asmodcus

[asmodcus]

I LIVE

BUT ALSO I SLEEP. VERY TIRED. SEE U ALL TOMORROW ❤️✨️

#⩇⩇:⩇⩇ what the dog doin? ⁝ ooc #i feel like i got hit by a truck #my head hurts so bad ;w; #i go to bed

[asmodcus]

Nick's words are too kind, too soft, too understanding, and they kick away the precarious scaffolding Lavender had built up around her grief to keep it from spilling over. She can feel the exact moment when it buckles, a rattling wet breath pulled in as her chest trembles from the weight of it. 

"You don't have to." The words are thick, tears already blurring the ceiling above them into a smear of brown and grey. Truthfully, the vault-dweller didn't even know where to start with what she's been through over the last five or so years. With the first four being locked inside a vault that wouldn't open with anything except herself and the half-frozen bodies of everyone she'd once known. How many days had she slept curled up on the floor next to his pod? Body worn and aching from crying herself to the point of dehydration. The weight of survivor's guilt is one thing, but the crushing presence of loneliness that is nearly incomprehensible is much worse.

"We'd won a lottery draw for spots in the vault. How could we have known that--" Words dissolve into another shuddering breath, her hands making some kind of vague gesture as her voice fails. "They died, everyone died, I think, except that boy they took. Everyone keeps thinking I'm his mom, and that's why I'm looking for him. I don't want to find him. I want to find the people who killed everyone in my vault and left me alive." Anger and sadness were two sides of the same coin, and Lavender's rage at those who murdered an entire neighborhood worth of people walked hand in hand with her grief. 

"Four years is a long time to be alone. Sometimes I think I'll wake up back in the vault and all of this is some... some dream my mind is making as I go crazy."

A seasoned detective was pretty good at observing while looking like they weren't-- Nick was particularly so. It came with the territory of inorganic living.

She had a lot under the surface; a lot of grief, a lot of shock, a lot of loss. The old synth couldn't say he didn't relate. In fact, there was a pang in his chest not unlike heartache, a pull of empathy that was at this point familiar but not. Lavender deflected, but Nick listened attentively, leaning back on his hands as rain pattered the sinking roof in a healthy spritz. "I miss a good blueberry pie."

"...You can talk about it, you know." Nick's words were slow in coming, careful and measured, but softer than his harsh features would've allowed. "You don't have to let it just... sit there. The things you miss. It helps to get it out."

He turned to face her a bit more fully. He'd have offered a hand if his skeletal fingers didn't frighten most people off. "...I can listen."

#⩇⩇:⩇⩇ there’s writing all over the walls ⁝ thread #⩇⩇:⩇⩇ trapped in an abstract from a moment in my life ⁝ lavender mckinnon #orustedheart #; ( thread ) #; ( lavender )

[asmodcus]

Welp, I gotta go to work now. See y'all on the FLIP SIDE (meaning like 20 hrs from now) I've got tomorrow off and I plan on using it accordingly to get more of my drafts and asks done. Also to finish up some of those starters.

#⩇⩇:⩇⩇ what the dog doin? ⁝ ooc #byeeeeeeee #have good days everybody <3

[asmodcus]

You must calm down.

#⩇⩇:⩇⩇ a few cards short of a full deck ⁝ aesthetic #⩇⩇:⩇⩇ go on and tear it out of me ⁝ jean masters #WE ARE SUPOSED TO BE A TEAM!!! #Jean energy

[asmodcus]

Most people would hate one another in a situation like this, but not them. Kerry didn't hate Johnny in the slightest; whatever their relationship could be named, it wouldn't be enemies or anything close to it. No Kerry burns for Johnny in a way nobody else could replicate, not for any lack of lovers either took on any given day. Stumbling back a few steps as he's pushed away in the small room, Kerry's back meets the long counter reserved for makeup and lines of coke. 

Straightening, he closes the space between them again and descends on Johnny like a storm. There isn't anything gentle in how one hand grabs a fistful of the other's hair to pull him into a rough kiss while Kerry's free hand palms the front of Johnny's jeans. An electric kind of arousal crackles through Kerry as he pulls Johnny closer, trying to scour his mental picture of the room to remember where the couch is. Was there a couch? Walls would work, too. Though Kerry might draw the line at fucking on the floor.

"Always, such a damn brat," he mumbles between the spaces their lips make as he hustles Johnny back against the wall, a crinkle of old posters barely hanging onto their tacks breaking through the heavy breathing. An absent thought of how this place was about to get trashed between the two of them, screwing on every available surface, wanders through Kerry's mind like a leaf on the wind.

Finally.

The punch is enough to sting and throb, making his head snap to the side for a moment. Anyone else may have gotten punched back but from Kerry? He takes it. He takes it because he enjoys it. He proves as much when the laugh rumbles from deep in his chest. He can still feel the throb of the punch and what a pleasant little feeling it is. There will be a bruise on his cheek and he'll gladly wear it.

When he faces Kerry again, it's Johnny's turn to get physical. Hands shove against the other's shoulders in a harsh shove, hard enough to knock him back. He could be more physical, he could punch him, he could use his arm that packs a lot of punch behind it but the truth is - he doesn't want to hurt Kerry too badly.

This is some strange form of foreplay that Johnny thrives on and they both know it. He's punched Kerry before, especially when he gets beyond angry but right now he's not angry. Not in the least.

He's amused, he's having fun, he's thriving.

"Yeah? Well then how about you shut me the fuck up, Ker?"

#⩇⩇:⩇⩇ there’s writing all over the walls ⁝ thread #⩇⩇:⩇⩇ just you and the devil and i ⁝ kerry eurodyne #⩇⩇:⩇⩇ let your nails in my back be the same in my coffin ⁝ nsfw #taleswritten #; ( thread ) #; ( kerry ) #; ( nsft ) #nsfw/

[asmodcus]

A few too many seconds of silence make Luis momentarily doubt this plan, and then the change in Leon's tone squashes it. Not bothering to hide the sweep of his gaze over the agent's body as he approaches, Luis taps his fingers along the table behind him. He wouldn't lie to himself and say a few glances weren't stolen over the last few hours they'd been wandering around, trying not to die and find Ashley at the same time, but those had been fleeting, almost accidental things. This survey is far more deliberate. 

"No? Looks like I might have to give a demonstration then." As the distance between them closes, Leon is close enough for Luis to reach out with one of his hands, fingertips lightly skimming up the muscled planes of the agent's body from beltline to chest. Feather light meant to tease that touch finally reaches the curve of Leon's neck and Luis leans forward from his spot while pulling Leon to him. 

It's then, as their lips meet and the proximity is close enough, that Luis realizes how cold he's been this entire time. After a while, skin goes numb or acclimates to the fridged temperatures of Spain in the death throes of fall. He can only imagine how cold his hands are, but they'd warm soon enough. Tongue gliding across the agent's lower lip, Luis' free hand curls in the front of Leon's belt loops to tug him those last few steps closer.

Leon's not naive, it takes only a few moments for him to catch on to the meaning that Luis is trying to convey. It seems to startle him, though. Here? Of all places?

Not that Leon hasn't had sex in a public place before but that's not the issue here. The issue is that those things out there could find them and yeah the entrances are barricaded but there's a million things that could go wrong.

Not that Leon isn't tempted. He's stressed out, crawling out of his skin, and jumpy. He needs the energy and the adrenaline and Luis makes a damn good point. If he stops, even for a second, he'll fall over from exhaustion.

It's why he's pacing instead of stopping, keeping at least some form of energy in his body. It's fading though. Fast.

"Huh. Can't say I'm not tempted." As if to prove that point, Leon finds himself moving closer and closer until he's standing in front of Luis - not quite as close as he could be but it'd take nothing to cross that distance.

"You sure you can handle me?" This time, Leon's lips curl into a teasing smirk. If he's going to this, might as well have some fun with it. "I don't think you can." Go ahead, prove it.

#⩇⩇:⩇⩇ there’s writing all over the walls ⁝ thread #⩇⩇:⩇⩇ and the heavens just won’t open up for me ⁝ luis serra #taleswritten #; ( thread ) #; ( luis )

[asmodcus]

#im in this post and i don't like it #>:| how dare i be attacked in this fashion

[asmodcus]

#⩇⩇:⩇⩇ what the dog doin? ⁝ ooc #we do a little winging here #we wing it #but i'll be god damned if I don't find a good synonym

[asmodcus]

Kerry is well aware that they could easily make back the eddies to buy new, probably even better equipment, in a week or two tops. However, that's not the point, he didn't want them to have to replace perfectly working equipment over stupid shit like this. Hot because of the humidity his soaked clothing made in the small offshoot dressing room, and bothered because Johnny is a fuck face sometimes, Kerry balls his fists at his side. It's the tone he uses that always gets under Kerry's skin without fail; he's convinced it's some kind of magic trick how easily that gets him riled up. 

"Good, huh?" Kerry bites out before actually hauling off and catching Johnny across the jaw. They'd been in scuffles before, part of their whole dynamic, whatever the hell that was. As ticked off as he is, there isn't a significant amount of power behind that punch; the last thing Kerry needed to do was break this idiot's jaw over a busted amp. He wanted to be the lead singer, but not that badly. 

"You look good when you shut the fuck up, Johnny." Voice a harsh snap, he knows all too well that Johnny is a little bit of a masochist, unsurprising if you've known the man for more than twelve seconds, but hitting him certainly wouldn't be too progressive. Doesn't mean it didn't make Kerry feel a little better in the moment.

Of course he knows how much it costs but honestly? Johnny doesn't give much of a damn. They can make up the cost with the way they sell out shows. In his opinion, Kerry is making a big deal out of this over nothing.

Not that he doesn't enjoy when Kerry's this mad. It's amusing. Him being soaked in water is even more amusing when Johnny manages to avoid it. Not that he'd care if he got soaked in water.

"Go on, then. Punch me." Hell, it might even be a thrill to Johnny. Nothing wrong with a bit of a masochistic streak.

"Relax, Ker. We can make it up." Kerry's way too worked up over this if you asked Johnny but, he likes it when the man is angry. Maybe that's why Johnny pushes so much - to get him like this.

"You look good like this. All soakin' and angry." His voice lowers, more into a purr than anything. He's trying to get under Kerry's skin, still challenging and taunting in that way of his he does.

Oh, he has far too much fun pushing Kerry.

#⩇⩇:⩇⩇ there’s writing all over the walls ⁝ thread #⩇⩇:⩇⩇ just you and the devil and i ⁝ kerry eurodyne #taleswritten #; ( thread ) #; ( kerry ) #he hit em folks #pack it up

[asmodcus]

BEFORE ME NOTHING BUT ETERNAL THINGS WERE MADE, AND I SHALL LAST ETERNALLY.

ABANDON EVERY HOPE, ALL YOU WHO ENTER.

I saw these words spelled out in somber colors inscribed along the ledge above a gate; “Master,” I said, “these words I see are cruel.” He answered me, speaking with experience: “Now here you must leave all distrust behind; let all your cowardice die on this spot. We are at the place where earlier I said you could expect to see the suffering of souls who lost the good of intellect.” Placing his hand on mine, smiling at me in such a way that I was reassured, he led me in, into those mysteries.

– indie || sel || multi muse by olivia/moth

carrd & rules || interest tracker

promo : ♤

#*hoops this onto the dash while I continue witing depravity* #self promo #;) #multimuse rp

[asmodcus]

Heart hammering hard in V's ears, the merc almost wants to laugh at the situation as she and Johnny both suck in ragged breaths in this dingy side alley. Sirens still scream in the distance, bullets cracking the air, and people shout. A thick plume of smoke from the blown-out building smears across the cloudless blue sky. The hilarious part of this whole heist was that Johnny was actually here, not just a multicoloured glitch in the corner of the woman's vision. No, he's standing there with V, then his mouth in on hers and fingers bruising V's hips. 

With Johnny having taken up residence in the merc's head for a couple months, he'd been privy to all the little fantasies she ran through on the late nights without anyone to keep the bed (and her) warm. After month two, Johnny had wormed his way into those as well, and it was weeks of him being smug about it before it just became another part of their coexistence. So it wasn't an exaggeration that V had thought about this more than a few times. Now to see if all those fantasies held a candle to the real deal. 

Hands diving into Johnny's hair close to the scalp so she can get a good grip before tightening it enough to sting. Returning the kiss with a low hum, V feels like her ribs are going to break with how hard her heart is going. Blood running hot from both nearly dying and the press of his mouth, she catches Johnny's lower lip in her teeth before pulling him back with her until V's shoulders hit the brick wall of the alley. Some absent part of her mind is now sated with knowing they won't be seen from the street if some nosey cop came around with all the commotion going on nearby.

@asmodcus liked this for a nsf.t starter and is getting several because I said so.

Having his body back has been a rather....strange...experience. He owes V for that, there's no amount of anything that can ever express his gratitude for the merc.

V has changed him in ways no one has ever been able to before. It's a struggle not to go back to old ways of booze and drugs now that he has the freedom to do as he pleases.

Everything had been so muted in V's mind. Hell, even the taste of cigarettes had been so muted. Pleasure, too. He had felt everything V had felt, including that.

Now, he can experience it for himself and Johnny would be lying if he said he hasn't had an eye on the merc ever since he'd been stuck in V's damn head.

Now that he's alive, he can finally do whatever the hell he wants and that just happens to be the other standing before him, winding down after some gig Johnny had aided on.

The adrenaline is still coursing through both of their veins and Johnny's going to ride this high as long as he can so he doesn't think twice about what he does next.

He crosses the short distance between them to grab V's waist and use his grip on the merc to pull against his body completely as lips crash against V's, hard and hungry, tongue forcing it's way into V's mouth.

#⩇⩇:⩇⩇ there’s writing all over the walls ⁝ thread #⩇⩇:⩇⩇ let your nails in my back be the same in my coffin ⁝ nsfw #⩇⩇:⩇⩇ these bright ideas always burn ⁝ valentina ‘v’ #taleswritten #; ( thread ) #; ( valentina ) #; ( nsft ) #ehh kinda idk

[asmodcus]

Blinking in surprise, a smile crawls across Luis as he huffs a laugh. Turns out the agent is full of surprises. Continuing to watch Leon pace back and forth like an animal in a cage, Luis can't stop the clinical side of his brain from working away, spotting all the cracks in his armour. That might need to be a habit he gets rid of when this is all over. People usually didn't take well to being analyzed like mold in a microscope, but the better part of two decades in the business and it's something Luis can't turn off in his head. It's only when those footsteps cease and instead turn to question the researcher on his meaning that Luis' heart picks up. 

"Well, there are more than a few ways to keep yourself worked up so you don't end up falling over when the adrenaline runs out." Luis absently makes a vague gesture with his hands before placing them on either side of his hips and bracing against the table. 

"You may not think you're relaxing, but when stimuli stop, so does the flow. I'm just suggesting a new stimulus that I'm rather good at providing." Sure, there's a plethora of ways he could have worded that better, but exhaustion tugged at his own trains of thought. It might be good for them both to mess around a little before getting back out there. That single moment of pure mental blackout from a climax (or a few if he's lucky) can do wonders for the body. It's incredibly romantic how he continues to frame this scientifically; he might be getting rusty with flirting. 

He's been pacing back and forth for he doesn't know how long, checking his weapons more than once. He wants to get back out there but Luis needs a break, Leon thinks, and he doesn't need the man passing out on him.

He ignores the fact that he's running low on fumes too. He glances at Luis, seemingly in amusement at being called a Yankee in Spanish. The hell? "You do realize I'm not American, either?" It doesn't surprise Leon, he lost his Italian accent a long time ago.

"Se hai intenzione di chiamarmi in qualche modo, assicurati di dirlo bene." He speaks again, as if to prove his point that he is very much not American. Italy is his motherland, his native language, and while he's been in America for a long time by now - he's never lost his roots.

"Besides, I'm not relaxing." How the hell can he in a situation like this? Always on guard, always ready for the next thing to jump out at them on this godforsaken island. It's miracle they'd found a place not swarming by those things.

Leon pauses in his pacing at the suggestion, turning to look at Luis entirely now. An eyebrow arches at him - just what the hell is he suggesting, really? "You're gonna have to be more specific than that, Luis. What exactly do you have in mind?"

#⩇⩇:⩇⩇ there’s writing all over the walls ⁝ thread #⩇⩇:⩇⩇ and the heavens just won’t open up for me ⁝ luis serra #taleswritten #; ( thread ) #; ( luis )

[asmodcus]

"It's the name I earned," Viper responds plainly, taking the Captain's offered hand and giving it a shake before returning to the stiff posture of a man standing in what he assumes is a superior's office. Viper knew how to make himself look good to get a job, clearance, or anything he wanted. A pilot often was only as good as he could make himself look in front of higher-ups, while Viper hated to admit it; they were the ones that held the leash. And let it go when they needed a job done.

"There wasn't much in the way of information about what this position entails, sir." Truthfully there was enough to glean very vague mission details, but Viper hadn't read much past 'pilot' and was on his way here. "I am a fighter pilot by trade but have hours in all manner of attack and cargo airframes." 

@asmodcus Clear to fly had been the best three words Viper had heard in his entire life. Now standing in a military standard beige office, the pilot allows his grey eyes to skim along the various nondescript awards and pictures hanging on the wall behind the modest desk. He felt out of place, edgy, he didn't want to be on the ground. Looking over when the door finally opens, he is quick to business. "I heard you needed a pilot."

Price isn't accustomed to running interviews. It wasn't exactly a position that allowed for outside hiring, but he wasn't about to turn someone away if they thought they could help out. To say the Task Force was hiring was an exaggeration, but good talent was out there, and he wasn't going to miss opportunities. He's got Viper's file open and marked up on his desk - left behind while he'd gone to get himself a coffee and have a smoke while he waited for the man to be brought in to talk.

Opening the door to his office, he wasn't exactly expecting him to already be in the office. John can appreciate his enthusiasm, giving a firm nod. "Yeah, we are. Captain Price," he introduces, offering his free hand for a shake. "Name in the file is Viper. That it or is the rest classified?"

#⩇⩇:⩇⩇ you'll have to be faster than that ⁝ viper #⩇⩇:⩇⩇ there’s writing all over the walls ⁝ thread #nezemny #; ( thread ) #; ( viper )

[asmodcus]

Usually, it didn't grind Kerry this bad. Johnny was a notorious asshole to pretty much everybody, himself included, but he put up with it for one reason or another. Some of those reasons being selfish and sex related, but that didn't need to be inspected too closely. Now soaked down to his skin from the fire hydrant that had been smashed open and trashed the amps when people started getting too rowdy, as they always did, Kerry wanted to throttle Johnny for working the crowd up that much. Sure, it's part of the gig; it's the point to stick it to the man or whatever. But, fuck sometimes he could go without the property damage (theirs or the corps) for a single night.

"Right now? I want to punch you, asshole. You know how much that stage equipment cost?" He isn't quite yelling. Kerry didn't want to ruin the vocal cords, but his tone was undoubtedly firm. Stepping forward, pushing wet hair back from his face again so he can clearly glare at Johnny. He wishes he didn't have those sunglasses on so he could actually look at him. Kerry can feel that sticky residue of wet hairspray and gel running down the back of his neck, which only serves to tick him off a little more. 

"How the fuck you think we're gonna get that kind of money back?" Kerry can't stand nose to nose with the singer because of the height difference of two or three inches favouring Johnny, but he can certainly square up. This close, this worked up, Kerry momentarily struggles if he wants to wrap his hands around the taller man's neck to strangle him or smash their mouths together. Whatever this alteration led to, Kerry already figured out how it would end. 

@asmodcus liked this for a nsf.t starter and is getting several because I said so.

Another day, another fight with Kerry and whoever the hell else is around in his warpath. Johnny knows very well what kind of asshole he is, it's a wonder Kerry hasn't straight up left his ass by now.

In fact, Johnny wonders why he hasn't and from the way he's glaring at him across the room with such a heated look, Johnny's almost certain there's one reason he hasn't. Not that he can blame Kerry, everyone wants a piece of Johnny Silverhand.

"Y'know. Sometimes I really can't tell if you want to punch me or fuck me." Perhaps a bit of both? Hell, Johnny doesn't care either way when he's game for both, maybe both at the same time, but his words are bold and taunting - a very obvious challenge.

Tick-tock, Kerry, what are you going to do?

#⩇⩇:⩇⩇ there’s writing all over the walls ⁝ thread #⩇⩇:⩇⩇ just you and the devil and i ⁝ kerry eurodyne #taleswritten #he isn't sure if he wants to fuck or punch him either tbh #; ( thread ) #; ( kerry )

[asmodcus]

some of you may ask "Liv, are there any games you own which aren't so stuffed full of mods that the game hardly launches?" to which I will say

#;) #i do play the game clean the first time thru and get as close to 100% as I can #THENNNNNN I fuckin flavor blast it with mods

[asmodcus]

Some picks of Valentina "V" from Cyberpunk 2077 :)

#⩇⩇:⩇⩇ these bright ideas always burn ⁝ valentina ‘v’ #in short I love her thanks

[asmodcus]

why are you as a man wearing a suit? so other men can pull on your tie to bring you in for a kiss? so you can take off your jacket and loosen your tie and unbutton your shirt like a whore? so the process of undressing is an intricate ritual for you and other men to undergo? gayass.

#⩇⩇:⩇⩇ a few cards short of a full deck ⁝ aesthetic #i mean