selfdestructiveseven-blog

[selfdestructiveseven-blog]

Crowbar was only half relieved that the guards decided to intervene amidst the half-hearted protests of the inmates. He supposed that was a better alternative than Slick finishing to rip his throat out.

Coughing out the burning sensation left by Slick's grip - he could almost feel the shape of the bruise that would leave - he didn't resist against being dragged away. But he did hiss a retort at Slick.

"Fuck you, I'm not the one that-"

"Quiet, both of you," one of the guards snapped, his hands tightening threateningly on Crow's arm. Crow winced and fell into a brooding silence, trying to keep up the pace without tripping on his own feet.

Defending his position would be of no use, not like the guards would give a rat's ass... the only upside was, two whole weeks without having to see Slick's ugly mug, or anyone else's for that matter. He could do with that.

shootingspades‌:

@selfdestructiveseven

Slick found Crowbar in the commons room sitting on a worn couch that still had faded dapples of blood on the armrest. And without saying a word, he grabbed his neck from behind and squeezed tight. His growl was hot in the man’s ear. It wasn’t uncommon for the guards to allow the caged animals here to tear into each other.

“Wanna hear what real whimpering sounds like? I can help you learn how to do it.” He squeezed tighter, rage building up in his body like a volcano.

Crowbar barely managed to hit send on the last exchange of messages when he felt a steel grip squeezing his windpipe shut. Seems like he wouldn’t have the last word on this one.

The cheap phone clattering to the floor with the tell-tale sound of the screen cracking, Crowbar instinctively went to claw at Slick’s hands, his mouth gaping like a fish’s for breath. His thoughts began running high with adrenaline; he didn’t expect to be rescued any time soon from the guards, much less from the other inmates, who were already gathering around in a semicircle and cheering for the show about to go down. 

He knew punching back wouldn’t serve much, as not even his crowbar served to crack Slick’s hard head back before they were thrown in the slammer. And scratching like some bitch at the hands choking him out would do even less. He had to play dirty.

He closed his hands into fists, stuck his thumbs out, and jammed them back approximately where he calculated Slick’s eyes would be.

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shootingspades‌:

@selfdestructiveseven

Slick found Crowbar in the commons room sitting on a worn couch that still had faded dapples of blood on the armrest. And without saying a word, he grabbed his neck from behind and squeezed tight. His growl was hot in the man's ear. It wasn't uncommon for the guards to allow the caged animals here to tear into each other.

"Wanna hear what real whimpering sounds like? I can help you learn how to do it." He squeezed tighter, rage building up in his body like a volcano.

Crowbar barely managed to hit send on the last exchange of messages when he felt a steel grip squeezing his windpipe shut. Seems like he wouldn’t have the last word on this one.

The cheap phone clattering to the floor with the tell-tale sound of the screen cracking, Crowbar instinctively went to claw at Slick’s hands, his mouth gaping like a fish’s for breath. His thoughts began running high with adrenaline; he didn’t expect to be rescued any time soon from the guards, much less from the other inmates, who were already gathering around in a semicircle and cheering for the show about to go down. 

He knew punching back wouldn’t serve much, as not even his crowbar served to crack Slick’s hard head back before they were thrown in the slammer. And scratching like some bitch at the hands choking him out would do even less. He had to play dirty.

He closed his hands into fists, stuck his thumbs out, and jammed them back approximately where he calculated Slick’s eyes would be.

[selfdestructiveseven-blog]

shootingspades‌:

don’t know what you’re talking about.

Right. Don’t you have anyone else to bother? Or to get locked up over a damn squabble?

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Neck Kisses Along the Trees

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shootingspades‌:

jesus you’re shit at sharp banter.

you mutter in your sleep. do you know how long i’ve stopped myself from strangling you on the bed rail.

So sorry, your majesty. I’ll put more effort into being your court jester next time.

And you whimper in your sleep. I’d smother you with a pillow if I had any inkling of pity towards you.

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diamonddeadeye started following you

Oh hello there.

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Hah. Knew it.

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And I noticed you still got your nuts. Wonder how long that will last.

@selfdestructiveseven hey dipshit.

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Oh hey, it lives.

What.

@selfdestructiveseven hey dipshit.

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dreams on sale, today only

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pern1c1ous‌:

(txt) Ah, I believe I have something mmore your speed-

(txt) A simple stone you keep close to you. It increases your luck, making you hard to touch.

[txt] Oh, that would be a riot. I’d love to see Slick get confused while trying and failing to hit me.

[txt] How can I pay you for that? I don’t have much money to my name right now, I’m afraid.

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pern1c1ous‌:

(txt) Actually.

(txt) I do have something you might find useful.

(txt) It’s a small hand mirror that’s been cursed. When one looks into their reflection they’re confronted with their worst fears.

[txt] ...Hm. Tempting.

[txt] The only downside to that is, I have no idea what Slick would do after seeing it. He might shrug it off or just finally break and do something... uh, worse than usual.

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pern1c1ous‌:

(txt) Well, you are in prison.

(txt) Good to know you’re still alive. Do you need any, pprovisions?

[txt] That I am. 

[txt] I don’t think so, no, but thanks for offering.

[txt] Maybe something hard and heavy to clobber the bane of my existence with.

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shootingspades‌:

Clang. It’s a loud, metallic ringing that slams through one ear and out the other, leaving everything in the middle rattling. Every tooth seems to loosen in his mouth a bit, a few definitely flying from his mouth. Not that it’s stopping his assault or his rage. Once he rights himself and avoids falling over the decaying railing of the stairs he twists back with his knife, starting his retaliation with a well placed donkey kick intended for Crowbar’s knee. “Finally. Fuckin’ finally, am I right?” Snarled out through his teeth, of course, as he begins to stab at Crowbar with vital, brutal intent.  Kidney, kidney, solar plexus.

The crack of your knee resonates through you like the twang of a string, and you wonder dully if your tendons have a part in that. Either way, it knocks your leg right from under you. The bright side is, the white-hot pain manages to make the following stabs feel like bee stings in comparison. Or maybe the knife is just sharp, and you’re high on adrenaline all of a sudden. 

You grab his wrist on the last stab and wring it like a wet rag, pulling Slick close enough for an encounter of the blunt trauma kind with your forehead. You don’t figure a hit on that thick skull will do much since your crowbar barely fazed him, but perhaps you can distract him long enough to... you don’t know, cave some other part in?

You eyeball the aim as close as possible to the bridge of Slick’s nose, hoping to send it straight back into his brain.

Ah shit, here we go again.

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[txt] How are you?

@pern1c1ous

(txt) Crowbar? A pleasant surprise. (txt) Just fine. Are you alright?

[txt] Ah, apologies for getting back to you this late.

[txt] I’ve been dealing, mostly. But glad to know you’re doing alright.

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😡

People chewing loudly. You can imagine I left the room quickly when Eggs and Biscuits were around the fridge.

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😡

I detest the feeling of not being listened to.