely blue, as fierce as the liquid mercury on the tip of his tongue with every scathing retort to distract them both from the panic that’s about to set in.
“That’s my boy,” Xigbar, to Badou’s chagrin, to his horror, murmurs so fondly his chest aches, and as he raises his head to knock their foreheads together, the teen just can’t take it anymore.
[its too much like a goodbye]
He squishes the other’s face with a palm, “Don’t you got an allergy to light? Like I got one to lead? Don’t go towards the light!”
Who would have thought, how fucking ironic. Speaking of, with his now freed hand, Badou reaches for the nearby first aid kit, and recoils with his entire soul. His face turns red, then green, then probably a shade of eggplant:
“WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU FILL IT WITH HOT CHEETOS?!”
Xigbar, remembering, laughs until he hisses through his back teeth. “It was funny at the time….”
Though Badou tries to strangle the organization member with his own ponytail, they succeed in staunching the blood flow until the two of them figure out how to use cura without killing each other.
Which is precisely why they’re each other’s person.
[oh, but he knows the sweep of that true darkness, the lightness of this thing humans call souls, and just when did some fucker piggyback off it when he hadn’t noticed?]
Instead of his body disintegrating into the black crimson pools from his belly, his body feels heavy instead of weightless. But Xigbar’s head isn’t too fuzzy that he can’t, again, be horrid in presentation.
“You crying for me, kid? Knew you liked me a little bit.”
For Badou, darkness is another story. It’s one half of his vision steeped in heartbreak—it’s the somehow comforting road to the future thanks to this salt and pepper haired fuck.
[once upon a time, when the black had shuttered over his eye, he waited and waited and waited for the light to return but it hadn’t]
“WHO WOULD CRY FOR YOUR CHAPPED LIPPED ASS?!” The teen shrieks, blood smeared hands pressed into Xigbar’s stomach. His eye is fiercely blue, as fierce as the liquid mercury on the tip of his tongue with every scathing retort to distract them both from the panic that’s about to set in.
“That’s my boy,” Xigbar, to Badou’s chagrin, to his horror, murmurs so fondly his chest aches, and as he raises his head to knock their foreheads together, the teen just can’t take it anymore.
[its too much like a goodbye]
He squishes the other’s face with a palm, “Don’t you got an allergy to light? Like I got one to lead? Don’t go towards the light!”
Who would have thought, how fucking ironic. Speaking of, with his now freed hand, Badou reaches for the nearby first aid kit, and recoils with his entire soul. His face turns red, then green, then probably a shade of eggplant:
“WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU FILL IT WITH HOT CHEETOS?!”
Xigbar, remembering, laughs until he hisses through his back teeth. “It was funny at the time….”
Though Badou tries to strangle the organization member with his own ponytail, they succeed in staunching the blood flow until the two of them figure out how to use cura without killing each other.
Which is precisely why they’re each other’s person.
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