Post by jack on Sept 23, 2009 0:47:52 GMT -5
Title doesn't really make sense, I know...but Jack's had a fairly bad day today. No, she doesn't really want to talk about it, because talking won't fix it. But for those intensely curious, I messed up the slide-show during our rehearsals today, and am beating myself up over it. I know it wasn't fully my fault, but I can't afford such nonsense, and won't put up with it...even from myself. So I'm a bit upset.
What happens when Jack gets upset? If she can't ride...or run around...or rant....or cause some sort of chaos...she writes. What does she write? Depends. Sometimes its depressing shit she usually deletes and moves on from. Sometimes its violent. Usually its insane crack...or horror...or disgustingly twisted...some sort of cynical out-put. Tonight...well...its a bit twisted...but kinda cute.
Either way, Jack likes it. So she wants to share with y'all. More of these will probably pop up, as its going to be a stressful year, and when stress comes knocking Jack's keyboard gets a work out.
So here y'all go, a little what-not from the workings of Jack's mind.
[WORDS START HERE, YO.]
Dark circles were beneath his eyes, the eternally exhausted stare of the young man high in the sky as he tilted his chin back and frowned. The glider flipped above him and his eyes narrowed subtly, the grey-blue irises dancing with electric blue as he lifted a hand, following the air-craft’s movements with his finger tips. Without warning he tilted his hand sharply to the side, the yell of the pilot echoing in the morning as the glider suddenly dove to the side, its wings perpendicular to the ground. The boy’s eyes were closed now, his body stepping into the familiar moves of a taijutsu warm-up, hands flowing in powerfully but smoothly through the air.
High above him the glider’s driver was panicking, clinging onto his slight-plane for dear life as it twisted and jerked, wings acting as though they were attached to iron strings being yanked to and fro.
“Still hate planes?”
The boy’s eyes snapped open, neck twisting sharply as he turned to the side, expressions slipping away behind his mask. “I do not hate.”
A scoff sounded behind him, but Barrel didn’t turn to look this time, the image of the predatory creature sharp in his minds-eye.
He could picture the monster’s every steps, his warped feet seeming to barely graze the ground as he approached in a cat-like manner, swaying from side-to-side childishly with his mismatched eyes glowing unnaturally bright…and that long metal tail flicking over his shoulder as though it were a rapier searching for blood. He could see the ram-like horns on the beast’s head, and the way his thick blue hair lay in haphazard spikes. He could imagine the lop-sided grin, and the way one of his over-sized canines was always sticking out over his upper lip. He could picture the way he would slink up, muscles clear and yet understated as his green eye whirled with mechanical precision on the object of his attention, and the way his orange eye would flash with animalistic instinct.
So clearly could he see the beast that he didn’t bother to flinch when he felt powerful arms—arms that could snap him in two—wrap delicately around his neck. He didn’t budge when that mechanical-wonder of a tail wrapped around his legs and waist, or shudder when the flat side of the blade—sharp enough to cut through steel—curled under his shirt and was pressed firmly against his stomach. He didn’t twitch when hot breath tickled his neck, or when a tongue—too long and too dark to be human—lapped playfully at his ear. He didn’t blink when dull front teeth clicked against his earrings despite knowing that just beyond those front teeth and those misshapen canines, were rows upon rows of mangled teeth that could shred him to nothing in one bite.
“Hahaha…don’t hate.” The monster repeated, nuzzling the side of Barrel’s cheek almost fondly before he was gone, slinking past him like the breath-of-foul-air he was. “That’s a barrel of laughs.” Barrel did watch as the man sashayed in front of him, waltzing away with the delicate-steps of a spoiled dancer, “Pun—of course—intended.”
He couldn’t help the grin that tweaked his expression-less face. Couldn’t help the way he couldn’t look away from that monster’s movements…and honestly…he didn’t care. He didn’t care that he allowed the glider to catch a breeze, sailing away to safety. Didn’t care that his dull eyes were glimmering…didn’t care that his own legs had betrayed him, booted feet following in military precision to that beast’s tune.
He didn’t try to stop the hand that reached out, clasping the end of the creature’s tail, didn’t try to force back the swell of pride as the devil glanced over his shoulder in surprise, pupils dilating in purely-animalistic lust as he leaned down and ran his tongue over the flat side…and then bit onto the sharp edge.
“Lock and Shock’ll be displeased.”
Barrel snorted, the given-names of his partners striking a fouler note than this monster ever had in his mind, and released the tail, running his hands up that boney back to grab one of his horns roughly, yanking him down to his own rather unimpressive height. Faces inches apart he let a grin spread onto his lips, the corpse-like effect of his teeth causing the other to shudder…although in pleasure or distaste Barrel neither knew nor care. “Who gives a fuck what Lock and Shock think.”
“…good to have you back, Barrel.”
“I never left.”
“...I know.”
[WORDS END HERE, YO.]
SO THERE.
That's a little doodle involving Wirez(my manic mad-scientist experiment gone horribly wrong) and his new buddy Barrel(who I literally made up while I was typing this for no particular reason). No idea who Lock and Shock are...but I'll probably make them too.
...yes....I may have based their names off of Nightmare Before Christmas...
...but that's only because Lock, Shock, & Barrel are the ULTIMATETEAM.
....so there.
Comments & Critque Welcome
What happens when Jack gets upset? If she can't ride...or run around...or rant....or cause some sort of chaos...she writes. What does she write? Depends. Sometimes its depressing shit she usually deletes and moves on from. Sometimes its violent. Usually its insane crack...or horror...or disgustingly twisted...some sort of cynical out-put. Tonight...well...its a bit twisted...but kinda cute.
Either way, Jack likes it. So she wants to share with y'all. More of these will probably pop up, as its going to be a stressful year, and when stress comes knocking Jack's keyboard gets a work out.
So here y'all go, a little what-not from the workings of Jack's mind.
[WORDS START HERE, YO.]
Dark circles were beneath his eyes, the eternally exhausted stare of the young man high in the sky as he tilted his chin back and frowned. The glider flipped above him and his eyes narrowed subtly, the grey-blue irises dancing with electric blue as he lifted a hand, following the air-craft’s movements with his finger tips. Without warning he tilted his hand sharply to the side, the yell of the pilot echoing in the morning as the glider suddenly dove to the side, its wings perpendicular to the ground. The boy’s eyes were closed now, his body stepping into the familiar moves of a taijutsu warm-up, hands flowing in powerfully but smoothly through the air.
High above him the glider’s driver was panicking, clinging onto his slight-plane for dear life as it twisted and jerked, wings acting as though they were attached to iron strings being yanked to and fro.
“Still hate planes?”
The boy’s eyes snapped open, neck twisting sharply as he turned to the side, expressions slipping away behind his mask. “I do not hate.”
A scoff sounded behind him, but Barrel didn’t turn to look this time, the image of the predatory creature sharp in his minds-eye.
He could picture the monster’s every steps, his warped feet seeming to barely graze the ground as he approached in a cat-like manner, swaying from side-to-side childishly with his mismatched eyes glowing unnaturally bright…and that long metal tail flicking over his shoulder as though it were a rapier searching for blood. He could see the ram-like horns on the beast’s head, and the way his thick blue hair lay in haphazard spikes. He could imagine the lop-sided grin, and the way one of his over-sized canines was always sticking out over his upper lip. He could picture the way he would slink up, muscles clear and yet understated as his green eye whirled with mechanical precision on the object of his attention, and the way his orange eye would flash with animalistic instinct.
So clearly could he see the beast that he didn’t bother to flinch when he felt powerful arms—arms that could snap him in two—wrap delicately around his neck. He didn’t budge when that mechanical-wonder of a tail wrapped around his legs and waist, or shudder when the flat side of the blade—sharp enough to cut through steel—curled under his shirt and was pressed firmly against his stomach. He didn’t twitch when hot breath tickled his neck, or when a tongue—too long and too dark to be human—lapped playfully at his ear. He didn’t blink when dull front teeth clicked against his earrings despite knowing that just beyond those front teeth and those misshapen canines, were rows upon rows of mangled teeth that could shred him to nothing in one bite.
“Hahaha…don’t hate.” The monster repeated, nuzzling the side of Barrel’s cheek almost fondly before he was gone, slinking past him like the breath-of-foul-air he was. “That’s a barrel of laughs.” Barrel did watch as the man sashayed in front of him, waltzing away with the delicate-steps of a spoiled dancer, “Pun—of course—intended.”
He couldn’t help the grin that tweaked his expression-less face. Couldn’t help the way he couldn’t look away from that monster’s movements…and honestly…he didn’t care. He didn’t care that he allowed the glider to catch a breeze, sailing away to safety. Didn’t care that his dull eyes were glimmering…didn’t care that his own legs had betrayed him, booted feet following in military precision to that beast’s tune.
He didn’t try to stop the hand that reached out, clasping the end of the creature’s tail, didn’t try to force back the swell of pride as the devil glanced over his shoulder in surprise, pupils dilating in purely-animalistic lust as he leaned down and ran his tongue over the flat side…and then bit onto the sharp edge.
“Lock and Shock’ll be displeased.”
Barrel snorted, the given-names of his partners striking a fouler note than this monster ever had in his mind, and released the tail, running his hands up that boney back to grab one of his horns roughly, yanking him down to his own rather unimpressive height. Faces inches apart he let a grin spread onto his lips, the corpse-like effect of his teeth causing the other to shudder…although in pleasure or distaste Barrel neither knew nor care. “Who gives a fuck what Lock and Shock think.”
“…good to have you back, Barrel.”
“I never left.”
“...I know.”
[WORDS END HERE, YO.]
SO THERE.
That's a little doodle involving Wirez(my manic mad-scientist experiment gone horribly wrong) and his new buddy Barrel(who I literally made up while I was typing this for no particular reason). No idea who Lock and Shock are...but I'll probably make them too.
...yes....I may have based their names off of Nightmare Before Christmas...
...but that's only because Lock, Shock, & Barrel are the ULTIMATETEAM.
....so there.
Comments & Critque Welcome
