#he's not on a first name basis with himself either i fear

[moodyseal]

It hit me just now that I finished the series but it's so funny how back when they were in the Belmont Hold Sypha kept going on and on about how Alucard "is like a cold spot in the room his sadness is like an icy well" etc etc while Alucard a) was a few shelves away at most and b) probably has enhanced hearing anyway

[artiststarme]

Steve couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten a proper night’s rest. It had to have been before Vecna started haunting people’s dreams that made the entire Party afraid to close their eyes. Before Max fell into a painful coma and Eddie succumbed to bat bites in the Upside Down. Maybe prior to Spring Break completely, before the Russians under Starcourt and the demodogs and demogorgons. Maybe before his parents became too disappointed in him, before they started punctuating their disgust in him with well-aimed fists. Perhaps he’d never had a restful sleep at all, he couldn’t remember anymore.

But ever since his eyes had landed on the bloody form of his new friend surrounded by carcasses in the desolate trailer park, he couldn’t sleep a wink. Whenever he tried to rest, he imagined the pain Eddie must have gone through (he knew how those teeth felt as they gnawed through thick layers of flesh). He thought of how they had been forced to leave his body down there to rot, how alone Eddie must have been in his final moments. He could vividly picture Eddie’s last breath and gurgling pain every night in his nightmares. Steve would snap awake every night, gasping for air and jumping at shadows.

For weeks, he isolated himself. He only went to work and back and even that was taken away from him once he dozed off at the counter on one of his shifts with Keith. Without Robin there to gently wake him up and cover for him, he lost his job then and there. Without anything to drag him out of the house, he began spending every minute cowering from his own thoughts. He couldn’t sleep at night and he would hallucinate during the day. He’d see shadow figures in the corner of his eye, hear distorted screeches and screams of pain. On the bad days, he’d even hear Eddie’s voice amidst the chaos.

Steve thought he’d lost his mind.

After so many years of dealing with the impossible, the craziness had caught up with him and poisoned his mind. Or maybe Vecna had finally caught by up to him. Had he finally decided to stop targeting teens in high school to move onto more traumatized targets (i.e., Steve)? Unfortunately, he couldn’t find it in himself to care either way.

He never expected his new turned dead friend to shake his shoulder gently to wake him up from a nightmare. Steve jerked awake to find soft brown eyes staring at him in concern.

His reaction was completely valid. He screamed his head off.

Steve screamed and cried as the Hallucination Eddie’s eyes widened in fear before frantic shushing and spastic hand waving began.

“Shh! Harrington, Jesus H. Christ, calm down. Holy shit, I thought you’d be the calm one. Calm down, please god.”

When his throat finally lost its ability to scream, he took a good look at Eddie. His eyes were dull, shadows bruised his face, and his skin was far paler than Steve had ever seen. New scars marred his cheek and lower jaw right where the bats had gnawed.

Was… was he really here?

“Eddie?”

The man in question beamed in response, “I see we’re on a first name basis now, Stevie. If I knew this was all I had to do, I would’ve almost died a long time ago!”

Steve threw himself forward into Eddie’s arms and ignored both his own aches and pains and Eddie’s oomph of surprise.

“You’re not going to be here in the morning, are you?” Steve whispered into the crook of his neck.

Eddie’s shaky hand latched onto Steve’s shoulder to deepen the hug. “Hell Steve, I’ll never leave you again if you’ll have me.”

Steve fell asleep in Eddie’s arms and when he woke up, he was curled against the warmth of his chest with a cold towel on his forehead. It hadn’t been a dream after all. Eddie had saved himself and had come to Steve’s. From that day forward, Steve had Eddie. He made the days meaningful and the nights restful, just as they always should have been.

[macdenlover]

My fucking god. There is so much to take apart.

This episode gave us a peak into Dennis’s mind and it’s the closest thing we’re gonna get to putting him under a microscope like a little bug and studying him in a lab. It isn’t what I expected from this episode but man oh man am i glad to have it. There’s a few things we need to establish first that’s gonna be the basis of my analysis. Dennis is angry, but he ultimately uses that anger to mask fear, pain, and every other emotion that he doesn’t allow himself to feel. Also, the entirety of the episode— every little detail was intentionally conjured by Dennis’s mind either consciously or subconsciously so none of it is off the table to dig into.

There’s two big things at play here— one, his desperate need for control; and two, his instinct to self sabotage. This episode did one hell of a job at showing how woven together the two are.

The essence of Dennis’s character is this impenetrable shell he’s built to protect the vulnerable part that sits at his core, and we finally got to see HOW he builds that shell piece by piece. This is the pressure-cooking of the diamond— if you apply enough pressure it’ll harden the shell.

Everything is thrown out of balance when Dennis learns about his high blood pressure, but what really bothers him about that is the inevitability of aging— something we’ve seen him be insecure about for many seasons. But what’s different about this episode is that while his usual fear of aging comes from vanity, this time it’s combined with Dennis being so afraid of the world around him changing and leaving him behind. This follows the thematic trajectory of this season— all the characters struggling to cope with inevitable change. 

A stress-free day at the beach is a pipe dream. Happiness is something so hopelessly distant from him that he builds a fantasy about chasing it while never getting there— sabotaging the plan because he either thinks it’s too impossible, something he doesn’t deserve, or both. This is not the first time we’ve seen this from him. In The Gang Saves The Day, the rest of the gang’s fantasies revolve around them finally getting their dream ending, while Dennis’s stuck out from the others as a barely comprehendible mess of his own misery. (I’m gonna rewatch this episode soon and give you a full breakdown of my thoughts). Dennis self sabotages in his own fantasies because he can’t imagine a reality where he is capable of getting what he wants. Dissatisfaction is something so permanent to him, and Dennis Takes a Mental health day is all about him trying to cling to things that are permanent to regain his sense of control. He is creating uncertainty in his own fantasy so that he can be certain about it. He is such a broken man and it is such a fucked up cycle— one thing continues feeding into the other. “The pin’s the key to the phone, the phone’s the key to the car.” 

The primary source of his frustration in this episode was the automated systems, which I think holds place to represent more than one thing. It’s a symbol of the changing world that he can’t control or escape from, but it also represents the parts of himself he’s fighting against. He forms systems in his life that are so methodical and complicated that it gets in the way of his ability to have real human connections. They went right on the nose with it in this ep by having him spelling out his own name as an acronym in a fit of rage. Subconscious Dennis’s d.e.n.n.i.s. system is fucking crazy. 

D- “Deliver me from this”

E - “Engage with human”

N - “Nightmare”

N - “NIGHTMARE”

I - “Is this real?”

S - “Somebody help me”

If you interpret this as his frustration with not only the state of the world but himself and his perpetual loneliness it gets incredibly heartbreaking. Guys I’m really tearing up here. 

His interactions with others in this episode also say so much about him and the inner conflicts he’s experiencing. He knows he establishes control by taking his frustration out on other people, but he simultaneously struggles with that making him a bad person. He yells at the customer service workers and then APOLOGIZES and reassures them that it’s not them who he’s really mad at. He doesn’t mean to take it out on them. (Potentially wild implications for Dennis woobifiers here.) He wants to take his frustration out on people who he believes deserve it, like the CEO. He gets to see himself as a hero in this story even if he’s miserable. If happiness is a pipe dream, he can settle for second best which is the rush he gets from taking his pain out on the guy who fucked him over. But he is simultaneously the person he spent his entire fantasy craving a real human connection with. He doesn’t know how to do that. It got weird and a little sexual (he definitely wanted to fuck that guy till the room stank). he is vindicated with violence at the end, which is ultimately what he will always resort to because it gives him the sense of power that desperately needs to make the frustration, vulnerability, and weakness go away (mentally AND physically). This is his cycle. 

I’m not sure Dennis could have an episode where he breaks down and cries and has a huge cathartic moment and then goes back to his regular self the next episode the way Mac and Charlie have. Dennis is a whole other can of worms. RCG are comfortable with exploring different sides to these characters as long as they are kept in a state of limbo for the length of the show, but letting Dennis openly express his feelings (even to himself) might make it impossible to come back from because this is literally the entire crux of his character. The last time he opened up emotionally he fled to another state only come back a year later more hostile and emotionally distant than ever. They had to put a hard reset on him after season 12 because they knew that version of him didn’t have longevity in the show. I WISH so fucking bad that they would explore the vulnerable parts of him more explicitly on the show but for now I will settle for being a little vulture and picking it out of the carcass of this season. 

[mesetacadre]

I would now like to deal with two extremes, two obsessions, on the question of workers' democracy that were to be noted in some of the discussion articles in Pravda.

The first extreme concerns the election principle. It manifests itself in some comrades wanting to have elections "throughout." Since we stand for the election principle, let us go the whole hog in electing! Party standing? What do we want that for? Elect whomever you please. That is a mistaken view, comrades. The Party will not accept it. Of course, we are not now at war; we are in a period of peaceful development. But we are now living under the NEP. Do not forget that, comrades. The Party began the purge not during, but after the war. Why? Because, during the war, fear of defeat drew the Party together into one whole, and some of the disruptive elements in the Party were compelled to keep to the general line of the Party, which was faced with the question of life or death. Now these bonds have fallen away, for we are not now at war; now we have the NEP, we have permitted a revival of capitalism, and the bourgeoisie is reviving. True, all this helps to purge the Party, to strengthen it; but on the other hand, we are being enveloped in a new atmosphere by the nascent and growing bourgeoisie, which is not very strong yet, but which has already succeeded in beating some of our co-operatives and trading organisations in internal trade. It was precisely after the introduction of the NEP that the Party began the purge and reduced its membership by half; it was precisely after the introduction of the NEP that the Party decided that, in order to protect our organisations from the contagion of the NEP, it was necessary, for example, to hinder the influx of non-proletarian elements into the Party, that it was necessary that Party officials should have a definite Party standing, and so forth. Was the Party right in taking these precautionary measures, which restricted "expanded" democracy? I think it was. That is why I think that we must have democracy, we must have the election principle, but the restrictive measures that were adopted by the Eleventh and Twelfth Congresses, at least the chief ones, must still remain in force.

The second extreme concerns the question of the limits of the discussion. This extreme manifests itself in some comrades demanding unlimited discussion; they think that the discussion of problems is the be all and end all of Party work and forget about the other aspect of Party work, namely, action, which calls for the implementation of the Party's decisions. At all events, this was the impression I gained from the short article by Radzin, who tried to substantiate the principle of unlimited discussion by a reference to Trotsky, who is alleged to have said that "the Party is a voluntary association of like-minded people." I searched for that sentence in Trotsky's works, but could not find it. Trotsky could scarcely have uttered it as a finished formula for the definition of the Party; and if he did utter it, he could scarcely have stopped there. The Party is not only an association of like-minded people; it is also an association of like-acting people, it is a militant association of like-acting people who are fighting on a common ideological basis (programme, tactics). I think that the reference to Trotsky is out of place, for I know Trotsky as one of the members of the Central Committee who most of all stress the active side of Party work. I think, therefore, that Radzin himself must bear responsibility for this definition. But what does this definition lead to? One of two possibilities: either that the Party will degenerate into a sect, into a philosophical school, for only in such narrow organisations is complete like-minded-ness possible; or that it will become a permanent debating society, eternally discussing and eternally arguing, until the point is reached where factions form and the Party is split. Our Party cannot accept either of these possibilities. This is why I think that the discussion of problems is needed, a discussion is needed, but limits must be set to such discussion in order to safeguard the Party, to safeguard this fighting unit of the proletariat, against degenerating into a debating society.

In concluding my report, I must warn you, comrades, against these two extremes. I think that if we reject both these extremes and honestly and resolutely steer the course towards internal Party democracy that the Central Committee set already in September of this year, we shall certainly achieve an improvement in our Party work.

The Party's Tasks. J. V. Stalin, 1923

[lupins-hehim-pussy]

Ngl if the sigewinne story was more 'Neuvillette instructed the melusines that it's alright gifting people in need gifts despite past prejudice' i would be fine with it. But the fact they wrote it in a way that implies that he instructed them specifically to care for Wriothesley makes me uhhhhhhh

Sir you are aware this child is an orphan and the best you can do is tell the melusines to feed him? What about other orphans? You have the guards at your command to help people??

I'm alot more fine with the 'Neuvillette cant do anything about the shit law despite being iudex' thing, like I'm okayish chalking it up to he's not human, it wasn't his job / wasn't told to fix the law and shit he is a judge first and foremost. But this story is NOT helping because it implies he HAS the capacity to comprehend SOMETHING is wrong and has the will to fix it and just... does nothing???

Sir this is not helping the collusion allegations

Idk man i'm a wriolette apologist i'm so alright with waving off the shallow plot beats to cater to the shippers thing but they had to make it super obvious huh head in hands

Yippey (running around in circles I love yapping and getting big asks).

Personally with shipping and media enjoyment, I'm very much the guy who is like "these are my OCs now" and I will enjoy things regardless of how I feel about the canon materials. I don't care about 'canon proof' for ships and for most scenarios, I don't think canon should be used to dissuade a person from shipping either. Obviously there's gonna be things that makes me think you're weird, but things like self-insert/canonxoc is cool and that will Never have any basis in canon material anyway. So like. Take the limiters off and reach for the sky.

As for the Neuvillette-and-melusines thing, yeah. I think it's weird that they made it specifically about Wriothesley. In general, how they portrayed Wriothesley always irks me, because they make his entire characterisation around how he 'overcame' his past because he's just a special guy who, instead of complaining about the shit hands he's dealt, accepted his sentence gracefully and pulled himself up by his bootstraps and got to where he is because he's strong and crafty. Wriothesley doesn't actually value these traits (he thinks of himself as just some guy), but everyone around him considers him 'special' because he's able to network and rally people and make a name for himself in Meropide.

That would have made for a more interesting narrative if they actually did something with it and really show some actual conflict between his view of himself and how the public sees him, but now, as it read to me, it just reeks of individual exceptionalism. He's successful because he has that capitalist mindset in him lol. Wriothesley becomes Fontaine's idealised "rags to riches" story. Then, not only is he extraordinary, he also is 'humble' about it. "You don't know you're beautiful/That's what makes you beautiful" moment lmao.

With Neuvillette, had they actually shown that he's ill-equipped to do his job as someone who struggles to relate to his subjects, I would have been like, yippee! Cool! Like I have reworked his story and characterisation to work in my mind to an embarrassing extent, and I whole-heartedly think it can be done with the premise they have set up for him. He could be complacent because he's never actually been allowed to step into the backstreets, because from the moment he stepped foot in Fontaine he's been treated as the upperclass, even when the Melusines were going through their fantasy racism shit. He's never had to fear for his life, or wonder when his next meal is. He gets water imported from all across the world, when people in the Fleuve Cendre/Meropide/Poisson probably struggles to get good plumbing and clean water.

And Focalors kept him there. He's very intentionally isolated so he can serve in her grand plan. It could also be an empathy issue, right, he can see people starve and think, cognitively, that it's just how the world is. That's just how humans are. You can really lean onto the Otherness of Neuvillette and portray him even as a overwhelmingly large, eldritch cryptid, who's trying to keep an ant colony alive simply because he likes ants. But he doesn't understand them, and because of that, he lets them die purely by accident most of the time. And he feels bad for it!

But I think the problem with it is that Genshin can't......... commit, and they can't stay consistent. They can't say he's powerless because Focalors is pulling the strings, or because of his own ineptitude, because they want Focalors to be sympathetic, and they want to say Neuvillette is cool and powerful. Like he has canonically enforced judicial changes. He essentially set up anti-discrimination laws for the Melusines. He's fully capable to. But now, because MHY forgot about that, now it seems like he only makes changes when it affects him and those he cares about, and not the hundreds and thousands of children who died due to poverty and incarceration in his time as Iudex. Then the whole thing with how he's able to pull strings to Get the Traveller into prison, but you tell me he can't... I dunno, fudge the verdict a little every once in a while? When he has to sentence a child to prison???

And obviously, these inconsistencies aren't intentional, because if you try to rationalise them, Neuvillette would end up looking like a weirdo bigot who only cares about one specific species and took a specific liking to one minor for no discernible reason. And he's not meant to be seen as that. The Melusines lore was meant to show that he cares about them. The Wriothesley lore is also meant to show that he cares about this poor starving kid. MHY just forgor there's many other starving kids in Fontaine.

His whole character hinges on the fact that underneath his cold impartiality is a guy who has a bleeding heart, who literally cries all the damn time. That's his Core Concept. MHY just sucked at writing it because........ writing teams aren't talking to each other.

Like, once people realised a lot of characterisation debates in genshin fandom can be answered with "MHY is just shit at their job", half of the complaints would be redirected to the fucking company instead of the characters/shippers lmao. Like, Lanoire. Wriothesley would have never allowed her to keep living like that. Now if you try to rationalise that whole quest, you have to think "maybe Wriothesley doesn't care all that much" or "maybe he doesn't know Meropide as well as he does," both of which contradicts canon facts about him. Because he has eyes everywhere (and even if he doesn't, his guards would 100% just tell him instead of just trying to sneak the kid out, because they canonically get Rewarded for shit like that). And he, canonically, cares about people's quality of life and safety in Meropide. He'd hate to have something like this fall under his nose.

So yeah yippee. I mean, I will keep drawing art and writing wrlt, obviously. I don't gotta explain that to anyone else. I think I know better than MHY /lh

[terrence-silver]

“It’s not a ‘trigger’! I don’t have ‘triggers’! There’s nothing wrong with me! I’m perfectly normal!” sounds to me like something KK3 Terry would say

The Elevator.

---

It was easily considered the biggest architectural eccentricity of the decade.

A fifty two story building looming over the skyline of LA reconstructed in such a way where each of its respective elevators were to be widened --- made bigger --- the shaft dimensions along generously altered from their usual 1850x1500 in diameter to a staggering 2000x1800, which meant of course, that perhaps the entire skeleton of the building itself, from top to bottom, its rebar, its wires, its reinforced concrete blocks, all had to be re-measured and rebuilt, notwithstanding the fact that an entire Skyscraper's worth of furniture and and staff had to be temporarily moved out first before the building could be virtually torn apart right down the middle. Gutted with the precision of a surgical knife. Reconstrued. Re-done. Re-calibrated. Re-fitted into place. The entire infrastructure of Dynatox's HQ remodeled, dissembled and re-assembled, solely to accommodate what they all claimed was a capricious whim --- blowing money for the sake of blowing money; a project that could go into the Millions. Tens of Millions for starters. That would require countless engineers. Man-power. Workers. Coordinators. Equipment. Shiploads of cement. Plans. So many plans. Journalists. News reporters. Pesky protestors outside of his building carrying signs saying how once again, Terry Silver's endeavors have not only polluted the planet but somehow managed to lead to urbanistic chaos amidst renovations, throwing the nearby city neighborhoods into disarray, shutting down entire streets and uglifying the vista for fuck knows how long. Did he at least have a permit for that, they asked? He was first name basis friends with Tom Bradley and they tended to golf together. He didn't need a permit, but if he genuinely wanted it, he could get it. He didn't give a shit either, though. In fact, all of it amused him profoundly. He wanted to ride around in more spaciously comfortable elevators and he would have his desire appeased too. He had the money to fund his own whims, and he would too.

Never thought much of it, until Margaret said what she said.

And then his desires began to itch.

-"Mr. Silver, sir. Forgive me if I inquire, but on the basis of employer-employee confidentiality, taking into consideration the vast sum of investment that'll go into this project ---"-

She adjusted the rim of her glasses perched atop of her nose and he already knew he had to brace himself for what she'd say next and prepare an even wittier comeback; finding his smile prematurely fading from his lips before he could even properly crack a chuckle across the precipice of his tongue. His secretary, like the incarnation of all wisdom and logic itself, looks at him, knowingly, similarly to how someone's grandmother or an aunt would've from across all the stack of building plans sprawled across the empty conference table, save for the two of them. -"But, it's not claustrophobia, is it?"- What? Without breaking a sweat, Margaret Spencer holds his gaze, one of the few people who could, as she clarifies. He knew what the fuck it was, but she chooses to explain anyway, giving him a clear definition with the precision of a Thesaurus, drilling the point home. Something pierces Terry's brain then, like a spiked, hot rod. He knew Margaret didn't do this to pin holes inside of him intentionally, but it happens anyway. He bleeds inwardly. Sees jungle red. -"The irrational fear of confined spaces. It is quite the serious trigger for some."-

On instinct, he finds his tone of voice growing low and dangerously cold.

He cocks his head to one side, assessing the word.

Like a dog assesses the bone between his teeth.

-"Trigger?"-

He seethes.

The term is unfamiliar.

Akin to a weird blank. Yet he doesn't like it. He loathes it.

Wants to tear into like, like a punching dummy.

Hit it until it collapses dead underneath his feet.

Was she implying what she was implying? That he was doing renovations, importing material, flying in engineers from as far as Korea, ready to blow the budget of a smaller country and all because he was too chickenshit to get into an elevator that felt slightly too small? Because it reminded him of 'Nam? Of the cage? She was infuriatingly right, of course, like someone who knew him for far too long could only ever be, and he hated it. Felt bared and seen by it. Felt the need to fight. Get defensive. So he does. -"It’s not a ‘trigger’!"- He hisses, getting up from his leather rotating office chair in a haste, sensing his own jaw tightening, finding he was speaking to the older woman through painfully gritted teeth. He relished the pain though, seeking more of it, because a soldier didn't do pain. He didn't do triggers either. Who invented that anyway!? What would John say about that if he knew!? Bullshit! Suddenly, his anger flares up to volcanic degrees. He's there, furiously pointing a ring-bejeweled finger at her, every trace of humor long since gone. -"I don’t have ‘triggers’, Margaret!"- He stands firm in that fact, but she sits there --- not judging --- but seeming stoic. Unconvinced. Folders and files neatly in her lap, the picture of professional poise and experience. Tricking Margaret Spencer was like trying to trick one's own mother; they always seemed to know better. He would've fired anyone else on the spot and issued a lawsuit their way, destroying every prospect of any further career anywhere, but with her? He felt the need to justify himself somehow. Convince her, from a strictly business standpoint, that they weren't sinking Billions into a building solely on the basis of him being afraid. He didn't do afraid either. There was no fear in this dojo. In this unit.

-"There’s nothing wrong with me! I’m perfectly normal!"-

He shouts suddenly, spittle flying from his mouth.

Once he realizes the outburst, he stops just as abruptly.

Straightens himself out. Halts. Re-takes control.

Stops pacing around the office like a feral animal.

It was technically her job to ask these things. Man, he was overreacting.

All of this seems funny out of nowhere, even though he was furious just a second ago.

Terry chuckles. Then, he cackles. His eyelids ache. He forgot to blink.

-"I'm fine. Lighten up, Margaret."-

He brushes it off, going for nonchalance, not feigning a single part of it, though, feeling it, in fact, in every part of his body; this unbearable lightness of being, filling his head with the high of an unexpected euphoria. He was fine. He truly was. By the end of year two since commencing the master plan programme, in a Herculean effort of unprecedented proportions, his vision is complete and his project done. Of course, Forbes writes about it extensively. So does Architectural Digest at a ribbon cutting ceremony. He rides a private elevator out of spite to commemorate the occasion, one of many and newly designed according to his specifications, going to the top floor of his building, right to the spire, where his office was overlooking Los Angeles, deciding to overcome himself once and for all forget what fear ever even meant by definition.

[badchoicesworld]

GOING FERAL GOING STUPID WE CAN BE SPECIFIC LET'S GOOO

Okay could. I order a fic with The Spot who met the Reader via LITERALLY FALLING INTO THEIR HOUSE. Entered their universe and fell directly into the livingroom. Thing that sets this universe apart? It's a universe where people have wings! Reader is based on a cockatiel, grey wings with a white patch! Either first time meeting or maybe reader asks him to help preen their wings? Gender neutral!! Tysm I love being specific grgrgrgrrggr <333

the spot falls into winged readers home !

RAGAHAGSGAHAGGRRAGR GRGGRRAGAGRG i’m foaming at the mouth *leans on expensive car* heyyyy 🤭 I FUCKING LOVE WINGS GRGAGRGAHRA ok rq, im an artist and also just obsessed with wings and i curse god everyday that we didn’t evolve with them, i instil the fear of god into people when i explain accurate anatomy if people had wings and actually could fly cause there are characteristics you need like hollow bones and all the muscles that go into functioning arms- you’ve unleashed something powerful, okami

please . talk to me about this . if you would like to . *poses in front of expensive house*

warnings: none, i may rant throughout about wings im sorry

pairing: the spot x gn!reader

requests: refer to the masterlist

★⋆ ⋆☆⋆ ☠︎︎ ⋆☆⋆⋆★✧

imagine ur surprise when a black hole suddenly opened up in your house and a guy fell through it ! how strange !

your wings fiercely tense up in an intimidating way while you watch the strange figure fumble to stand up, despite being on solid ground it looks like he has sea legs

“Oh- oh god, I am *so* sorry,” he’s baffled himself, as he puts it: “i’m still getting used to my holes”

aren’t we all 😪

it’s takes him a little while to notice all the subtle differences in your home to the typical house in his dimension; the way that doors are taller and there’s a lot more accommodation to winged individuals, which he then noticed you are

you see that weird hole in his face narrow as he studies you from a distance, like a true scientist

i think he’d be really interested in your wings at first, from a scientific view

asking you all sorts of questions while slowly backing out of the room “I like your wings, by the way! they’re very.. anatomically correct”

he’s clearly intrigued, but also trespassing and he truly didn’t mean to

depending on your own response depends on his urgency

“Wow! that’s great- is everyone here like that or is it some kind of mutation? It doesn’t matter, let me get out of your wings- hair!” the whole time he’s doing all of these wild gestures with his hands while his long ass legs carry him towards the exit, his joints stiff while he attempts to evade a confrontation

“They’re very beautiful,” is the last off handed thing he says before pulling your door open to leave your house

now, if society is accommodated to a civilisation of people with wings, there may very well be a very large drop from you home that most people can easily pass over with wings

but spot doesn’t have those

cue him almost plummeting to his death ? but a hole opens up and it open right back into your home, resulting in spot falling into your living space once again

“Oh, would you look at that! trespassing, again!” he curls in on himself in a very pathetic way before getting up again (ily spot)

you’ve just kinda tolerated his presence while all this goes down

but i don’t think you guys are new to the whole stranger danger thing, so you don’t befriend spot immediately

but imagine this becomes a stupidly common occurrence throughout the weeks

every once in a while, he drops by and each time you get a little more tolerant of him, he’s a little funny and also silly

you eventually get on name basis, and you can see he’s getting better at controlling his holes

sometimes he literally just drops through one hole and falls straight through the other, it’s a very short exchange

“hi y/n” and he’s gone

but say it’s ever gotten to the stage where you guys are actually equated, he may one day fall into your home while you’re struggling to preen your own wings

an honest struggle, not a chance i could stretch far enough w my bones popping at minor movement

he’s even started to land on his feet sometimes, and he’s very proud of himself

“ta-da!” he lands, arms outstretched while he still stumbled a little

“oh, are you preening?” most genuinely interested and curious tone ever

he approaches like a fucking rat, a little hunched over with his arms mimicking a t-rex

you can decide how significant your wings are, if they’re a big part of ur culture and ur a bit reluctant to let spot touch them

which i honestly think he’ll respect

“oh, nono! it’s okay,” will keep his distance but now is stood a little awkwardly

but if you’re chill with him touching your wings, man’s thrilled

might whisper something silly like “oo, science!” as he approaches with an outstretched hand

and hey, if you go the extra step further and let him preen you, go ahead

does he know what he’s doing ? no, and he’s confident he’ll fuck it up somehow

please show him and/or give him instruction that include when to breath and blink please

admittedly is staring more at how your wings connect to your back more than anything else, he’s very intrigued in your anatomy

would never say that out loud, dear god

but once you’ve given him instructions, he’s on that shit pretty attentively

he’s a scientist, he’ll figure it out

it’s a sight and a half though, it looks like monkeys grooming each other lmao

★⋆ ⋆☆⋆ ☠︎︎ ⋆☆⋆⋆★✧

i genuinely think of a reality all of the time where society had wings and relied on that for travel instead of cars n shit- would we need a licence to fly out in public like dbz ? would the type of wings you have be native to the birds from the place you were born, are the genes recessive from your parents n shit- how disability would be handled and how things would be accessible to people who can’t fly im going insane

i shit you not my spidersona has a few concepts, he’s a character i’ve had for a little while from an mnm campaign- he’s a mutant that has accurate bird mutations so tail feathers and wings and i thought it might have been too cliche for me to like say “he’s spiderman in a dimension where society evolved to have wings!” and it felt mary sue and i was afraid so i took his beautiful wings away hem hem whimper

[berrypass-de-murdler]

2 - 5 Death on the Low Seas

Things are... very difficult internally but this series is keeping me going somewhat, so I'm still at it lol

Ngl limiting myself to one case a day is slightly torture but it helps me focus on writing and I look forward to it every night

um... I'm just looking for people to talk to (not even to vent necessarily, I also love to rant about murdle and I just need company) so if anyone is willing to reach out, that would help a lot <3

DON'T READ THE EPISODES WITHOUT READING THE BOOKS!!

Logico takes a boat to the Violet Isles - with, of course, Admiral Navy as the captain. 

LOGICO: I guess I should be used to these teleporting suspects by now.

Some others are headed to the isles as well, namely the Duchess of Vermillion and 

U. MIDNIGHT: UNCLE MIDNIIIIIGHT!!

He picks up and noogies Logico.

LOGICO: I HATE YOU SO MUCH!! DUCHESS: My diamond is missing a necklace. I mean, YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN!  LOGICO: FINE, I’ll look for it… although it’s not the most engaging mystery in the world.

First, Logico stumbles across the deck. No diamonds there! But there is the least threatening Midnight.

U. MIDNIGHT: Heheuhueh, I can see my house from here! LOGICO: That’s not YOUR house! That’s the VIOLET MANOR!  NAVY: No… we’re not there yet either.

Benjamin is leaning so far over the edge, Logico so badly wants to push him into the ocean. But he has a job to do.

DUCHESS: Found my diamond yet? LOGICO: NO, I’m still LOOKING. 

He gets a text from Irratino. “You never find a railing without a piece of dead fish.” He stares at it for a long time and firmly believes that these messages no longer have any meaning. 

DUCHESS: WHILE he’s busy… [encroaches on Navy] what are you up to after… suppertime? NAVY: Um… DUCHESS: [creepily massages his shoulders] What say we try something new for dessert?  NAVY: UM…

She entwines her tail with his. He gets so uncomfortable, he jumps overboard! AGAIN! Thank goodness he’s rescued by an adorable shark. 

U. MIDNIGHT: Pffffffhuhuhuhuh. He’s like, a seal, and he can’t even swim! LOGICO: You didn’t happen to find a diamond in the water, per chance? NAVY: [coughs up a sardine] No…

Logico takes him to the bedroom to lie down. Above the bed, there’s a painting of a nightmarish deer-like creature, stained with fear.

NAVY: Lord Violet.  LOGICO: N- THAT’S Lord Violet? NAVY: Yes… he once had a butler who was his best friend, whom he’d do anything for. But one day, that butler was murdered. Lord Violet took it upon himself to find the murderer… LOGICO: What happened? NAVY: He tracked down the killer for a month, until he finally found their location. And when he did, he speared them alive with his horns.

Logico tenses. That seems weirdly gruesome, even though he faces crimes just as bad on a literal daily basis. There’s no time to think about that, though, because he found the Duchess’ lost diamond! Except it’s right on top of a body…

LOGICO: I knew there couldn’t be a trip without a murder! DUCHESS!!! DUCHESS: UGH!! That bitch tried to expose my affair with Admiral Navy, I HAD to kill them! Now thanks to you, Deductive Logico, it will be revealed anyway! Therefore, I GO! 

She jumps into the ocean (man, it’s happening a lot). Being the queen of fish, she disappears into the deep. I wonder if she’ll find Dr. Crimson?

LOGICO: Like she even needed a boat in the first place!

Ben and Navy are distracted, because they’re finally approaching Violet Manor. It’s a gorgeous, intimidating silhouette in the fog, just right for a dramatic reveal. The three stare, mesmerized… Then Uncle Midnight vomits over the edge. (Alcohol poisoning.)

The end!

The murdle rp is so funny help they all look so stupid

It's like gacha but worse

Maybe it's not worse. I can't tell anymore

The power of Goat Lord compels you!

See you next time murdlers!

[deathgamegirl]

Ranmaru Kageyama's Struggle with Co-Dependency: An Analysis

in the (relatively) short amount of time that ranmaru was on screen in chapter 3-1 of your turn to die, he became attached to sara to the point of obsession. even with how insecure he was in his own capabilities, he recklessly devoted his entire existence to her, seeing her as someone to be saved and protected at all costs. naturally, this kind of behavior is unhealthy and even disturbing from an outside perspective, but further inspection reveals that there's more to it than just incel-adjacent behavior for its own sake- when you look at the kind of actions that ranmaru takes in sara's name, it becomes clear that he struggles heavily with co-dependency.

naturally, there will be spoilers for your turn to die under the cut, as well as discussions of mental health.

co-dependency is, at its core, an intense, unhealthy longing to be needed by other people. while their intentions are genuinely well-meaning, the way that they go about helping other people is harmful to both parties, especially themselves. rather than addressing the core of a problem, they may cover for the poor behavior and choices of the other party, or take action to suppress an issue rather than solving it. however, what's important to note is that co-dependency is like an addiction: the co-dependent individual becomes so attached to the satisfaction they get by "saving" others that they disregard their own problems entirely.

by looking at ranmaru's actions and words in 3-1 from its beginning to its conclusion, we can see how dependent he becomes on "saving" sara, both in the emotions route and in the logic route. i'll be looking at his introduction and then his actions right before the fight with maple 2.0 in both routes.

from the moment that ranmaru is introduced to us, he already displays high levels of insecurity. the first choice that the player can make at this point has two options that reflect the co-dependent behaviors regarding fear of abandonment and needing recognition.

if sara chooses to remain silent, ranmaru will say:

"S-Say somethin'… this is awkward."

and if sara requests a trade, he'll object with:

"Huh? Damn, don't reject me immediately!!"

he already needs sara to acknowledge his presence. since they're going to be partnered up, he's already been set up to get attached to her, and being ignored or rejected would set off panic in him fast. co-dependent individuals feel a need to be appreciated more than is ever healthy, after all.

there's also the choice in dialogue where he awkwardly asks if it's okay to be on a first name basis. in each dialogue option, there's a line that indicates that he feels guilty for even asking the question or for sticking up for himself.

if sara says it's fine, he'll respond with:

"You sure? You aren't gonna come to me later saying you were actually my senior?"

if sara requests that he use her last name, he says the following lines:

"No, wait, why do you get to call me that?! That's weird, right?!" "Ah… right… No, well, look, we can just use each other's first names, right? Less of a pain…"

and then if sara demands that he call her "mistress", he'll respond with the following self-deprecating quote:

"You're just wanting to make fun of me for my height, aren't you…"

he pretty clearly doesn't trust his own emotions, needs, and comforts beyond appeasing sara, even at this early stage.

this gradually descends into ranmaru either trying (and failing) to overwrite his identity with the joe AI in the emotions route, or killing the remaining yabusame sibling in the logic route, both actions meant to be sara's salvation. he disregards any consequences that might befall him for taking either action, believing wholly that it would save the person that he's closest to in that moment.

in the emotions route, after he gets caught by midori, he remarks that:

"Dammit… I can't be anything after all… So… I at least wanted to be Sara's salvation…"

this is a very on-the-nose point that he is, for lack of a better term, addicted to being sara's savior. again, this is the key trait that co-dependent individuals struggle with.

then, in the logic route, he says a line with a similar meaning after killing either alice or reko:

"This is the only way left to save Sara…!"

again, saving sara is brought up. he isn't addressing the actual root of the issue, instead applying what may as well be a band-aid over a bullet hole in a misguided attempt to help her. in particular, he's also more outwardly aggressive in this route after he gets thwarted, which is a result of him being prevented from being sara's "benefactor", so to speak.

whatever may have caused ranmaru to develop co-dependent tendencies, it's important to note that it is a learned behavior brought on by repeated instances. whether he had a bad home life, was abused by his classmates, or anything else, he learned from those around him to put himself at the very back of the line. and realizing that, it becomes all the more tragic that things turned out this way for him and sara, because it was likely unavoidable in their present circumstances. i'd say that we can only hope things can improve, but... unless ranmaru gets another doll body to inhabit, i doubt that he'll even get the chance.

for reference, i used this article from mental health america as source to help me word my points, as well as pulling from my own past experience with co-dependency. i also pulled quotes directly from the the game transcripts on the yttd wiki.

[apprenticestanheight]

Photos- Chainshipping

Okay!! My requests are currently open for just about every single saw character or apprentice (with the exception being Logan--I haven't watched either Jigsaw or Spiral just yet and thus, don't really know much about him besides his name) so if anyone has any ideas, feel free to shoot them into my inbox--I do character x character but also love me a bit of reader insert so whatever ideas you have, I'll be happy to take a look!

fic type- this fic jumps everywhere, but the primary genres are fluff--there's angst and angsty undertones in this as well though

warnings-Adam has PTSD (though he doesn't get diagnosed) and the symptoms he exhibits are as follows: avoidance, anxiety, fears of things that relate to his time in the trap (it's never stated, more depicted, but he's afraid of the dark) and anxiety whenever something triggers the memories of the trap. He does go through an episode in relation to his PTSD post trap and the episode manifests as a panic attack kind of ordeal. There are also potential SAW X spoilers (I haven't seen the movie so please don't spoil it for me--I mention offhandedly that another attack had shown up in the news in the same place where SAW X is set, which is the extent of the spoilers for the film) this has been edited but it was edited in about an hour and fifteen minutes so it's not perfect. It's also a long fic and caps at 8.2k words

When Adam next wakes, he finds himself in a hospital room. He wakes in time to see an investigative officer enter his room, quiet on the assumption that he's still sleeping.

He scrutinizes the detective in the moments before they realize he's awake, his throat dry and his shoulder burning with the ache of a bullet that had been removed but was still left in his shoulder too long.

The detective appears to be a guy--probably taller than him but not by much, only a bit of thinning hair left to speak for what was once probably a full head. He looks, from the get-go, a little irritated, and his outfitting is a basic button down, a black tie and black pants.

For a second, Adam wonders how legal it is for detectives to intrude upon the hospital rooms of Jigsaw survivors, his gaze passing over the detectives frame once more, but he realizes that, if the detective does care, he doesn't care all that much.

Who is Adam to judge, anyway? While his work as a PI was done in the name of making enough to get the rent on his shitty apartment paid in time, he still did it. He still stalked people, watched them meet up with their secretaries to cheat on their soon-to-be-ex-wives in the middle of their divorce proceedings.

He still learned the comings and goings of innocents and allowed that to be turned against them, so even if he wants to, he can't judge the detective on the basis of legal versus illegal. He can't judge the detective for doing something that feels shady when Adam has done a number of shady things himself.

Finally, the detective looks at him, startled to find he hasn't removed his gaze from him since he first heard the hospital door creak open.

"Hello, Adam," the detective greets. "My name is Detective Eric Matthews. You escaped a trap that you were put into by the Jigsaw killer. Can you tell me how?"

Adam blinks--he can barely recall what his own name is. He doesn't know the time or the date. Why would a detective expect him to be able to explain something like that so soon?

"Uh," Adam says. "I'd rather do this at a police station or precinct. I can't remember shit, Detective, and I need at least a day to make sure my head is clear."

The detective nods dejectedly, face falling like he's disappointed in Adams response.

"All right," he says. "If there's anything I can do or anyone I can call, let me know now. I'm sure your family is worried sick."

Adam feels like it's a jab, almost, but ignores that feeling. He thinks of his mother for a second, then his father. He wonders how they're both doing before realizing he's not talked to Scott in weeks. The last person his mind lands on is Lawrence--how is he doing? Is he the reason that Adam escaped?

"No," Adam says. "I've got nobody. If I had anyone, they would've called by now, I think. Thank you for offering, though."

Eric nods, and Adam watches him go.

Very quickly, Adam realizes he's been left alone again, and when he looks to his right, out the hospital window, he finds that he's woken up in time to catch the sunset.

Adam has never found much of a point in watching the sunset alone, though, so he sighs. He turns his head so that it faces a white painted wall, gives in to the morphine-induced exhaustion and closes his eyes, falling asleep with the sunset to paint a picture perfect background.

-

Days pass, and in each one of them, Lawrence consumes the whole of Adams thoughts for at least two hours. Typically whenever a nurse walks in to change his IVs or renew the morphine drip that has been steadily keeping the worst of the pain from the bullet wound at bay, though sometimes when someone comes around to bring him food.

Any entrance into his hospital room can be thought to be Lawrence for a minimum of three seconds, Adam finds. He looks up, realizes it isn't Lawrence and while one part of him deflates with some sense of sadness, the other feels relieved.

It's an odd split--despite how much Adam thinks of him, he doesn't know what would make him happier; would seeing Lawrence and being assured he's fine be better? Would it be better than never seeing Lawrence again, leaving him and his mind to wonder whatever happened to the oncologist?

Detective Eric Matthews doesn't swing by his hospital room again, but the day following his first visit, a nurse came in to tell Adam that he was wanted at the police station to deliver a statement as soon as he felt ready to do so.

On his final morning in the hospital, Adam is given several written prescriptions after being honest about the pain in his shoulder--days of recovery and the pain is still there, which has lead his doctor to believe it could be chronic.

He's sent on his merry way and gets into a cab to go back to his apartment, idly wondering just how worth it it would be to call his parents.

Getting to his apartment is a trip and a half--he realizes he doesn't have his keys on him but finds them poking out from under the door, and the first thing he does after unlocking his door is turn on the light in the entryway.

He proceeds with growing anxiety through the darkness in his hallways to get to his room. When he's there, he promptly turns the light on and goes about getting himself acceptable outfitting--he's due in to make a statement at the station, and it's half past ten in the morning. Better to get it out of the way and deal with the press that's coming out of the woodwork sooner than later.

He grabs a towel and turns his bedroom light off, proceeding to his bathroom. When he turns on the water, its cold and reminiscent of the water he'd woken up in in the bathroom with Lawrence.

When he notices it and to the detriment of his neighbor who won't have access to the hot water for thirty minutes once Adam is done, he turns the knob so that the water is almost scalding.

He hates it--the way that a bit of cold water cascading from his head to his shoulders and down his torso has reminded him so easily of the bathroom. He tries to shake it but almost can't, so he moves through the movements of the shower as quickly as he can without just skipping through the entire ordeal.

He dries himself, gets dressed into a decent pair of jeans, a baggy black shirt and a dark gray flannel, and walks to the station like he used to when he was taking photos for a detective who worked there.

The route is so familiar that it's eerie, and he half wonders who it was who stalked him while was doing the stalking. He wishes he knew which one of Jigsaws accomplices it was who was making sure that they had everything set to go for his game, but then he thinks better of it.

He doesn't want to know that sort of thing, and trying to figure it out could have him in a trap worse than the one that Jigsaw had put him in in the first place.

When Adam gets to the station, he tells the secretary he's there to make a statement. At this, the secretary makes a call and a woman comes out of an office--a detective who looks all business but in the tired kind of way, with her exhausted looking partner on her heels.

"My name is Special Agent Lindsey Perez," the woman greets. "This my partner, Peter Strahm. We're with the FBI and while we've agreed that Erics approach was not the way to go about acquainting you with the police force at all, we're both glad you could come in today. We'll get you sorted in an interrogation room with some water and a cigarette. It'll only be a few minutes, Mr. Stanheight, and if there's anything else you need feel free to let us know."

Adam has nothing to say so he just shakes his head and lets Perez and Strahm lead him off. When entering the room, Perez notes that she'll bring a blanket back and some coffee--the interrogation room is exceedingly cold--which Adam finds himself thankful for. It's early November but it feels like he's found himself in the middle of a New Jersey winter with how cold the room is.

The interrogation room is cold, the seats metal, and the walls a bland and basic navy-blue-ish black color. Adam wishes he'd stayed home but realizes it's too late for that.

He knows he'll have to spend the next several hours dredging up the memories that had come back in bits and pieces during the hospital stay, the memories he'd half been trying to forget and half been trying to process.

Perez comes back after a few minutes, draping a blanket over Adams shoulders and setting a cup of coffee in front of him while he smokes the cigarette that had been left for him to smoke.

"All of this is going to be on record," Perez says. "Do you know why John Kramer chose to test you?"

"I work as a PI on occasion," Adam admits, guilt swallowing him bit by bit. "I was one piece in Lawrences game because I was hired by a detective who knows his wife and suspected cheating. Hiding in the shadows, taking photos of the unknowing, it's not exactly a redeemable quality in the eyes of a serial killer like him."

"Why did you do it?"

"I have a camera," Adam says, shrugging. "I needed to make the rent and get some cigarette money. I did what I had to, like everyone else does in Jersey."

Perez nods. "Do you have any recollection of how you escaped?"

Adam tightens the blanket around himself. His escape is one of the memories he's tried not to think about because he remembers it in excruciating detail until the distinct point where he collapses, and it's not fun to think about at all.

"A girl came in after a day or two. Tried to kill me," Adam says. "I managed to survive that somehow. A couple of days later, some guy opens the door. Drops a key by my hand and leaves the door open. I test the key on the chain, it works, I get up and I run while starving and dehydrated. Make it outside, promptly collapse, all the fun stuff."

"And do you remember how you got to the hospital?"

"No," Adam admits. It's the one blank spot in his memory that he hasn't been able to dredge anything up from. "I wish I did, but I don't. I've kind of assumed that someone saw me, called 911, exercised the rare gift of basic human decency."

Perez nods. She looks at Adam like he's broken and he kind of hates it, but then his mind snaps to Lawrence, the smell of coffee the gun in the bullet and the act of having to think about the bathroom being the thing that pulls the trigger.

"Uh," Adam starts, taking a drag of his cigarette. "Do you know anything--anything at all--about Lawrence Gordon? He was in the trap with me and I haven't stopped thinking about him since I woke up in the hospital."

Perez smiles, tired and sad. "I'll see what we can find, but last I heard he was in a private wing. His wife called the other day to ask us if we'd heard from you? Lawrence has apparently been asking after you, too."

"Thank you," it's the first time Adam has wanted to smile in days.

The questioning continues for a long couple of hours, Adam stating and restating things until his head hurts and all he wants is a bit of decent cheap takeout. He's let go when it's almost the sunset and again chooses to proceed without watching it. Maybe, when he has someone worthwhile, he'll consider watching the sun go down, but what is the point of such when you're doing it alone?

-

Another long few weeks pass him by. Adam gets himself a job at a Mom and Pop bookstore near the heart of the city, and with the pay raise that'll come once he's worked there six months, he'll be able to afford a decent apartment and still have money left for groceries if he shops at places known for their low costs, like Aldi or Lidl.

He doesn't stop taking photos--he's spurred on when a gallery reaches out, offers to pay him ten thousand if he can take forty photos of a theme of his choosing by the end of the year so that they can display it for five months.

A collection, they'd called it. A collection of photos with one common theme or aspect and a title of Adams choosing. He couldn't say no, even if the idea of ten thousand dollars up front played more of a part in that than he's willing to admit.

He doesn't know what the collection will be called, but as he realizes what kind of photos he's started taking, he has an idea of the theme.

Lawrence, he realizes as he goes on what has turned into one of his daily walks, would probably like that the trauma they endured didn't do anything to falter Adams love for photography.

Lawrence, Adam has also realized, has something of a permanent foothold in his mind. He is always there, always lingering, ever present in the idea of seeking Lawrence out, going searching and hoping to find.

He grins, snaps a photo of a stray cat lounging in the public gardens, when he hears a voice that is so familiar it makes his chest ache with the yearning of three weeks gone.

"Adam?" Lawrence asks. "I didn't know you liked the gardens."

They haven't spoken in weeks. Adam has been trying to figure out what to say to Lawrence for weeks, and still Lawrence gets the opportunity to speak before he does.

"I don't," Adam says, startled as he looks up to the person he likely shares some twisted kind of bond with. "I uh--I take walks now. I owe a gallery forty photos for a display by the end of December, so..."

"You take walks?" Lawrence asks, and Adam notices the cane, the way with which Lawrence leans against it. "I've been taking walks, too. It's part of the regimen I've built for myself. A walk everyday at the same time, the same route."

It's the first time they've spoken in weeks, and the fact that both of them go on walks daily is the first area in which they've found common ground? If Adam weren't so shocked by it, he would laugh at himself and at Larry, too.

"Uh," Adam pauses. "I go wherever my feet take me until I realize I've gotten lost. I work full time at a bookstore now and the long walks aren't a good thing for me, but the fresh air is nice, so I take them anyway."

"Walk with me, then?" Lawrence asks. "I mean--you don't have to walk me to my apartment or anything, but I could use the company and I really have been meaning to reach out to you."

Adam thinks on it for all of two seconds before nodding. "I could use someone to bother about my excitement with the whole gallery thing, anyway," he says. "I could tell my coworkers, but I don't know them very well, so if you're the next best thing then..."

Lawrence laughs, and Adams heart does an annoying little flip that tells him everything he needs to know but will choose to ignore for the time being.

The two of them move through the garden, occasionally stopping so that Adam can take photos of the small lakes and ravines they see because of the way that the light reflects off the water. They do it in relative silence until Adam speaks up.

"Ten thousand up front," he says. "I've never seen that kind of money before. I could get myself a decent place with it, which is the plan."

"Have you decided a theme yet?"

Adam sidesteps a bit while Lawrence keeps walking, not having realized the fact that Adam is falling behind. Adam snaps a photo of Lawrence as he moves and grins to himself.

"I haven't officially decided yet," he says. "However, I think the theme I'm going for is 'things a guy with chronic shoulder pain and a gabapentin prescription that he needs to refill at the end of next month finds beautiful post bathroom trap.'"

Lawrence, at this point, has realized that Adam has fallen back and joins him.

"You are not putting that photo in your display," he says, having realized he's the subject of the photo Adam has just taken. Adam starts walking at a pace acceptable for Lawrence, shrugging as he walks.

"I did say it was things a guy with chronic shoulder pain and a gabapentin prescription finds beautiful. Not things an oncologist who's as stubborn as he is tall finds beautiful, Larry. Had it been things you find beautiful, I don't imagine that this roll of film would have nearly as many stray cats, if any at all."

Lawrence shakes his head. "I'm not stubborn. I just don't like the view of me that exists from behind."

Adam laughs a bit, and a heaviness starts to hang in the air.

"How've you been?" Adam asks, and he almost hates it. It feels like they're past the need for the basic questions--how are you, how've been, are things all right?--but Adam supposes they're not, wonders if they ever will be.

"I've been okay, and you?"

I can't go to the part of town where the trap was, he wants to say. And I have to wait before stepping into the shower for the water to warm up because the water I woke up in was cold, and I can't stand the dark anymore--not like I used to be able to.

"I'm okay," Adam says.

He doesn't even believe himself, and he's typically a very convincing liar.

"Are you?" Lawrence asks.

"Are you?" Adam repeats. At this, they both laugh because they know they aren't okay, and they lied to spare the feelings of the other person, and neither of them are really sure if they'll ever be okay again.

Adam walks Lawrence home in a bit of comfortable lapsing silence, and says "okay," when Lawrence invites him in for coffee.

Lawrences apartment is exactly what one can expect from a recently divorced rich doctor who's just hit his forties. It's beige and brown and the dining room table reeks of quality. A KitchenAid stand mixer sits on the kitchen counter, and Lawrence has an entire espresso machine. Talk about responsible use of finances.

Adam sighs a bit after Lawrence has made him a cup of chamomile tea and everything within him has kind of stilled.

They're sitting on the brown leather couch in his living room, the curtains open to display a sunset that Adam would've paid more attention to in just about any other circumstance. There's no point in watching the sunset alone, but he has Lawrence. If they ever make it to that point, they can watch the sun go down together, Adam figures.

"I feel like I can't really escape it most days," Adam admits after some time. "Like--I was hounded by reporters and true crime junkies pretty frequently up until last week, and I saw Jigsaws name in the news the other day for something that happened in Mexico, of all places. I just don't feel like I'll ever escape Jigsaw or what happened in the bathroom."

"I've been the same way," Lawrence says. "Alison and I are getting a divorce. I haven't seen Diana since I was in the hospital--no matter how many times I've assured them both I'm fine, I can't escape it. I'm being coddled because of my experience with that bathroom. Coddled because I'm a trauma victim now."

"Well--" Adam shrugs. "That's what the bathroom did--it traumatized us, Larry. We're not the same people we used to be."

It's something that Adam hates but loves all the same. He's not the guy who used to stalk people in the name of making the rent.

Lawrence--well, Lawrence lost his foot. Of course he's changed. How can a person not change after losing something so dramatically?

Lawrence nods. Silence lapses. Adam takes a sip of his tea and tries not to tell Lawrence every last bit of the past few weeks--the yearning, the not-sleeping, the apparent fear of the dark and the inability to look at plastic bags the same way because he almost lost his life after someone tried to strangle him using one. The avoidance, the way that certain smells will have Adam back in that bathroom and terrified to the end of his wits.

"We'll get better, won't we?" Lawrence breaks the silence in two with one of the most heartbreaking sentences Adam has ever heard.

"You're the doctor," Adam says. "You tell me, Larry."

Lawrence smiles. Adam smiles back.

"The aftermath of traumatic events sometimes leads to PTSD. Even if we develop it, I think we'll be fine," Lawrence says. "The initial reactions include relief to be alive post trauma, and that can be followed by stress, fear, and anger. We might even find ourselves unable to stop thinking about it, but if we can make it through that, we will be just fine."

Adam realizes Lawrence is saying it for his own benefit--Lawrence needs this, he knows. He needs it a lot more than Adam does.

"Yeah," Adam says, nodding a bit. "Yeah. We'll be okay, Larry. Unless we do something that the motherfucker doesn't like--then we're screwed."

Lawrence laughs, shakes his head. "Those jokes aren't funny."

"Clearly they are," Adam rebuts. "If you genuinely didn't find me funny, you wouldn't be laughing."

Lawrence is still smiling, and Adam still has his camera, so he lifts it and snaps a split-second photo of Lawrence.

Lawrence turns to look at him, annoyance clear on his face. Adam bites gently at his top lip, meeting Lawrences gaze with mischief clear in his eyes.

"Yep," he says. "Into the collection that goes, Larry. One for the ages, I think."

"I really don't like being caught off guard," Lawrence says. Adam shrugs.

"And I really do like finding beauty where one doesn't expect it. I can say that I didn't expect to find your smile beautiful, so I snapped a photo," Adam shrugs. "You're not terrible to look at, Larry. Quite the opposite."

Lawrence snorts. "You flatter and distract," he says accusingly. All that Adam can do is snap another photo before he takes a sip of his tea.

"So it worked, then?" He asks, ignoring the way that his heart gives another funny little flip. "I've flattered you?"

Lawrence laughs. "What?" He asks. "I'm assuming that it means you have another plan attached to your flattery?"

Adam quirks his eyebrows. "One minute, I'm flirting to distract you from the fact that your photo is being taken and the next, you're completely and utterly infatuated with me, Larry. That's my big plan to win you over."

Lawrence shakes his head. Adam takes another sip of his tea. Silence lapses.

Adam doesn't know why, but he wants to stay. Lawrence has had a foothold in his thoughts for weeks, and even if they have a surplus of extended, uncomfortable, lapses in silence, Adam doesn't want to go anywhere.

Adam finishes his tea and gets up, leaving his camera on the couch as he tosses his teabag into the compost bin and rinses his mug.

Lawrence joins him.

"I really did mean to call," Lawrence says. "I just--recovery at the hospital, being given divorce papers, and then giving the police a statement, and then the whole circus that it was trying to deal with the press, I couldn't find the time."

Adam shrugs. "I wanted to call too, but I had to find something to do so that I could still use my phone, so that I could pay the rent. I decided from the get-go I wasn't going to do PI work anymore. Still occasionally get calls from my old contact, though."

"Do you think you could ever do it again?"

"Not a chance," Adam says. "I can't even--the idea of it consumes me with guilt. Plus, a roll of film with a bunch of stray cats is now of more use to me than a roll of film that details the comings and goings of people who go to seedy motels to cheat on their spouses. Yeah, I could make the rent being a PI but who doesn't love a stray cat lounging on the pavement? Who doesn't love working at a Mom and Pop style bookstore with a side of price gouging, honestly?"

Lawrence laughs. Adam sighs, shaking his head because he hates his job and he hates his apartment and he hates the fact that the press wouldn't leave him or Larry alone, but if it all leads to moments like that then it's all worth it.

It feels like all of the time they've spent away from each other ceases to exist. Like they're who they could've been outside the bathroom, a dynamic that nobody really expects to see because of how different their societal statuses are.

Adam looks at Lawrence with a smile. "I'm keeping those photos," he says.

Lawrences face falls, and Adam laughs.

"Not for the collection, of course," Adam feels something romantic bubble within him. He pushes it down and away. "For my own personal admiration. I've got a buddy who I haven't talked to in a while--his name is Scott Tibbs. He'll pay me decent money for photographing his band and I'll be using that to get frames once the photos develop."

"You're going to frame silly photos you took of me?" Lawrence asks. "This is the first time either of us have seen each other or talked in weeks, and this is where we're at?"

"Yeah," Adam nods. "I'm keeping you in my life, Larry, whether you like it or not. Keeping you in my life means I have to develop the photos. It also means I have to frame them and buy a shelf to put them on."

Lawrence scoffs. Adam grins.

"Well," he says. "Before you have the chance to stop me, I should go. I work a morning shift tomorrow, but you'll probably find me in the gardens, playing with the first stray cat I see around five."

"Noted," Lawrence says as Adam proceeds back to the living room. He grabs his camera, slinging it over his shoulder by the strap. "See you around five tomorrow, Adam."

Adam grins as he leaves. "Tomorrow, Larry," he says as he goes.

It seems, in a meeting that occurred by accident, Adam has found himself a new routine. It's something that excites him, though, and the high from that excitement carries him through the long walk home and lasts until he falls asleep.

-

Before Adam knows it, the end of 2004 has come around. He's taken more than a hundred photos and compiled forty of those photos into a theme that's suitable.

The pain of what he's experienced still kicks around, though, and it really doesn't take Adam that long to realize that the pain doesn't care where he is or what he's doing. The pain will come back around no matter what time of day it is, no matter where he is or what he's doing.

Knowing what'll trigger him is something upon which Adam can typically pride himself. He knows what makes the traumatized part of his mind start ticking and knows how to calm it down, but New Years Eve 2004, he can't figure it out.

He's giving the headliner the name of his collection when it hits--it's a burning pain in his shoulder at first, something he powers through to the best of his capability.

The collection itself is called A Unique Look at Jersey, and it's actually something of which Adam is quite proud, but the burning pain starts in his shoulder and Adam knows what it means right off the bat. Something, he knows, isn't right.

So, after he's explained the way that the photos are meant to be displayed for it to make sense and after he's been paid ten thousand dollars up front, Adam bolts out of the gallery. He rushes to his car and sits in the drivers side, trying to fend off the breakdown before it really hits him.

He glances around the area to see if he recognizes it from that black-out period between when he collapsed to the ground and when he woke in the hospital.

Nothing seems familiar, and that makes Adam want to bash his head through the car windows. He can't figure out what's set him off and it's making him so anxious that his hands are shaking.

Typically, when something sets him off, he knows what it is right out the gate. He knows when a space is too dark and he needs to get somewhere with more light or create that space himself. He knows to step out of the water, to move his hand away from it, when it's as cold as the water in the grimy bathtub was. He intentionally avoids movies wherein guns are fired and wounds are depicted or bloodied clothes are shown because that triggers the memories attached to the last words Lawrence had spoken to him before his escape.

But today, something sets him off and he doesn't know what it is. He wants to find out, though, so he does something risky.

The memory of grimy tiles beneath his feet, stale air going into his lungs, the feeling of a chain clasped to his foot, all nearly overcloud his sight as Adam drives away from the art gallery. He drives closer to the source of the episode, choosing directions based on his anxiety and how terribly it spikes whenever he takes whichever turn.

He finds himself at a building he vaguely recognizes for a split second before it hits him. The memories he'd thought were a black out--the stuff he couldn't explain to Special Agent Perez, the things he thought he'd forgotten and would never remember.

He recalls, very suddenly, the fact that, once he was in the daylight, he didn't stop running. He ran until he found a storefront, got the clerk to call 911, and then collapsed of dehydration against a window outside.

He recalls just how much it sucks to be the kind of hungry that hits when you haven't eaten in four days, how terrible the pain in his shoulder was and the odd desire to know who exactly it was who'd tried to strangle him.

It comes to a head and Adam presses his forehead against the steering wheel, hand going to find his phone so that he can dial Lawrence.

Lawrence picks up on the third ring.

"Adam?" He asks. Their daily walk is due to start in an hour. It's not like Adam to call Lawrence an hour before they walk together because they'll just be able to talk in the next hour anyway.

"Lawrence," Adam whispers. He gives a relieved sigh. "You left."

"I did," Lawrence says. "I said I'd come back for you, Adam, and I meant to. I was going to, I promise."

Adams breath is completely out of whack. He needs to find a way to make sure it normalizes again.

"All I can think about right now is the--the--" the incident. The bathroom trap. The tape, the photos, the saw that Lawrence used to cut off his own foot. The feeling of gross bathroom tiles beneath his feet and under his hands, the smell of blood and the fact that he hit Zep Hindle until he died and didn't stop once Zep had stopped moving. The fact that the Jigsaw killer was still out there and the fact that Adam was terrified to so much as smoke a cigarette because it could put him back within the killers line of fire. "Lawrence, how do I stop it? How do I stop thinking about it?"

"Where are you?" Lawrence asks, his voice urgent. "I'll meet you there, Adam. Where are you right now?"

"That's not important," Adam says dismissively. "I just don't--I can't--Lawrence, it is so hard to breathe right now."

"Adam," Lawrence whispers. "Adam."

Adam presses the back of his head against the back of his seat. He presses his eyes closed as tightly as he can and he tries to will himself to normalcy, but he can't.

He can't escape the feeling of cold tiles beneath his feet, can't escape the fear he felt waking up in that bathtub. He can't escape the burning pain in his shoulder, the ache in his lungs or the fear in his chest. He can't escape. He can't escape.

For a split second, he's back there, well and truly.

"Lawrence," he whispers. "I'm going to be okay, yeah?"

"Yeah, Adam," Lawrence whispers back.

"How can I be sure you're telling the truth?"

"I wouldn't lie to you," Lawrence says, and despite Adams attempts to stop it, he finally starts crying. He ends the call abruptly and lets himself have a breakdown in the front seat of his car, knowing he'll meet Lawrence at the garden in an hour with his camera slung across his torso as usual.

He knows that he'll pretend everything is fine, he'll wish he could just get the nerve to kiss Lawrence like he's been wanting to for a month, and he'll mention the fact that he photographed a wedding in early last month that let him put down the deposit money for a decent place near the gardens. He'll ask Lawrence how his day was and he'll take a photo that catches Lawrence off guard, and everything will be how Adam is used to it all being.

He knows that it'll go back to the way it was within the next two hours, and as he breaks down for the first time in weeks while sitting in the front seat of his car, he finds he can't wait for the time to pass.

-

Two hours go by. Lawrence calls Adam to ask if they can postpone the walk by an hour, and Adam uses the time to feed the stray that lives in his apartment between packing what little he owns into boxes.

He made a deal with the realtor when he put the deposit down, so the apartment will be move in ready by the 16th of the month. Adam doesn't really own much so packing hasn't been his biggest concern--his biggest concern has been the stray cat he feeds on a regular basis. He wants to take her with him, but the ten thousand covers rent for fourteen months.

During those fourteen months, however, the money that Adam used to use for rent becomes grocery money. Six hundred and fifty dollars twice a month can get a lot of groceries from Aldi and Lidl, but he wonders for a minute, how much can $100 a month get a person in cat care and maintenance?

He doesn't let the thought linger beyond the lobby of his apartment, where he pets the cat on the head and promises that she'll have a decent life someday, one where most of the enrichment she gets doesn't come from batting away at the roaches whenever they get too close.

Then, camera draped over his torso, he's off. He walks to the gardens and meets Larry at the entrance, an apology on his tongue.

Adam explains that he probably has PTSD but hasn't been seeking out a diagnosis, just accommodating for it whenever possible. He lets Lawrence give him his opinion and the two talk back and forth in a manner that has become familiar.

Eventually, Adam says something and Lawrence laughs and Adams heart does that flip that it's getting more and more impossible to push aside. He grins a bit to himself, snaps a photo of Lawrence despite his protests.

"That is definitely one for the ages," he says, though he knows it's just a blurry photo of Lawrences side profile as he smiles.

"You say that every time," Lawrence says.

"And I'm right," Adam says. "I would have to be right, Larry. You think I would waste precious, expensive camera film taking photos of things I don't think are worthy of such titles? It's one for the ages, and it is absolutely going to be framed and put onto my shelf."

"How many photos of me have you taken in the past two months?" Lawrence asks. "Seriously. You must be running out of shelf space at this point, Adam."

Off the top of his head, the number that Adam comes up with is probably concerning.

He's taken more than a hundred photos since his escape in October. At least forty photos have been of Lawrence.

"Not nearly as many as you think," Adam says with a laugh. "I mean--if you want me to waste an entire roll of film on photos of you, you've gotta buy it. Five dollars a pop for one hundred and thirty six photos, I have rent to pay, groceries to buy and maybe a cat to feed. I love you, Larry, but not enough to waste a roll of film on you when I could take photos of the sunrise or the skyscrapers or cats staring menacingly at me from low rooftops."

Lawrence laughs. Adam resists the random urge to kiss him.

"Speaking of rent," Lawrence says. "Are you still living in the place with the roaches?"

"As long as I have myself moved in by the sixteenth of next month, no," Adam says. "I'm using the ten thousand I got from the gallery showing to guarantee I have a solid spot to live in until March of 2006. I did the math and, tax and amenities included, the ten thousand will get me that far. I'll get a pay raise in April, too, and that will keep me able to afford the rent of the new spot plus groceries."

Lawrence grins. "Ah, decided not to let the roaches keep you company?"

"They get really old really quick," Adam says with a bit of a laugh. "Kill six of them in thirty minutes and you'll start to see what I mean, Larry."

Lawrence laughs. Adams heart gives a flip that Adam ignores.

"Do you have any plans for the rest of the night?" Lawrence asks.

"I was going to smoke weed," Adam says. "Eat the chips I bought with gas money last night, then hit the hay around two in the morning. Do you happen to have a better idea, Larry?"

"I have a two joints from a coworker who insists I need to loosen up," Larry says. "I meant to give them to you for Christmas, but you weren't at your place, so that fell apart."

"I was visiting the 'rents," Adam says somberly. "Went about as well as a reconnection attempt can go when your father is the one who kicked you out on your eighteenth birthday--but, that's not the point. If you want to smoke, we can! I would love to see you stoned."

Lawrence nods. "Sure," he says. "Maybe I do need to unwind. I booked tomorrow off anyway, figuring I'd get drunk on champagne and then have a hangover."

"I can't wait," Adam says. "Oh, seeing you get stoned? That's gonna be amazing."

Lawrence laughs. Adam snaps another photo. They carry on.

-

It's five to midnight, and neither of them have started smoking despite the presence of the joints and a matchbox. Adam is too wrapped up in the way that Lawrence is speaking, too focused on his lips and the sound of his voice.

"And it's not even like this sort of thing should be a big deal," Lawrence says. "But Alison, even when our divorce has barely been finalized two weeks, is insistent I get back on the horse, so to speak."

Adam laughs. He doesn't know what that's like, not really--Scott would occasionally help him flirt his way into a one night stand, but he's been talking to Scott less and less, only responding when Scott is the one doing the calling.

Scotts company just isn't the kind that's worth keeping--especially not after the stunt he pulled with the home-made Jigsaw trap, which he then bragged to Adam about surviving while they were within a twenty minute radius of the bathroom trap, and in the part of town Adam was consistent in avoiding because of the venue that Scotts band was playing and because Adam needed the money.

"Well, what's stopping you?" Adam asks. "Like, Larry--the dating market loves your type. Guy in his forties wanting to settle down. You're like--you're perfect to a minimum of twenty women within the tristate area."

"I think you're deluded," Lawrence says. "Twenty? Have a little bit more faith."

Adam grabs one of the joints and the matchbox, striking a match and lighting the joint without thought or care.

"Tomorrow night, or next weekend, or whenever I can actually get you to agree with me, we are going to a bar. We are drinking at least a little, and I am going to be your wingman," Adam says, though the idea of setting up the guy who he's consumed with yearning and want for with another person hurts on a whole new level of the feeling.

"No," Lawrence says. Adam inhales the smoke from the joint, passes it to Lawrence. "I don't need a wingman--I don't need a relationship right now, Adam. I have so much on my plate both with the divorce and in the romance department as it were. I don't need to get drunk or flirty with anyone when the one person I want to get drunk and flirty with is about as attracted to me as a bag of rocks."

"Who's the lucky lady?"

"The lucky lady is a photographer who is pushing thirty and has an affinity for stray cats," Lawrence says. "He's also a guy, but I guess that's just me being pedantic."

"A, twenty seven is not pushing thirty," Adam says. "It puts me on the downhill slope to thirty, which is different. B, of all of the people you could've fallen for, you chose a guy who barely has his life together? I can't judge because I find myself attracted to you, but still. All of the people you could've realized you were attracted to and it had to be the guy who you were in a weird bathroom trap with and are now probably bonded to based on our unified experiences."

Lawrence laughs. He takes a puff of the joint before passing it back to Adam, who grins at him.

"And besides, I really--you can do better than me, Larry," Adam says. "I mean--just go to a bar and look around a bit. You'll find a number of people who can't be compared to sewer rats, and I'm sure they'll be more your speed."

Lawrence is grinning, and all that Adam can think is: oh fuck.

And then Lawrence laughs, and all Adam can think is: we might destroy each other, or we might rebuild each other. I can't wait to find out which.

And then Lawrence is asking Adam if he can kiss him and Adam is laughing.

"If you want to kiss me while my lips and mouth probably taste like weed, go ahead," he says. "Yeah--Lawrence, kiss me."

And then Lawrence is kissing him and it's like Adam is on cloud nine, and Adam never wants to leave. He wants to stay in that moment for as long as he can, kissing Lawrence Gordon on his fire escape, cupping his face with one hand while relishing in the way that Lawrences hands feel when they find his hips.

Lawrence pulls away and Adam has to fight everything within him in order to keep himself from chasing his lips. He presses his forehead against Lawrences, breathy laugh falling from his lips.

"Not bad, Larry," he whispers.

Lawrence laughs, deep and throaty and perfect. "I could definitely wake up to that once in a while."

"Once in a while?" Adam asks, bringing the joint to his lips. "Oh, Larry. How you wound me."

Lawrence leans back, and Adam is looking at him.

Both of them have just realized that everything about their dynamic and their relationship has changed.

However, the kiss was so good that neither of them really give a damn.

-

Adam moves into his new place on the 16th, the gray and white stray cat from his old place under his arm after clearing that it was okay to take her with his previous landlord.

That night, with boxes of his things in their designated rooms, he and Larry decide to name the cat Graycie. Adam is still working out budgeting but Larry offered to foot the vet bills and to get her the beginnings of her necessities--offered meaning that Lawrence simply told him he was doing it and to consider it a late Christmas gift, because he had anticipated Adams resistance and knew that it had a fair shot of shutting him up--so that's not a concern for at least two months with all of the supplies Lawrence brought along.

But there's still the worries of furniture. His couch from the roach-infested place was...well, roach infested. His bed managed to not meet the same fate, though, so Adam is just glad he has a place to sleep.

He has plates, cutlery, cups and mugs so the whole "what will I eat off of?" question has an answer from the get-go, which is a relief, but still. There are questions that have answers and there are questions that don't. It's the questions without answers that have Adams anxiety spiking.

Still, the night that he's moved in and is sitting with Lawrence on his living room floor as Graycie the cat inspects the area by wandering from one room to the next is one of the best nights he's had in weeks.

Maybe, he thinks, it'll get better.

All that he really wants to focus on is the way that it feels to hold Lawrences face as the two of them kiss, Adams back pressed against a wall while bliss takes hold of his every sense, thought, and feeling.

Adam never really thought kissing someone could feel as good as it does to kiss Lawrence. Kissing was always just something he did--kissing a one night stand lead to sex, had the motive of getting to sex, but the way that they're kissing doesn't indicate that in the slightest.

It feels like Adam is kissing Lawrence just to kiss him, like Lawrence is kissing Adam just to kiss him in turn. It's something that Adam and his drunkest nights aren't particularly used to, but something he loves.

When Lawrence pulls away, Adam shamelessly chases his lips and laughs at himself for it, the embarrassment kicking in as Lawrence presses a kiss to the corner of his lips and Adam feels, for a moment, like he's melting.

Everything just feels so...perfect. It's something that Adam loves, something he cherishes.

It is something Adam never would've thought he deserved, but he reconciles he does deserve it. He deserves a happy ending, even if that happy ending is only finding it's beginning in an apartment that is relatively bare of furniture, sitting with his back against the wall and the lips of his fellow Jigsaw trap survivor pressed against his own.

As Graycie the cat approaches, brushing the side of her cheek against Lawrences hand before plopping into Adams lap and purring as loud as a broken car engine, he nods.

"I deserve this," he says. "I deserve to feel as happy as I do right now."

"You do," Lawrence agrees. "Even if you don't have a couch, or a kitchen table, or shelves that can hold the weight of more than two photo frames."

Adam grins, and Lawrences lips are against his again, his hand on Lawrences chest and feeling his heartbeat as it thrums through a high quality dress shirt.

He has a good life, he knows. He deserves it, he knows.

It's Lawrences presence and the sureness of the fact that Graycie the cat relies on him that causes all of his doubt to cease.

Lawrence pulls away, and Adam is grinning.

Lawrence grins, too.

Everything is perfect. It will not always be perfect, but it's perfect in that moment and Adam decides that that's what matters.

[xiaofiaan]

tell us about your faerie wip!

COR HELLO! it's been a while i hope you're doing well:)<3

my faerie wip is called faeróhven (working title)! basically it revolves around the main characters kiraan and anjali who are probably the epitome of doomed siblings. obviously there's a lot more than that but like. yeag. literally the basis of this wip

key note faeróhven is just like. another name for the feywild in this wip

anyway<3 at first kiraan and anjali are in the mortal realm (earth) at first and kiraan wants nothing to do with faeróhven at All for (at first) reasons unknown. all the reader gets is that he's very adamant on not going back and never making a deal to get either he nor anjali trapped like he felt before. anjali, however, wants desperately to go to faeróhven and see everything that she was not allowed to. mind you in this kiraan is 21 and anjali is 17 about to turn 18.

(turns out later in the wip kiraan and anjali were much further apart in age like he was 17 and she was 10, but due to time moving much differently in faeróhven, when he came back the first time, several years had passed, practically leaving anjali all alone with their dying father. not to mention he went off to faeróhven with his mother and returned alone and Refused to tell anjali why. but it led to a very big guilt trip on kiraan's part for not ever being there for his little sister and a large build up of resentment on anjali's part for both kiraan And their mother.)

well kiraan and anjali end up getting into a huge fight--kiraan, in his panic and desperation for anjali to understand, pretty much confirms her worst fear and greatest insecurity, and anjali in her anger abandons him and leaves him alone like he did to her all those years back. veryyyyyy messy dynamic. so kiraan goes off into faeróhven (but not without some outside factors and a lot more to come into play beforehand!) with the intent to bring anjali home and fix everything like he has been for the past four-ish years

only for anjali to slowly start becoming the main antagonist as kiraan gets wrapped up in several political schemes completely by accident as well as binding himself to two people (zofia and xiaohe) so he has to stay and help Them as well as still try and retain his own goal. anjali finds shiban who is a whole character in and of himself and in her quest of abandoning kiraan, finds shiban to be like a brother to her.

god there's so much and this doesn't even scratch the surface of this wip (shiban and xiaohe's dynamic; zofia and shiban's dynamic; how literally everything is interwoven and connected and kiraan is thrown into the middle of it fumbling; anjali and her want for power) like... mein gott. but lemme throw in the characters.

kiraan cherukuri (he/him): protag! he's loyal, snappy, and insanely high-strung but that could be because of the family issues or his own self worth problems. trying to find his little sister to bring her home, unaware that their paths have completely diverged, and that whatever ending---it will not turn out the way he hopes.

anjali cherukuri (she/her): antag! she's witty, determined, and very quick to rage. there's a lot to be said about how her insecurities manifest into her seeking power to prove everyone wrong and destroying herself in the meantime, but that's a lot for rn.

meng xiaohe (猛晓何) (he/they): a masked traveler who seems as if he can blend into the shadows at any given means. he's quiet, vengeful, and is haunted by a heavy past that threatens to leave him drowning. but hey! you'll never believe their actual identity!

zofia briarwood (she/her): an infamous pirate known for her kind heart and fierce determination to try and help others. she's sweet, boisterous, and she loves with all of her heart. on a journey to find her eldest sister, and she'll stop at nothing to see her again.

rakshasi (any prns, defaults to they/them): a cursed faerie bound to a weapon of champions and, eventually, to kiraan. they're mischievous, always plotting, and a bit of a charmer on the worst of days. favorite hobby is to torment kiraan into a breakdown.

shiban shah (he/him): our very own undying prince of frost who wants nothing more than to die. he's tired. he's guilty. he is nothing more than a brother now to a young girl and a weapon to be wielded by his father, a tool to be used by his mother.

quincy ashthorne (she/her): a cult leader of "the rot" who views others as pieces of art and chooses to help them achieve their greatest potential. she's a charmer! she is also rotting from the inside out and won't stop running in tight-knit circles while smiling.

those are our Main characters there's also laithe, taryn, luca, yasha, petra, vivian, eira, enver, percy, seren, nyx & nyn, eden, olvier, yor, zara, etc. who are like. important but . not. you know? you know. anyway i'm gonna end this here but if you want to know anything specific about like... dynamics or character design or anything just lmk:) there's so much to fv i love these characters dearly.

[nananya-x]

"I'm sorry, okay? You know very well that I didn't mean it!"

"Oh, do I? That's news to me," Draco replied, not even looking at Harry. Harry rubbed his eyes, took his glasses off his nose for a moment, and then put them back on. Only now did he notice that Draco must have put them on when he was still too dazed to notice anything. How could a person be worried, caring, and angry at the same time?

Once again they were silent, this time for much longer, and Harry didn't know what to say either. Right now, everything just seemed to make his boyfriend even angrier. Usually, he thought it best to leave him alone for a while.

For a beaten 30 minutes they just sat there in silence until he wanted to lie down again. "Ah," he grumbled, which was due to a wrong move. Immediately Draco stood up and helped him lie down, catching the black-haired man's gaze, which he immediately knew to interpret correctly.

"I'm not in the mood for this anymore, Harry." The 30 minutes seemed to have worked because Draco immediately seemed more conciliatory. Pissed off, displeased, but no longer angry. They were even back on a first-name basis, and in their relationship that usually meant things were getting better.

"I already said I was sorry. I won't say anything like that to you again, I promise."

"By all, that's sacred to me, that's not the point!" Draco grew louder again but still seemed to have himself under control. At least more than he had just now, which was a good sign for Harry. He still seemed a little confused now, though, which tested the blond's patience.

"Do you think I take great pleasure in showing up here every few months and mothering your injured ass? Continuing to nurse you at home afterward just so you can run off to your next case?"

"That case was important! We were able to arrest Death Eaters who had been spreading fear and terror for months. Without our efforts, they would continue to do so!"

"If it wasn't for that crappy case, we wouldn't be sitting here right now. You always say that. Every time it's an important case or important information or whatever... I can't hear it anymore, it just pisses me off." Draco was struggling to stay calm, Harry could see that and bit his lips. Of course, all these things were important, that was why he did this job after all. He had always wanted to be an Auror and now he could live it to the fullest.

"I get it. Now I have to rest for a few days anyway, right? Then I'll be home and we can take our time. At my next job- Where are you going?" he interrupted himself because Draco had run his fingers through his hair in displeasure at first and then stood up.

"Away before I forget myself!" he shouted angrily at him and disappeared through the door.

Another little snippet.. I wrote this fanfic years ago, but I still like the general idea. I translated it into english not so long ago and now it stays on AO3. Maybe, someday, I'll write a longer story based on this.~ x3

[an-unraveling-unknown]

It's been a bit, and I think I've forgotten some. Can you give me a brief rundown of your little guys?

Hiya Bones, I WOULD LOVE TO GIVE YOU A BRIEF RUNDOWN ON MY LITTLE GUYS!!! (thank you thank you thank you!!) (its not as brief as it should be I'm so sorry)

I still have yet to name this project: My first original project! I have no ideas for the plot LMAO /crying a little

Locke: Ancient android cursed to carry the physical fear of an entire very dead race of beings that they have identified as 'human,' the same thing they classify the people they see today. Travels a lot, he generally likes to keep moving - has taken up the mantel of unofficial psychopomp. Likes people (from a distance,) dressing up, engaging in human activism in whatever way they can, and Deimos. Dislikes having a lack of bodily autonomy. Was called 'Rue' once (Agender, but he has a fondness for He/They)

Deimos: Your local embodiment of human fear, and human fear specifically. Laughs in the face of gender on a daily basis, mostly due to the fact that he's a shapeshifter (generally shifting into the specifically held fear of whatever society he happens to be around) Drama queen, constantly makes either slightly too old or slightly too new pop culture references that Locke could never hope to understand, but he found a good audience with The Children. Deeply just wants social connection, a bit of a hard feat when you're immortal, and unfortunately something he couldn't find in Locke due to their own circumstances. For a while, at least. (Genderfluid, but currently favors he/him)

The Children: Collective term for all the people and non-people Deimos has unofficially adopted - still workin on them, but I CAN tell you that Charlotte (third youngest) has ties to 'Charlotte's Web' and the 1829 poem 'The Spider and the Fly' and also happens to be an anthropomorphic spider, while Marley is (probably) from Boston (youngest). Not all technically children by human standards, but pretty much everyone is a kid when you're Deimos's age

(other little guys below. forgive me for the massive text blocks)

Undertale AU: Some context, this revolves around two of my ocs in an au that is basically be adding non-canon context with plot; Sunny and Z!* Sunny ran away from home after extenuating circumstances and an argument with her parents, kind of as a 'last hurrah' of sorts, and Z tagged along because of his own reasons. Both of them found themselves in the underground and are now constantly wondering if they went and died about it because Undertale is actually a thing that exists in their universe

Sunny: He is a trainwreck, and is also probably the closest I'll ever get to a self-insert (but it's moreso me when I was 12-ish inserted into a 17 y/o's body). Compassionate at heart, she likes the sciences and being outdoors and philosophical things; math is latin to her (dead,) and she knows a fair amount of sign language. Utterly thrilled to be in the underground for the most part, something he and Z have conflict about - doesn't like talking about his childhood. Yellow coded as in warning (She/Him, Aroace)

Z: Also a huge freakin clusterfuck and Sunny's best friend, but Z is more contained than not. The funny one of the two, Super tech efficient, the fella loves cryptography and all things coding, made a rick-roll virus once on the family computer and now that very same computer exists half-alive in the garage - he'd like to be a game dev someday. Used to get hurt and sick a lot when he was younger. Z refuses to be alone with his thoughts, so he practically throws himself at anything declared constructive at a contstant rate, very much unlike his friend. Knows Sunny has a lot going on with the imminent move to Europe and all, but they shouldn't, cannot stay here damnit (He/Him, Straight)

*not their actual names, but they can't really say their actual names due to extenuating plot reasons and 'Sunny' n 'Z' is what Flowey called them upon first encounter.

BG3: The Baldur's Gate 3 duders!! neither Aeonian nor Monad really fit into forgotten realms lore, considering I picked them up from a separate Stardew Valley AU project and threw them at my current hyperfixation without a lick of research cos I figured it would be no problem. I was sadly mistaken, but we're making it work (even amidst the greek myth n gaelic folklore parallels which are now just outside-of-story meta)

Aeonian: My Tav!! Best put (in your words exactly) as a sad little tissue paper man. Unofficial bard and humanoid-shaped creature (Physical Embodiment of Death at Sea, to be precise) who is not normally humanoid-shaped, but is doing it anyway because their sister is missing and they have a guard dog complex to uphold. Looks like a very tall and very blue twig that could snap in the wind, but what they lack in intimidation they receive in cleverness and wit with a little bit of added bardic charmisa. They did not at all wish to claw themselves out of the sea with gritted teeth and sheer drive alone, and while they aren't necessarily cold, they also aren't here to make friends. This is currently being conflicted by the fact that they give a shit. Character development follows the rock cycle (They/Them, Demirose)

Monad: Aeonian's older sister and Embodiment of Life at Sea - the braver of the two, having ventured up to the surface first and kept going despite being kidnapped by pirates more times than ve can count on both hands - ve is here to have a good time and a good time only. Lively and charismatic, he loves the pleasures of life, people, life in general, and Aeonian. Took up the druid class, as she told her sibling, and was in the midst of learning how to wild shape before she went up on a surface outing one day and didn't come back. Ve's more secretive than Aeon knows (Ve/Her/Himself and very much a lesbian)

[egg-emperor]

Maybe that question was somewhere already, but, how your selfinsert and eggman met? What was the first Impression on each other?

Btw i ship you two because i can name no one who would understand him better than you! :D and im always happy to see you on my dash.

Omg thank you so much, it really means a lot to me that you think so, that's a huge compliment with the effort I put into understanding his character and it makes me so happy that you ship us! I'm glad you enjoy my posts and I hope I can continue to deliver 😊💜

I have a lot of different first meeting scenarios that I like to daydream up and write, so I have multiple first encounter ideas of different times and ways it takes place (like depending around/during what game's events I imagine it taking place for example) so I don't set a single solid timeline or plot in stone overall. All the what ifs are endlessly fun to explore!

But there's always the same basis at least which I've talked about a bit throughout my blog but it's been a while and it could've been told better, so I'll happily share again. I like to make my s/i as accurate to me as possible, so I base it on how I came to love him in real life, biggest difference is I'm in the universe the beautiful man exists in for real!

So here we go:

I lived in a small place with a simple life that I found boring and eventful, I longed for adventure and to see more of the world but didn't have the means nor the confidence to get out there if I could. So instead I'd learn about the outside world, admire it from afar, dream of a more exciting life and just hope that it would somehow come one day.

When I was old enough to understand, I'd hear stories about Eggman and his past crimes and the latest news through my desire to learn about the world. But for as long as I'd been alive, he hadn't targeted the place I lived because it was small and insignificant, and it hadn't been caught in the crosshairs of him targeting anywhere nearby either.

But the things I heard from others with experiences before I was born and stuff he was still doing in the present and how common he was in the news caught my interest. I started keeping track and learning of his terrible crimes and atrocities in the past. I knew I should be horrified and disturbed but instead I was moreso curious and fascinated.

The way he'd seemed to have been everywhere and done everything and made such an impact on the world, as negative as it was, was impressive to me. He was the exact opposite of myself living in the middle of nowhere, never doing anything that interesting in my life, and nobody ever knowing who I was and being an outcast and it pulled me in.

I started collecting news coverage that existed and closely following all new stuff. My favorites were photos and footage, whether photos of him during his schemes or videos from when he'd broadcast himself onto devices while making threats or just to mess with people- which isn't something he'd done on a global scale since I'd been alive.

When exactly this took place and what it specifically entailed varies in my multiple concepts but at some point, I do finally get to see him on TV live when he hijacks it! I know I should be scared, it certainly is startling to see him suddenly pop up, make demands and threats, and talk about a world under his control. I know it's very bad and dangerous.

But I couldn't help but be excited to finally get to see him live and finally feel like a part of what's happening to the rest of the world too after years of just hearing about it! While I don't fully acknowledge and admit it to myself, my heart isn't just racing from fear, it's uncontrollable excitement too and I'm mesmerized watching him do his thing.

There are things I can't help but find fascinating and impressive, admirable even. Such as his theatrics, confidence, and crazy desires. Even though he was terrible, dangerous, egotistical, and greedy with it, he did it in such a unique and fun way. He was entertaining to watch and everything he was capable of was as impressive and exciting as scary.

His determination to keep trying and following his dreams and his enjoyment in his terrible crimes shows passionate devotion. The way he builds robots with awesome crazy designs and theme parks, carnivals, circuses, casinos, etc is so fun and cool despite how malicious it is. It's charming how he'll be himself and follow his dreams no matter what!

While I don't admit it to myself, I find him very handsome too. I subconsciously have a big crush on him and I'm admiring him more by the days. I know he's bad all along but he's so charming and entertaining about it, I can't help but be hooked and he makes me feel dizzy! He lives such a crazy, fun, eventful life and I wish I had that too.

Eventually after the broadcast hijacking, Eggman visits multiple locations and deploys his robots to scour areas for useful resources. I live in a place with lots of land and woodland in universe too and I go there a lot for walks and to just wander around and think and dream of traveling the world far beyond this, since I don't have much else to do.

When walking through the woods I hear the sound of a motor and mechanical noises. I peer through trees and bushes and see a Motobug driving along the grass! It's looking for animals and trying to round them up for Eggman to use because he needs a very big army for his new plan. I'm so delighted to finally see some of his tech in person!

Despite the danger, I get as close as I can for a better look and admire how well designed, creative, and fun it is, and how well made it is with such high quality. It's clear that he's very smart and imaginative and I see it for that instead of just "stupid silly toys" like others do. It's cute for a dangerous killing machine and that's part of the charm to me!

I enjoy it a lot for it being the closest I've ever gotten to him a sense, as it's something that he's created and I've finally been lucky enough to see it in person. And after getting to witness him on TV live too, dreams of mine are coming true. I'm finally a part of something he's doing and it's bringing so much more excitement to my life!

And knowing how unpredictable he is, one can never know what he might do next! And that's thrilling to me, though I should be afraid with the terrible things he's capable of, I'm instead always eager to find out because this is huge, finally being one of the locations on his radar for the first time since I've been alive. I finally get to experience it!

I'm very pleased with that encounter with a robot of his. I don't report it even though I should, I just let it go and do its thing. Nobody else finds out his robots were scouring the area to report on it and I like keeping the secret, knowing something about Eggman the rest of the public doesn't. And I didn't want them ruining it before it's truly began.

At a later date, news breaks that Eggman is attacking the city that I live just on the outskirts of and I'm in disbelief! Before I can even properly hear all the details of the report, for the first time I don't wait to hear every precious detail like I usually do and instead rush out because it could be a once in a lifetime thing and I can't miss this!

I don't even worry about the danger nor not having confidence to go out when there's probably a lot of people despite usually being uncomfortable, I just need to get there and see what's happening, that's all that matters to me. I manage to approach the scene as closely as possible while still keeping distance from the danger and heart of the chaos.

I climb a building and hide behind a tower on the roof and can see there's fire and shooting and explosions in the distance as robots are attacking, the action is gripping and gets my adrenaline up. But what makes my heart race faster is when I hear something in the sky and look up to see the man himself in his Egg Mobile watching it all!

I barely get to see much of his face as his back is to me watching it from a distance himself too, but closer than I am. But I can see enough of him to see that he has a big smile on his face, looking very smug and laughing. Just that and the fact that he's really here has my jaw drop in awe and then smile uncontrollably at his infectious joy!

After standing there watching, I don't expect him to look over his shoulder, he must've been looking for the best area of escape when he was done and he looked into my direction! He actually sees me and just as he notices and perks up in curiosity to why I'm there on my own, I run. He puts it down to me being scared and I didn't look to be enemy forces coming to stop him in my casual wear.

That moment was so small and brief but it stuck with me for weeks after. I keep replaying the sight of him admiring his robots wreaking havoc and the sound of his laughter. It was deeply precious to me to finally get to see him in person and be so close to him, albeit still many feet away but we were really there together in the same place!

I start to imagine how things could've gone differently if I'd stayed. Would he have questioned me? Would he have attacked thinking I was going to try to stop/report him or just for fun and to make sure nobody goes unscathed? I would've found all of those potential scenarios cool! But unfortunately I ran because I felt I had to. Still, I treasure it.

For a while I think that's the last of being lucky enough to get to catch. I mean getting witness a broadcast hijacking, then seeing a robot in person, then the man himself? That's way too much luck! I'm appreciative of what I got to see and will treasure it forever. Things seem quiet for a while after all the chaos and it looks like he's done with the place.

It's been a while since I last went to that certain woodland area for a walk and decide to go again and at night because it's been hot and because I'd like late night peace and privacy in my quiet place. Part of me hopes to see a robot or something even though it's unlikely they'd still be around when he's seemingly done with his work here.

I'm walking, listening to music, entertaining myself with my thoughts to avoid disappointing myself and- suddenly I bump into something and fall back. Never in million years would I ever expect to look up and see none other than Eggman! My glasses fell off when I fell and when I put them on and see him clearly, I still can't believe it!

We both didn't notice each other in the dark, with me looking down and Eggman's shaded glasses making it even harder to see in it. He squints and looks down at me through the darkness and teasingly says "What are you doing out here this late, little boy?" He has a playful approach and smirks because I look stunned and he's amused.

He thinks I might be scared but I'm actually just frozen in awe that he's really right there in the flesh in front of me. I finally pull myself up but still feel stuck in place, unsure of whether I should run or not. I also don't know how to answer his question and just manage to mumble that I was out walking and my breaths sound shaky.

He strokes his chin in wonder with a "hmm". Something about me is familiar. It quickly clicks with him as he connects the dots, not only did he catch me watching during his attack on the city, he also saw me in a Motobug camera when reviewing the footage to see if it saw good land to build on and that's how he knew this was a good place for it.

He points this out to me and says we finally meet at last, then asks if there's any reason he keeps seeing me around. I don't want him to get the wrong idea and think I was trying to spy on him and gather information to try to stop him so despite the shyness, blush in my cheeks, and small smile, I say I'm a big fan and have admired from afar for a while.

He's smart enough to still be wary in case it is a trick but at the same time he can't help but smile at that as he says "I'm pleased that you recognize my brilliance." His confidence and happiness from the ego boost he gets from that is precious to me. There's a funny warm feeling in my chest seeing the pleased grin that slightly tugs at his cheeks.

He's just as handsome in person as the videos and pictures. He has a gleaming white smile, cute big pink nose, and big magnificent fluffy mustache with soft round cheeks hidden behind it. He's so big and tall with his big round belly that looks soft and cuddly, big bear paw sized hands and feet, and long sleek legs. He looks like a big bear of these woods!

He looks stunning and I can't help but admire it. Eggman can certainly tell that my admiration is genuine by the way I look at him as I get lost in his beauty and don't realize how obviously I'm gawking. And there's no way I would've known of the hidden camera in the Motobug but I looked so happy and fascinated while trying to get close to it to admire it.

He can't let me roam around after all that I've seen in the past few encounters of him and his creations. Sure I didn't report it before but he'd rather assure the chances of it happening are zero. So he asks me to come back with him and says that if I enjoy his work so much then I should come serve him. I can't believe my ears and accept immediately!

He's surprised that it was that easy and is used to having to make demands and threats, so he's happy to see such enthusiasm. While I know I should be afraid to go away with such a dangerous infamous man, it would be a dream come true! I'm instantly ready to go away with him and don't need any prep. I get in his Egg Mobile and away we go.

The idea is that I stay with him while he works on the land by the woods that he took an interest in after seeing it in the Motobug footage. It's a good place to find animals for his robots and build a new base as it would be well hidden. I'm useful to keep around because I know when people are unlikely to be around to potentially stumble upon the site.

His first impression of me is that I'm a funny fan of his and that my admiration is pathetically cute and most importantly useful and ego stroking. He finds my eagerness to help him, keep him safe, and make sure he doesn't get caught very valuable for him, and how I become a servant in happily bringing him things he needs whenever he asks.

My feelings on him don't just remain the same as when when I first started to take an interest in him, they get stronger. Getting to know him for real and finding he really is as charming and admirable as I saw him is a delight. And it gets harder for me to escape the fact that I find him very attractive for his strong personality and beauty.

He still keeps a lot of secrets from me he can't have me knowing just in case but getting to learn anything and seeing around his base and his creations is a great joy. Especially when the man himself is proudly showing them off to me. He likes how I share multiple of his interests, love to listen to him talk, and gush over it and praise it all highly.

Eggman was ready to entertain any delusions that made me a fan but is pleased when he finds I know exactly who he is, what he wants, and how terrible he is but specifically admire and support it. I love him as he is, want him to succeed in his selfish goals, and get everything he wants. It feels good to be understood and loved for the real him.

My loyalty and enthusiasm making me useful to him and boosting his ego makes him consider keeping me around for longer, after he was initially planning on letting me go eventually. It would also be best to make sure I never have the chance to tell anyone else about him after going to know him on this level. And I don't want to leave anyway!

I have to keep proving my worth so he knows he made the right choice and that my admiration is real for sure and not just a really convincing agent, though there's no way it could be faked to this degree. Despite his caution we get along well and get closer and he's more certain and likes having me around to serve him and stroke his ego.

Things progress from there and I start faller for him harder and he enjoys having me as his assistant and servant more over time. It eventually leads to point where we first become intimate, when he takes the last step in assuring that I'm definitely not an agent and 100% real in my love for him- by asking for me to kiss him hehe 🥰💜

[r6-unifiedlands]

A Little Company with Big Bad Wolf

[Remington "Espion" Harmonics & Emil "Fenrir" Svensson]

Summary: It seems that the new guy was having difficulty blending in with the team, and Espion decided she wanted to befriend him by helping him with his lab work.

A/N: I blacked out and woke up with this fic, what the fuck.

It’s been a week since Fenrir arrived at Rainbow’s main HQ at Hereford.

Reth liked the codename that the new guy chose for himself. Fenrir from the fabled Norse legend stories, a wolf that could devour both heaven and earth alike and cause massive apocalyptic events. Feared for his name and reputation, how the ol’ wolf got despised by gods and mortals alike.

Except, this new operator feels like he’d topple down if she nudged him slightly, probably.

Fenrir, or Emil as his real name, doesn’t talk as much. He was shunned by almost half of the team, and the rest either offered him friendship or avoided interacting much with him. An overworked man who barely even sleeps in his own room and prefers to rest on his messy desk, observation papers written in Swedish scattered across the surface of his workbench. He eats almost alone most of the time in the cafeteria, with the exception of either Kapkan or Stena would sit together with him and keep the chemist company.

[There was a moment when she heard Nomad talking to Kaid in Arabic during training, and she thought it was just a normal conversation. But as soon as she heard Fenrir and Thermite’s names in there, she figured out they were talking shit.]

With that in mind, she figured out that she wanted to keep the anxiety-riddled man company by—

“No, I don’t need a test subject for now.” Emil didn’t move his head from soldering a circuit board, his voice remained flat and very much tired. Might be because of the damage that Mike caused on his F-NATT device. “I’ve tested the current formula of the fear toxin on myself, and that was good enough for Jordan and Mira.”

…Welp, there goes her plan of accompanying the Swedish operator by helping his lab tests.

She sighed softly, and it seemed that her slightly disappointed expression was noticeable to the other, because Emil gestured towards an empty chair near him. “I don’t mind someone to chat, though. Saif is currently on a mission, and it’s been a quiet evening without him.”

Oh, that’s a new information. It's not surprising, considering how Saif was known as the friendliest being in this hostile environment, but still new information regardless.

With slight hesitation, she pulled the chair close to her and sat down, eyes watching the way he tinkered with the gadget’s inner workings. Calloused hands carefully plucking burnt parts with tweezers and replacing them with new ones. No rushed job. Just slow and steady work.

Reth likes watching the process. She enjoys how machineries work and how people handle them. Little screws got put aside, small cables roughly connected with each other, or in this case, how the Dread Mine’s gas canister casing finally got replaced with a newer and possibly stronger one. Everyone’s gadgets and devices are wonderful by themselves, and it made her heart swell up in pride whenever she saw people taking good care of them.

“You look happy.” Emil’s gruff voice snapped her out of her train of thought. His head finally turned to face her. “Something on your mind, hm?”

Reth smiled widely, her fang peeking out. “This is the first time I saw your gadget close by.” She then let out a nervous laugh, her violet contacts avoiding the chemist’s blue eyes. “The last time I saw it, I got sprayed by your fear gas and got myself knocked out until the end of the practice round.”

“I don’t remember you getting knocked out. You were doing well back then.” He followed by a soft mutter of Swedish, probably a swear word. 

“It’s my thing.” It’s her amnesia that prevented her from remembering lots of parts of her day-to-day basis. You possibly have a dissociative disorder, Harry’s voice rang through her mind. “Speaking of well, how’s F-NATT? Did you fix it?”

The mention of his gadget made the chemist shift his attention back to his work desk, examining the circuit board once again. “I’ll run some tests tomorrow. It’s dinner time.” He sat up and stretched his body, she could hear the subtle crackle and pops of the joints. “If I remember correctly, today’s dinner is steak with steamed carrots and broccoli florets.”

Reth groaned, the previous smile now replaced with a small frown. “I’ll skip. Old man Baker would chase me down to make me eat vegetables.”

Emil raised one of his eyebrows. “That’s unusual, coming from someone with a military background.” The engineer now noticed how tall the chemist was as he came closer. “Now that I think about it, you barely showed up in the cafeteria. What did you eat all this time?”

“Instant cup noodles, my best friend!”

He clicked his tongue; the blue eyes gleamed brighter under the room’s lighting. “Unhealthy. Do you know how much sodium is in there and the health risks if you consume it daily?” Now he reminded her of her late mother, who would nag her whenever she found out about her eating a raw block of instant ramen secretly.

Besides Gustave, Emil’s response is nostalgic to the engineer in a good way.

Another sigh left Reth’s mouth, eyes now shifted to the ground. “Vegetable texture and taste would make me gag. I can’t force them into my mouth unless it’s mashed into other food to mask the yuckiness…” Her voice lowered, thumbs twiddling. A sign of her nervousness.

In all honesty, Reth is embarrassed to tell people about this quirk because of how wildly different people would react to it. Baker went on a rant about how she should’ve gotten her shit together a long time ago and to grow the fuck up, and she decided not to listen to it. Flores was still kind to her, making her try Perico, a Colombian dish consisting of scrambled eggs with chopped vegetables, with the veggies minced more finely than usual. 

[Marius agreed with her since he also can’t stand vegetable texture other than starch roots like potatoes and yams. He just masked his dislike better than her.]

“So you’re telling me…” Emil crossed his arms, tapping his index fingers absentmindedly “...you have food hypersensitivity?” She nodded slowly. He hummed, closing his eyes for a while.

“Emil? You alright?”

“I’m alright, just thinking of something.” She could feel the chemist’s gaze piercing through her. “If I cook you something that wouldn’t make you gag every day, would you eat food properly from now on?”

Blinks. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me right correctly, Espion.” More blinking gestures from the younger operator, and he let out a loud, exasperated sigh. Strands of his jet-black hair fell, and he combed them back up with his fingers. “I will keep track of what you like and don’t like in vegetables and run extensive experiments on them in the kitchen. You’ll be my test subject.”

For a normal person, they would be highly suspicious because of that ominous statement alone. This person previously worked for Deimos, blew up a whole site, and developed a gas that possibly would end up with people killing off each other if inhaled for an extended period with an incorrect amount of formula.

Too bad that Reth is not “normal,” in a sense.

“I don’t mind.” She grinned, an honest smile for the other. “When you start?”

“The kitchen beside the cafeteria would be free of use around nineteen. Walking now would get us extra spare time to talk during the trip.”

Somehow, her task failed successfully.

[silversiren1101]

💎💎💎 I feel like I gotta know how Mino feels about either of them. Lariel or Zrise. 😳 (if you’re still doing these)

[First attempt at this let's go!]

Lariel:

Minovae's expression softens at the name. There's an affection and, strangely enough, a pride in her eyes. "Oh, Lariel... so fearful and hesitant of the world, if only she knew the potential she has. She thinks she's only crackling storm and lighting, but that's only a part of her. I see the silver lining of her storm cloud, the soft breezes of her smile and great gusts of her encouraging others. She's... a bit like me in that way, I think. It'd be like if I only thought myself all Linnorm and no Minnow, too afraid to take control of my life for fear I'll only bite and maim. Well, zap for her. I only wish she could see herself through the eyes of her companions because, to me, she's more worthy than the goddess we actually met. The day she comes out of her shell and realizes who she is and what she's capable of will be one that'll shake the world."

Zrise:

Her lips curls between her fangs. Undisguised contempt and disgust colors her expression, punctuated with an agitated rattle of her feathery tail. "Let's just say it would be remiss of me to look for an excuse to arrest someone only on the basis that I dislike them. That would be grossly inappropriate for someone dedicated to fair and equitable application of the law like myself. Fortunately for me, and for everyone else that's had the misfortune of crossing his path, Zrise gives me plenty of actual reasons to build my investigation, and he's too arrogant to notice the trail he's leaving for himself right to Citadel Gheradesca."