𝘕𝘖𝘐𝘡

"Sure. Whatever."

Noiz regards the man at length enough to seem wary, pale green eyes searching quickly over his posture while trying to figure him out; an innate defensiveness, etched into him in some irreversible way, to study first before making any move. He waits a moment more before shrugging, helpless.

He parts his lips to answer, but seals them again with a faint furrow of his brow. His eyes flicker to the umbrella, and then back again. "Do you need something?"

A faint, poking sensation on his ribs makes Noiz jerk upright—there stands a face he recognizes instantly, features pale and young-looking under tousled ivory hair. To Noiz, he looks almost flawless.

Noiz glances up at Sly's face between cuts, lazily studying him from under faint lashes. "Another," he demands, a hand sliding up from the bed to settle atop a thigh, squirming pleasantly beneath the weight.

@slyaoba.bsky.social ♡

Any time Sly adds another incision seems to just spin out and out, a blissful eternity. He feels none of the pain that he's being put under, of course, but the sight—of narrow red lines, horizontal lacerations where the blade of the knife splits the skin—makes something move in him.

// 👀👀👀

// Hey, I'd for sure love that! (I'm also @rurakan.bsky.social, just fyi, lolol)

// jesus it's been A While lmao

// TBH I've been wanting to do smut but idk how to Recruit People to do smut rp with me without it sounding WEIRD.

// OH HI, it's so nice to hear from you!! I hope you've been well!

// It's completely fine to be uncomfortable with certain subjects (including the ones you'd label as 'taboo'), but that means you blacklist it, not make others privy to that personal conflict.

But, of course, that doesn't evoke the same rush as a sense of moral superiority.

// Nothing quite causes alarm fatigue like repeatedly seeing people making claims like "[person] is a pedophile" only find out they're talking about some dead dove RP account who's just minding their own business. Like, who cares! Just block and move on!

You're one to talk.

Should put on bunny ears.

He cups the cigarette with one hand and brings the lighter to it in the other, taking a long drag and holding it in his lungs until it starts to burn. His eyes flick to the meager crowd congregating in the distance.

"You're not playing?"

in hopes of attaining something from him, usually information or sex.

"You didn't come here just to kiss my ass," drawls Noiz, his face falling into the same emotionless expression from before. "Get to the point."

There flickers a knowing expression across Noiz's features. A smile, small, that does not quite reach his eyes, which narrow towards his Coil. He is familiar with this, recognizable to him purely by experience: shallow praise and wheedling to make oneself known and seen in his presence ↴

// I can stand the presence of maybe 2 straight cis men w/o getting a headache, lol. Obviously no pressure, but you can always write to me on here or discord if you ever want to plot!

"What do you want?" the kid says at last, avoiding the question, not even in what he would consider a defiant way. He has merely learned to deal with situations literally instead of attempting to read around people's bullshit, certainly helpful in his line of work.

Noiz is on his Coil, alternating between at least three screens when a voice crackles from a woman on his side. He meets her gaze easily; expressionless, narrow, pale eyes staring right back at her; studying her with the kind of wariness reserved for strangers whose intentions he knows little of. ↴

A glance thrown at the things being offered to him, reaching out to pluck only the cigarette from between the man's fingers. He brings the filtered end to his lips and leans over and in—tipping his head expectantly, a silent request—mumbling around it as he speaks.

"What are you doing here?"

"Some of it is," Noiz replies, pushing his thumb against his nose and studying it. The blood isn't fast-flowing, but it's already smeared across the contours of his face, dripping precariously off his lips and into his mouth.

"Got another?" he asks after a moment, indicating the cigarette.

Patting his hands clumsily across his chest and smearing fingerprints on his tie, he says "Hey," quietly, somewhat loathe to break the stillness in the alley.

He's so caught up in his thoughts that he almost misses the soft sound of footsteps at his side.

He turns his head to his right, tilting his chin down towards his shoulder to investigate, and he lets his body relax when he registers that it's just Aoba. ↴

Noiz leans up, wipes the back of his hand over his blood-splattered mouth, wetness smearing across his wrist and cheek. In his tattered shirt and pants, he leans against a wall and sighs. The smell is almost nauseating.

But he got his fight. And he feels better for it, his shoulders relaxed.

( Noiz leans back, confused by the severity of the reaction. His brows furrow slightly enough to form only the barest wrinkles on his forehead. )

Suit yourself.

// HE'S COMING TO GET US, RIL

Understand what? What does that even 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯?