#einzeller

[phototagebuch]

6.4.2023: EINZELLER

[politikwatch]

Netz voller #primitiver #Einzeller 🤷‍♂️

[zenonaa]

💛 togafuka! (either reunion after canon separation, or you can even do a high school reunion AU, hehe)

[ao3]

Growing up, Touko was no stranger to despair, as if it had been just another member of her family. However, the past few years have been fraught with despair on a whole other scale. Personified by that deranged bear, she couldn't escape it, whether Monobear was forcing her into a killing game or hunting her in packs through a derelict city. Each day, she has felt as though electricity is constantly running across her skin. Her eyes see shadows that aren’t there. She tastes copper.

Even when Byakuya (and Makoto) come to collect her (and Komaru) from Towa City, she still can’t relax. All there is time to do is be whisked into a helicopter, where she can’t hear much above its blades’ loud bee-like stutter and Komaru’s constant chatter. At least Touko gets to sit next to Byakuya for the journey. They don’t talk, but she doesn’t mind. So long as she can look at him, she's happy, even if he spends most of the trip staring silently out of the window. She’s happy, even if her fingers wring her skirt, over and over.

Upon learning of the date that they would be leaving Towa City, Touko had started a tally. Not like the one on her thigh, but on a scrap of paper that she stored in her bra. That she took out and reread and felt warm at. Every night, she would fall asleep to fantasies of him bursting out of the helicopter, swooping her into his arms and calling her his little piggy.

It’s been over a year since she last saw Byakuya in person. All Touko wants to do is be near him, but when they arrive at Hope’s Peak, she doesn’t even get a chance to change into new clothes before she’s tasked with helping clear out their old school. For the next couple of days, instead of hanging around Byakuya, she finds herself lugging crates and cleaning up debris.

With each chore, her clothes grow dirtier and tattier. While sweeping up some glass into a dustpan, her sleeve snags on the uplifted edge of a floor tile, adding another tear to her blouse. She swears.

“F-Fuck!”

“Hey, Fukawa.”

Recognising Byakuya’s voice, Touko jolts, her head snapping in his direction. He strides over at a leisurely pace. Despite their drab surroundings, he is immaculate. His suit is without creases, and save for the faint furrow in his brows, his face is clear. It’s not that he hasn’t been working - he has been behind all the organising, making sure everything is running smoothly. No, he's just that damn beautiful.

“Byakuya-sama!” Touko stands up and squeezes her hands together. She's well aware that she's as dirty as he is clean. It had been fine for Cinderella, whose Prince Charming professed his love while she was dressed in rags. That was a fairytale, and Byakuya is no prince. He's basically a god. Worth ten gods at least.

Instead of a glass slipper, Byakuya pulls out a bulky parcel that he had been carrying beneath his armpit and holds it toward her. “Your new uniform. I need you to try it on to make sure it fits.”

“Y-You want me to model for you?” asks Touko, taking it from him. She thinks back to the magazines her father used to read. That she would sometimes copy poses from, for him to enjoy in the flesh.

“For a formerly renowned author, your choice of wording leaves a lot to be desired,” says Byakuya, scowling. “I’ll wait here while you quickly change in one of the nearby classrooms. Call for me when you're ready and not a moment before.”

Even if Byakuya did catch sight of her in her underwear, it wouldn’t have been the first time he had seen them. Though hers are black today, not red, and they’re both in a corridor rather than on his dorm room's bed. But reminding him of their rendezvous only ever flusters Byakuya or puts him on the defensive.

While his shyness about it is endearing, in order to keep him from walking very briskly away for the rest of the day, Touko manages to bite her tongue, her cheeks as hard as apples. She darts into a nearby classroom, and with her stubby nails, picks apart the parcel. Her heart flutters as she wonders what the outfit will be. Maid attire, for working under Byakuya. A sheer lace dress, also for working under Byakuya. Really, after wearing rags for so long, she would be happy with anything. 

Well. Almost anything. Touko cringes as the image of a replica of her old high school uniform flashes in her mind, no longer dirty and torn. Just thinking about it makes her chest clench. To put it on would be like wearing a straitjacket. But Byakuya wouldn't play a trick like that. He never does tricks. Never on her.

Brown paper scatters from her fingers. Curls of sellotape sway as they fall. Touko extracts the first item, a dark grey jacket with golden buttons. Next is a white blouse, neatly folded. With some careful manoeuvring, she takes off her current blouse and replaces it with the new, all without putting the parcel down. Then, once her jacket’s on too, she places her old blouse onto the closest desk and continues dissecting the parcel.

Black stockings. Purple tie. A skirt with a slit, the same colour as her jacket. There are no shoes, but the heels she has now make do. When she finishes getting changed, she swivels her body, trying to get a good look at herself. It’s not a school uniform. It’s not a servant’s outfit. It’s similar to what her peers wear.

If only she had a mirror. Though she knows what she’s wearing, she wants to see herself so badly.

She remembers someone else wants to see her too.

“I’m dressed,” she says.

A couple of seconds pass before the door opens and Byakuya graces her vision once more. He stands in the doorway, and as his gaze falls on her, his eyebrows rise a fraction. His eyes flicker.

“I-Is it to your liking?” she asks.

Byakuya’s brow furrows and he walks over. When he reaches Touko, he pauses only for a moment, then he slowly circles her. She swallows, trying to stay still, but she can’t stop trembling. His scent coils around her. Lime, lavender, musk.

“More importantly, is it to your satisfaction?” he asks, stopping in front of her.

Touko hugs herself. She’s still trembling slightly. The air remains heavy with his aroma. With his presence.  “Y-Yes. I love it.”

“Excellent.” Byakuya’s mouth curves into a faint smile. “I actually designed your attire, so you know.”

Her head jerks. “Y-You did?”

“That’s what I said.”

Minutes ago, he had all but stated that he didn’t wish to see her stripped down, yet now she feels as though she is naked. As if instead of clothes, she is swathed in his embrace. A smile nestles in her lips as her cheeks grow hotter.

“Byakuya-sama’s levels of expertise are unfathomable,” she remarks, gripping herself harder. But she can’t say she’s surprised. He’s capable of so, so much. “It's a-an honour to be wearing your design.”

He pulls a face.

“It’s been too long now. I must insist you drop that honorific,” he says.

Touko’s smile falls off instantly. “You w-want me to call you Togami-kun?”

Like Makoto, or Kyouko, or like so many other people. Many dead, many more insignificant. There's a knife on her heartstrings.

“Actually...” Byakuya adjusts his glasses, looking over her head. “Just... Just Byakuya will do.”

His words don't sink in immediately. Then she stirs. Stares. “Ehh???”

Despite what some of the others may think, she can differentiate between her fantasies and real life. Most of the time, anyway. What Byakuya just said to her fogs up her brain, blurs the distinction between the two. This feels real. The dirt under her nails feels real, as does the saliva she gulps down.

“Why are you acting like I just sneezed?” he snaps. He fiddles with his glasses more. “I said what I said. It's common sense. You've saved my life on multiple occasions. For there to be a situation even someone of my calibre was in danger... that requires commendable strength. You’ve earned the right. As exceptional as I am, I must concede you have proven yourself over the years to be as close to my level as any other human can be.”

Touko chews her lip, her heart hammering in her chest. For all her life, she has been thrown from one hell into another, over and over, accomplishing nothing but survival. Then when she met Byakuya and Komaru, she continued to just survive, except those times she did it with them. Like a roach.

It’s a rare occasion where she's hesitant to agree with him, but if Byakuya said she’s strong, it must be true. And it's not like this is the first time he has complimented her. Yet this is different to finding a knife and giving a ‘fine report’. This is better. So much better.

“So this outfit is a way of commending me on my strength?” she asks.

“You could say that.”

She pokes her index fingers together. A grin crawls across her face. “If you designed an outfit for me to look nice in, does that mean you want me around you more?”

“It's not that I want you to look nice. I want you to feel nice,” he says before setting a hand against his forehead and grimacing. “Argh, my IQ seems to dwindle the more I talk to you. Hell, even when we're apart, it's almost like I can tell what you're thinking about.”

Byakuya doesn’t elaborate. He moves the conversation on, giving her little time to think about what he just said.

“It’s ridiculous that the Future Foundation didn’t give you a uniform, or that we were all inducted as full members apart from you. All of us pushed for you to receive a promotion whenever we could, you know. Especially me. I wasn’t just training you to control your alter, but advocating for you in various committee meetings. I told the higher ups that instead of an intern, you could be my assistant... that you would be useful... but those fools had no brain cells between them. No respect. No class.”

Her skin prickles as she recalls their training sessions, those late nights in his office after they had both finished work for the day. Sometimes they would use a taser, other times he brought a knife. He had come up with a theory that they proved correct together, that Touko could stomach seeing his blood. The memory of him nicking his finger against the blade makes her shudder almost as much as when she actually witnessed it. She remembers how alongside nausea, a strong desire to protect him had burned in her gut. From there, she built up a resistance to other people’s blood and to the sight of more blood.

But she didn’t know about the committee meetings.

She also doesn’t know where he’s taking this conversation.

“It doesn’t matter now,” says Byakuya. “As the Future Foundation is no more.”

“We're still here though,” she replies quietly.

“Yes. That's right.” His gaze fixes on her, steady, and he touches a hand to her waist. “We are.”

Her heart shoots upward, jamming in her throat. Somehow words manage to barge their way out of her mouth.

“I've missed you.”

“I know.” Byakuya blinks slowly. “Touko.”

His voice is raindrop light, yet it hits her like a downpour. He hangs over her like the Sun, but then in the same way that it sets each day, his head dips down. And like how it rises, Touko’s heels lift off the ground. Their lips gravitate before connecting, slow enough that their glasses meet without clicking. Her hands grasp at the front of his shirt, to keep her upright, so she doesn't fall to her knees. As if at any moment, the waking world will try to drag her back into its belly.

But instead it’s Byakuya who pulls away. Despite how the kiss could only have lasted a few seconds, her lips tingle without his warmth, exposed to the cold air. Keeping his hand on her waist, his other plucks a handkerchief from his shirt pocket and wipes it across his lips.

Touko’s heart sinks. She knows she should be happy they even kissed at all. That even for a moment, he had graced her lips with his touch. And yes, this isn’t their first kiss. It’s not even their first kiss while inside this building. But it’s their first kiss since he called her ‘Touko’, and while the ones before with Fukawa stayed stained on his lips, this one is crumpled away in a handkerchief.

She’s still lost in thought when he touches her lips again, this time as he rubs the handkerchief against her mouth. Her eyes widen in surprise, and she barely has time to process what's happening before the handkerchief comes away with a smudge of grime on it.

“That’s better,” he murmurs. “I could only taste dirt. But now...”

He tucks his thumb under her chin, tilts her head up, and returns his lips to hers. This time, he doesn’t go anywhere, and she’s determined not to either. They both stay, her skin tingling with a warm glow as their mouths press and grind together. Though her eyes are shut, she sees his face in the darkness behind her lids. And as their lips gently part and their tongues brush together, she tastes coffee and saliva and hope and him.

[mostremote]

14, 15, 18!

14. If you could see one of your fics adapted into a visual medium, such as comic or film, which fan fic would you pick?

I mean. The Shivering Season. I think the chance of 88-year-old Sutherland and Lawrence starring in an erotic fanfic sequel to The Hunger Games is preeeetty slim but, like, maybe if they both get really drunk at a Christmas party, somehow stumble upon the fic, and decide to do an impromptu live read and someone films it… Well, I would certainly die happy.

15. How do you come up with titles for your fics/chapters?

It varies! Lots of literary references, sometimes just random images, sometimes a lot of workshopping.

The Shivering Season: This is actually an extremely modified version of Richard III’s ‘the winter of our discontent’. Richard III was a text I wanted to draw from in writing tSS, which didn’t really happen in the end, and I tried out a lot of quotations but nothing worked. So I just messed around with the ideas of winter and time and unhappiness until we got to ‘The Shivering Season’, and I really like this title. It evokes cold, obviously, because it’s set in winter and also it’s about Snow. And ‘shivering’ because of the anxiety and sexual pleasure. It’s my favourite title I’ve ever come up with.

There Is a World Elsewhere: This is a quotation from Shakespeare’s Coriolanus. I’ve used it before but I thought it was fair game to reuse since Snow is literally named after the Shakespeare play. Pretty Little Beasts & The Rose Grew Stranger were just phrases that popped into my head. We Wild Creatures took a lot of workshopping. I wanted to convey the idea of fellowship in nature, while maintaining a sense of the predatory and animalistic nature of their dynamic. Coming up with this involved a lot of lists of synonyms and talking through possibilities until I settled on what I have.

18. What’s one of your favorite lines you’ve written in a fic?

From Pretty Little Beasts, Tigris & her cousin & his stillborn sister in bed together. Bleakest most rancid image I’ve ever written tbqh. haunts me.

“At bedtime, the baby would come out of the box, and the three of them made pretty bedfellows: Tigris, then Coriolanus, then baby. Tablespoon, coffee spoon, sugar spoon.” 

[iamnot-theboynextdoor]

okay i'm gonna tag all my semi-ooc dialogue bits with #The Blorbo Zone

[idkmybffjaden]

@die-einzelganger WHY I CAN NO MESSAGE YOU?! Breakin' my poor little heart over here, by golly.

[asmodeus-fallen-principality]

And creatures of the night. Bless me...

I highly dislike you Sir.

But have you tried Ice cream, if not why not? Try it. If yes, did you like it.

Why would you dislike me? I'm just a kindly old man who brings coffee! It's strange how this can make me so unpopular with a large portion of the general public.

Nevertheless, I will still answer your question, even though you dislike me.

Yes, I have tried ice cream and I did like it. My favorite brand is Oatly--it's made with oatmilk.

Now, for a word from our sponsors...

[destructionfang]

does anyone wanna see the ridiculously long list of german insults i have? no? WELL TOO BAD

Du beratungsresistente Arschgeige, Bananenbieger, Lustmolch, Landei, Erbsenzähler, Arsch mit Ohren, Evolutionsbremse, Einzeller, Pappnase, Hosenscheißer, Korinthenkacker, Hackfresse, Diskopumper, Klappspaten, Dünnbrettbohrer, Spargeltarzan, Kotzbrocken, Heißluftgebläse, Gehirnverweigerer, Kampfdackel, Teletubbyzurückwinker, Schlaumeyer, Schluckspecht, Stinkstiefel, Ameisentätowierer, Sammelsurium, Schnarchnase, Tratschtante, Rotzlöffel, Lauch, Speichellecker, Lackaffe, Flitzpiepe, Schweinehund, Trantüte, Lappen, Backpfeifengesicht, Labertasche, Hustensaftschmuggler, Fußhupe, Armleuchte, Drei-Käse-Hoch, Blockflötengesicht, Sesselpupser, Socken-in-Sandalen-Träger, Weichei, Sitzpinkler, Warmduscher, Firlefanz, Tohuwabohu, Kaulquappe, Mumpitz, Landpomeranze, Turnbeutelvergesser, Jeansbügler, Teetrinker, Nervensäge, Arschkriecher, Pissnelke, Hornochse, Klugscheißer, Vollhonk, Spaßbremse, Flachzange, Sockenschläfer, Dumpfbacke, Blubberwasser, Miesepeter, Schlaftablette und Schattenparker!

[wie-sagt-man-noch]

Lellinger: The way I love you - Part 4 / 10

Masterpost | AO3 | FF | Prev | Next

Instead of “thank you” or “see you soon” or “drive safe.” Because no matter what you say it’ll mean the same thing. | 1k

Dezember 2023, Oberstdorf

„Danke, ebenso – tschüss!“, verabschiedet sich Andreas mit einem breiten Lächeln von der Reporterin und zwinkert spitzbübisch in die noch immer auf ihn gerichtete Kamera, ehe er sich auf den Weg zum Mannschaftsvan macht. Die anderen sind mit ihren Presseanfragen für den Tag längst durch, das weiß er, seit er in einer kurzen Verschnaufpause zwischen zwei Interviews einen Blick auf sein Smartphone geworfen hat. Ihr Gruppenchat ist voll von gespielt ungeduldigen Nachrichten. Er solle doch einfach weniger flirten (inklusive einer Reihe von Zwinker- und roten Herzemojis – danke Hille), pro Antwort einen Satz weglassen, er rede ohnehin schon genug (völlig übertrieben von Pius), weniger Smalltalk vor dem eigentlichen Interview halten (Karl wie immer auf den Punkt) und vor allem den Pöbel nicht unnötig warten lassen (wieder Hille inklusive gebrochenem Herzemoji). Nur Stephan hält sich wie immer zurück, sein einziger Beitrag ist der Schokoladentafelemoji (schließlich gibt es keine RedBull-Dose und außerdem sei Milka sowieso der bessere Sponsor gewesen) inmitten der anderen Nachrichten.

Seit einer halben Stunde herrscht allerdings Funkstille im Chat, wie Andreas stirnrunzelnd feststellt, als er auf sein Smartphone schaut. Normalerweise fliegen so lange Nachrichten hin und her, bis er wieder beim Team ist. Zumindest in dieser Saison, in den letzten Jahren gehörte er selbst zu denjenigen, die warten mussten. Vielleicht genießt er die Aufmerksamkeit deswegen aktuell umso mehr und lässt sich bei den Presseanfragen etwas mehr Zeit als nötig. Dass das alles immer noch surreal für ihn ist, wissen seine Kollegen. Sie wissen ebenso, wie sehr er all dem entgegenfiebert hat und wie glücklich es ihn macht, dass sich die harte Arbeit gelohnt hat. Jede Extratrainingseinheit, jede Physiotherapiestunde und jede Videoanalyse hat sich endlich bezahlt gemacht.

Oft genug hat Andreas daran gezweifelt, ob er auf dem richtigen Weg ist. Ob sich das alles wirklich lohnt, ob sein Körper nicht doch zu kaputt ist nach dem Kreuzbandriss, dem Knorpelschaden und dem Schlüsselbeinbruch. Diese Verbissenheit, die sich irgendwann eingestellt hat, gefolgt von dem ganzen Frust, wenn nach guter Trainingsleistung höchstens Mittelmaß im Wettkampf blieb. Wenn sein Sprung sich nie richtig angefühlt hat und er, egal, wie hart er gearbeitet hat, einfach nicht an seine alte Wettkampfform anknüpfen konnte.

Trotzdem hat er weitergemacht.

Wahrscheinlich, weil das Aufgeben nicht in seiner Natur liegt. Wahrscheinlich aber auch, weil es immer jemanden gab, der an ihn geglaubt hat, wenn er das selbst nicht mehr konnte. Ohne Stephans unerschütterlichen Optimismus wäre er jetzt nicht hier, da ist Andreas sich sicher. Die unzähligen Gespräche, das einträchtige Schweigen, das Verständnis in den braunen Augen. Das Nachfühlen, weil Stephan selbst genauso mit sich und seiner Zukunft nach seinem eigenen Kreuzbandriss gehadert hat. Stephan war seine Konstante und sein Fixpunkt inmitten der ganzen Ungewissheit. Er hat ihn immer weiter angetrieben und gemeinsam haben sie sich ausgemalt, wie sie wieder im Weltcup durchstarten werden. Seite an Seite wieder Erfolge erleben, egal ob im Einzel oder in Teamwettbewerben. Wie sie einander anfeuern und beglückwünschen werden und dafür müssen sie nun einmal beide wieder richtig fit werden.

Nach einem besonders anstrengenden Tag in der Saisonvorbereitung, an dem im Training nichts so richtig zusammenlief und Andreas sich nach einer heißen Dusche in sein Hotelzimmerbett verkrochen hatte, hatte sich Stephan damals zu ihm gesetzt. Anstatt einer langen Rede hatte Stephan allerdings nur einen Satz gesagt, der sich bei ihm eingebrannt hat. An den er immer wieder gedacht hat, wenn er an sich und allem anderen gezweifelt hat, und der auch heute noch immer wieder in seinem Kopf herumspukt.

„Das ist nicht das Ende.“

Es war nicht das Ende, zum Glück. Aus heutiger Sicht war es eine scharfe Kurve, ein wackliger Untergrund, ein steiniger Hang - aber nicht das Ende des Weges. Weder seines noch ihres Gemeinsamen. Wie dankbar Andreas dafür ist, sagt er Stephan oft genug. Wie dankbar er vor allem ihm ist, auch. Stephan wuschelt ihm dann immer durch die Haare oder klopft ihm auf die Schulter, während er ihn mit funkelnden Augen ansieht und antwortet, dass das auf Gegenseitigkeit beruht.

Der Schnee unter Andreas' Schuhen knirscht leise, als er schließlich bei ihrem Fahrzeug ankommt. In der Kabine hinter dem Van brennt Licht, Hille steht hinter dem Fenster. Andreas hebt die Hand und winkt ihm zu, dann wird die Türe auch schon aufgerissen.

„Na endlich“, wird er grinsend empfangen, „wir hatten schon Sorge, dass du hier übernachten willst.“

Die Scheinwerfer des Vans leuchtet auf. „Einsteigen Leute“, weist Karl mit dem Autoschlüssel in der Hand die anderen an, während er aus der Kabine tritt. Die Autotüren werden aufgerissen, „Ich sitz' vorn“ „Ganz bestimmt nicht“ „Hille, geh nach hinten – Pius ist mein Beifahrer“ „Das ist unfair“ - das Stimmgewirr um ihn herum nimmt Andreas allerdings nur am Rande wahr. Stephan kommt zuletzt aus der Kabine, löscht das Licht und schließt sie sorgfältig ab, ehe er auf Andreas zukommt.

„Hey Superstar“, grinst er ihn an, während er ihm einen Müsliriegel in die Hand drückt.

Schoko-Nuss, sein Lieblingsriegel.

„Hab' ich dir aufgehoben, bis zum Abendessen dauert's ja noch.“

Die orange Viessmannmütze sitzt etwas schief auf Stephans Kopf, die Winterjacke hat er gar nicht erst geschlossen. In einer fließenden Bewegung zieht Andreas Stephan in seine Arme, ohne darüber nachzudenken, und drückt ihn fest an sich. Seine Umarmung wird ohne zu zögern erwidert. „Alles okay?“, fragt Stephan leise, sein Atem kitzelt dabei an Andreas' Halsbeuge. Er klingt besorgt, und Andreas kommt nicht umhin, seinen Griff nochmals zu verstärken, ehe er ihn wieder loslässt.

Stephans fragender Blick ruht auf ihm, während Andreas den Kopf schüttelt und schlicht „Danke“ antwortet. Ungläubigkeit breitet sich auf Stephans Gesicht aus. „Es ist nur ein Müsliriegel aber gern geschehen“.

Nicht dafür, will Andreas antworten.

Für alles, sollte er sagen.

Ich liebe dich, wäre die Wahrheit.

Ein lautes Hupen unterbricht ihn allerdings, Stephan zuckt zusammen und Hilles ungeduldiges „Wir warten jetzt wirklich nicht noch länger“ nimmt der Situation jeden Ernst.

„Ist ja gut“, murmelt er, „keine Geduld, diese Jugend.“

Stephan grinst kopfschüttelnd. „Das sagt der Richtige, na komm.“

Andreas steigt zuerst ein und lässt sich in die Mitte fallen, Stephan schließt die Türe mit einem Knall hinter sich. Im Radio dudelt Pop-Musik, während Andreas sich anschnallt und den Müsliriegel öffnet. Ehe er abbeißt, dreht er sich zu Stephan, der ihn aufmerksam mustert. Andreas lächelt, während er von seinem Riegel abbeißt und Stephan leise auflacht.

Das hier ist wirklich nicht das Ende.

[phototagebuch]

10.4.2023: Bellevue

[politikwatch]

Unfassbar, vor 4 Tagen wurde noch über die #onelove Binde gesprochen, jetzt wo sie ein Spiel gewonnen haben, alles vergessen #Katar ist auf einmal soooo #Menschenfreundlich 🤔❓��� Wollt ihr mich eigentlich verarschen🤔🤬🤬🤬 #Menschheit, von wegen #Intelligenteste #Spezies der Welt, nichts als #Primitive #Einzeller❗Zum Kotzen, aber ich hab nichts anderes erwartet❗Beim #Klima ist es ja genauso, sie hecheln nach Selbstvernichtung, also keine Überraschung ❗🤬

[shakehandstt]

Am 23. April 2024 feiert die ITTF Foundation den World Table Tennis Day mit dem Motto "Diversität & Inklusion" und ehrt dieses Jahr den englischen Filmemacher und Tischtennisspieler Ivor Montagu, der außerdem die erste World Table Tennis Meisterschaft 1926 organisierte und Gründer und Präsident der ITTF war. Der shakehands Dresden e.V. feiert zum zweiten Mal mit und freut sich darauf, Tischtennis-begeisterte, junge und alte Menschen jeglicher Couleur am blauen Spielplatz im Beverly Hecht an der Platte zu begrüßen und zum 1 gegen 1, gemischtem Doppel-, Einzel- und Rundlauf-Spaß einzuladen 🤝🏾🏓

[themadvigilantist]

She listened as if this one was simply background noise as she awaited a response to her business demands, getting them approved when she heard the word 'nerd'. Only then Einzelgänger respond to that guess. "He believes so because I am."

Her smile that showed fanged teeth gave a chilling implication that she meant she was helping him to become worse than the one currently in front of her. It was a terrifying sight considering it was very clear she didn't smile much.

"If you were up my 'alley of entertainment', you would have left him in."

"My my, you are quite the creature.." Jake purred, red lightening moving around the brunette as he stared at the woman. His eyes were bright red, almost as bright as the lightning that bolted around him. "I've been through hundreds of universes, but I've never seen something like you." The mans hand was bloody, a result of him discovering Einzelgänger's captive speedster, an younger innocent version of himself. "You are ravishing." He commented, his eyes almost seeing through her suit.

@isitrecording (just remembered activity is acting wonky)

Einzelgänger folded her arms together as he circled her, a smirk appearing before he stopped. She noticed he was older and not exactly from the same universe as the one in the basement. The electricity that sparked and glitched off the sides and shoulders of him was an indicator enough.

She had caught sight of the blood - it was clear that he had taking out a personal frustration on the one below - and she listened. She circled him, taking her time while she let the complements whiz past in silence.

Only until she stopped once again when facing him once more did she say anything.

"What a sad little thing that you are. And of an existence in which we still have not crossed paths." There was a laugh as she said it. It was meant to be a compliment though, to be fair, she lacked the notecards at the moment.

She was impressed but, that was always fleeting with her.

A tilt of her head then, the laugh gone as quick as it came. "Pity you refused kill him, Jacob. And you showed such good promise too..." Einzelgänger turned to continue what she was doing - a deal with some business associates from overseas that had nothing to do with... well, anything. Other than make it seemed to human investors that she was human too.

[mpuzzlegirl]

Happy birthday! May you have a wonderful year! <3

Thank you so much Einzel~ my heart is so happy to see you <3

[kmayia]

Trotzdem habe ich das Gefühl, irgendwas ist gerade, und ich kann es einfach gar nicht greifen...

Ich wüsste irgendwie gerne, wo du gerade bist, oder wo du stehst, und gleichzeitig sind das nur ein paar Wellen an der Oberfläche.

Und ich kann mich einfach um das kümmern, was da gerade in mir aktiviert ist.

Aber irgendwas ist da schon, was etwas in meinem System gerne zuordnen können würde.

Vielleicht wäre es auch wichtig, einfach mal deine Stimme zu hören.

Oder ich vertraue einfach.

Alles gut, viel aufgewühlt heute. Faszinierend.

Ich hab jetzt bis halb 12 noch Physiotherapie, und von 14:30 -14:55 Uhr Einzel.

Einfach, dass du meinen Tagesablauf weißt :)

[themadvigilantist]

"He's busy on a coffee run for the employees." The one labeled as 'the myself' answered the first question, while the Pale Lady or 'the me' answered the second question while checking her nails. "No. If that were the case, we would be talking in unison. Myself has her own set of memories, I have my own and the third has his."

Almost as if mentioning him three times, suddenly he came through the door. Blue eyed and, carrying four coffees, sharp suit and a prince like charm, was the I.

"Oh, good. We're all here."

@themadvigilantist answered here: X

Jake looked back and forth between the two suits, his heart beating faster and faster. Of course one of them wanted to joke a little, almost foreign sounding from the being. He licked his lips a little, the blonde speaking to him after the dark haired beauty. He found a seat between the two, both sitting in his view.

The brunette was struggling to grasp what was happening, and how dangerous this might be. If he ever got to meet V again hed tell her, though that was if Einzelgänger didnt manipulate his memories again.

"What.. what happened? Find the wrong color kryptonite?"