03-04-2020, 12:36 AM
When it came to sleeping habits, Blits had routine back home. He went to bed hours before anyone else would fall asleep. It usually was due to his fried brain denying him any level of function should he try to stay awake longer. Overwhelmed by an entirely new location absolutely drained him. If he'd not been half asleep from exhaustion for the last few hours prior to his slumber, perhaps he would have marveled with his achievement. It wasn't the epitome of self care or anything of the like, but an achievement that he had obtained nonetheless. Instead he had almost risen to a level of wanting to belittle himself for running around rampant while searching. It hadn't helped him learn the territory at all, and if anything it had ruined what little sense of direction Blits had. He'd lived underground most of his life. There was no sun, no wind. There was no way to tell direction other than what one saw. Sights wore down tracks within his mind, allowing for his easily overtasked mind to function with a sense of ease. Running and flying around jungles when Blits had previously never stepped foot in one? Disoriented behavior was certainly applicable.
The last time that he'd ran around while looking for his boyfriend it had followed believing that the other had been dead. Blown up in a car. He'd saw it with his gleaming orange eyes, witnessed and felt the fire. Yet, somehow, the other had lived. Somehow people had snatched him. Had it been before the race that had led to the other being in the car? Had it happened after? Blits hadn't particularly cared. All that had mattered was that somehow his boyfriend was alive and needed to be rescued. That ordeal hadn't taken days - the searching portion. Moping around and nearly falling into states of sheer sadness hadn't counted in Blits' mind. Searching had taken maybe less than a day. This wild chicken and boyfriend hunt had truly pushed him to his limits. It had established it, despite how unlikely it was that Blits' fried mind would be able to apply that information in a way that mattered.
His clinginess towards his boyfriend certainly derived from his youth. Blits' near desperate need - not want - for the other to be present had its roots placed within the entirety of his early life. Hiding away, hardly eating, hardly sleeping, with absolutely little to no contact with anyone. That had been the beginning of many of Blits' problems. His lack of intelligence and wit certainly stemmed from sitting curled up in a ball in a hole in the walls of a castle and doing nothing, not even breathing. Being electrocuted and having his core and mind fried to the limit several times over also disturbed his thought processes. What was normal and pleasant he craved. His boyfriend fell into such a category. There were no lengths that Blits would not undergo to assure that satisfaction, that presence. Even if it meant running rampant in unfamiliar territory in an unfamiliar body. He would not be deterred. It was a similarity, the smallest of them, between an eyesore of a creature and the thief that approached him.
Early to bed was said to make someone wise, as well as wake up earlier. Blits had no such luck with the old human metaphor. Instead, the seafoam colored creature was absolutely clonked out after a few minutes of laying down. Once his orange eyes had shut, that had sealed the deal for him succumbing to slumber. He didn't move or squirm, nor roll over or find a position more comfortable than the one that he had collapsed in. Perfectly still spare the rise and fall of his chest to signal that he was alive and still functioning. When his tail was pounced on, there was absolutely no reaction. Blits was no stranger to being pestered to wake up for falling asleep in less than proper places, and he was no stranger for trying to gather every second of sleep that he could muster. On occasions he would either be sprayed with water - should he fall asleep in the kitchen and be close enough for the sink's hose to reach - or be dragged out of bed. Stubbornness and a refusal to wake up were humorous back home, often warranting a disgruntled look from his boyfriend. Less than pleasant was it in the current.
When the bands were tugged on, they nudged against the electrical wounds that laid beneath the vibrant fluff that covered the Sinornithosaurus. The swelling of yellow flesh that they created was what kept the bands from being removed. The touch fired off what little nerves left that worked, causing for Blits' tail to awkwardly spasm. Not in any severe way, certainly in no way that warranted pain. When the movements became more vigorous, it warranted for Blits to wake up. Flinching from another sharp tug, his head jerked upright and a spill of deranged squawking noises came from him. His tail, previously flinching at random due to destroyed nerves firing off, went rigid before falling still. He craned his head a little, and the glint in his orange eyes spelt out absolute obliviousness. "Oh. Hi, Michael, right?" His words come out slow, decisive - and somehow he can't quite get the pronunciation of the other's name down correctly. Still exhausted is the drowsy creature, and unaware is he of the attempted theft. He doesn't move his tail away, nor does he acknowledge the pains that come from the electrical burns being disturbed. "What's up?" His head tilts, curious, eyes still half-lidded.
The last time that he'd ran around while looking for his boyfriend it had followed believing that the other had been dead. Blown up in a car. He'd saw it with his gleaming orange eyes, witnessed and felt the fire. Yet, somehow, the other had lived. Somehow people had snatched him. Had it been before the race that had led to the other being in the car? Had it happened after? Blits hadn't particularly cared. All that had mattered was that somehow his boyfriend was alive and needed to be rescued. That ordeal hadn't taken days - the searching portion. Moping around and nearly falling into states of sheer sadness hadn't counted in Blits' mind. Searching had taken maybe less than a day. This wild chicken and boyfriend hunt had truly pushed him to his limits. It had established it, despite how unlikely it was that Blits' fried mind would be able to apply that information in a way that mattered.
His clinginess towards his boyfriend certainly derived from his youth. Blits' near desperate need - not want - for the other to be present had its roots placed within the entirety of his early life. Hiding away, hardly eating, hardly sleeping, with absolutely little to no contact with anyone. That had been the beginning of many of Blits' problems. His lack of intelligence and wit certainly stemmed from sitting curled up in a ball in a hole in the walls of a castle and doing nothing, not even breathing. Being electrocuted and having his core and mind fried to the limit several times over also disturbed his thought processes. What was normal and pleasant he craved. His boyfriend fell into such a category. There were no lengths that Blits would not undergo to assure that satisfaction, that presence. Even if it meant running rampant in unfamiliar territory in an unfamiliar body. He would not be deterred. It was a similarity, the smallest of them, between an eyesore of a creature and the thief that approached him.
Early to bed was said to make someone wise, as well as wake up earlier. Blits had no such luck with the old human metaphor. Instead, the seafoam colored creature was absolutely clonked out after a few minutes of laying down. Once his orange eyes had shut, that had sealed the deal for him succumbing to slumber. He didn't move or squirm, nor roll over or find a position more comfortable than the one that he had collapsed in. Perfectly still spare the rise and fall of his chest to signal that he was alive and still functioning. When his tail was pounced on, there was absolutely no reaction. Blits was no stranger to being pestered to wake up for falling asleep in less than proper places, and he was no stranger for trying to gather every second of sleep that he could muster. On occasions he would either be sprayed with water - should he fall asleep in the kitchen and be close enough for the sink's hose to reach - or be dragged out of bed. Stubbornness and a refusal to wake up were humorous back home, often warranting a disgruntled look from his boyfriend. Less than pleasant was it in the current.
When the bands were tugged on, they nudged against the electrical wounds that laid beneath the vibrant fluff that covered the Sinornithosaurus. The swelling of yellow flesh that they created was what kept the bands from being removed. The touch fired off what little nerves left that worked, causing for Blits' tail to awkwardly spasm. Not in any severe way, certainly in no way that warranted pain. When the movements became more vigorous, it warranted for Blits to wake up. Flinching from another sharp tug, his head jerked upright and a spill of deranged squawking noises came from him. His tail, previously flinching at random due to destroyed nerves firing off, went rigid before falling still. He craned his head a little, and the glint in his orange eyes spelt out absolute obliviousness. "Oh. Hi, Michael, right?" His words come out slow, decisive - and somehow he can't quite get the pronunciation of the other's name down correctly. Still exhausted is the drowsy creature, and unaware is he of the attempted theft. He doesn't move his tail away, nor does he acknowledge the pains that come from the electrical burns being disturbed. "What's up?" His head tilts, curious, eyes still half-lidded.
TAGS 2/27/20:
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FULZANIN is a 19 year old content creator. Currently roleplaying as Beezlebub in the Pitt and Jotunhel in the Typhoon. Time spent outside of work and writing is typically done in Creatures of Sonaria. FULZANIN is also in a happy relationship, and is aegosexual/asexual herself.
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