#frfld

[evilstalks]

sender bites receiver hard enough to draw blood /fuck it we ball

sometimes, michael gets bored of these trials. they are always mostly the same thing, and though he has always been someone who enjoys routines and repetitive actions, it is only when it is within his own control. he is not choosing to be here in the realm, chasing the same people and killing them over and over just to have them come back each time. death without permanence means nothing-- it takes away the fear of it, although he knows the survivors still go through hell each day. day, night. those words have no meaning here. the clocks move but time doesn't move forward. michael was twenty-one when he stepped into the realm and he is still twenty-one now. untouchable by aging or disease, but still at the hands of the entity. the claws, rather.

another trial, another task to be done. the shape does not enjoy obeying, but he knows it is what he must do so he can be rewarded with his home. the replica of his home-- he knows it is not real, but it still brings him the same feeling it did out there in the real world. he has already disposed of two survivors. two are left. he knows the entity is satisfied enough with two being taken and the other two getting maimed, but michael has been irked enough times by dwight to want to watch him die on his knife, too. so he searches for him, hunting him down like a cat searching for the mouse that snuck inside its house. it takes him longer than he'd like to find dwight, but once he does, he does not let him out of his sight. he ignores the other survivor who finishes the last generator. if they get out, it doesn't matter to him.

michael corners dwight, slashing at him with his knife and making him trip down to the dirt. with dwight on the ground, he reaches down to grab him to get him on his feet so he can properly finish him off. he does not expect the survivor to bite him like a rabid dog, sinking his teeth into the flesh between michael's thumb and pointer finger. it hurts more than michael expects it to, and when he tries to pull his hand away, dwight only bites harder. his teeth pierce through his skin and blood drips to his shoes. he tries to yank himself away again, and when it doesn't work, michael becomes enraged. he exhales in irritation and uses his boot to kick at dwight's neck, knocking him back down to the dirt. he purposely crushes the survivor's glasses by stepping on them before pressing his boot on dwight's throat, pushing his weight down on him. he looks down at him with a tilt of his head, everso curious and eager to watch the life leave his eyes. dwight would have died a bit less painfully if he hadn't decided to be a bad dog and bite.

[janeromeroshow]

@frfld : Problems are just things that need solving.

Dwight says it so simply, so matter-of-factly, that Jane has half a mind to believe it. While she can't say he's never steered her or the others wrong, it has definitely happened a hell of a lot less than with the other so-called “leaders” in the ragtag group that makes up the survivors, and that fact alone makes her err on the side of trusting him.

It's this kind of talk around the campfire that keeps her sane, when it feels like the world ( or rather, the Entity that controls it ) is even more against her - against them all - than is usually it. Point being - she gels with Dwight, the two's minds being more alike than it may seem at first glance, and it's him that she feels she can truly speak her mind around.

“ I just wish the others would keep that in mind, ” she sighs, leaning back where she's perched in the warmth of the campfire, relative safety in both a figurative and literal sense. “ but I guess I can't blame them from panicking. It's just - ” a quick, cursory glance, to make sure she's not being eavesdropped upon - " frustrating, you know? "

[mcmorare]

@frfld sent: when you hear hoofbeats, don't expect zebras.

Whatever she had expected him so say now, as they crouch in far too open a space, listening for the far off-sounds to get closer, that was not it.

It's a sentiment so confusing Katrina fully stops the work she was doing on the generator in front of them, brows furrowing deep, lips slightly parted, head tilting as she looks silently over at him. Blinks once, twice.

"What?"

[doomedflare]

@frfld said: did you want a cigarette?

' NO, I WON'T FINISH IT MYSELF. ' shaking his head at the sacred pack of red label 100s that dwight offers him, playing coy as a drag is taken from stolen cigarette. ' i was never a smoker, before. ' a lie, a lame excuse for the way jake had simply plucked the cigarette from dwight's lips, for the way he now lingers like the smoke that hangs heavy between them. another drag is taken, and jake tries not to think about how they can almost taste dwight on the filter.

' wouldn't want to be wasteful. ' a small smile - a rare sight - as they hold the cigarette back out to dwight. ' i mean, these things are fucking expensive nowadays. '

[lvebug]

@frfld said: WE HAVEN'T ACTUALLY DONE ANYTHING YET BUT DWIGHT'S 5'2.

they are small but so full of love <3

[curseternal]

⧼frfld asked: do you believe in the soul?⧽

the   vampire   doesn’t   care   to   turn   around   when   talked   to,   eyes   still   focused   on   glass   recipients,   some   filled   with   curious   contents.   leftover   experiments   found   into   the   fog   along a   few   notes   signed   by   the   name   vigo.   it   was   worth   looking   into   it   and   could   eventually   be   useful   upon   returning   to   his   home   realm.

he   carefully   mixes   liquids   together,   analysing   the   results.   In   spite   of   their   rancid   odour   and   rotten   aspect,   these   so   called   pustula   flowers   yielded   unique   effects.

maybe   something   akin   to   the   crimson   stone   could   be   made   and   help   him   gain   the   upper   hand   against   the   next   belmont   that’d   show   up...   or   to   torment   the   one   that   joined   the   fog   furthermore.

the   missing   ingredient   had   to   be,   indeed,   A   SOUL.

⸻   «do   you   not,   FAIRFIELD?»

there’s   a   slight   tone   of   judgement   here,   perceiving   this   question   as   a   show   of   ignorance. 

⸻   «it   is   the   crux   of   alchemy.   without   it,   you’ll   only   wound   up   with   something   of   no   much   use...   or   create   less   than   desirable   outcomes.»

another   pouring   of   mixtures.   the   vampire’s   nose   scrunches   ever   slightly   at   the   vapours   that   ensue.

⸻   «were   it   for   your   flesh   only,   your   existence   would   not   have   survived   your   coming   into   the   fog.   were   it   not   for   a   powerful   soul,   i   would   have   remained   a   mortal   being,   nor   would   i   have   anything   anchoring   me   to   my   realm   whenever   my   body   was   left   in   ashes.»

and   was   it   not   what   made   feeding   THE   ENTITY   possible?   pain   resided   deeper   than   in   the   carving   of   skin.

a   flick   of   the   wrist,   beckoning   the   apprentice   over.

⸻   «now,   watch   carefully.   i   sense   there   is   much   more   important   to   learn   from   this   all.»

[arachnidiots]

🍓 birdie I sick :(

hi buddy :( i knoooooww. it just means you gotta take extra care of yourself for the next couple of days. your body is taking time off, nothing to do but help it by drinking lots of fluids and getting so much rest

westie, to limit myself to just one or two things is kind of insane when it comes to you. i guess i’ll take this moment to say what i’ve been struggling to say to you for a while now which is thank you. you might not ever realize it or be aware of it, but you make me comfortable with being me and maybe even coming around to some facts and truths about me. you’ve created a space with your sheer existence and trueness to self that is so… relieving. yeah. so thanks!

@ mutuals send me a 🍓 (+ an optional url) and ill compliment u!

[barksback]

@frfld said: i'm too certain that you can do better. i want you to do better.

GRIMY FINGERS LEAVE BLOODY PRINTS ALONG THE EDGES OF THE REPORT, reagent scowling down at the red B- tucked into the upper corner. subject shows true skill and demonstrates innate survival instinct, but brute-forces through obstacles. resourceful, but relies heavily on stun rig to navigate through the environment. had he taken longer, been less efficient, that glaring red mark would likely be much lower. like i give a damn.

glare is now pointed at mr. fairfield, sitting at his desk with his hands clasped on top, head tilted, green eyes forever probing, searching, waiting. ‘ you want me to do better than this? ‘ subject scoffs, waving the report now, resisting the urge to tear it in two, or to crumple the pages and lob the ball at fairfield’s head. you don’t need another reason for the pencil-pushers to call for security. ‘ it’s all i can do to not get fucking killed in there, fairfield, and you want me to improve upon my performance? you want me to do better? ‘ i’m not even supposed to fucking be here! they want to shout, desperate for someone to believe them, but his insistence upon never signing up for this sick joke always falls upon deaf ears, doing little more than getting them sedated and thrown back into their cell room. for his own good, of course, it’s all just apart of the therapy. let us help you. the doctor knows best.

his head is full of cotton.

he sees the way fairfield tenses, only slightly, as their voice raises. am i making you nervous? is this uncomfortable for you? boo fucking hoo. still, he chooses his next words carefully, cornered animal growling through gritted teeth, voice now strained and low; ‘ what i’m doing now is my best. i don’t give a fuck about the therapy, i‘m just trying to survive. ‘

[sil3nth1lls]

what was this? WHAT WAS GOING ON? who were these people? how did she get here? it was the sensation of utter anxiety and confusion, something she hadn't felt since- [ ... ] DARKNESS came for her. there was no possible way she was back in that hell, pursued by that cult, this felt different. there were people here that she didn't know. there was a campfire - yes! but her mind was cloudy, head spinning, everything happened all so quickly. she's faced hell once before, and did so alone, but now she faced a new nightmare with others. strangers. this was good, no? she only could hope. [ ... ] hope? it was something. just ... do the generators, activate the gates, and escape! ⸻ just do the generators. - five generators. - activate the gates and escape! mind raced, heart pounding as she found herself in a daze, wounded, her own blood on her hands. cheryl viewed the red liquid on pale palms, causing vision to blur. it hurt, pained groans as she'd make way for some cover. she'd apply pressure to the largest of her wounds, eyes glance up in a heavy breath, darting around in a panic. that's when she saw [ @frfld ] closing space on her, a brief sense of relief waved over.

[andeat]

@frfld : offers him a cigarette.

and it's taken. after a brief skeptical eyeing. " — this don't mean i owe you one. just sayin', " he muses, tucking the filter into the corner of his mouth while patting at his pocket. there's gotta be a lighter in there. — nope. no dice. the other one? yup, there it is. a couple of cupped flicks gets him set.

[fullmetall]

@frfld said: looks like hell spit you back out.

ED THINKS OF THAT BASEMENT, forbidden runes and dried blood buried under the ash and ruin of childhood home. he thinks of the artificial life that had been created and then swiftly ended, the rebound unable to hold its own for more than a few measly seconds; the horror that pinako had found and buried in the backyard where he and alphonse used to play. ‘home’ and ‘hell’, both places where something went terribly wrong between creator and creation. it’s all the same to ed.

‘ guess it just couldn’t stomach me, ‘ young alchemist mumbles, not bothering to look up from the hand-written notes he’s been pouring over all afternoon. ‘ doesn’t matter, ‘ he adds, pausing to jot something down in his own notes, ‘ ‘cause i’m not through with it. ‘

[evilstalks]

happy birthday, Mike :/

"..." if you really mean that, dwight, let him kill you as a present.

[janeromeroshow]

dwight, gabriel, kate :)

fuck: kate ( girl pretty. what can she say )

marry: dwight ( but like very specifically in an old married couple that bickers way )

kill: gabriel ( gabe king i'm so sorry u were just up against TOUGH competition and as the resident New Guy you're less bonded to her )

[mcmorare]

@frfld sent: let me decide if it interests me or not.

"It doesn't." Technically, it could, it's always helpful to know anything he can about a killer, and she's got a more than everything he needs about the newest addition. It could be valuable, background, personality, things that might set the attacker off. Of course he was going to ask sooner or later, with the behavior between the two of them any time the entity throws them in the same trial. That doesn't mean she wants him to ask. That's personal, between her and Jett, and nobody else here needs to know shit. It would be easier to maintain that if they didn't end up yelling so often. Their personal drama isn't something he needs to be sticking his nose into, or taking pity on her for.

"It's a private matter." A matter that hasn't stopped tormenting her since she's gotten here, with no one to talk to about it. She can't talk to her best friend. Her only friend here. And she isn't keen on making many other ones. What would be the point? They're all just here to be caught in a loop of suffering. Teammates, acquaintences, working partners is all they need to be. And she'll deal with all of this how she damn well wants to. Optimism and cameraderie and all that touchy-feely shit isn't something she needs. It's easier without attatchments. "Stop trying to save me. It's bullshit."

[doomedflare]

@frfld said: do i seem normal to you?

YOUNG MEDIUM LAUGHS FOR THE FIRST TIME IN WHAT FEELS LIKE CENTURIES. ' well, normal is quite subjective, mr. fairfield, ' she hums, eyes twinkling in the low light of the fire. ' to me, you seem perfectly ordinary, especially for a man in your situation. anyone else . . . ' there's that smile again, bright and warm and a tad mischievous as it lights up a freckled face, ' well, they'd think you've completely lost it. i'm not sure if that says more about you or myself, though. '

[entriprises]

what's emmett's favorite color and why?

his favorite color to wear is red, and his favorite color out of a crayon box is the ocean blue one. his general favorite color is also red. think specifically like playing card red. there’s not really a why i don’t think it just sort of feels right. i can tell you that he looks good in red and it’s definitely a good color for him to wear?? also the ocean blue crayon is a little mesmerizing. i think naturally i want to assign yellows to the little jeffries-kaz-levy bunch but really they wouldn’t think of that for themselves