04-25-2018, 09:47 PM
[div style="background-color: #dedfdf; width: 305px; border-bottom: 1px solid black; border-left: 1px solid black; border-right: 1px solid black; padding: 10px; line-height: 110%; word-wrap: break-word; text-align: justify; margin: auto; color: black; font-family: Georgia; text-size: 6pt"]
Fireworks sounded like the last thing that Bastille's headache needed, frankly. But three people he actually liked seemed to be gathered for the god awful show, and maybe, just maybe, they would actually be enough to dull his sour mood. Besides -- avoiding loud shit in the name of these fucking plagues was just giving into their brutality. Bast was sick of rolling over for his headaches, allowing them to dominate his life... Perhaps it was dramatic, but the bengal was getting real fucking sick of the damned things.
And so his new approach was just to ignore them. To plow on, temple throbbing, and pretend that everything was completely fucking normal and he wasn't fraying at the edges from lack of sleep and pent up energy. Nope. Everything was perfectly fucking peachy in Bast's life right now, thanks.
"Sick," he provided, eloquently, as he plopped down beside Imm. He seemed a little morose, as if maybe he wasn't fighting back his murderous migraine that badly, but after a beat he was shoving at Imm's shoulder playfully. [b]"Not bad, Immy."
Fireworks sounded like the last thing that Bastille's headache needed, frankly. But three people he actually liked seemed to be gathered for the god awful show, and maybe, just maybe, they would actually be enough to dull his sour mood. Besides -- avoiding loud shit in the name of these fucking plagues was just giving into their brutality. Bast was sick of rolling over for his headaches, allowing them to dominate his life... Perhaps it was dramatic, but the bengal was getting real fucking sick of the damned things.
And so his new approach was just to ignore them. To plow on, temple throbbing, and pretend that everything was completely fucking normal and he wasn't fraying at the edges from lack of sleep and pent up energy. Nope. Everything was perfectly fucking peachy in Bast's life right now, thanks.
"Sick," he provided, eloquently, as he plopped down beside Imm. He seemed a little morose, as if maybe he wasn't fighting back his murderous migraine that badly, but after a beat he was shoving at Imm's shoulder playfully. [b]"Not bad, Immy."
Honey, you're familiar, like my mirror years ago, Idealism sits in prison, chivalry fell on his sword, Innocence died screaming; honey, ask me, I should know, I slithered here from Eden just to sit outside your door. [b][sup]▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃[/sup][/b]