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vriska-serketboard · 51 minutes ago
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YIPPEE thanks for the tag!!
favorite song: it’s hard to say what my favorite song of all time is, but some of the ones I’ve been really obsessed with lately are kill the music by every time I die (featuring Gerard way on the chorus vocals), say days ago + greener with the scenery by the used, & the lying eyes of miss erray by i the mighty
last song: put me out by the used
favorite color: green 💚💚💚
last book: I’m currently reading “high bias: the distorted history of the cassette tape”! I forget who it’s by unforch
last movie: ah man I haven’t seen a movie in a while. I saw the first 40 minutes of home alone 2 a week or 2 ago if that counts
last show: brooklyn 99….. (ITS A GUILTY PLEASURE OK I VERY OBVIOUSLY DO NOT LIKE COPS IRL)
sweet/savory/spicy: usually I’d go for spicy but I’ve been feeling more sweet lately
relationship status: very single (dated my friend/crush for like 10 days in October, got broken up with [it was very drama-free & for personal reasons on their part that had nothing to do with me specifically and more to do with their ability to handle being in a relationship emotionally], and subsequently fell into an emotional rut that lasted for abt a month & a half, but I’m mostly out of it by now. I’ve stayed good friends with the person in question throughout all of that, even though I’m probably should’ve have given myself space for longer after we broke up bc I was basically crying for multiple hours every day & seeing them at that point made me feel simultaneously worse and better. But then again I was also rereading parts of our old dms every day & once I made myself stop doing that, I felt actively less terrible abt all of it. Sorry for dumping all this in here I just needed to rant; I’m pretty much over the emotional aftermath of us breaking up but I’m still very in love with this person so. Yeah that’s something that happened)
last thing I searched: I searched up “the lonely scriptures of a shopping mall” bc I’d seen a fic with that title in my marker for later list & I’d forgotten that the lyric was from jesus of suburbia
current obsession: Thursday, mcr, music history in general
looking forward to: my friends and I are driving down to RI for a show on January 3rd & that’s the last show of a local band we really like before they disband so I’m happy to be seeing them one more time. Also I’m turning 20 in less than 2 weeks!! Crazy shit 🤯 & there’s a show the day after my bday that I’m planning to go to. Oh and seeing mcr again in September too! My bff & I are going together! Idk how we’re getting there from our respective campuses but we’ll figure smth out probably
open tags!!
i have been tagged by @d3ad-on-arriva1 + @raytoromp3 + @notsmashingwindowspdf + @gentles-and-ladymen and probably more to do this tag game so here we are :D thanks guys!
(note: @minyard-05 also tagged me in a very similar game where only the first question is different so i’m just gonna add it at the beginning hehe)
favorite song: 27 // fall out boy
last song: bulls in the bronx // ptv
fav color: PURPLE 💜💜💜💜✨
last book: jurassic park!!!! one of my favorite books of all time alongside stone butch blues
last movie: oh it was this stupid christmas movie my mom made me watch a couple days ago 😭😭 don’t even remember the title
last show: supernatural <33 me and my mom are over halfway thru season 1 and we’re having a great time
sweet/savory/spicy: SAVORY 🗣️🗣️🗣️ i love meat and beans and protein and savory food it’s sooooooo good. spicy is a close second tho bc they go hand in hand
relationship status: single ☹️ it’s hard being aroallo bc my ideal relationship is friends with benefits but i don’t know any girls my age who are down with that……
last thing i searched: osteopathy meaning
current obsession: pierce the veil 😍 fob is up there always but recently i’ve been on a MASSIVE ptv kick so that’s been fun :3 i learned bulls in the bronx on guitar it’s actually amazing
looking forward to: a lot of things!! turning 17, the two concerts im going to next summer, SUMMER☀️🌻⛱️🌊🏝️, listening to more music as always <3
tagging: @thnksfrthmmrs @pnuk-r0ck @lipglossveins @40steps @roastedsoup and anyone else who wants to play!! sorry if u guys have been tagged already >_<
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metukika · 2 years ago
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silly comic about an au where after saiki destroys his elementary school classroom he lets akechi convince him to seek someone who can help keep his powers under control and mob is determined not to let this kid suppress his emotions like he used to do.
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spotsupstuff · 6 months ago
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Abandoned comic idea from March. Decided against seeing it through to the end because the dialogue feels unnatural and messy. While the core idea of it- Sparrows having doubts about the relationship, being confused and unsure of what she should dedicate her life to, and Euros being indeed blindly naively optimistic- still holds true to my ideas of their characterizations, I've figured I don't really have the details fleshed out well enough yet to construct a satisfactory conversation between them.
Stars with lore building for both of them- clearing out Sparrows' motivation in life (related to her family- deceased dad "because" of spiritualism, grieving mother, newly developed sister frustrated with Sparrows' lack of clear goal in life and lack of proper commitment to promises), what her arc should be, and Euros' past with his first Mechanic, relationship with his Houses and Citizens- and all of that is heavily influenced/dictated by the culture and society of the whole world, the Epsilon group council specifically and the Caper of Euros and Boreas' Blessing colonies that I don't have settled down. So posts with additional worldbuilding is will be most common. Bastards need figuring out asap
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platypus-whit-boots · 1 year ago
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It's happening again...
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sprinklecutecorekawaiirawr · 2 months ago
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Random shitpost ig
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cosmica-galaxy · 11 months ago
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Cosmica~ I have stolen the DILFinator, and I'm currently upgrading it, it will take a while so until then, I will probably not be causing any mischief or chaos
ヾ(•ω•`)o
YOU WHAT--
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kareofbears · 9 months ago
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a fragile line, chapter 1/3
Newt and Thomas always had something going on—even in the Maze, Gally knew right away. But never did he think it would turn into something like this; a devotion fermented. A reverence that made the chapel look blasphemous in comparison.
Or, as they infiltrate WICKED, Gally notices the shift between Newt and Thomas.
read on ao3 or below the cut
The worst day of his life was when Gally realized he still fucking cares.
He always cared. Probably cared too damn much, back in the Maze. Cared so much it tore them all apart.
They had lost everything in the span of days. Crops burned, walls torn down, weapons picked up only to be dropped, dripping in blood. Gally tried telling everyone to stop breaking the rules, but nobody listened, and people died. Boys, his boys, died. And he tried so hard to save as many of them as possible, took that burden on himself, tarnished his palms with invisible callouses from the effort of forcibly keeping them all together. There's nothing worse than having the hands that helped kids out of the Box be the same ones to etch their names off the wall.
Gally was younger, then. It feels like years have passed even if it's only been months since it all went down. He was struck with terror, confused, determined to find answers, and most of all, he was angry. Angry with grief, angry at the situation, angry at change. Of course, nobody pissed him off more than the Greenie, sauntering around and making big speeches like he built the damn Glade himself. And guess what—Gally was right about that, too.
But what really got to him, what really made his nerves light up with fury and sink deep into his bones was that nobody listened to him about the Greenie. Yeah, Gally can see now that he was a massive dick back then, but all of his worries were valid. Thomas was dangerous. Thomas was working with WICKED. Thomas did lead people to dangerous situations without thinking things through or considering the consequences. And nobody questioned that, because they were making progress on the Maze for the first time ever.
It's not something he'll ever say out loud, but damn the Maze. Damn freedom. What the hell is the point of fighting your way out when you see the bodies lined up behind you? What's the price of escape? Too high. It would always be too high for him.
When they left him there, bleeding out on the floor of some busted up WICKED lab with a meter-long spear sticking out of his chest—Minho did always have one hell of a throw—Gally cursed every single one of them. Croaked out their names with whatever breath was left in his lungs, lips tracing the syllables in a haze of red and hate. Was still mouthing it when Lawrence's guys found him.
Months later, slouched on top of a combat vehicle for a routine trip of the Last City's outskirts, he sees them.
They looked like shit. Clothes that have been through the ringer, hair matted with grime, every inch of their skin covered in soot and who-the-hell-knows what, and eyes blazing with something only anguish from the Scorch and running from WICKED can bring to someone.
He wanted so badly for that same, familiar hurt to rise. That thorn on his side that he convinced himself would never leave, the phantom spear in his chest to make itself known. He waits for the anger to rear its ugly head again, like it always has. The need to feel hate.
It doesn't come. What does come, unfortunately, is knee-buckling relief.
They're alive.
After all this time, even after they left him behind to rot, they're Gladers. They're boys. They're Gally's boys, first and foremost. He protects his own until his last breath. For better or for worse, he still gives a damn about these guys.
If he's going to care, he's going to do it properly this time. And with these shanks? This is going to suck. It's going to be hell. But Gally doesn't do things in halves.
“Words?”
“Circulation. Novel. Badger.”
Thomas nods, taking a bite of his apple as he writes into that beaten up notebook of his. “Looks good today, too,” he says approvingly between chews. "And you're not—"
"I’m fine. Don't feel any worse than I did twelve hours ago," Newt cuts in, amused. "I feel bloody sparkling, Tommy. What's the next set?"
Gally watches as Thomas continues writing, brows furrowed in concentration. The three of them are sitting underneath the awning of the chapel's entrance, shielding themselves from the morning sun's abnormally hot rays, making last-minute preparations for when they head into the Last City tonight. Frankly, he was glad for it. Already they've lingered for too long, the paranoia of timing itching at his skin.
"Next words are 'narrow, switch, illusion,'" Thomas replies, closing his book shut. "Don't forget."
"I'll try my best," Newt says drily. "Can we move to actual business now, doctor?"
Thomas leans over and knocks on the wooden door, hard, taking another bite of his apple. "Brenda. Get out here."
Immediately, the door swings open and she peeks her head out, bob bouncing as she squints. "Done flirting?"
"Never," Newt says easily, scooching over so she has room to sit. "Lucky us, the doc cleared me to join the grown-up conversation."
Part of the last-minute preparations, apparently, is this. The Greenie playing Medjack and clearing Newt for a clean bill of health every twelve hours with little memory tests.
It's easy to make fun of, which Newt never hesitates to do. But when Gally first saw them doing it, saw Thomas' stone-faced expression as he insists on checking Newt every time, he's reassured, just a little. He still has his reservations towards the Greenie, probably always will, but if there's one thing they can both agree on, is that Newt's health isn't something to fuck around with.
Brenda flops down between him and Newt, giving Newt a side-hug and raises her fist towards Gally. Unhesitatingly, he bumps it with his own.
"Okay," Thomas swallows, passing the fruit to Newt, who takes his own bite in turn. Despite fatigue prevalent in his posture, Thomas’ voice is sure. "We're heading out tonight. The objectives are saving Minho, busting out twenty-eight Immunes, and taking the serum from the vault. We're taking the tunnels, like we did the first time." The way he's reciting the plan feels clinical, worn out, the same way sharp rock smooths down after years of being under rough waters. "Brenda's getting the bus for the kids with Fry's help—"
"Why isn't Fry here?" Gally interrupts.
"He's scavenging the place for something to mark the road with." Thomas slumps against the pillar like it was the only thing holding him up, before straightening again. At Gally's nod, he continues. "Newt, Gally and I are going in with Teresa to the main building. Gally and I will take point, Newt stays a few steps behind us as backup."
"Just a few?" Newt clarifies, coughing a little before biting into the apple.
"Just a few."
Newt’s teeth sink into the core, a piece falling with a loud crunch. There's still a hint of bruising still smudged just above his cheekbone; the only remnants of the mysterious black eye that appeared before they all had dinner a few days ago.
"Just a quick chat with Tommy," Newt answered when Gally raised a brow at him then. "Little trouble in paradise, just had to let out some steam, is all. You know how we are."
The thing is, Gally doesn't.
Individually, the two of them are pretty much the same. A lot happened in six months, and he'd be a liar if he said he's the same shank that was tearing his voice out in the Glade. Thomas is impossibly more difficult now, but he always was. At his core, though, he's still the brave, overly-observant idiot he pulled out of the Box. Newt's still the embodiment of wit, the patron fucking saint of composure, even if that's starting to chip away because of the Flare, judging by Thomas' twin bruise on his jaw.
But the two of them? As a unit? Gally has no idea who these bastards are.
It's as if the universe took a pinch of Thomas and a pinch of Newt, threw it in a barrel, and topped it with a gallon of deranged before stirring. A mixture of whatever the hell the two of them are now. It's something Gally doesn't want to put much thought into, because something about the two of them feels almost threatening. Warning bells, the presence of danger when something involves the two of them.
Newt and Thomas always had something going on—even in the Maze, Gally knew right away. But never did he think it would turn into something like this; a devotion fermented. A reverence that made the chapel look blasphemous in comparison.
Even asking Brenda about it, once, didn't help clear things up. "Those two? The only thing I get about them is that you should just get out of the way before you do something stupid."
"What, you make a bad comment or something?"
"Kissed Thomas." A pause. "Yeah. Don't ask. Newt laughed it off but Thomas wouldn’t speak to me for days."
Gally refocuses back on the meeting, as Thomas continues. "—into Sub-Level 3. Get the serum, give it to Newt right then and there. Get the kids out, meet with Brenda, get picked up by Fry." He pauses before nodding, as if he were confirming his own plan with himself. That, paired with his deep eyebags, Gally has to wonder if this guy's slept at all since they interrogated Teresa a few days ago. "Good that?"
Two good thats and one sounds good. Looks like Brenda never picked up the Glader lingo.
"Okay. Be back by sundown. We leave at nine." Thomas looks over them, voicd curt. “Don’t be late.”
"What Tommy means to say," Newt chides. "Is do what you need to do. Get some rest, pack what you need. Take care of yourselves, because who knows when we'll get free time again, yeah? Go on, now." Newt turns to Thomas. "Dick," he says, but it comes out oddly affectionate. "Never did pick up on niceties, did you?"
Thomas shrugs. "Figured they'd appreciate efficiency."
Gally gets on his feet, fully intending to slink away somewhere and get in the mindset for the infiltration tonight when he hears Thomas call out: "Stick around, Gally." A mild thump sounds out, like someone getting swatted. "...Please."
He doesn't repress a sigh, but doesn't complain—he has a thing or two to say, anyway.
They wait for Brenda and Newt to leave. Gally doesn't let him have the first word. "You look like shit," he says bluntly. "You can't go in there when you look like you can barely stay on your feet."
Thomas shoots him a glare but doesn't bother getting up from where he's sitting. "I'll be fine." Gally keeps staring, and Thomas visibly deflates, curling in on himself a little. "I'll be fine after we talk."
"Okay." Gally crosses his arms and waits. "Anytime, Greenie."
He doesn't answer, and Gally has the urge to tell him to just spit it out, but then Thomas' expression turns solemn. "Be honest with me."
"I don't think I have it in me to bother lying to you, man."
"Would you choose Newt over me?"
The question stuns Gally to silence. "Feeling insecure?" he asks instead of answering.
Thomas ignores the jab. "You would, right?" he insists, eyes intense. "You must. He has three years over me. You built the Glade together, one of the originals. You respected him even when he disagreed with you during Gatherings, I remember. You and I, we were never close. Got on each other's nerves a lot." He tilts his head, considering. "Still do."
Gally hesitates, honesty catching him off guard. "Shit, Greenie," he sighs, but he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about it before. They’ve made strides, him and Thomas. They’re not as cut-throat with each other like they were before, as much as Thomas tried to reignite the feud between them. Is it good? Fuck no, but it’s better than before.
Nonetheless, it’s nothing on the affinity that Gally had towards Newt.
Eventually, he nods. "Yeah. If it came down to it and I had no other choice, I would choose Newt over you."
He’s not surprised when Thomas relaxes, tension easing from his frame. "Good," he breathes out, flopping down to the hot concrete and closing his eyes. "So if it came down to it, you'd make sure Newt would get out of there, even if it killed me?"
Gally gives him a hard look. “You planning on dying out there?”
“I’m planning on Newt coming back alive.” When Thomas opens his eyes slowly, gaze sliding to him, his expression is almost unbearably vulnerable. "Please," Thomas says quietly, and he almost doesn't hear it. "Please."
"You asked me to be honest." A hum sounds out in reply. "I think if I got Newt out of there, but you didn't make it, there would be nothing left of Newt to save."
Thomas frowns. "Yeah," he agrees, a little too easily. "But he'd be alive."
Gally peers over Newt's shoulder, standing on his tiptoes a little to get a better view. "You choose which one you're wearing yet?"
"Red one, I think." Holding up the WICKED jumpsuits, he watches as Newt's eyes jump between the three choices. "I like a good pop of color."
"Well, I don't." Gripping Newt's shoulder, he grabs the plain gray jumpsuit, and pauses briefly when Newt tenses underneath his touch. "I'll take the boring one."
"Doing us all a favor, mate."
Gally glances at Newt—who gives him a mild, withdrawn smile—before turning his attention back down to the jumpsuit. Tracing it with his fingers, he studies it, unseeing. A sick sense of premonition tingling down his spine.
"Well," Newt says, "I'm gonna—" he jerks his head to the door, clearing his throat, and Gally really, really considers letting him get away with it. But he can't, not when they're leaving in a few hours. Not when the stakes are so high. Newt, of all things, can’t be considered a variable. But it might be too late.
"Newt," he calls, still directing his gaze at the jumpsuit in his hands. "You have no idea who I am, do you?"
He stops in his tracks, turned away from Gally.
Dread grows in his stomach. Silence reigns for a long moment.
"No," he admits, finally. "But Tommy seems to trust you, so." Facing Gally, his smile, sickeningly foreign and apprehensive, is being directed right at Gally. "You must be a half-decent guy."
Gally laughs, because he knows Newt would want him to and he doesn't know how else to react. "Now I really know your memory's fucked." Hopping on top of a crate, Gally lets the humor drop from his voice, fist tight around the fabric in his hands. "How bad is it?"
That earns him a scowl, harsh and abrupt. "How the hell am I supposed to know the bloody details? I don't fucking remember."
"Calm," Gally placates. He has to constantly remind himself that, despite the fact that he hides it so well, Newt is sick. "Come on, man, we need to talk about this. You remember Thomas?"
Like a smothered flame, the fight immediately burns out of Newt. Carefully, he sits on the ground in front of Gally, crossing his legs. Gally wonders why Newt wouldn't just sit beside him when he remembers that he probably wouldn't want to sit next to a complete stranger. It stung, a little. "Yeah, I remember him."
"Does he know about this?"
"Yeah."
Gally narrows his eyes. "Really?"
"Yes," he repeats, exasperated. "You really think I can hide anything from that Tommy bastard? Especially about me and my—" he gestures at his head, circling a finger around his temple lazily. "I tried, mate, and that didn't work out for the two of us."
"Gally."
"What?"
"Stop calling me 'mate.' It's Gally. Just ask next time."
Newt scrunches his brows in concentration. "Gally," he stretches out, like he's hoping muscle memory of the name will kick in, a faint recognition flashing in his eyes. "It's kind of ringing a bell, now."
"Hope it's not alarm bells," Gally huffs. "How does the memory loss work? Are you going to be okay for tonight?"
"Not sure, it's kind of a new development. Sometimes I forget small details like what I ate for breakfast, and sometimes I forget you exist. Tommy's been trying to keep track of the progress with the little tests, but not sure that's doing a whole lot. Thinking that he's just obsessing over my health, like usual. As for tonight," he shrugs. "I have to be okay, don't I?"
"Newt."
"Gally," he groans out, matching Gally's tone. Looks like the memories are back; a quick recovery, for now. "I don't have a bloody choice. Besides, it's not that bad yet. It usually happens for a few minutes at a time and then I'm right as rain. So don't bother convincing me—"
"And I won't." During Gatherings, arguments with Newt had always been a losing battle, especially when the Greenie was involved somehow. Gally can count on one hand the times he's disagreed with Newt—this isn't one of them. "We need you out there," he says truthfully.
"Thanks," Newt says, eyes crinkling in relief, before morphing into a thoughtful expression. "Did Tommy say anything to you?"
Gally was shaking his head before Newt even finished. "Nope," he jumps down from the crate and walks out. "Not taking anymore bodyguard requests from anyone."
“Gally.”
Gally flips him off without turning around, mouth twisted unhappily. It’s a steep learning curve, but he thinks he’s starting to get it. Newt and Thomas are an old book that hasn’t been opened in years—you can’t separate the pages without risking both being torn in half. But what he wishes they knew is that he doesn’t want to have to choose between the two of them. He doesn’t like choosing lives, weighing the risks of success and death. There’s nothing more he wants than to leave that mindset back in the Maze. Especially between these two; they’re finally back in his life and they immediately get to talking about how willing they are to martyr themselves. Like they don’t realize how much this fucks with Gally’s head.
Just as the door is about to close, he hears Newt sigh, tired and frustrated. “Shit.”
"Punctual," is how Thomas greets him when he gets there ten minutes before the meeting time. He looks impossibly worse. Shoulders drooping and eye bags bordering on purple, he looks like he’s only standing on his feet through rage alone, as if it is only his heartache that propels him forward.
By now, the sun had long since set, replaced by a huge full moon that they ignored. They're both dressed in WICKED uniforms, masks in hand. He may not see it, but he knows both of them have weapons laced and hidden throughout their entire body like a second skin, like suits that he sees adults wear in the city. It flickers in his mind, sometimes, that in a normal life, they’d all still be too young to wear suits.
Gally snorts. "While you shanks were eating sand in the Scorch, I was in the military the whole time. Punctual made sure my ass didn't get beat."
Thomas' expression doesn't so much as twitch. "Makes sense," he says, effectively ending the conversation. Not that he minded. Greenie was a real stick in the mud nowadays. He almost prefers the hundreds of questions that spewed out of his mouth over the contemplative, fuming silence that's associated with Thomas nowadays.
“You always gonna be this much of an asshole?” Gally prods, because there’s time to waste and he’s never been afraid to ruin Thomas’ day.
“Well,” he replies, tone perfectly level. “By the end of tonight, I’ll either be the most pleasant, cheerful, carefree shank you’ve ever met—“ he lolls his head towards Gally, eyes dead. “Or I’ll be begging you to kill me.”
He doesn’t get a chance to respond. Footsteps, paired with the heavy thumps that only someone wearing a WICKED uniform can bring, paired with a throaty cough. "You alright, Tommy?"
The change was instant; it’s as if dawn broke at 8:56 pm. Thomas, the miserable, angry, short-fused Greenie, splits a grin brighter than the sun. A happiness sharp and abrupt and covetous that it felt like a weapon in its own right, an ax to grind so cutting that it makes the guns and knives strapped to their bodies feel like childrens’ toys. Ridiculously, Gally has the urge to take a step back out of its range.
“Could be better,” Thomas replies, reaching for Newt’s hand. One thing he’s grateful for is that these two always keep the PDA to a minimum. Small mercies. “Brenda?”
“Hauling our lovely Teresa over.”
As if on cue, the chapel doors barge open, Teresa and Brenda stepping out. If it weren’t for the sunken, lifeless expression plastered on Teresa’s face, they might have looked like two friends in a different life.
“Oh, and here you are,” Newt slips Thomas a folded piece of paper, clearing his throat. “Keep it somewhere safe.”
“What’s that?” Gally asks.
“Insurance. I’m supposed to give it to him, in case he—“ Thomas gestures vaguely, still unable to vocalize Newt’s sickness. There’s an emotion Gally can’t place scattered on his features. “Can I read it?”
“Sure,” Newt shrugs. “Nothing you don’t already know.”
He unfolds the paper, and it was quiet as they watched him read it. When he finishes, he looks up slowly. For some reason, Thomas looks overwhelmed.
New rolls his eyes. “I told you, it’s nothing you don’t already know.”
“Yeah, but still. It’s in writing.” With a care he isn’t used to associating with Thomas, he tucks the paper deep into his breast pocket. "Can I keep this?"
"No, that’s for me." Newt pauses, considering. "I'll write you your own letter, maybe."
Gally’s barely listening to them, much more interested in how Teresa looks like she just got her soul sucked out of her. “What’s wrong with her?” he asks Brenda.
“Beats me. Ever since the interrogation, she’s been out of it.” Cutting a glance at Thomas, “You have something to do with that?”
“You already know everything I did during the interrogation,” he says, hands up in surrender. “Haven’t even talked to her since then.”
Somehow, Teresa looks even more dejected after hearing that. An unforeseen benefit; she’s easier to handle this way. Gally catches Newt’s glaring at her, a mildly amused look etched into his eyes, and wonders how much is unforseen and how much is just Newt.
Turning his attention back to Brenda, he double checks his belt. Pistol, knife, dagger, radio, hacksaws, extra rounds. “Ready?”
Teresa’s head shoots up and blinks, suddenly alarmed. “Brenda’s coming?”
“Look who’s back from the dead,” Newt taunts, and Thomas frowns at him slightly. “You’re a bouncer now, are you? Of course Brenda’s bloody coming.”
“But isn’t she—?” Her gaze drops down to Brenda’s shin, where the Flare used to be etched. “She’s not getting treatment, right? Otherwise Newt would—“
Thomas sighs loudly, not bothering to look in her direction. “We need to go. What the hell are you talking about?”
“Where is she getting her serum?”
Gally looks at her like she’s lost it. “Do you think if we had any serum, we wouldn’t shoot that shit straight into Newt?”
Newt blows out a breath, eye twitching, and a tingle of premonition tingles along Gally’s nape. “Can we get a move on now? This girl’s just wasting our time. Don’t we have something better to do?”
Thomas gives him another long, long look. “Okay,” he concedes. “Let’s head out.”
Teresa opens her mouth, but Gally grips her wrist. “Haven’t you learned to just keep quiet?” he hisses, the question more genuine than he intended. It’s a wonder she’s still alive. “It’s a simple thing. Shut up. Get us in. And maybe Tom will hate you less.”
The venom in her stare could rival a Griever’s, but at least she doesn’t complain when they start walking.
The tunnel sucks. It always does.
It has a perpetual stickiness that seems to permeate into the aged bricks in the wall, a natural humidity that makes the heavy stink of a sewer rise and settle onto their clothes like a snowfall that Gally has only ever read about and has lost all hope of seeing in the sun-scorched world. With every step, an unnamable liquid would make their shoes squelch with a viscosity he doesn’t even want to think about; yet another thing to ignore if he wants to keep it together. It’s dimly lit, slippery, a nasty piece of work. The sound is strangely amplified there in a way he knows gives all of them hives—loud sounds get you attention. Attention gets you killed. Just how it works nowadays.
Thomas and Newt climb down first, then Teresa. Brenda gives him a dubious look, one foot on the ladder’s ring.
“What?”
Her tone is forcibly nonchalant. “Have a thing against going underground.” In the corner of his eye, he sees her twist her ankle this way and that. “You sure there’s nothing dangerous down there?”
Gally cracks a grin. “If you’re worried about Cranks, I think there’s technically one down there.” It’s the kind of joke that would get his teeth knocked out if he told it to Thomas, but it pulls a startled huff out of Brenda.
“Guess so.” Scraping something like a smile, she descends, and he follows her, closing the trap door with a thud.
Hopping down the rest of the way, his boots hit the ground with a splash. “Straight ahead,” he tells them, blindly reaching for the lever and pulling it up with some effort. Lights flicker on, bulb by bulb, as the tunnel stretches on for what seems like miles. “Let’s make quick work of this place.”
Thomas and Newt set the pace, a brisk walk that reminds Gally that Thomas was a Runner and Newt would still be one, in another life. Gally studies Newt’s leg from behind, nodding to himself when there’s only the barest stutter in his gait. He must have worked hard to train it up to where it is now.
“Anyone ever told you that you’re not as good at being a jackass as you think you are?” Brenda whispers beside him, soft enough that the sound doesn’t bounce against the tunnel walls.
Gally bristles. “No, actually, they tell me I’m worse than they remember.”
A scoff, then, loudly: “There’s only room for one brooding jerk in this group, and I don’t know if you can rip it from the lovestruck fools.”
“I heard that,” Thomas calls back, annoyed.
Brenda chuckles, before dropping her voice. “Listen, Gally. This tough guy act? It’s not doing anyone any favors. You don’t realize how quickly—” she falters. “How quickly it can go away.”
Irritation rises in him. “It’s not an act,” he rebukes, fighting to speak softly. “It’s more than that. You don’t think I know about loss? Give me a break.” He gestures to himself before Thomas and Newt, “What do you even know about this? Because, correct me if I’m wrong, it’s not really any of your damn business.”
“I’m the one who watched them for six whole months while you were gone,” she reminds him. “It’s not the Maze, but the Scorch is its own hell. It changes people, it changes priorities. And it’s also when Newt and Thomas became Newt and Thomas.”
He scrubs his face roughly. “And?” he prompts, because saying Who fucking cares? is probably rude.
“You can probably tell that they’re—” her lip twitches. “A little off.”
“Batshit insane?” he offers.
“Yeah,” she agrees. “And with how they trip over themselves to stare at each other, all I’m saying is that it’s nice that someone out there is watching where they’re going. Make sure their footing is alright.”
He gives her an incredulous look. “And that’s me?”
Brenda shrugs. “You and me. We can take shifts.”
Gally continues staring at her before throwing caution to the wind. “You still in love with him or something?”
It’s Brenda’s turn to be irritated. “Can’t you just accept the fact that some people aren’t ashamed to look out for their friends? Why do you have to make it weird?”
“Can’t you believe the fact that I’ve already tried looking out for my friends before and ended up with a stick in my chest?” His tone is more piercing than he wanted it to be.
She falls silent, and they walk for a few minutes with only the sound of their shoes slushing in sewer water and the muffled staccato of Newt and Thomas whispering with one another.
“I heard about that,” she says eventually. “It sounded deserved, if I’m being honest.”
Gally grunts, because she’s right and he doesn’t want to grace her with acknowledgement.
Brenda’s mouth quirks. “Who’s the sore loser now?”
Despite his best efforts, he cracks a smile. “Whatever.” And then, begrudgingly, “Yeah. It was deserved. But it was also—“
“Complicated?” Brenda finishes. “Look, man. We can grill those two all you want, but one thing about them is that they keep their shit simple and clean. There’s one priority: each other. It doesn’t have to be more complicated than that. What you did is in the past, but you’re here for them now. Your hands are full enough as it is, so maybe—” she shrugs. “Try letting stuff go?”
There’s nothing to let go, he wants to retort.
I already let it go, he fixes.
I thought I let go already, he tries again.
I don’t think I’m allowed to let go, is what he actually wants to say.
A quiet, trilling voice, one Gally almost forgot about, made itself known. “You held them too tightly before.” Teresa mutters, eyes downcast. “So now you don’t even want to touch them now. Right?”
Bitterness coats his throat. “You, of all people,” he says, emotionless. “Don’t get to speak to me about that.”
He shoulders past Teresa, ignoring her. “I’ll go ahead and take the first shift,” he tells Brenda.
“That’s the Gally I’ve heard about.”
He scoffs without heat and has to jog to catch up to Thomas and Newt when he hears something that makes him stop in his tracks, liquid sloshing at his shin. Dread, cold and heavy, settles in his stomach.
“Narrow, beatle—no, it’s not beatle,” Newt’s back is to him, shoulders pulled in tight and fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. “Narrow, hoax…”
“Newt,” Thomas speaks quietly.
“No, Tommy, just give me a minute. I swear I’ve got it.” Newt takes a deep breath. “The words are narrow, insight—fuck.”
“They’re just words,” Thomas tries mildly, but even in the poor lighting, Gally can see how his hands tremble. “Nothing more to it. It’s a stupid thing I made up, anyway.”
“It’s not stupid,” Newt hisses. “It was bloody important to you twelve hours ago, wasn’t it? Don’t go changing the rules on me now.”
Thomas places a hand on Newt’s chest lightly but firm. Taking a deep breath, movements exaggerated, shoulder rising and falling, Thomas holds eye contact with Newt. In the next set of breaths, Newt joins him; reluctantly at first, until the tension in his shoulders gradually relaxes, their chests rising and falling in time with each other.
“We good here?” Gally interrupts quietly.
Newt turns to him, meditative state seemingly broken, and for a second, he thought that Newt was going to have that distant expression on his face again, the one that says he doesn’t recognize Gally anymore. Expects to be met with gritted teeth and wild eyes and black veins. Gally readies himself. Anger, he can work with.
But Newt lets out a sharp breath and casts his eyes to the ceiling, visibly deflating. “We’re good here,” he sighs, and when he glances back down, his expression is sheepish. “Sorry.”
Gally nods, eyes flickering to Thomas, who reveals nothing.
“Come on,” Gally says, brushing past Newt, gently squeezing his shoulder. “Tunnel’s turning soon.”
The trickiest part of their journey into the city was always going to be outrunning the train.
“There’s too many of us to go all at once,” Gally announces, all of them hunched in a cramped tunnel with jagged rocks pressed against their palms. He speaks with a raised voice, the train whooshing loudly, the lights rhythmically lighting up their faces like search lights. “We should split this up into two runs.”
He studies each person and doesn’t hide a grimace. The dramatics of how to split this group of shanks is annoyingly complicated. “Me, Brenda, Newt. Greenie, Teresa. Sound good?”
Thomas opens his mouth, and Gally gives him an unimpressed look. “What is it now?”
“...Nothing.”
“Great.” Gally pokes his head out slightly. It’s almost time. “Brenda, Newt. Ready?”
They nod. “Don’t trip this time,” Thomas tells Newt, a shadow of humor in his voice.
“Nice to see you well enough to make jokes, Tommy.”
“Now!” Gally calls.
The three of them hop down, one after another in quick succession. With the rumbling of the next train behind them, they didn’t waste time with idle conversation again. They set out in a sprint, and Gally lets Brenda and Newt pass him, opting to take the tail-end this time. He expects their serious expression, unyielding even in how harshly they suck in their breaths, but Newt’s brows are ruffled in together as he passes Gally.
It goes smoothly, thankfully. The rubble doesn’t even get a chance to truly start vibrating until they were long up the ladder, slumped against the concrete walls to support themselves as they catch their breath. Gally stares at the ceiling, lets himself zone out for a few moments, waits for his lungs to stop stinging, before glancing to his right.
Newt is sitting up, spine ramrod straight, a tense hand on his holster and unblinking.
“Newt?” Gally asks slowly, starting to recognize that vacant look in Newt's eyes.
He watches as Newt’s focus darts between Gally and Brenda, lips moving silently. There’s a glint in his eye that leaves Gally uneasy.
“Newt?” Brenda repeats, levity gone. “What’s wrong with you?”
“How do you know my name?” Newt presses his back tighter against the wall, like he’s trying to escape. Escape from them.
Brenda and Gally share a look. “We’re your friends,” she starts.
It wasn’t the right thing to say. Newt tightens his hold on his holster. For a fleeting moment, he wonders if this is what Teresa felt during the interrogation. “I’ve never seen you before in my life,” he mutters, and Gally strains to hear him. “Not once.”
Gally slowly attempts to sit up, but Brenda subtly shakes her head. He settles back down.
“Where is he?” Newt breathes out, low and urgent. It’s faint, but there’s the softest hint of leather creaking, like Newt’s considering pulling out his gun. “Where’s Tommy?”
Sucking in a breath, Gally tries to reply—he’ll be here in a minute—when the next train whooshes past them, drowning out his response. In this sporadic lighting, Newt’s eyes burn bright, rapacious, boring deeply into Gally’s. The train fully passes them, and for a moment, darkness swallows them whole.
Then the lights flicker back on and Gally is staring directly into the barrel of Newt’s gun. When he speaks, it’s guttural, very nearly inhumane. “Where’s Tommy?”
Gally doesn’t flinch. “He’s coming,” he assures him, refusing to let his voice waver. “Maybe in ten seconds, he’ll be here.”
Newt presses the barrel closer, actually touching Gally’s forehead this time. “He wasn’t supposed to leave my side,” Newt retaliates, but it comes out unsure. “I know that much. We—we talked about that, I think.” For a moment, he shrinks on himself, before anger seems to seize him once more. “Where?”
A hand grazes Newt’s shoulder. “Hey—” Brenda murmurs.
The barrel leaves his forehead and is pointed at Brenda, but her draw is the quickest out of all of them. In an instant, both of them have their pistols pointed at each other, Newt shaking uncontrollably and Brenda calm, the only sign of her worry is from the downward tilt of her mouth.
Then, out of nowhere, Newt lowers his gun. “It’s been ten seconds,” he states abruptly. The whiplash leaves Gally reeling.
“What?” Brenda asks, lowering hers. “What are you talking about?”
“Tommy, he—“ Newt’s face scrunches, thinking. “He’s fast. I remember that much. It shouldn’t take him long. It’s not like him to be late. There must be something wrong.” The tunnel they’re in is cramped, but Newt tries to stand anyway, and suddenly collapses. “What’s wrong with this bloody leg…?”
In the back of his mind, Gally is vaguely impressed. Never mind forgetting Brenda and Gally; Newt forgot his limp, but is able to recall that Thomas can run faster than the average person. “You think Thomas is in trouble?”
Gally doesn’t hesitate—he foregoes the ladder and jumps down directly from the platform when he hears them, voices raised and Teresa clutching onto Thomas' arm like a lifeline. A flash of disbelief flares in his chest. How did Newt know?
“—You see that Brenda's fine? Can't you see there's—"
"I'll let this train run you over Teresa, I'm not fucking—"
"Please, this can save Newt's life—" Faintly, the screech of the train becomes audible, but the two of them pay no heed to it.
"Keep his name out of your mouth. You're the reason why his life needs to be saved—"
Gally doesn't even try to break into their argument. When he's close enough, he grabs Teresa's wrists and forcibly tears it away from Thomas. "I'm really starting to regret not taking Greenie's offer to just chop your thumb off."
"You have to listen," she starts, eyes shining with frustration, but the screeching is getting louder and louder. "The cure—!"
"How dare you," Thomas lashes out, ablaze. "Taunt the cure in front of me when you know I'd skin anyone alive to get my hands on it."
"The train!" Gally yells, but neither of them look at him.
"I'm not taunting, I know how much this means to you, and I want you—"
"And I don't, Teresa. I don't want you, I don't even want to see you, I can't stand to look at you."
Enough is enough. "Newt's memory is blanking again," Gally cuts in. "Has no idea who me and Brenda are."
Thomas whirls on him, Teresa completely forgotten. "Shit." Without warning, he turns and runs, the soles of his shoes barely hitting the ground before it's up again.
Teresa stares at his back for a long moment before turning to him. Heartbreak isn’t a strong enough word to describe the devastation on her expression. it's as if she doesn't hear the train that's rolling closer and closer to them. Or maybe she doesn't care. "Will you listen?" she asks him.
Gally gives her a blank look. "If you don't run now, you'll die."
He sets off, and he can't help the surprise he feels when footsteps sound behind him.
Curiosity gets Gally this time around. “How’d you know?”
Newt glances at him. By the time they got back, breathless and exhausted, Gally doubly so, Newt seemed to have found his memories again.
After a long moment of silence, Newt simply shrugs.
It would have been naive to expect any other answer.
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ilikedetectives · 10 months ago
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Embarrassing Personal Ask Game
“We are going to talk about obsessions CRUSHES! Name 3 (celebrity crush, fictional/ cartoon/ videogame crush, and your current crush (may be real or not). And please give a brief (or lengthy) explanation or backstory.” Thank you @jove999 for the tag.
celebrity crush: Ngô Thanh Vân. I already love her way back in middle school because not many Viet actress do their own fight stunts, but then I saw The Old Guard and saw her "Why am I the bottom one?" comment on a wlw art of Andromache and Quỳnh so yea I'll keep stanning.
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fictional crush: 白发魔女 (Bạch Phát Ma Nữ/White Haired Demoness). Her hair was originally pitch black but after a betrayal it turned white overnight. I am aware I have a thing for women with long silky white hair and it didn't start with Minthara.
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manga crush: Lady Oscar my beloved. I too like countless girls in the manga wishing Oscar was a man while reading the manga in 4th grade, but then I realized I could just...have a crush on her as a woman??? *galaxy brain moment*
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current crush (may be real or not): I can put Minthara but everyone and their moms know that already lol. Anyway, here's 淵祭 Yuanji from 幻城 (Huyễn Thành/Ice Fantasy). I know the photos have two people, but in the book, these two are the same character (the most powerful god in the universe who needed to be imprisoned eons ago because she threatened the survival of the realms). For the TV adaptation the character is split into two separate ones (and they have a son who is also hot). idk how I feel about this change cuz both are too hot I cannot think.
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nights-at-crystarium · 2 years ago
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New horny art and a ficlet to accompany it! Teasing, handjob, <1k words.
His lustrous lover's tail and ears live their own life as he surrenders to the teasing, an occasional profound thwack of the tail against the sheets forces a smile on Vivi's lips. This man's too damned cute for his age and status.
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quotethemenevervore · 6 months ago
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Btw I’ve crashed into f/nf again so uh… Monday Night Munchin anybody?
Namely: we’ve now seen that the parents can manipulate size-
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wndrflgrl · 1 year ago
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on that note, still feelin' the pink hedgehog itch so if you'd like me to toss her your way, feel free to give this post a like
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jtownraindancer · 1 year ago
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"You're... turning me down?"
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dragons-and-yellow-roses · 11 months ago
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RATS are NOT your friends at night while you're reading a scary book
#so if you didnt know. rats are nocturnal#so its 2am where i am rn. my room is pitch dark because i have my blinds shut#and im reading a scary book. lots of spooky creatures and body horror and haunted shit#and my rats. are knocking shit over and chewing on things and generally being menaces#or theyll go silent for a minute abd i think theyre chilling and then all of a sudden theyll drop a toy or something#and scare the shit out of me#they use their spooky little hands to climb on the bars of their cage. and they use their spooky little teeth to aggressively eat kibble#and i gave them new toys today. these edible foraging toys that they love#but that means my room is full of the sound of pulling on bars. or the clicking of a water bottle. or chewing. so muvh chewing#and im reading about this dead body come back to life. with like all of her bones broken. killing a guy in the most grotesque way#and its altogether a very bad experience#i was bored for the first 70ish pages but then it got really fucking good and im hooked. but its also terrifying#the rats have gone silent but now my dog is shifting in his kennel outside my room#both are terrifying. why are my rats silent. why is my dog moving. when will he move next#these animals are harassing me. whats next. my sibling's rabbit is going to break in? in roommate's cat will start scratching at the door?#if my landlord is reading this then ignore all of these tags. we only have a dog sir. no rodents or felines or whatever tf a rabbit is here#ah the rats are making sounds again. terrible horrifying sounds#i have to piss but im scared to get out of bed. i think i live here now. in bed. i cant leave#on a somewhat related note i really want to make deviled eggs rn but i have roommates that are trying to sleep#on one hand i miss living alone. on the other it makes me feel safer to have two other people here with me#even if the threat is only my imagination#and my mischievous critters
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revvethasmythh · 1 year ago
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I'm replaying the tiefling party and, in retrospect, Gale's offer of a magic lesson is so vague I never would have assumed he wanted to teach me magic if i didn't already know that's what he was talking about. In fact, his offer to show me something "truly magical" and that "few have experienced the pleasure [he] offers to teach" that must be done "in more intimate surrounds" when "the stillness of the night has been restored" absolutely sounds like he's going to take you off into the woods in the middle of the night and give you the best sex of your life
Which only makes it funnier that the mere mental image of the two of you kissing later reduces him to a surprised, blushing schoolboy
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autistic-gale-dekarios · 1 year ago
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hi :)
so i decided to return to fandom tumblr after a ~5 year hiatus because twitter is an increasingly terrible place to be.
lil intro: my name's harlan but you can call me len, i'm 24, gay, neurodivergent and i enjoy consuming entertainment media.
here you will find posts about whatever thing my brain is currently obsessed with. right now, that's the 2005 sitcom it's always sunny in philadelphia.
post frequency may vary due to having a full time job and adhd (and moving house soon) but i'm hoping to keep this up for a while and maybe make some friends :3 ?
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yzuposts · 9 months ago
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Fast and Furious: Spice Drift
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