Strawberry Panic {TomTord}

Dreamscape shenanigans

This fucking guy.

Swallowing, Tom smacked his lips, "I would say that I'm surprised that my head is so hollow, but that would be a fucking lie."

Unaffected by his blatant self-depreciation, the beast simply eyed him with the same confident lilt of its smirking lips, brows arched in detached amusement. Violent, purple orbs peered at him, nose downturned in a sick sense of superiority and smugness, an odd clicking sound accompanying the unsettling, lidless glare.

A shiver ran down Tom's spine, the numbingly cold shocks of unease branching off around his body, tiny fingers crawling around the gentle slope of his shoulders, and down to his arms. Goose-bumps bubbled up across the flesh, a spreading disease that felt so much more like an act of defeat, rather than a biological response.

Gritting his teeth, he tightened his posture, overly defensive from the lack of acknowledgement, "What? Enjoying the view? I would say, 'take a picture, it'll last longer' but honestly, this is SO weirdly narcissistic, I don't want to encourage-"

With a slight tilt of the head, his monster leaned forward slightly, delicately resting the rounded point of its chin on top of his cane. A weird, vibrating hum leaked out between the spindly gaps of its teeth, whistling a crackling off-beat tune that sounded as broken and disjointed as his mental state.

What a petty bitch.

"You're in my world now-" Finally speaking, at last, the beast purred condescendingly, the words dripping with a certain sense of calm malaise, "I've been looking forward to this interaction for such a long time, my sweet, submissive subject-"

That was laying it on a little thick.

Tom felt as though he could drown under the congealed, patronizing sludge that dripped acidically from its lips, taking an obvious delight in not only unnerving him but to also announce his lower, inferior position on the tilted stage. Every uncomfortable detail had been lovingly crafted to set his teeth on edge; from the brightness of the lights to the abominations lurking just beyond the doorway, it all framed the perfect blend of agitation that had his skin crawling.

"Yeah, alright, Freddy." Rolling his eyes, Tom huffed, clicking his tongue in a meek imitation of irritation, "How about you calm down? You get a bit of dick action and suddenly you're a dial-up dominatrix. You're on a power trip, I get it- but you're getting your jimmies rustled, and I don't appreciate it."

Running his mouth seemed like the only action that rightfully belonged to him- spewing any sort of awkward, sarcastic chatter in order to cover up the tightness in his voice, the deep-seated rage that slowly bubbled to the surface.

Impossibly, the beast's stretched grin twisted ever wider, the edges of its bunched cheeks wrinkling the sockets of its eyes with large, cavernous laughter lines. Lightly at first, a soft airy chuckle heaved out of its nonexistent lungs, shuddering a quiet cue of mockery, before it grew louder, more boisterous in nature- almost as though it was a statement, a signature of victory.

"So quick to spring to defensive cock humour." An odd twitchy, chittering sound leaked from between the gaps in its sharp teeth, echoing throughout the large open space in inconsistent bursts of warped volume, "It makes one question as to which head you think with."

Snorting distantly, Tom ignored how hollow the action sounded, "You cock-blocked me! As you always do. I was about to-"

"A false statement." Loudly interrupting, his monster inspected his talons appreciatively, squinting at the sharp black curves, thoroughly ignoring his other's pathetic input, "You don't think with either, that would require an inkling of intelligence."