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#13737142 Apr 17, 2018 at 05:05 PM
273 Posts
Isn't the answer "Jinn, Why not?" :P :P

Have you SEEN his abs in some of his art? It's like DANG. :P
[Also I'm not sure Thundrax would fit in that cake.]

Teleios Clone Mark II: I wish Teleios would create some perfect women. It’s lonely out here!
Snookums! The Snookii! Homicidal Cheerleader! Klepto Elf! Molly!
#13737870 Apr 18, 2018 at 06:10 AM
328 Posts
#13737127 @Jarnefeldt wrote:

Jinn, why? Jinn, stahp.



More like Jinn keep going.
#13737965 Apr 18, 2018 at 08:04 AM
122 Posts
Sweet. You can deny it all you want, but everyone wants a piece.
PRIMUS Database - Artos | Black Ice | Jinn
#13747825 Apr 20, 2018 at 05:07 PM · Edited 1 month ago
273 Posts
Glad you guys liked it! :)


This one is for SonofAsgaard. Happy birthday :P
It's something of a reply to: This.
"K"


"Franklin, huh? I never woulda guessed that was your real name. You always seemed more like a... like a Morris maybe, or a Murray. I mean guys named Murray will mess you up."
Linden leaned a shoulder on the finely carved headstone and looked around. It was warm in the late afternoon sun and the polished stone glinted like an expensive car. The graveyard was smallish, and on a hill behind an old church. The new leaves of ivy crawling up over the wall by the gate rustled in the slight wind and the swift shadows of birds coloured the grass.

"I know the fuzz still has your body, and it's not you-you in there." She gestured with one hand at the mound of heaped earth. "It's the sentiment of the thing, really. Closure. A last monument to who you were by your friends and the people that knew you best. All that shit." The blonde girl tucked a loose wisp of hair behind one ear and looked at the headstone again. She didn't look more then sixteen, lean and leggy yet with just enough curves in all the right places. She wore scuffed jeans and a black T-shirt with RAMONES scrawled across the torso. "Fuck. Franklin. I never expected to be sittin' here you know? I wonder if you saw this comin'. They say you went kinda crazy there, shot up the hospital on some kinda vendetta against a chick. She your baby-moma or somethin'?"

The earth of the gravesite had settled. It was a few days past the burial and most of the mourners had long departed. A few wilted flowers and tokens remained resting in the dirt. It was kind of depressing really, she reflected. Dirt and a box of memories, and that's the best anyone could get, sinner or saint. At least the dirt still smelled good, the clean damp smell, like a newly turned garden. That rich loamy ... earthyness. Was there a better word to describe it then that? She wasn't sure. She made a mental note to check a thesaurus when she got home. "I dunno if we were really friends-- Franklin. Maybe we were. If we weren't I suppose I wouldn't be sittin' here. We're both super soldiers, made to kill, made to like it. It is satisfying." The girl paused then, looking out over the graveyard, and past it at the woody hills beyond, the town in the distance. "Is that why they put you here? It's a good spot for sniping. And the view ain't too bad either."

"Saved each others life -kinda- a couple times, owed each other a favour or two, knew some of the same crowd. Maybe that's normal in this line of work. Hell if I know. We shared a couple drinks. I dunno how you could stomach some of that cheap-ass piss. " She patted the edge of the gravestone fondly. "But I always admired your style. You had good taste in clothes, and even better taste in hardwear. You made what we do look easy, and I know it ain't. Plus you made it look good doing it. Anyone can look badass --but you took it one level above. If that means anything to ya."

The girl looked around the graveyard again and sighed. Then she shifted into a crouch and slipped one hand into the loose dark soil and dug a small hole, maybe a foot deep, maybe a little more. She blocked the dirt from sliding back in with one hand, and with her other reached into a small plain backpack, and pulled out a wrinkled brown paper bag. From that she removed a glass bottle and held it to the gravestone, as if for approval.
"If I remembered right, you fancied this brand." The sun flared off the curves, a hot white, throwing shimmering amber onto the grass beyond. Then swiftly she tucked it into the hole and packed the earth around and over it. "Where ever you are Franklin. Have a drink on me."

Then Linden stood, dusting off her hands, batted grass off her blue jeans and picked up the back pack. She shouldered it, looked around the quiet graveyard a last time and shrugged at the headstone. A Robin sang in a tree down the block. "Be seein' ya K." She waved and walked out, into the world once more.

Teleios Clone Mark II: I wish Teleios would create some perfect women. It’s lonely out here!
Snookums! The Snookii! Homicidal Cheerleader! Klepto Elf! Molly!