Стив и Призрак

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fru-n-quiz11 февраля 2025 г.
He thought about how fucked up the past month had seemed without her. Playing wasn't fun anymore; she got into all the songs somehow.
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fru-n-quiz9 февраля 2025 г.
"Nothing? What's going on?" Laine stared around at the circle of eyes: Molochai's and Twig's tripped-out and hungry, Zillah's still spitting green fire. He tried to crawl back across the mattress to Nothing, but Zillah hooked a finger through the string of beads around Laine's neck and pulled back hard. Laine made a low choking sound as the beads tightened across his throat. Then the strand snapped, and bits of sparkling bright plastic were everywhere—rattling under the mattress, landing in the folds of Nothing's raincoat, catching the moonlight and all the colored glints from the dashboard. Molochai grabbed at them as if they were candy, put one in his mouth.
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fru-n-quiz9 февраля 2025 г.
Not if he was banished from this dragged dreamland of wine and song. Not if he was banished from Zillah's arms, from the half-painful sorcery of Zillah's lips. From the only place where he had ever felt truly accepted.
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fru-n-quiz9 февраля 2025 г.
"How nice," said Zillah; his voice was like a bonbon of creamy white chocolate filled with some green corrosive poison. The fire in his eyes snapped, spat. It seemed about to burn a line through the air to Nothing, crisp Nothing's eyes with its luminescence.
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fru-n-quiz7 февраля 2025 г.
the sweet scent of cheap wine was so strong he could taste
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fru-n-quiz7 февраля 2025 г.
Never mind that he wanted to eat Spooky,
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fru-n-quiz7 февраля 2025 г.
He lit a Lucky and sucked up the smoke as if it were orange juice.
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fru-n-quiz6 февраля 2025 г.
or whether the unspoken communication between him and Ghost was so strong that he picked it up without Ghost having to say anything,
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fru-n-quiz6 февраля 2025 г.
He was not planning, not worrying, not even truly thinking. He was only waiting for full night to come, for he knew it was time to leave again.
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fru-n-quiz6 февраля 2025 г.
His eyes felt scorched. When he had to venture out into sunlight, he always wore dark glasses, a wide-brimmed black hat, gloves, and dark loose clothing that he could huddle into. This morning he had only the cloak to pull around him. Already he was beginning to be blinded by the new day, and he was so very tired. The sidewalk seemed to stretch endlessly before him, shimmering and baking in the sunlight.
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