#godstrayed — will graham.

[downs1de-has-moved]

PROMPTS FOR LIES, DECEIT, AND VILLAINY

@godstrayed: "That sounds like a you problem." (From Will)

House leans heavily on his cane inside the dimly lit patient’s room, fluorescent lights flickering intermittently. The antiseptic smell is almost tasteable as he looks at his most recent patient, Will Graham (as it states on his file), sitting hunched over on his gurney, with clear signs of fatigue and pain in his face and the tone of his voice.

Makes sense, as he wouldn’t be here otherwise, but as the one in need of medical attention, House expected him to be a little more cooperative.

"Ah, I see."

"So you’re the kind of guy who likes to play hard to get with potentially life-saving information... How charming."

[bullsh1tterz]

: : @godstrayed : : CONTINUED FROM [X]

The questions tell Adam two things. One: the man's alive. Frankly, his very demeanor is that of a ghost, but part of Adam's beginning to wonder if that's just the way his form falls. And two: he's just about as confused as him. Two pebbles thrown into a giant pit to rot, each rattling in its own way against the sides of the wall and yet sharing in the futility of the mutual effort. Or, well, soon to be. He knows the drill. Perhaps he's let his hair grow and the bags under his eyes have since deepened, but he's still the very same man whose name made it on the ever-dreadful list of former Jigsaw victims survivors. And that very unchanging nature of his, he theorizes, has sent him back under another game's harrowing clutch.

"Adam." he doesn't give him his last name. Doesn't matter if this isn't his first rodeo - it's a whole other game with rules he'll equally fail to comprehend. "'n if I knew where we were, sugar-dick, I wouldn't've held out on ya." head quirks, eyes narrowed to observe the other. It's a miracle his delirium had lasted long enough for Adam to finish squirming, freaking out and cursing his tongue to death as he processes the predicament.

"Some shithole." Not literal this time. It's almost an upgrade. He's doing his very best to emit the mixture of irritation and nonchalance he wished he'd displayed the first time, but the way his chest tightens and his hand shakes gives him away almost entirely. He hopes the other's stupid - but something in his eyes reeks of intelligence.

Frantically, he pats himself down, rummaging through his pockets to no avail. " Fuck. Aight there should be a tape around here somewhere. Shake y'rself off 'r else I'll do it forya." or he could just sit here and accept an inevitable death. Most people don't live past one of these - two is a stretch, he figures, and his nerves twist at the rationale.

[decoresca-archived]

༄ @godstrayed ♥ ˚⁀ ➷ 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑢𝑒𝑑

❛ That doesn't make me feel any better about it, ❜ she replies, smile gentle but concern sincere in her eyes. ❛ I'm a little worried that it's still beating this fast but you're here for your head... ❜ Peach grabs at the clipboard at her side, adding a few notes. When her attention returns to him, her smile is apologetic.

❛ I hope you don't mind me doing a few preliminary checks for the doctor. We're a little understaffed this evening, but I can assure you there will be one shortly and if you have any concerns, he'll take a better look. ❜ From the pocket of her pink scrubs, she takes out a small flashlight. ❛ How is it, your head ? It doesn't need any stitches, there's no blood - but it's quite a bump. I can imagine it must hurt. ❜

She places her fingertips against his jaw, just to tilt his head slightly to the left. ❛ What does it feel like ? Throbbing, pounding, aching ? ❜ She turns the light toward his eye from the outer corner, noting his pupils. ❛ All the above ? Do you feel dizzy, nauseous ? ❜

[what-the-stark]

@godstrayed from x

"I don't have to strain too hard to picture that, unfortunately" Tony replied flatly, his expression blank as he scanned the screen before him. Panic roiled, swelling within him and he shoved it back down under his battered heart, unwilling to allow himself even an unseen out when people were dying.

Not again.

He knew intellectually that this one wasn't his fault, but he couldn't quiet the little voice that insisted it could be, it might be. Everything about this stomped on his triggers and he knew it made him reckless. After a few months wild goose chase he'd been desperate enough for a solution that he'd taken it downhill to Quantico once he'd been referred by Fury. Even the unlikely savior of a guy who could visualize the day planners of serial killers was a shot he had to take at this point. It wouldn't be the first time something he'd made had gone rogue, after all.

"Something's been tagging my remote networks. Blatantly. It wanted me to know it was there. Like a smug kid knocking and leaving a bag of flaming shit on the front steps, to be inelegant. I've tracked it to servers with references to every one of those murders, but when I follow up they just seem to fucking evaporate. What else can you tell me? Because trust me when I say that anyone or anything that's learned to cover its digital tracks from me is a threat."

[hvbris]

Brook was startled by Will's abrupt question. "Y-yeah," she stammered, "he hung up when I told him you weren't home." Visibly, there was more to this situation. A frown troubled her feature as Will kept talking, sounding more and more nervous.

"Shit I-I didn't know, I thought you two were colleagues or something..." God, she felt stupid! But most of all, she was worried about Will. Suddenly, the past weeks made more sense. Will's unrest, his nervousness, even the sleepwalking... Something bad was going on. "Will, what's happening? Who is he? Is he dangerous or something?"

The way his gaze snaps to her. "Is that all he said?" He tries to not look too alarmed but the discomfort is easily painted across his face. It wasn't unknown that Will had begun suspecting Dr. Lecter of more nefarious things. And it seemed like no one believed him or saw the possibility. Instead, they looked at him like he was crazy.

"Brook, if he calls or tries to contact you again do not answer or approach him." He says after a moment, "He is not as he seems." What was saying too much? After all, he wanted her uninvolved in this mayhem. "If anyone ever comes out here... anyone... aside from Alana or Jack do not open the door. There has been some things at work and it's put me on edge."

[corxner]

cont. | @godstrayed [Will Graham] —

soulsmate au!

Faust thought that, if he was able to paint and draw in monochrome, he'd be able to live life the same.

He didn't have any hope of having the so called ‘soulmate’ either. Why would he? Why would he have one— When he didn't even belong in this place, like a puzzle piece from another set that somehow fit into this one: an anomaly. He didn't know how to react when he stepped into that classroom. When everything became vibrant again; all the colors blossomed and bloomed, making his head ache. Luckily it was dulled down to a degree by his very signature carmine glasses. He didn't think he'd miss it so much— he thought he didn't need it. But no, in fact, Faust craved it, craved something that would remind him he's alive.

The statistics hadn't been wrong; Will isn't wrong about not having a soulmate either. Because he didn't. Faust felt like a fraud, truth be told. How is he supposed to feel anything else? When he knew. He knew Will is right and yet he is willing to lie, perhaps somehow make up for throwing the other's heart and mind into chaos (he knew he had no right to). He felt guilty.

“I had accepted that I didn't have one too,” Faust started. Not entirely a lie. “and it's okay if you won't open up to me that way” the concept of strangers who just happened to paint the other's life in colour is romantic, he can't deny that— but for them to be forced to love each other as basis? It felt forceful. “But I thought we could at least— I don't know. Be friends?” at the very least, he expected ‘fate’ to have find him someone with similar, broken mind. Someone he could relate to, someone he would get along with (someone Faust wished to have around. To be around).

“...I can wait, if you'd like to figure out to undo all that in solitude. There's really no rush” he reassured, genuine and not a hint of sarcasm behind his words. He wanted to try and help, but that was left unsaid. Worried it'd only push Will further away. “It's also your right to not undo it at all. But I hope that won't be the case”

[jessiebites]

continued from meme response here , @godstrayed . ft, will graham !!

JESSIE COULDNT SAY THAT, but she grins as if she could. "He isn't," A content sigh accompanies her hand moving to undo her hair clip, letting the full extent of her ginger curls run down her back. "But I think your words made me feel better about it." There's bite marks hidden beneath the sheer fabric of her sleeve, black and blue bruises to match on her knees. Jessie's devil marks his territory like a beast, and the woman makes out like a bandit whenever she can.

There's a tilt to her head, a curious gaze that falls over the man beside her. "What brings ya here?" Dimly lit bar being brightened by neon signs, the old jukebox, and little fairy lights hanging overhead. "I don't assume you're here t'dance for eighties night."

[downs1de-has-moved]

House watches the brief flash of exhaustion that crosses Will's face, the kind that comes from someone fighting battles too long without a break. He's seen it hundreds of times in people in professions similar to his—people who think admitting weakness is worse than death. Will is just another in a long line of people who believe they're indispensable.

"Files are boring…"

House starts, dismissing the idea with a wave of his hand. 

"And they don't tell me what I need to know, like why you've been walking around with a stab wound that might have, oh, I don't know, left a few things in the wrong places."

He leans back, extending back the same hand he waved with before. 

"But hey, if you want to roll your dice and keep your peace, that's your call: I'll clear you for duty. Believe me, I couldn't care less about the martyr act--if you don't, however, you need to tell me the truth."

　He likes to think he is unbreakable　but he has learned from experiences he shatters just like the rest. He only puts in just as much resistance as possible often making the fracturing all the more tragic. The doctor poses the same threat all doctors pose to him: they will find him unfit for his job, then what? More people will die and Will Graham will be shuffled to the sideline: debilitated and disillusioned, destined to watch too many people die because he was never going to make the mental fortitude cut.

These doctors like to play god, using them all as pawns. Their fates entangled into their judgement and expertise — And Will? He doesn't have the patience for it. “Are there not files or something along those lines in which you can acquaint yourself with, Dr. House?” He's obstinate on principle and that alone, it seems. Will's eyes flutter and he sighs, resigning him to his fate. “I was stabbed some weeks ago. They want to make sure it didn't do lasting damage. And to make sure everything is still there.”

[downs1de-has-moved]

House has seen this before—stubbornness and defiance masking fear. Will Graham's face might as well be a mirror: House knew the type because it wasn't much different from his own.

"How efficient: a man of few words and fewer clues."

House mutters, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"You know, most people would at least give me a starting point, but I guess you like making your doctors work for it."

He shifts his weight onto his cane, leaning just enough to emphasize his point.

"You're not going back out there until I figure out what's chewing your insides--figuratively or literally, doesn't matter to me."

　It seems that his proximity to the crime scenes increases his own chances of catching the wrong people's attention. This fascination; and Will would call it a morbid fascination, was leaving him with more scars than he can account for. Does he fear for his own life? Or does he worry if he is not on the field how many more people would fall victim to the unimaginable horrors out there?

Doctors he doesn't have a good history with. They always try pick at his mind although he has always made it clear he has no interest in that sort of relationship between them and him. He knows their tricks and can unwind their intentions behind their prettily worded inquiries.

A snarky doctor? New but not something he couldn't handle. "You'd be doing us a both a favor if you can just tell me how quickly I can get back to the field."

[bullsh1tterz]

"Gross. Ew." Stuck in here with - who he now assumes to be - a. blue shirt. The waking nightmare truly does continue. He looks the guy up and down, searching in his demeanor for a cruelty he's experienced in so-called 'defenders of justice', but doesn't see much of it. "I'm gonna ignore that. Coz I didn' ask. Y'gonna shake y'rself down now or what?" Body steps forward and only then does he realize his own predicament... no chain this time, no, but rather an object stuffed into his pocket. Frantically, he lets his hand duck in and pulls a jagged knife out. From the angle of his palm against its surface, he can tell it's blunt. But as jigsaw's games go - it shouldn't stay that way for long, he doesn't think. It's meant for someone or something and damned he'll be if he doesn't find out.

"I don' got a tape on me..." he voices, looking around and making his way across to the other. "Which means the game's over more than one room." one of the ones he's read about in the papers, Adam's sure. Of course Jigsaw wouldn't allow him a mere second chance at his own claustrophobic game. It had to be new. It had to challenge him. And he groans at the revelation, looking up for any sign of surveillance and throwing two middle fingers up in a jolt, form spinning just a notch to address as many angles as possible.

"Guess I'm puzzle daddy's favorite little toy, ey!?" he shouts, wincing in his misery and burying heaps of it under aggression. "Fuckin' Bastard." the hands go down, but then one goes up again for a mere second. "Can't deal withyer issues by gettin' an addiction like the rest 'f us so y'r punishin' us for it. Motherfucker. Lunatic. Get fucked." Frankly, the way his resolve is veering now - he'll simply get the other out. He's not playing yet another sick game. He's not watching someone saw their foot off again. He's done. If jigsaw wants him, great, he'll have him; but not on his terms. On Adam's terms and no one else's.

So, the matter at hand remains. The contraption over the other's head which he's going about investigating without a single touch lest it set off a mess.

　There’s really no telling how bad his luck is. It’s not bad luck, not really —— a series of circumstances that has Will Graham drawn in and ensnarled by unbecoming psychopaths. He should just ease away from the business altogether and settle into a quiet retirement, aloof and just as alone as before. But it’s never that easy and his mind just as suspended on webbed curiosities.

He knows enough about Jigsaw despite the puzzle not fully being present there for Will. An angry man seeking punishment and validation in places that had been failed. Will doesn’t understand his purpose here but perhaps shortly he would. And this man with him? Fidgety, flighty and likely to snap on him if goaded. But Will is not a dog without bite either. Just far too calculated.

There was supposed to be some kind of test or something akin to a game. They have an opportunity for escape, no? Would they both be able to survive or would they have to turn on one another? Will’s brown eyes flicker and he’s searching for any clue or tape to give them further instructions. Because he realizes then, they’re not allies just yet.

“I’m a cop.“ not really, special investigator with dubious mental health history making him unable and unqualified for the force. Not quite FBI but adjacent, “I was assigned to the cases–“ Newly recruited for his particular knack of figuring out minds. He hadn’t even been in the city for a day. “I was with my coworker when I was taken.” Bev, in a parking garage. He hopes she was okay.

[hvbris]

Will didn't reply to her question. Brook couldn't really blame him, it wasn't like the Graham family was known for being good at communication. And she felt uncomfortable poking around. But she did notice how tired he looked lately. Baking silly cookies and cakes was her way of helping, because words always seemed to elude her.

"I just studied," she replied, "I had no classes today. Dr. Lecter called, but I told him you weren't here." She paused, trying to remember if anything notable had happened, but days at Wolf Trap were usually quiet, which she liked.

Rough was an understatement but he was trying this new thing where he didn't take as much home with him from work. Will is certainly careful of what he tells her not wanting to make too much of a mess with that boundary. "Thanks." Will is saying as he finishes up ordering their usual orders on the app. It seemed that these days were full of long work days and endless take out orders. One of these days he was going to have to ask her to show him the ways around the kitchen. He could burn toast, if not careful. "How was your day? Anything eventful? What all did you do?"

[hvbris]

𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 & 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐊 @godstrayed

"Rough day at work?" she asked with a grimace, sitting on the couch with Winston, his head resting on her lap. It seemed Will had nothing but rough days, lately. But Brook knew better than to really comment on it. She didn't feel like it was her place, and anyway, neither of them were big conversationalists.

"Chinese sounds great! And I made some cookies earlier if you want. They're on the kitchen counter." She vaguely gestured towards the kitchen. Like everything else Brook baked, the cookies were decorated with green frosting and a little frog face.