eisiramdeus

[eisiramdeus]

[eisiramdeus]

Caravaggio (1986) dir. Derek Jarman

[eisiramdeus]

No pulling out allowed ✘ only creampies in this house

[eisiramdeus]

[eisiramdeus]

✯ TERRIBLE WAY TO THINK ABOUT IT. HAVE YOU SEEN THE AVERAGE FUCKER OUT THERE? THEY'RE NOT EARNING THEIR PAYCHECKS, EITHER. Start thinking like that, and the whole world would die, deliriously sleep deprived. Look at you. You're already seeing omens.

❝Don't know.❞ Not true, he knows why he's still up at two in the morning. It's not that he's morally against sleep on his damn honor like that, he knows he deserves his rest, but it does not come easily. Paranoid and intrusive, some nights, when he's alone, and it's been a lonely life thus far. He reckons you probably didn't get much sleep recently, either, with the, ah, baby and all. Sorry about your divorce. It's a big part of why he's insisted on having Walker camp out on his guest bedroom for a while. Some cowboys you fuckers are, huh. Not even a stiff, uncomfortable pull-out couch for the guest, or air mattress on the floor, let alone real camping by the fire on God's green grass. A whole ass guest bedroom. HOME OWNERSHIP, the fruits of his homicidal, hazard-paying labor. And also cheap Texas land. Californians stay mad.

In Walker's defense, he is being an ominous presence, sitting on the damn floor in the dark, right beside the large doggy bed in the kitchen near the water & food bowls. He was just sitting there, quietly, stroking Sakura's back, mostly for his own soothing. You probably didn't expect a fucker on the floor in the pitch-black country darkness.

❝... that a beer?❞ He can't see what Walker is doing, but that hiss & cap clink is unmistakable. He's gigglin' into the dark. It's two in the morning, you're so fucking divorced. He doesn't say it, of course, because Walker is fucking divorced, so it's too soon. Still, this is some advanced day drinking; real boot shitbag behaviors. ❝Aw, Johnny.❞ Alright, he's getting up from the floor, Sakura's pointy malinoisy ears perking up but she stays put for now. He heads over to the switch, turning on just the shielded, hanging lights over the center island, casting a limited glow in the kitchen. The situation doesn't call for blasting their blue eyes in the night with the overhead lights. ❝Just... hard t' sleep alone, is all. Nothin' new, though. I manage. I git jumpy at the shadows, and the windows—God, the windows? Fuck, haha...❞ could turn into a group-of-two therapy session, tell him what's keeping you up, and back-and-forth.

sleep is like a paycheck, you earn it.

when the dust settles and the fight is done ... when your bones are too weary to stand ... you can sleep. because then it's not just sleep, no, and that cannot be explained. it's something more than sleep - the closest, maybe, someone can get do death ... the brain has reached its limits and the control during a high stress environment has burnt through everything and your muscles feel like over-stretched rubber bands caught beneath skin ... that's real sleep. no dreams, no interruptions: just a stark and endless nothingness, a reward for all the effort.

whether he'd earned it or not seems infinitely stupid stateside: pajama pants sag over hipbones, shoulders rolling against frigid air as he surfs through the dim halls of a home that is not his. (but the ghosts feel strangely familiar.) hand digs absently at the corner of left eye as headache brews behind it ... he doesn't remember what it's like to just drift off. no nagging thoughts, no what ifs, no nightmares, and up until a good few months ago ? no crying babies. (which weighs like a thousand pounds on his heart. that was his son, he couldn't help his crying. he was little, too little and too fragile, and john could never quite figure out how to quell what made him upset like olivia. another point of failure, maybe he'd been lying to himself when he'd said he wanted to be a father.)

apparently it didn't matter how quiet things were here, or lack there of thanks to a white noise machine that mostly just added to his antsy behaviors. john rounds into the dim kitchen, and admittedly, alex scares the shit out of him in the dark.

❛ jesus christ, alex. ❜ if whatever relatively surreal dream he'd had previously, two shitty memories mixed together into one horrifying moment, didn't get his heartbeat up ... this sure as shit did. ❛ why are you lurking in the dark. ❜ heartbeat flutters hard in his chest, hand rising to slink through unruly hair as he brushes by him to make it to fridge. his throat is dry, he needs something - water, beer, maybe a 9mm -

❛ with your ominous presence in the hallway, can you blame me ? ❜ it is 2am, and yet, the cap of beer hisses under the twist of his hand. the edges cut into the flesh of palm, he forgoes bottle opener because the super serum should probably remain useful or something. a heavy inhale, a heavier exhale - john leans against island and takes a comfortable swig. the sense of panic is stuffed down. ❛ i'm just thirsty, what's your excuse ? ❜

short angst. @eisiramdeus

[eisiramdeus]

cyberpunk brainrot rn pardon the absence kings

[eisiramdeus]

[eisiramdeus]

[eisiramdeus]

Jason Lewis and Josh Kelly Midnight, Texas 2.06 "No More Mr. Nice Kai"

[eisiramdeus]

"Affirmative, Alpha werewolf daddy six. Ready and waiting for extraction. Brat Princess Murderbarbie, out."

✯ Someone's son's big ass dark blue Ford truck pulls up at his place, but it's got a mounted gun on it, for the immersive war zone feel. Also illegal, but like, whatever. You're not a cop. Right? Cause you have to tell him if you're a cop.

[eisiramdeus]

[eisiramdeus]

[eisiramdeus]

[eisiramdeus]

"Alpha werewolf daddy six, this is Brat Princess Murderbarbie. You ready for our date?"

✯ ❝Affirmative, Brat Princess Murderbarbie. Rendezvous at outside yer door for extraction. Wear somethin' nice, and preferably disposable. It's gonna get dicey out there. Alpha Werewolf Daddy, out.❞ This will affect our credit score.

[eisiramdeus]

shawty i'm seven jager bombs deep and you look like you give some bomb head so how bout you c'mere

yeah yeah sacrifice entails this sacrifice entails that. how bout you SUCKrifice and give sum TAIL huh shawty

[eisiramdeus]

"You're gonna need at least two more Marine's to put me down, Cal."

✯ Okay, now they're just getting interservice-competitive. ❝It takes three Marines t' put ya down cause they're a little slow in the head. It only takes one of me, sweethar'.❞ And you don't even have to ask, yes, he wants to put that to the test. C'mere, ratty boy.

[eisiramdeus]

sees that Look™ in Cal's eyes. snorts. grins. speaks. "Y'really gonna try and wrangle Russo, huh?"

✯ ❝Why, y'wanna gimme a hand with this? We can team on him.❞ SEALs can be team players, too, you know. It's not just book deals and FOX news guest commentators. It's war crimes of passion, too, and they're best shared with the boys, like a Coors. A ride Billy wouldn't survive.