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#kitts99
leonraan · 6 years
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🍺 + what does 13 times 5 equal?
Send ‘’🍺‘’ + a question and my muse will answer it while they’re drunk – accepting
“are you making fun of me? what kind of question is that?” he pouts, eyebrows drawn together. then there’s a moment a of what seems to be deliberation where he stops moving entirely, an intense sort of focus finding it’s way on his expression, almost like a certainty that he can figure it out, beginning to count on his fingers. “wait, wouldn’t it be in like the six digits? are you asking me a six digit question right now?” he pauses, a long moment of silence passing before he lets out a laugh. “oh, no, wait it’s just thirteen times five, right? why was i doing exponents? did you say anything about exponents? uhh, sixty five, right? sixty?” he paused, counting his fingers once again before getting bored and stopping midway through.
he shrugged, waving it off entirely. “doesn’t matter, i don’t even like math, i think it’s my least favorite part about like… everything. i’m generally good at it, though, just not right now.” his words slur just a little, certain vowels missing from his sentences, a lazy speech. he lets out a noise not unlike a giggle. “do you like brain puzzles? like, iq questions? i’m good at those. how about this one, can you answer this one?” he sits up straighter, making motions with his hands, something of an intense concentration. “okay, so, if five plus three equals twenty-eight, and four plus six equals…. two hundred and ten, and, fuck, uhh…. two plus eight equals six hundred and ten, then what does six plus eight equal?” he paused, squinting. “i think i said that right… i don’t know, you brought up math…. i think i fucked it up, you add the numbers to get the second part and then you subtract them to get the first part. so like, two plus eight is ten and eight minus two is six….. does that make sense?” he laughed again. 
“i dunno, why are we talking about this again?”
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zacharyx99-blog · 6 years
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🔑 + "Do I owe you for patching up my brother too?"
cursed with an honesty spell : accepting
it’s a scoff that follows kitts question first, eyebrows drawing together for a split second before he shakes his head shortly. even though there is often disapproval or even disdain to be found etched into zachary’s features, it is something more sharp this time that crosses his expression as his gaze finds the mechanic. the doctor’s clearly disagreeing with her question, but in such an active way that it is clear he has a set opinion on the matter.
“my business is with the people involved, not everyone around them. if you’d have asked me to patch up your brother, then yes, you’d owe me if you hadn’t paid. but considering you did not ask me, the debt is all his to pay.”
he keeps his rather stern gaze on her for a moment longer before shaking his head once more, as if signalling that he can’t believe she even asked him this question. then another thought seems to strike him and he tilts his head lightly to the side. in a matter of moments the smirk reappears on his face again as his eyes find hers once more.
“which also means that you can’t butt in and try to pay it for him, either.”
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boone99-blog1 · 6 years
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“what is this nonsense?”
The sudden question has Boone peeking up, timidly, from the odd concoction mixed together in one of the big bowls on the counter. The natural brown eye dilated due to his last hit off weed making him look a tad deranged, really though he’s quite happy save for being caught trying to cook something red handed. There is one major rule in Kitts’ house; Boone doesn’t touch the kitchen, yet here he is with what can only be described as him putting various strange ingredients into a washing machine then dumping it into a mixing bowl after the wash cycle.
That hint of marijuana wafts through the air giving away the fact that he’d been smoking for a while before starting this, possibly adding some to it in the process. Regardless he knows, he knows there will be a price to pay. That the chance of having something thrown at his head or a boot to the ass is nearly at 100%. He’s aware of this yet all he can think to do in a slight laps in judgment is hold the spoon out toward her, grease covered bread crumbs (possibly literal grease, knowing Boone), and what looks to be paper. “Want a bite?” 
Without waiting on a response he shoves it into his mouth then makes a face while chewing, his brain trying to recognize what flavor comes from where. Both eyes water as he swallows it then flinches, a shiver of either disgust or a chill shooting up his body. 
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kittsthemetester2 · 6 years
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gkjghfkjhgkjhgkiuygku
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zacharyx99-blog · 6 years
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“the reason i’m leaving is you.”
movie quotes meme: accepting
“that’s a shame,” zachary responds, and for an actual moment there, one could almost imagine he’s speaking the truth. one could almost imagine he is bummed about the fact that kitts is leaving because of him.
but then one corner of his mouth pulls up into a slight smirk and no matter what his words may have suggested, his entire demeanour clearly displays the truth. he doesn’t care whether she stays or goes, but the fact that she does so solely because of his presence entertains him greatly.
“i do so enjoy your presence, my dear. the frustration sparking in your bones might be one of my most favourite things on this entire planet.”
he winks at her, but it is every bit the mockery as the rest of his words are, not flirtatious edge to him, nothing but amusement at her expense.
“and i’m including ‘owed favours’ in that list.”
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zacharyx99-blog · 6 years
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[ garde le sang froid ]
@kitts99​
it’s been a couple of months now since zachary made a deal with kitts. a proper mechanic, trying to act all tough, but really the easiest cookie to crack. or at least that’s how the doc has experienced her so far.
the simple fact is that there was something she needed and zachary could provide, but nothing she could give him in return. and the outstanding favour she’s owed him since has been getting on her nerves in the most obvious of ways, which in turn is the best entertainment zachary has come across ever since he landed on this godforsaken planet.
so it’s no surprise that he walks into the mechanic’s shop a tad more often than he actually has grounds for, using any need he has for something mechanic to visit her and watch the way she despises being indebted to someone. he grins about it too, whenever she’s not watching.
putting a cigarette between his lips, zachary lights it as he steps into the shop, eyes wandering over the things on display before they come to a stop on the owner. “kitts,” he greets her with a nod of his head. “i need a cooling box. about ye high.” using his free hand to indicate the proper height, he calmly moves to lean against her working table.
“think you could hook me up? at a reasonable price, of course, i’m not about to pay a few hundreds for it. it doesn’t have to be that fancy.” he pulls up a corner of his mouth into what’s supposed to be a friendly smile but what looks more like a smirk, then puts the cigarette back between his lips and inhales another breath. 
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zacharyx99-blog · 6 years
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🔑 + "Why are you so intent on holding this favor over my head?" 🔑 + "Is there even a reason or do you just like pissing me off?"
cursed with an honesty spell : accepting
it’s not the first time that kitts asks him about the favour, wanting to know when he’ll finally release her from its hold. it is, however, the first time she asks it of him on such a befitting moment. and zachary realises as his mind automatically starts to spun a response - a truthful response - that he should never have let himself come anywhere near her while still suffering from the affliction that’s making him speak only truths.
“there is a reason, yes,” he starts, and decides to position himself just so that he can pretend he’s enjoying this just as much as he would otherwise enjoy dangling the favour over her head, as she so nicely put it. “i don’t really do it to piss you off, since that’s way too easy a thing to achieve and the repercussions of anger are not something i enjoy.” he gives a small shrug, lets his eyes rest on kitts and the way she’s looking at him.
“however, i do enjoy watching you struggle and wriggle to try and get out from underneath that favour, all the while knowing that no matter what you suggest i most probably won’t take it as due payment anyway.” the smirk spreads on his features then, saying this suddenly becoming just as entertaining as the actual act of dangling, causing zachary to actually look relaxed and at ease for a moment there.
that is until his mouth opens once more and a truth gets spilled that should have forever remained in the deepest, darkest corners of his innermost self. for it is a remembrance of a past that he would have much rather left to simmer in the dark where no one could ever learn of it. such is not his luck, it seems.
“you remind me of my little sister, sometimes.”
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leonraan · 6 years
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SEND ME ‘☾’ FOR AN AESTHETIC OF OUR MUSES, OR SEND ME A ‘⚡’ FOR A MOODBOARD OF OUR MUSES. – accepting
                               kitts & gael – moodboard 1
  ------- i think you might just be the smartest person i’ve ever met   --------------------------------------------------- well, that’s because i am
@kitts99
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leonraan · 6 years
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“first thought, best thought.”
Gael’s lips turned down into a small frown, his arms crossed over his chest. “Yeah, well, that’s the most logical answer but let’s think about every possibility, right?” He stared down at the mess of fluid puddling his shop floor, a pensive expression hinted with frustration and exhaustion; the picture of weariness in it’s purest form. It had been a simple mistake, caused by sleep deprivation and carelessness, that lead to the mess being created, to it spreading, and then inevitably almost bringing Gael to tears like his own toxic version of spilled milk – all simply because he was too tired to deal with it. “I mean, there’s pros and cons to both.” He reasoned, trying to convince himself out loud that that was a true statement in the slightest, that one option wasn’t riddled with cons that primarily consisted of him dying in some tragic way or another. “On one hand, if I do clean it up, there’s no danger and the chances of me dying overnight deplete to more of the usual fifteen percent as opposed to around… say, ninety-five?”
He was sluggish, working on maybe three hours of sleep for the past twenty-eight hours and feeling as if his limbs were weighed in steel, even accounting for the one that actually was. He felt the grip of laziness and reluctance that he rarely, if ever, experienced; physically and mentally weak. “But the cons to that are I really, really don’t wanna do it.” He stood leaning against the far wall, the tingling sensation in his limbs almost convincing him that moving would prove fatal, the possibility of legs collapsing, eyes struggling to stay open as he chewed on his bottom lip. He could feel the dread forming in his gut at the sight, trying to convince himself that this was the only viable option and that he really, genuinely, could not leave the mess overnight.
“Okay, yeah, so if I leave it… well, it’s noxious and could possibly kill me within a few hours, and if that doesn’t happen then… yeah, it’s also highly flammable and, sure, most things in this room click on and off on a rather consistent basis, so it could burst into flames at any moment and I could, again, you know… die.” He looked to Kitts, an almost wide-eyed countenance, as if he was trying to convince himself it wasn’t that bad while also experiencing a thrill of fear, like a shock up his spine being poorly suppressed by the strong urge to ignore the problem. His lips downturned further, nearing a full-pout as he locked eyes with Kitts, like a silent beg for some help, his tone coming out like a whine, a rather uncommon noise to come from the engineer’s mouth as he was rarely one to complain about anything, especially work. 
“But if I leave it the pro is that don’t have to do it and I can go to bed and I’m tired.” 
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leonraan · 6 years
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a lesson in tandem
@kitts99
She was never considered separate from him in his mind, not in the way that two people work together as different entities but instead a single machine, an extension of the same working mind. The times he needed an extra pair of hands tended to go more seamlessly than those he did not, as long as the other hands belonged to Kitts, careful and exact. When it came to protos they had always tended to move like one. Perhaps it could be drawn down to growing together, more mind than physical, perpetual lab partners since day one with practice kits and small, broken radios until eventually they were helping to redesign life, but he chose to believe it was deeper than that.
There was an understanding between them, a silent connection that when he moved one limb of his own, she moved one of hers, as if she knew what he was going to do and how she could best offer assistance and vice versa; a perfect partnership, a constant movement in tandem. Her company only made it all the more enjoyable, small laughs and shoulder shoves, subtle jokes and good conversation, silences that were never uncomfortable. Perhaps the admission of it was unnecessary but he always looked at her with something that resembled a fondness, an appreciation. He looked up to her in his own way, not just her skills, though they were difficult to rival, but her self-certainty, her confidence. He’d never seen anything like it, and even still, growing up next to her for a portion of his life, she had never made him feel as if he were cast into a shadow, not even once.
No mother, no siblings, maybe he had formed a projection, an image of what he expected family to be, what he wanted, and she had stood like a beacon in his life since the moment he started needing one. It remained unsaid by words and he wondered if she knew it too, never one to be doted on nor overbearing, but he always felt like the starry-eyed child looking up at her, so few years his elder, with an almost safe aura, like a protector on a playground; the older sister to give the bullies hell. 
It was a childish notion, he knew that.
He wiped his forehead as he leaned over the mess of pieces the proto was in, snapping parts into place and having to practically push through a mess of wires, frayed and misplaced, a mission prepared for only the mechanic with the softest of hearts, as he should’ve been considered a lost cause. He was built with poor parts and destroyed with worse, a machine designed to be broken and created to struggle, but even still, Gael wouldn’t let it die, and if it weren’t for Kitts help he wouldn’t have gotten as far as he had. 
He was happy to have her around.
He pulled back from the machine, watching it’s hands twitch in it’s hibernation, small movements to show it’s repair, the physical damage still messy but the internal structures looking much better. He sighed, a deep and heavy breath as he rubbed his palms on his pants, moving to lean against his work table, his exhaustion evident on his face.
“I think from here he just needs rewiring and probably a good dusting somewhere in his motherboard. A few small part replacements.” He said, more to himself than Kitts as he had a feeling she was thinking the same thing, though he couldn’t really know for sure. “Thanks again. For helping me out with this, I mean. You aren’t wrong when you say you’re the best.” He added smiling, weary but genuine with a flash of dimples.
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sgnjongin · 6 years
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i want you to catch me like a cold
@kitts99
this time, when ares stalks through the madhouse, his posture poised, his boots heavy, the darkened shade of him melting with the corners of the nightclub, he is nothing of the decor, nothing of the menagerie, nothing of the strobe lights, the throbbing music, the filthy murmurs between slurring lips, the sticky-sweet ecstasy of it all. not like usual. this time, he has come for a job of his own, unbent for all this wasteland world, asking nothing, begging for nothing, ignoring the looks he receives from patrons and staff alike, what they all expect from him, what they all anticipate.
no favors today, he is not here to ask for a chemical concoction, dubious and untested, he’s not here to grovel for help with the muscle slowly dying in his chest, the only piece of real treasure he keeps to himself, the prize he grips between desperate, metallic knuckles, the scarred synthetic hems of his skin stretched across the only authentic component to his lifespan; something that’s not even originally his. he is not here for that though, not today; today he burns on a hunt, the mission etching itself into his spinal cord, itching to get finished, to wrap up, to heal. today he’s an assassin, a conqueror, something of a blood-stained hero--or at least, he’s about to be.
when he finds the disgusting scum of a human, the vermin is already onto his next victim, a fire-haired female at the bar, his bulky presence threatening to overpower her despite her obvious distaste, something ares can’t blame her for. he’s a wanted rapist, not that any of the paladins have managed to pin definitive evidence on him ( such is life on the last city in the solar system: even the police force is tied down by legalities ), but that’s nothing ares pays any attention to, nothing he factors in with. ares, a battle-laden ghost in this town, phasing in and out with a fake operating license on his chest, the silly rules and regulations humans bombard themselves with meaning nothing to his atmosphere.
he spots his prey, his eyes shifting crimson, shifting knife-sharp, shifting venomous, and he approaches the large mongrel the way a storm bears down over a city, unstoppable, undefeatable, uncontrollable. he feels the tension rise between the male and this girl, but ares steps in just in time, steel fingers clenching and locking over fleshy biceps, disregarding whatever sinew and muscle is there because it makes no difference. it doesn’t matter how much taller the man is, how much broader, how many scars he bares.
humans need protos to be subservient, need them to be stupid and half-broken, in order to remain in control of them. because otherwise… ares and his people would crunch bones between their teeth, take the city by force. protos do have the capabilities for it, that’s for damn sure.
but instead of dealing with the toxicity as a whole, the war machine settles for taking out his frustrations on this sack of rotted meat, slamming him against the bar top, dodging his counter attack, and punching him hard enough in the head to drop him to the ground, unconsciousness immediately taking a satisfying effect. if he’s not dead yet, not bruised in the brain with a concussion ( ares’ fists at full force could knock a whole building down to his shuddering knees ), he soon will be.
ares’ red-hued gaze slips back into its nightsky setting as it lifts up from the crumpled mass to the woman he’d been accosting, for the first time finally taking note of her appearance; the long legs, smooth skin, hair like a sunset, eyes like shards of ice. offhandedly, he wonders what it would take to melt her. “was this guy bothering you, petal?”
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