08-02-2018, 08:24 PM
[size=9pt]Messy hair and scabbed cheeks. Hands stained green and a stray leaf that somehow managed to sneak it's way behind his ear. Moon looks in the mirror and has a bizarre moment of self-realization, self-actualization, self-awareness, self-whatever-the-fuck. He studies himself for a moment, waiting for the inevitable breakdown that happens in all the movies; the one where he'll punch the mirror and see his face in the shards and burst into tears. But it never comes. It's kind of frustrating. Here he was thinking the mommy issues were enough, but, guess not. What the fuck is a guy to do when he doesn't meet angsty protagonist standards?
Nights like these drag on like a previously 4 legged cat made 2 legged by an unfortunate event involving a truck and a driver distracted by Tinder. And the similes tend to drag on, too. Was that even a fucking simile? He didn't know. He'd ask Peri, another time.
For now, there's this really fucking bad music floating into his room, and it's been for the past few minutes, so he heaves a sigh and slips off the counter to go do something about it. He stumbles down the stairs, through the hallways, navigating his dim surroundings through hazy, sleep deprived eyes. But the whiplash he gets from what he see's wakes him up well enough.
Hazel is dancing. And it's not the cha-cha or that ballroom shit, she's moving her hips in a type of way that makes Moon feel guilty for even seeing it and, was that just a slut drop. He's completely taken off guard, and it takes his exhausted brain a moment to adjust, but when it does, he's quick to interrupt. He clears his throat and raps his knuckles against the wood, twice and hard. "I-- Listen, Nuts, you've clearly got skills, but I don't wanna go to hell for peeking tom type shit and, also, Bast will fucking kill me if I see this and he doesn't." He grins, sheepish. "I kinda' wanna' live long enough to see the Lion King live action movie. El Diablo tells me Putlocker doesn't work for shit, down there."
Nights like these drag on like a previously 4 legged cat made 2 legged by an unfortunate event involving a truck and a driver distracted by Tinder. And the similes tend to drag on, too. Was that even a fucking simile? He didn't know. He'd ask Peri, another time.
For now, there's this really fucking bad music floating into his room, and it's been for the past few minutes, so he heaves a sigh and slips off the counter to go do something about it. He stumbles down the stairs, through the hallways, navigating his dim surroundings through hazy, sleep deprived eyes. But the whiplash he gets from what he see's wakes him up well enough.
Hazel is dancing. And it's not the cha-cha or that ballroom shit, she's moving her hips in a type of way that makes Moon feel guilty for even seeing it and, was that just a slut drop. He's completely taken off guard, and it takes his exhausted brain a moment to adjust, but when it does, he's quick to interrupt. He clears his throat and raps his knuckles against the wood, twice and hard. "I-- Listen, Nuts, you've clearly got skills, but I don't wanna go to hell for peeking tom type shit and, also, Bast will fucking kill me if I see this and he doesn't." He grins, sheepish. "I kinda' wanna' live long enough to see the Lion King live action movie. El Diablo tells me Putlocker doesn't work for shit, down there."
[align=center][div style="width: 500px; height: auto; text-align: center; font-family: ; font-size: 9pt; color: COLOR; letter-spacing: -.5px;"][i][b]and die like a hero going home.[glow=black,2,300]