#it made some cool effects on the first and second paintings but at the third one I was SO ANNOYED

[bearinabandana]

The finger paint + posca pen stuff I made tonight

That's an octopus, a doctormaster and a masterdoctor. Bet you can figure out which is which. Unless you're Dimitri

[pjunicornart]

Papercut (Reclaimed)

I've decided to reclaim Papercut for the fandom! Here's the explanation.

Papercut (a Fell variant of Paperjam) was originally created by the person who created PJ's Daycare and NaJ. I'm not name dropping them because... I just don't want to. Anyway, the creator (if you know you know) is not a great person. I believe fandoms can reclaim characters from people who were less than role models. Now, a QnA under a cut:

Doesn't Paperjam already have a Fell variant? Yes. They already have a canon Fell and Swap variant if I'm remembering correctly. That being said, this is what I propose for Papercut: He's a completely original variant away from the Fell labeling. He's from a universe where he was named Papercut instead of Paperjam. Outside influences made him edgy instead of it just being his nature.

What did you change about Cut's design? For starters, I made his design less "rule of cool" and more practical. Admittedly some of the AU Sans designs I think are bad because they follow too heavily on the rule of cool. His outfit ties into his new story. Plus, if I'm going to draw him again, I want his design to be simple. Second, I desaturated the color palette, except for around his face. I kept the "hairstyle" Cut had, because I think it makes him stand out compared to other Sanses.

What's his lore? Currently I'm going for a troubled teen angle. Gets mixed up with the wrong crowds, been in and out of juvie, that type of thing. He's clearly hurting, but his environment and home life make it worse and hard for him to stabilize his life. Speaking of his home life, Ink and Error are NOT his parents... creators... people. They don't even exist in this AU. Instead, his parents are two completely different people who will NOT be classified as Sanses. These two people are one of the many reasons for Cut's rebellious persona.

What are some specific details about Cut? He's 17, a cis boy (amab), and pronouns he/him. Because he's been suspended and put into juvie a lot, his formal education is lacking. He can read and write just fine, but he won't be able to answer questions about history or sex ed. If his parents cared, they'd realize he needs serious help in this regard. But they only care about themselves and making sure he's out of the way. He's been arrested for minor crimes - Theft, vandalism, and misdemeanors. His vandalism is graffiti, of which he is quite skilled. His graffiti includes the usual stuff (tagging and such), but also political and artistic pieces. He thinks he's only into girls.

Does he have any powers? Yes, but he's not especially powerful or skilled with them. He can control paint fairly well since graffiti art has given him practice with it. He got this power from his mom. His other natural born ability is a blade only he can summon. This is something he inherited from his dad's side of the family. All the men on this side have their own unique blades. His is a dagger with a serrated blade for a ripping flesh effect. As for learned abilities: Teleportation (short distances), Healing (can't heal major wounds, but he can heal a bruise), and various stat boosters (attack, defense, and speed - minor changes). He's not particularly powerful because he hasn't taken the time to learn his abilities.

Will his story have anything to do with The Playground? We'll see. His story is still in the early stages of being fleshed out, so things are definitely subject to change. However, if he were to be in The Playground, he would become Playjam's third little brother.

Since he's technically not a Fell variant, could he be put into RNaJ? Yeah, he definitely could! He'd probably skip class and hang out alone. Maybe smoke a joint or two. Very confrontational and rude at first, but if you tolerated him enough he might open up a little. His vulnerability will be layered under tons of jokes, though.

Outfits, roleplay, and fan stuff? Outfits: I don't have any more at the moment, but if you wanna design some, be my guest. Roleplay: I'm down to roleplay as him, but you can also rp as him if you wish. I'm not gonna police you about it. Fan stuff: Everything is pretty loosey-goosey right now, sooo... go nuts.

Any more questions I didn't address can be sent to my ask box!

[rockethorse]

Day twenty-one: One community lot and four businesses ready to be run!

All the lots are CC-free... except one, which only uses two pieces of CC which have good odds for already being in your game.

WARNING!! This is a LONG post with a lot of pictures underneath, but I figured it was better than splitting the post up - just be warned!

These old lots are from a new BaCC-style challenge I started developing a while ago but decided to reboot from the ground up with a better approach. Some of the lots were cool, though, so I refined them into the gift you see today.

First up is Seven Sisters Fine Foods, a very large community lot primed to be an owned business based on the architecture of my home town of Adelaide. This is the lot that contains CC - the Maxis Lost & Found plumbob arch, and frillen’s Invisible Tiles, in order to create the arched walkway you seee in the preview photos above. Both files are included in the download.

As an owned business, the intent is for your Sims to sell Seasons produce and fish they have grown and caught themselves, along with restockable grocery bins and some kitchen appliances. There is a staff area on the second floor of the greengrocer’s side, and space for packing stations there and next to the fishmonger’s if you play with them (not included).

There’s already a little garden area for Sims to grow produce, and you could easily add a pond on the opposite side if you want to employ Sims to fish. This lot is built with a rowhouse effect - so that if you know how to use the Lot Adjuster, you can have other lots appear “attached” on either side - but simply delete these extra walls/bushes if you don’t need them.

The second lot is Rosé Bistro and KISS@TEN Cafe, inspired (obviously) by a TS3 rabbit hole that functions as a restaurant. I hate running restaurants so this is the only lot not primed to be run as a business, haha, but you probably could if you’re a masochist! The lot is primed to accommodate toddlers if you have mods that let you take them to community lots.

The first two floors are one restaurant, with a casual family dining area downstairs and then a fancier dining area suitable for celebrations and functions on the second floor. Of course, Sims will sit wherever they please.

The top floor is KISS@10, a little coffeeshop (and... magazine seller) based on Japanese cafes. If you did want to run this as a restaurant, then this would be a good place to sell takeaway or deco food. Sims should not trek up here to sit and order food as none of the chairs/tables/counters work together.

You can see below this lot is built for the side street to either back onto another road or lot, but you can simply close it off with a fence behind the stairs as necessary.

The third lot is the Dewitt Yuself Hardware Store, based on the kind of place we would call Bunning’s here and I guess... Home Depot? In the states? One of those big comforting home reno & garden centres dads love. This was an interesting exploration of the kind of business a Sim could run without CC, and your shop stock ends up being a mixture of fixtures, Build Mode objects, and some garden supplies. There are two checkouts, and an employee area upstairs.

And lastly, you get two more business presented as one, because they’re designed to look like two halves of the same building; Tiny Smiles Daycare Centre and The Stretched Canvas, an art/art supplies store.

The daycare centre sells toddler supplies as well as tickets, even though by default most of the clients will probably be adults. You could probably try and run it as an actual school/daycare if you use the appropriate mods.

As usual, there is an employee area upstairs.

The art store sells supplies on the ground floor and has an empty gallery on the second floor as well as a maker’s space. You could either sell tickets and charge people to view the art and take art lessons, or you could sell the art itself; either sculptures and paintings your Sims have made, or regular decorations from the catalogue. I won’t tell anyone.

It’s a bit boring, if I’m honest, but I included it for convenience to attach to the daycare - if you’d like to turn this into a different business or community lot, just use the Clean Installer to install it without any furniture. There is a pretty convenient employee area/living quarters in the back.

Thank you for scrolling this far! All lots have been cleaned with the Lot Cleaner as well as tidied from any Sim references in SimPE.

Download All Businesses/Community Lots @ SFS

[felixcloud6288]

Fullmetal Alchemist Chapter 58

How young was Roy in that flashback? The only thing about Roy that looks younger is his haircut.

And call me a millenial, but Roy's master is living in a large and lovely-looking house. Even if it might need renovations, I'd love to live there.

Staff Sergeant Black Hayate has defeated Edward Elric. Ed says that happens to him a lot but the only other dog I've seen him interact with was Alexander.

And the question I had about the boxes gets answered. Sadly Riza is not moving to an apartment with good piping infrastructure.

Reminder that Ed is a teenager and has the maturity of one when the subject moves to mature topics like romance and love. I love how Black Hayate shakes his head at the same time as Ed.

And there's something strangely delightful about seeing Hawkeye wearing slippers.

The framing device for this flashback is pretty cool. It's not being shared by an omnipotent narrator. It's the collective story being told by Hawkeye, Knox, and Marcoh; as well as the recollections of Armstrong, Mustang, and Scar. If I could modify anything, I'd want to slip in a panel implying that Kimblee is also reminiscing about Ishbal as well.

And the rest of the chapter is setting up the mood just before the end of the war. We have three scenes and they all paint different pictures.

Our first scene is between Scar and his brother. Scar's brother is researching Xingese Alchemy and is fascinated by its similarities to their own belief in Ishbala. Scar's brother brings up similar ideas that Izumi did when she taught Ed and Al. There's a natural flow to nature and the concept of One is All and All is One. But Scar's brother sees the flow in a more spiritual level rather than natural level. Instead of the flow being about natural cause and effect and that you should accept what happens, he brings up the flow of positive and negative energies. If people come together in positivity, positivity flows.

But Scar is surrounded by only negativity from the war. He hears people bragging about killing Amestrians and sees grieving mothers and widows. He doesn't see any peaceful resolution nor an end to the war.

Our second scene has us meet the Rockbells. Urey is arguing with an uncooperative patient while Sara is getting some medical supplies. The supplier warns them about increased military operations and tries to help them flee only for them to refuse. The Rockbells continue to help with the hopes that there can be a peaceful resolution and the war will end soon.

Our third scene is General Hakuro discovering that Aerugo has been supplying Ishbalan forces the equipment to fight Amestris so they can weaken their military power. In response, Military HQ decides to go scorched Earth. They lock up all the Ishbalans within their ranks and send their State Alchemists to the front line. The military has no interest in peaceful resolution and has decided the war will end now.

A little sidenote I picked up. This flashback takes place roughly 4 or 5 years before the main story and Hakuro is still only a General. So he's made no advancement in years. No wonder he's paranoid about Roy's advancement in rank.

back

[vergess]

Ethical AI absolutely can and does exist, wherein the entire model uses exclusively public domain or correctly, honestly licensed art.

The results look like this:

They're very obviously, visibly derived from oil paintings done in the prior to 1900, if they're coherent at all. That "pretty okay" one was the third out of 5 renders; the rest were gibberish.

If you're getting a fully detailed digital painting out of your model, then buddy, that's made with stolen art. You both can and should have spent whatever subscription fee you have on a $20 commission from someone on tumblr.

But let's say you're only using it for things you would have gotten for free from a meme generator or a dollmaker or whatever. Fine. I don't care. No one cares about you, person who wants a discord icon for their 18th RP character on a server with 25 users.

You, individual reading this, are not one of the two main problems with AI art.

First: the labour issue. Major companies are unironically firing all their artists. Video game set designers, film effects animators, book cover illustrators, all of it. On the unfounded assumption that the work of these artists can be replaced with cheaper AI.

A thing which is not true, because AI cannot actually create consistent pieces on novel themes with coherent details.

But it'll take years before the major publishing houses, studios, etc realize their mistake and people will fucking die of poverty between now and then.

This shit will ruin lives, in exchange for janked up copies of artists' work that never could have been made without them in the first place.

But instead of copyright being used correctly to help these artists get safe and steady employment, it's being abused by IP holders like Disney etc to say that they already own all the work output of the artist anyway (and legally, they do!), so they can do with it as they please.

Which is why it is so horrible to think that artists may be tricked into supporting stronger IP laws, when those are the very cause of this problem.

Second: the environmental issue. Unless you are running an offline model entirely on hardware you own, your AI images are generated at massive data farms. The kind formerly used for cryptocurrency mining. With all the environmental hell that implies regarding cooling, electricity usage, rare earth metal contamination, etc etc.

Finally, as a little bonus, let me just say: get disabled people out of your fucking mouths, both goddamn sides. The fact that some disabled people have the luck and opportunity to learn to create despite their disabilities does not mean the rest of the disabled population owes you the same struggle, what the fuck is wrong with you people?

so a huge list of artists that was used to train midjourney’s model got leaked and i’m on it

literally there is no reason to support AI generators, they can’t ethically exist. my art has been used to train every single major one without consent lmfao 🤪

link to the archive

[vntrip2024]

Day 4 - 10/04/2024

We woke up to coffee bought by Lynn and her friend Juni and we headed straight to another market; different from the one we went to before. This market had fresh produce, and a lot more perishable products compared to solely retail type products, as well as small restaurants and food stalls in a small and tight space. After buying some lollies and hairclips, we went to visit the first artist on our Hidden Saigon tour – Le Phi Long.

Le Phi Long is a traditional artist that is renowned for his site-specific work. My favourite work from him was definitely his project called “Sat” about agent orange and its effects on the people of Vietnam and the environment. The word “Sat” in Vietnamese means mangrove tree but also holds a double meaning – “Sat” also means kill. This project was emotionally draining, due to the main subject of this project being the deformed babies as a product from the agent orange chemicals. These chemicals were introduced in the papermaking process of the piece, where he used the local river water which had diluted levels of the chemical to stain and corrode the paper. The chemicals were so potent that it created holes in the paper. After seeing his workspace, as well as his art pieces and understanding his work processes, I was very inspired by the experience and actually thought about my own career in art and how it is actually a feasible career path.

The second person we visited was a clothes designer. Though his clothes were pretty cool, it wasn’t my style. I was more so interested in the process it took to get him to grow his brand to where it is. He explained how his business grew by wearing some designed clothes out and it being noticed by his friends. He then built the brand through social media, made a label, and invested capital to open a shop.

We stopped for lunch before heading to our next destination who is a resident in an apartment complex in Saigon. Though it wasn’t a creative practice, it was still nice to hear her stories about life in Vietnam, the struggles she had to endure, and seeing French architecture in residential areas in Saigon.

The third and last artist Hoang Nam Viet, is a traditional artist, designer, and tattoo artist. Based in Saigon, Hoang started freelancing and did design before transitioning to the painting medium. His art style is unique in the sense that he uses rough and strong brush strokes to paint his subjects. In his pieces, he focuses more on capturing the likeness rather than imitating the subject through detail. I was so inspired by him and his work. I asked some questions about his journey to getting to be a practicing artist, as well as his painting process. His point of view was so interesting and unique – I was in awe of him. His large-scale works spoke to me like no other artist. Being in such a space gave me hope for my own future in the creative industries.

[maddest-scientist-ms]

I just wanted to make something perfectly clear.

There won't be such a thing as human-like androids, not a chance, like if someone makes one no one is gonna be happy about it.

First of all the whole android shtick is that they're just like humans, but like oio stronger, ooo smarter, ooooo so cool. And like this is like completely useless, cuz like if you're talking about doing human job being stronger won't really change anything in most times, and being smarter is just worthless cuz like androids unless they're fully sentient are the type of smart which can be replaced by just a calculator, and the others kinds of smart humans use during their jobs aren't really accessible to androids, and like if you're talking like jobs unaccessible to humans without special equipment and machinery, well a robot designed for that will work better than any android and will probably be cheaper. Like I really doubt android can effectively replace like a mechanical robotic arm on a factory. And if that's true it probably can't replace robotic forclift, cooking robot or mining robot, or like every other type of worker robot.

So like androids are just useless when compared to humans and robots, you get the worst of two worlds - Useless human body comleted with non-imaginitive mechanical robotic brain.

Second of all, just like, esthetics. Like robots look cool, look awesome, I can put stickers on it, paint it like Lightning McQueen, not to speak I can just put another set of arms and stuff, and like in general robots are neat, diverse, futuristic, like cars but you can take them anywhere if it's like an assistant robot. And android?

It's.

It's just a guy.

Perhaps a girl.

Perhaps a hot one if you're like pay extra.

But like unless you're buying a sex-robot or are a human trafficker - who the hell wants to own a guy? Like who looks at like a tech catalog, and thinks to himself "Ah yes, the only thing which is missing in my house is A HUMAN GUY, who I know IT'S A HUMAN GUY, who is silently walking around, blinks perfectly every 2,50 second without a miss, and responds to my questions like a love child of Siri and Oblivion NPC, while staring with no spark of life in his eyes not even in my soul but somewhere past it. That is exactly what is missing in my life!". Like hell, robot can behave as inhuman as it wants, cuz it's a robot, and we're cool if it's movements and responses are mechanical, someone may even find it charming, but if you have a human guy acting a little off, it's creepy, and gross and creepy, and why did I let this abomination into my house!? And they will act a bit off, cuz they're machines, they need recharging, maintenance, they will have errors, and in general - we weren't able to make NPCs who act perfectly natural outside of cutscenes, but you think we will be able to make a robot to act this way? And even if so, that means you will be buying basically a person, and that is just another whole different level of fucked up, even if we're sure they don't feel anything! In fact, if they don't feel anything, but pretend they do - That's a third whole level of fucked up with a big scoop of unsettling!

And finally the last reason I can think of right now on why there never ever will be a thing like human-like androids.

Twitter will fucking blow up.

Hell, YouTube, news, everything will blow the hell up, and not in a good way, and they will be right.

Cuz if an Android will look like a human, it will then have to look like a human of some race.

And there is NOT A SINGLE WAY, NOT A SINGLE TIMELINE WHERE ANY DESICION TAKEN WILL BE GOOD.

If first android made to serve humans will be any minority group, especially black, internet will explode in accusations of racism or attempting to bring back slavery but with robots, acid and venom will fill creator company inbox, and like almost anything they will do won't make situation better.

If first android presented will be a white guy, conservative Americans on Twitter will rage and roar about white pride and how the world completely fell to Biden rule and how Trump must fix that as white man wasn't made to serve nobody, while the opposite camp will rush on Twitter about how white people are trying to claim completely to themselves such a revolution in technological development by making it in their image.

And like even if first ever presentation of androids will have multiple units of different races, genders and other stuff, everyone will still go ape shit for all the same reasons, just the radical Right will groan about "Damn left got gender diversity and BAME even in android industry, now just wait until they make the robots gay", while radical Left will create societies protecting android rights, cuz they freaking look human and work without pay of course someone will think it's slavery and machines actually are really offended, and at some point will start gluing themselves to the doors of self-driving cars factories while chanting about how AIs have souls.

[selamat-linting]

overall a mid movie tbh. i mean its got some ideas and themes are there and i sure wouldnt call it a waste of time, but its very... unpolished. rough around the edges. its got something to say though, which is above most horror movie nowadays. there's a tried and true formula to make a blockbuster, some evil escaped, several people must work on stopping it, the characters are all good and likable and the only development is them being more brave and confident after vanquishing the outside monster who is painted as a universal evil with a lot of prayers and faith. its boring and empty.

girl on the third floor tries, although its execution leaves a lot to be desired. its views on feminism are well meaning, despite being aimed at a cishet audience. its got some good advice. i think other than don, the characters are all sympathetic despite the flaws. honestly i feel a little bad for don (disclaimer : im heavily compromised so my opinion on him is not to be trusted) but there's some writing cliches and the camera shots got repetitive at times.

the first half is well, boring. im not gonna lie to you, the first half is entertaining to me personally because i've seen both of my parents diy a house reno. i've helped them construct makeshift furniture, laid out carpets, and fix electrical wiring. im far from a carpenter, or any handyman but i know a thing or two about fixing up houses. seeing don absolutely fucking up a renovation like he'd never step foot on a house is hilarious the way you'd watch a car wreck.

the second half finally gets scary, but its hindered from the first half not showing much information despite talking up at least an hour, so it got to make sure the audience knows what's going on while tying up a satisfying conclusion. it came out rushed. how did they even deal with two dead bodies stuck in the walls of the house? the police would be questioning wtf is going on. however it does answer many of the questions set up in the beginning of the movie. i like sarah :) i think she and her deformed ghost sister is cool.

for the freaks, the house cums as they promised. so many precum and flesh and blood, and the house fucking SQUIRTS!!!! it gushes right out of the electrical socket. so much of the scene where don is destroying the walls and it cuts through to the house spurting various liquids as if its turned on while slowly dying with the abuse is just beautiful. reminiscent of sarah's own life in the brothel. i've watched a bunch of movies lately and girl on the third floor def had one of the better practical effects.

for the freaks of another flavor, yes don pathetically wipes off the floor, vomits, have weird sex dreams, screams, cries, jerks off from daddy kink porn, begs for his life, and fists a house. punk always delivers with his acting. i think someone made a super cut of all the housefucking he did here.

[standardtitaniumu]

3 Finest Welding Practices When Making Use Of Titanium

Recognizing the most effective welding practices is necessary, especially for local business. Using titanium when welding can be tricky. As an example, if there are blue, environment-friendly, grey, violet, or white colors in titanium after welding it means there is an atmospheric contamination. Guaranteeing welding depends on criterion is essential for safety and also quality.

 Titanium is really immune to corrosion. It is lighter than steel, much heavier than aluminum, and also more powerful than both of those steels. Titanium is more affordable over time because it requires little service, maintenance, and also repair service. Nevertheless, it is expensive at first. Titanium is used for armed forces, aerospace, medical, leisure, chemical processes, as well as steel ending up functions.

 There are 3 welding methods that need to be adopted. Initially, it is very important to protect the heat-affected zone from the ambience up until the temperature goes down listed below 800 levels. The titanium must not begin take in oxides (oxygen, nitrogen, hydrogen, carbon) until the temperature level is below that average.

 If they are absorbed too early, the weldment will certainly be embrittled as well as the item provided useless. A great technique would certainly be to check an item out initially before welding the major titanium job. The variables that allow excellent securing gas insurance coverage ought to be verified before starting.

Titanium Tube

 Second, the workplace needs to be tidy. Contamination can occur from many different sources. There is oil on fingertips, lubricants, cutting fluid, paint, dust, and also extra. These can trigger embrittlement and weld failing. The workspace ought to be devoid of dust, debris, and also excess air movement that would interrupt the gas protecting mentioned over.

 Third, it is crucial to utilize the proper tools to weld titanium. A power source with a high regularity arc beginning, an outcome of 250 amps, a post-flow shielding gas timer, as well as remote amperage control capabilities is the very first as well as essential device required. Polarity must be readied to right.

 A lantern can be air or water cooled, based on individual devices choices. Water cooled down lanterns are smaller, manoeuvrable, and also can bond at greater temperature levels for extended durations. Water cooled down lanterns are simpler, however air cooled torches are cheaper.

 To bring the required welding existing, a 2%- ceriated tungsten sized is proper. A glass lens is required to equally disperse and also produce smooth gas flow. A cup with a diameter of a minimum of 3/4 - 1 inch should be made use of. Bigger mugs allow larger welds.

 A tracking guard must expand the size of the weldment. The electrode needs to prolong longer than normal to offer extended gas protection if utilizing bigger mugs or the routing guard. Normally, the electrode expands much enough for visibility and also accessibility to the joint. This can additionally be determined as one and also half times the size of the electrode.

 Purge blocks are needed to give shielding gas coverage on the back and base of a joint. Several places develop their very own personalized purge obstructs from porous copper sheet and also stainless-steel. The copper serves as a gas lens by equally dispersing gas. The blocks are loaded with stainless-steel woollen to smooth gas flow a lot more.

Titanium Sheet

 In some cases there are uncomfortable joints. As opposed to cleanup blocks, welders can develop shielding gas dams or chambers with stainless steel foil and fiberglass tape. Gas has to move long enough to exchange gas inside the chamber 10 times prior to welding. This makes sure pureness.

 A gas manifold system distributes shielding gas to the lantern as well as purge blocks. It accomplishes this by utilizing separate gas lines with medical quality tubing, ensuring quality. Wetness content will certainly rise as round pressure decreases, so cylinders should be changed when the stress reaches 25 bar.

  By having appropriate tools, maintaining a tidy work area, as well as using gas securing appropriately, titanium welding tasks will certainly not have embrittlement or failing. These methods are important to make sure high quality and security. Welding titanium suitably in the beginning will certainly permit longevity and low maintenance.

[ohblackdiamond]

kiss kruise xi (two-timer)

The stars aligned and my pocketbook emptied for my yearly vacation, the KISS Kruise. This year (my third), I was fortunate enough to spend the first Kruise rooming with the lovely @tanookikiss ! The second, I was alone with my stateroom towel animals. A good time was had by all. 

I am focusing the bulk of this review on a couple experiences I had with the band, rather than a merch or picture haul-- I’m pretty bad at picture-taking, and none of what I captured on film or bought is particularly unique. Only the memories!

The first Kruise was not nearly as full as the second one; it didn’t sell out and ~62 percent of the Kruisers were first-timers. This was a very good thing as it meant that there was zero issue getting around fifth or sixth from the front during the sailaway show (which we only bothered lining up for about 30 or 45 minutes prior to it starting! Incredibly unusual for a KISS Kruise). KISS’ setlist was a nice mesh of some of their soundcheck staples and a few surprises-- “Christine Sixteen,” “Plaster Caster,” “Goin’ Blind,” “Shock Me,” and, of course, “Two-Timer,” to name a handful. Paul was in a pleasant mood and joked around and even sort of apologized for his banter material being a bit well-worn (ye old “Christine Sixteen is now Christine Sixty... hey, it’s all I got” or something along those lines). 

We were fortunate enough to get to go to both of KISS’ indoor shows for the first Kruise-- for the first show, I was near the back, which actually was a pretty fun place to be! At the Stardust, there are really no bad seats and it was nice to get that tableau effect and see everything that KISS was doing (whereas if you’re in the pit, or right behind the pit, as we were for our second show-- cool as it is to be so close-- you do miss out on the spectacle by being so zeroed-in). Paul pulled out “Strutter” and “C’mon and Love Me,” which were dearly appreciated. “Love Gun”... (For the second Kruise, Paul did “I Want You,” which absolutely surprised the snot out of me. He did quite well on that one!)

Let me say that up until the second half of the Kruise, Paul had only heard me say, uh, choice words. Very choice words. Choice words such as:

“Goddammit he’s [Paul’s] not worth running me over for!” --KISS Kruise 2019 [during autograph-signing melee, when I was just trying to get out of the theater unscathed] “Thank you, Paul” --KISS Kruise 2021 [during autograph-signing melee] “Dammit. .... Thank you!!” --Kiss Kruise 2022 and if Paul is a mind-reader (he isn’t), he’d also have heard “Dammit, Tanooki, why did you buy Paul’s painting?” Because she did. 

It was a surreal moment. I only got those three words out (the dammit-- while trying to peel my copy of Paul’s solo album-- $15.00 tag still attached-- out of its protective plastic-- and the thank you after he’d signed it and the meet and greet was over). Tanooki was able to talk to him much more!

(I should mention that @tanookikiss​ also got to talk to him before that, when we reboarded after our Cabo excursion! I stood there dumbly and got one (1) fistbump. I felt like if I looked at him too long, he would be able to, uh, read all my sins on my face or something.)

I opted to do one of the autograph sessions for the first Kruise (the one Bruce was a part of); I hadn’t brought any eighties’ KISS albums to sign, but figured that since I had missed him during Creaturesfest, I owed him a little of my time. We had already stopped by the merch table and made some mildly foolish purchases so that Bruce would actually have something to sign. I told him he was the best part of Creaturesfest, and he laughed ruefully (his wife, Lisa, was next to him and laughed much harder). A lot of people were getting their hats signed-- a cool idea, and one I took on the second Kruise. 

I really wasn’t as interested in most of the week 1 bands as I was week 2′s, so the only one we really watched besides KISS was The Fifth. There were some little girls dancing in front of the band! Week 2, I watched most every band/singer I could (Bruce, Sisters Doll, Sebastian Bach, Micky James, Stryper). I was able to get autographs from everyone I watched except Sebastian (which was fine). I talked to Sisters Doll for a minute about Creaturesfest; they were quite funny! 

Stryper in particular was so very kind-- they had canceled their initial autograph session because it was apt to interfere with their 2:15 show (autographs ran from 11 to about 1ish), so what they did, was set up a table immediately after their show. They talked to everyone who came up at some length, asking them how they were doing, how they’d enjoyed the show-- it was impressive, all the more because it was sincere. I was able to tell Perry and Michael that while I wasn’t of their exact faith (I’m from a non-Trinitarian sect), I had always thought a lot of them and that it took a lot of guts to get out there and sing about Jesus. I’m glad I told that to them; they seemed grateful. Michael was the last one down the line and he took extra care to sign my hat along the brim like everyone else-- even though there was hardly any room! I like that he was so careful. I believe they may have done autographs after their other shows as well, but I’m not sure.

Paul did his usual band activities (he’ll cook/eat breadsticks for about twenty-thirty minutes midway through the Kruise, and then, on the last night, close things out with about an hour-long q&a); Gene also did his usual (Are You Smarter than a Rock God and The Newlywed Game). I actually opted out of Paul’s Kitchen on the second week of the Kruise, and opted out of Newlywed Game both times due to the utter pandemonium that it generally turns into-- Gene will have all sorts of his merchandise there, and end up throwing it into the crowd until the crowd turns, basically, into the mouth of madness. He eats it up!

But I was in the front for the stuff I did opt for, due to, well, being uncommonly willing to wait in line for hours on end. It did pay off in the form of Gene signing two of my items-- the Destroyer piano sheet music, which is very personal to me, and his solo album (thank you, @tanookikiss for battling it out with the crowd for that one). I tried to help Gene with his answers to the Rock God bit on the second Kruise, but he’s a surprisingly iffy lip-reader and mouthed an apology to me later! (He also shot me straight in the face with his fake money at the end. Thank you, Gene.)

I also got a picture (in Ace Frehley’s Destroyer costume) (no, I never finished the gauntlets and I wasn’t about to pack the boots!) with Bruce as he wandered the cafeteria during KISS’ set. Thank you, Broose. You’re a good man, and I’m sorry that my intense shortness forced you to lean over so much.

At the two timer party, I really felt for Sixthman. I had poked in about an hour early, expecting there to be a locked door + a long line to get in. I was surprised when there was no line and no locked door, and came in to around 40-50 people already in; assuming it was open, I took a seat on the end of the back row. Come to find out, the area should have been locked up, but Sixthman allowed us to stay as they were setting up these really pretty chocolate renditions of Marshall amps, guitars, and even the band (printed!) itself. They did have drinks and various desserts/sandwiches for us; I didn’t really want a drink, so I eventually grabbed a cupcake a few minutes before the band arrived (about 15 minutes off from the time announced!). I had surprisingly good luck; the band came into the Spinnaker from the actual entrance (I was expecting them behind the curtain or something) and walked straight to the stage, passing by where I was sitting! Eric put a hand very briefly on my arm/shoulder as he passed by, whereas Gene fistbumped me and then immediately made a play for my cupcake, which I snatched back pretty desperately (hollering “no, Gene!” as was inevitable). Paul was, uh, doing his karate kicks a little too close to my face for me to attempt a fistbump there. 

They of course did another q&a session with the two-timers, and on impulse, I actually raised my hand. For the first couple minutes of the q&a, Eric had ended up on mic duty-- and was actually right by my row. He immediately handed me the mic-- I asked him, “are you sure you wanna give this to me,” and he just urged me forward with his hand on my shoulder. So I was like, “well, okay,” and he urged me to keep on walking (i guess so the footage could be properly recorded... or deleted!)-- I was maybe ten/twelvish feet away before I opted to stop. 

In all the years I’ve been into KISS, you may have believed I’d have many questions for them. Only one of them is actually appropriate-- one I’d first submitted three years ago for a q&a, that understandably, did not get picked. I decided to go ahead and ask it right then and there.

“Hi, Gene!” (I had forgotten to say my name or where I was from) “I was a little kid during the Reunion tour and y’all used to scare the crap of me back then when I’d see you on T.V., and my mom’d say ‘oh, it’s just KISS’-- but anyway. My question has nothing to do with the band or music or anything like that-- but did you ever watch Dark Shadows?” 

Gene looked completely thrown off. In fifty years, I do not believe anyone had ever asked him that question. 

And then he started talking about the show in a pretty fair amount of depth. He said yeah, in the 1860′s [joke about being old] -- 1960′s, it was a gothic soap opera about a vampire that came on at 3:30 (I raised my fingers for four, and he corrected to 4) every weekday. Eric started arguing him over the time/timezone it came on (because evidently in sixth grade, Eric was also watching the show!), etc. and Paul even started reminiscing on very, very specific aspects of the show, not just Barnabus Collins, but stuff like “Quentin’s Theme,” which became a minor pop hit, and said he watched the show every single day. 

Gene turned to me finally after all that and asked, basically, why in the world I’d asked that question. “My mom used to watch that show and I figured since y’all were into the kind of gothic, creepy stuff, that you probably did too,” I said, and then Paul turned to Gene and said “It’s because you look dead!” and I wailed “Nononono y’all look great, y’all look great!” and that was it. The very tail end of their answers to my question can be found here (first 20 seconds or so); I have not found a recording of the full question yet, but if anyone does, please let me know! I would love to see.

KISS means as much to me as it does, ultimately, because of my mother. I love my mother more than anyone else in this world. And so, to me, knowing that over 50 years ago, she, Paul, and Gene (and Eric) were all in their parents’ houses, happily watching Dark Shadows every day after school... that meant more to me than anything either of them could’ve said about a song, or a tour, or anything. It was, for me, the highlight of the Kruise. I’m 33; that’s far too old, in my opinion, to be bitter or stay bitter. I see KISS because I want to be reminded of something special, something finer. I’d like to think that for maybe a moment or two, they might’ve gotten to think back, for just a moment-- very unexpectedly-- to a happy time themselves. I’d like that a lot.

[elsyrel]

Any Wuya headcanons?

Yep, I have some headcanons, many of them are pretty popular ones, haha!! For example...

Wuya was once the Xiaolin Dragon of Earth. For me, it makes sense. First: even though her main source of power is magic, she also knows martial arts... and kicks ass (remember how Omi, Kimiko, Raimundo and Clay couldn't win a fight against her? Four against one and they didn’t stand a chance). She is a master of martial arts, just like any other monk. Second: her powers are not any kind of powers... they are heavily focused on earth. Third: I think that’d be cool, lmao. I think she was a similar case to Raimundo... tempted by the Heylin side, but in her case she didn’t come back to the Xiaolin side. That’s why she tries to keep Rai by her side... she is perpetuating what she did herself in the past. I also headcanon Chase as the Dragon of Water (that’s why he has an affinity to Omi), Dashi probably as the Dragon of Air (teasing and lazy like Rai), and Guan as the Dragon of Fire (stubborn and fierce).

She is Jack’s distant ancestor. Both have a tendency for the Heylin side, both redheads, both paint their faces... I like to think that wickedness runs deep in Jack’s family, cause they have the blood of one of the most evil witches ever, Wuya (I headcanon Jack’s grandma as evil too... she helped him by giving him his helibot). Wuya is an ancient being, it could be that she had descendants at some point... although it could also be that she and Jack share the same roots, but she is not the direct ancestor, only related. I’m not 100% settled for any of the two options :/

She was human once, and the magic that allows her to be immortal has the same origin as Chase’s Lao Mang Long soup. Why do I think this? For several reasons. A human shouldn’t be able to live that long... and I don’t think there are that many ways to reach immortality. I think Wuya always was a natural for magic... and she found a way into that kind of magic that could perpetuate herself. But that magic have some consequences... the most important one, it alters one’s chi. That magic that keeps her alive also makes her turn to the heylin side little by little, and that’s what ultimately made her leave the Xiolin side and fight her old companions. That magic also have a physical secondary effect: it makes your ears pointy, lmao (maybe a sign that you are losing your humanity). You think I’m saying dumb stuff? Observe Chase’s ears... when he drinks the Lao Mang Long soup, his ears are pointy, but when he was on the Xiaolin side, his ears were normal. Wuya’s ears are pointy just like Chase’s when he’s under the effects of the soup. However, I headcanon that Wuya found a natural way into that kind of magic, it came naturally to her... on the other hand, Chase is not naturally good at magic (at least not at first, when he was a monk) so he needed an external/artificial way to reach that state/use that kind of magic, and that artificial help is the soup that Roy gave him. Anyway, to sum up: Wuya was human, but thanks to her natural magic talent she reached immortality, but that magic turned her evil little by little.

Thank you for your request :D!!

[a-funny-little-sunflower]

Lady Dimitrescu x male reader

[For my simp of a friend, Magnus and for @markiplier]

You were travelling through Europe, and you were currently staying in a little village near a large castle. The village was a tad too religious for your liking, but you couldn’t judge, and besides, the forest and castle made the most beautiful backdrop for painting habits.

One night, when you couldn’t sleep, you’d had the impulsive decision to go on a bit of walk through the snowy landscape, the fresh cool air being too much of a temptation for you to surpass.

However, you had wandered too far and before long, a sea of darkness had enveloped you, and there wasn’t even a star in the sky to guide you back to where you were staying.

Thankfully, your phone hadn’t died just yet, so you had that salvation in being able to see where you were putting your feet. But, on an icy path, being able to see where your going doesn’t mean you aren’t going to fall, and you learnt that the hard way.

You were trying to slowly make your way down an icy hill, and even with your special winter boots, it was difficult, and then all of a sudden, your feet came out from under you without warning and the last thing you remember before everything went dark was sliding down the hill and hearing something moving in the distance.

When you awoke, you felt a cold metal chain wrapped around your wrists, and you were being dragged along a cold forest floor by it.

When you managed to crane your neck enough to see who exactly was dragging you, you were met with broad shoulders and some brown locks just barely visible underneath what seemed to be a hat of some kind.

The man must have felt you staring because he turned his to look at you, and without ceasing in his dragging, he said “You might wanna catch a few more winks there handsome, we’re a long way from the castle yet, and you won’t be doing much sleeping when Alcina gets her hands on ya.”

The broad-shouldered man’s words intrigued you, but you were already feeling your eyes slip close once more, so you had no chance to ask him what he meant.

When you finally woke up again, you heard the voices of 3 women, chattering excitedly together, like an orchestra of birds.

“Oh, I just know that Alcina will love him! He just perfect, isn’t he? Oh, this will be just a lovely present, and it’s a good thing Heisenberg found him when he did, if he hadn’t, he probably would have frozen to death!” The first woman said excitedly.

“I don’t see why we have to keep him alive, why not make use of his body and blood and be done with it?” The second woman with a seductive voice asked.

“Because he bears the same mark as Alcina, don’t you see it on his wrist, see, look, look! Sister, you’re not looking!” The first said is whiny tone, she must be the youngest.

“Well, so what if he does?” The second woman snapped, “That doesn’t mean anything!”

“Oh, you are so stupid, sister!”

“Sisters please…” A third voice entered the conversation, and she must have held authority over the other two because they went silent immediately.

“The fact that he bears the same mark as Alcina means that he is her soulmate, and unless you wish to suffer her wrath, I wouldn’t even think touching him”. She said in a firm warning tone.

“Yes, sister,” the other 2 women said in unison. “Good, now come, we must tell Lady Dumitrescu that her beloved one has finally arrived, just as Mother Miranda promised.” The sound of 3 pairs of heeled footsteps echoed out the door of the room you were in, and you were left alone with your thoughts.

Where were you, and who were those women? Why were they talking about your birthmark, and most importantly, who was Lady Dumitrescu?

Lady Dumitrescu. You liked that name.

Although your limbs were sore and your back ached, you found the strength to get to your feet and look around the room. It looked like it was fit for a Lord.

The bed was a massive four-poster, there was a roaring fireplace and two seats sitting opposite each other right beside the fireplace, a desk, and a painting…Wait…Painting?

Above the fireplace, was a painting of the most divine looking woman you had ever seen in your entire life. The woman seemed to ooze confidence as if she knew that she was better than you and wasn’t afraid to bring attention to that fact. Her golden eyes seemed to glow, and you couldn’t tell if that was because of the firelight or perhaps it was some kind of divine intervention.

After all, surely there had to be some kind of divine intervention to make a being of such beauty.

You had been so transfixed with the staring at the beautiful woman in the painting that you hadn’t heard the door creak open, nor had you heard the click of heels getting closer to you and you were yet to be hit with the realization that the subject of portrait you were currently fawning over, was standing right behind you.

What finally got your attention was the fact that a shadow was being cast right over the portrait, causing your view to be obstructed and that enraged you.

You quickly span around, ready to confront the person that would dare to obstruct the viewing of a Goddess, but what you were met with was the Goddess herself, standing proudly in all her glory.

She was even more gorgeous in the flesh; everything was made to perfection. She was incredibly tall, taller than you could have imagined, wearing a beautiful white dress that complimented her pale complexion, hugged every curve of her elegant form, and displayed her breast in the most exquisite manner. She stood with the confidence of a queen, and if someone had said that she was the very being who hung the stars in the sky, you would have believed them in an instant.

You must have stood there admiring her form for what seemed like years, you couldn’t even bring yourself to blink because you want to miss a single second of this angel before you.

Your final breaking point was when Lady Dumitrescu must have found your smitten expression humorous, and let a smile grace her gorgeous face. Her dazzling smile had such an effect on you that it caused you to drop to your knees in what you could only assume to be worship.

Lady Dumitrescu stared down at your trembling form for a few moments, still smiling and then began to speak. “Come now darling, there will plenty of other times for you to get down on your knees for me in the future, let’s just a conversation first hmm?”

You nodded dumbly, left star struck by the goddess in front of you and allowed her to help you to your shaking feet and guide you to a chair by the fireplace. You shakily sat down without taking your eyes off her and waited for her to speak once more.

“Darling, do you know why you’re here?” She asked. You silently shook your head and the Lady Dumitrescu spoke again. “You were brought to my castle by little brother because he noticed the mark on your wrist, it’s identical to mine and it means that we are destined to be soulmates, just as Mother Miranda prophesied.”

She stated all this like it was already written history, but she hesitated for a moment before speaking again. “Are you aware of what that means, and are you comfortable with it?”

It took a moment for all of Alcina’s words to register but you eventually understood. You and Alcina were destined to be together, the fates had written it long before the creation of the world, and after all, who were you to argue with fate?

You smiled at your newly found soulmate, and you felt as though for the first time in your life, you were completely whole. You reached forwards, gathered her hand and pressed a soft, sweet kiss to it, sealing your love for one another for all eternity.

[a-clockwork-justice]

Everything I Love About Loser Geek Whatever

So, not too long ago, it was the third birthday of Loser Geek Whatever. Yes, I know the single was released on November 30th 2018 and its considered the song’s official birthday, but the 26th July three years ago was the first showing of the 2018 Off-Broadway revival of Be More Chill and the first time Loser Geek Whatever was shown to the world in any capacity. Therefore, I consider that day to be the song’s unoffical birthday and I’ve been waiting to write down everything I love about it so here I am. (This was originally gonna be posted on the 26th July but I can’t make anything concise so it took longer than that).

I’ve gone on and on about what Loser Geek Whatever means to me personally, how a slew of random chance introduce me to it, got me deep into Be More Chill, introduced me to 90% of my current friends, and overall up-ended my whole life, but now it’s time to dissect the song itself and why it’s so great. As much as I adore Loser Geek Whatever, it could’ve easily been any other song that threw me down a rabbit hole and that I could’ve latched onto- no, wait, it couldn’t have been, because Loser Geek Whatever is unique in that way. I did about a year of music at A-Level so I’m gonna delve into some of the technical aspects here too. I’m chronicling this mostly for myself so I am going as deep as I see fit because this song is a treasure hiding yet more treasures. If you happen to love Loser Geek Whatever as much as I do, this’ll be your goldmine.

So, grab a snack my fellow fans, because here’s a comprehensive list of everything to love about Loser Geek Whatever in roughly chronological order. Long post incoming:

The song starts off strong from the first millisecond - I don’t know what instrument(s) they used but just listen to the single version again - that opening chord blares at you like a siren. It calls for your attention, screaming this is incredibly important, and indeed it is. That chord, an F chord, has no indication as to whether it’s major or minor - it’s just the tonic F with its dominant C and another tonic F above it. In other words, it’s unresolved, it hangs in the air. From a narrative standpoint, Jeremy is at a crossroads, torn between giving into the SQUIP or staying loyal to Michael, and the music paints this. It has the same effect on both the single and album versions - I always hold my breath as it holds, it’s the gap in this crucial transition for Jeremy between who he was and him becoming something he isn’t.

To continue the thread of musical painting, the melody line contains the accidental E-flat which doesn’t belong to the key of F major. This once again illustrates Jeremy’s uncertainty, but there’s more - the whole introduction is a slowed-down version of the Apocalypse of the Damned theme from Two Player Game, arguably the point in the show when Michael and Jeremy’s relationship was at its strongest. Jeremy’s recalling everything he had with Michael, but the slowing down of the melody shows hesitancy, along with highlighting the accidental E flat. These latter points of course aren’t unique to Loser Geek Whatever - they’re also in the section of Upgrade that twins with Loser Geek Whatever. I’m just laying out why they work so well. 

I’m glad I waited until after I saw the show in London to finish writing this - I’m something of a Loser Geek Whatever purist, as made clear by my ire at them cutting it in half and tacking the end of Upgrade back on for the London version. I still enjoyed the show in London though and I’m glad I knew about this change ahead of time, because they did change something about the song that I think really worked - they added two notes in the bass to each bar, like heartbeats, which once again signifies Jeremy’s uncertancy and the importance of this major turning point.

It’s been firmly established by this point that Jeremy is a loser and he knows it. He doesn’t want to be a hero, he just wants to survive, but there’s a difference between that and feeling “inconsequential.” Jeremy is basically admitting that, in his eyes, it doesn’t matter to the world or anyone except Michael if he even survives or not. He’s not just a loser, or a geek - he’s a whatever, with no one caring who he is. And he’s felt this way for years - since middle school began. He’s now in his Junior year of high school - that’s five years of being in this state of being unnoticed at best and picked on at worst. He’s “the one who’s left out”. With just one little line, hell, one word, we’re given more layers as to why he so badly wants to change that.

Moving from the first verse to the chorus, we start to see Jeremy’s attitude shift, from being sad to being angry - he’s frustrated, resentful that he’s spent so long in this state (A lot of people have made similar comparisons about Will Roland’s Jeremy as a whole in relation to Will Connolly’s Jeremy and I think this song exemplifies that). He doesn’t deserve to feel this horrible - not now and certainly not for the next two years until he and Michael can be “cool in college.” When you think about it, what options does he really have? He could either give into the SQUIP or reject it and go back to where he was, still miserable and lonely. Yes, he has Michael and Michael is an amazing, kind, loyal best friend, but as many have pointed out, he’s also dismissive of Jeremy’s feelings of inadequacy whether he means to be or not, which only made Jeremy feel more lonely. Should Jeremy just expect to feel better about himself at some point before college? He’s waited for years, why would that happen at any other point?

More layers baby! Second verse, Jeremy rants on about his father’s advice about following his own instincts and how it’s gotten him nowhere he wants to be. Come to think of it, Michael’s advice about staying the same and waiting for their environment to change can be seen as similar - it’s arguably easier for Michael as he has two loving mothers who undoutably give him plenty of positive reinforcement. Meanwhile, Jeremy’s mother has left them, which likely instilled further feelings of not being good enough, and his father has fallen apart to the point where he can’t even put pants on, let alone step up to take care of his son, meaning that Jeremy likely isn’t going to take his advice very seriously, especially after it’s failed him so thoroughly. But to Jeremy, the problem isn’t necessarily the advice itself - it’s that it’s being followed by him. So now he’s going to turn around and put his life and every choice in something else’s hands, even if - no, especially if it goes against his own instincts. It still doesn’t feel quite right, it “feels bizarre”, but it’s getting him somewhere, so it has to be right in the most meaningful capacity, and to Jeremy, the “most meaningful capacity” is any capacity that isn’t his own.

Now the best line - the one about being a “normal, handsome guy”. Let’s get this on the table - Jeremy is trans. Will Roland himself said that he often thinks of the show’s young trans fans when he sings that line. Naturally, societal transphobia plus gender dysphoria would have a pretty catestrophic effect on the self-esteem of any growing teenager, even more so one in Jeremy’s situation for the reasons I’ve just laid out. He’s probably missed out on a lot of things that “normal” guys take for granted, with most girls barely looking in his direction, let alone in any positive manner. Jeremy’s own sexuality aside, it’s mostly society, and the SQUIP by extension, that considers scoring with girls to be a “manly” or masculine activity, and through Brooke treating him as dateable material, Jeremy feels better about fitting into society’s rules of how a man should be and act. This isn’t the only reason he feels good about Brooke finding him attractive, of course, but it’s just another layer that Jeremy sees more value in conforming to how society says he should be rather than in how he actually is.

I know I just said that the last point was about the best line, but honestly, there’s more than one best line in this song. The bridge is where we start to see Jeremy’s language becoming more technologically inclined - “prompt”, “command” and “bandwidth” are all terms used in computing and used to show how Jeremy is likening himself, or his intentions, to a computer, effectivly merging himself and his SQUIP into one entity and Jeremy willingly giving over his own individuality.

And HERE, we get to the kicker. I’ve talked a lot about layers throughout this whole essay, about themes and motifs building on each other. Jeremy is essentially peeling back the layers of his own situation and only finding reason after deeper reason after deeper reason as to why he should follow the SQUIP and not be a loser anymore. Now, he hits the core, the seed, the crux of it all - “The problem has ALWAYS BEEN ME!!” Everything he is, everything that makes Jeremy Heere himself, is and has always been wrong. This line is a gut punch and EVERYONE knows it - the performer always takes a few seconds to let it sink in before continuing.

As an aside, I wanna mention the differences between the single and the album versions of the bridge. The album version starts of quieter after the vocalising of the last chorus, and builds up to the climactic final line, while the single version is loud all the way through but gets even louder and punchier at the end. Both are good, but I personally prefer the single version - the album sounds like Jeremy is broken and desperate and on the verge of tears as he reaches his inevitable but ugly realisation. The single is also desperate, but it’s pleading and all-consuming and a THOUSAND times more powerful, I get chills every time I hear it. (Side note, the London version starts of loud like the single and ends quieter like the album, almost as if Jeremy is reluctant to admit what he truly believes about himself, and it’s easy to see why, it’s a damn harsh condemnation).

“Take a breath and get prepared” - Jeremy sings to both himself and the audience. The first half has been heavy and we need a breather. Yet just before he goes over the brink, he has second thoughts. His conscience, his own voice in his head, breaks through, warning him that his choice will have consequences for other people than himself. People will get hurt - Michael most of all. Not just by Jeremy ditching him; here’s something else - when Jeremy is the “cool dude”, he might end up being a bully to those who are losers just like him, cutting them down just as Rich’s SQUIP made Rich do to him. Who would be the perfect target for Jeremy’s potential future bullying? His former best friend and fellow loser, Michael Mell. It’s pretty damn likely that if the SQUIP hadn’t optic nerve blocked Michael, it would’ve told Jeremy to pick on him, and even though Michael has ostensibly been pretty good at brushing these things off before, the takedowns would hurt a LOT more coming from his former best friend - and we know this because IT ACTUALLY HAPPENS, granted without the SQUIP influencing Jeremy directly (also let’s just clear up that just because the SQUIP wasn’t on doesn’t mean its influence on Jeremy hadn’t disappeared - that’s not how emotional abuse works).

Twelve years of loyal friendship, of borderline unhealthy codependency … can he throw all that away for Christine, a girl he’s thus admired from afar and is only just starting to get to know as a person? Moreover, even if Jeremy gets Christine, what about himself, who he wants to be? He just wants to be something other than himself because he thinks that anything is better but … what? The cool dude, the hero or … whatever. He’ll take anything because he’s that desperate, but what about when he gets it? Will he finally be satisfied? Will it be worth failing his one real friend, an act so scummy that the only way he could possibly stomach it would be to somehow pretend he hadn’t done it?

But none of those questions matter to Jeremy now - he’s fully gaslit into believing that every thought and inclination that comes from himself is wrong and shouldn’t be followed. He needs to sync up with the SQUIP and the rest of the world and mute his own defective inner voice. When you think about it, the relationship between Jeremy and the SQUIP is one of the most intense abusive relationships ever put to fiction - we’ve seen emotional abuse and brainwashing before, but here, Jeremy is literally preventing from THINKING the wrong way because the SQUIP can detect his every thought. See what I mean when I say that doesn’t go away when the SQUIP turns off for a few minutes?!

Throughout all of this is the undercurrent of Jeremy wanting to get better. He’s been trying so hard for so long to have a better life, but nothing has worked. Not listening to his dad, not trying to get closer to Christine through theatre, and certainly not listening to Michael’s advice to wait until college. Why should he resign himself to even more time being miserable with no end in sight? After all, being cool in college isn’t a guarantee. After all he’s been through, it’s his turn to finally be cool, after an eternity of being someone he doesn’t want to be.

Another best line in this song - “I’m Player One.” As mentioned a few times in the show before, like in the Broadway upgrade, Jeremy feels lower even in his friendship with Michael - he’s Player 2 as the more experienced Michael is Player 1. As previously established, Jeremy admits that he’s “not the one who the story’s about.” Now he’s ready to finally take control of his life, be the main character and have good things happen to him, and that means cutting out Michael, the old Player 1. The irony here is that Jeremy is less like Player 1 and more like a video game avatar. In reality, the SQUIP is Player 1, making Jeremy do whatever it demands of him.

More best lines! The slew of insults towards the end serves not just as yet more gut punches for the audience but as a major catharsis for Jeremy - It’s telling that the insults get harsher as his rant goes on, from the “weirdo” to the “weakling freak” to the “failure” to the climactic “please don’t speak”. He’s unloading everything that he’s been carrying over the years, ripping out the bullets that have been embedded in his skin and re-opening all the wounds in the process, but he’s done with the pain and he’ll never ever let himself be hurt like that again, if he follows the SQUIP.

I’ve made a whole post about the significance of the best line “Please Don’t Speak” before so I’ll mostly be repeating a lot of what I said there because it’s been a while since that post and because I want to. Who would’ve said that to Jeremy? Probably not Rich or Chloe, it’s not like them. It had to have come from an adult in a position of authority that could’ve commanded Jeremy not to speak like that - one that apparently did so enough times for him to internalise those words like he did the others. (Even worse if it was more than one adult ...). Out of all of the insults, it’s easy to see how that can easily be the most scarring out of all of them - how would an adult let a child know they’re inadequate? By silencing them. Making it clear that their expression of self not only means nothing, but should be forcibly avoided. Put like that, it makes it much easier to see how and why Jeremy fell under the SQUIP’s influence so easily - telling it was hardly different from authority figures he’s experienced before. In even more sad irony, as Jeremy claims that he’s breaking free and letting go of his past as the “please don’t speak”, he’s just walking right into another, similar trap that he can’t easily escape from. The SQUIP literally vocal cord blocks him during The Play - if that doesn’t say “Please don’t speak,” what does?!

The climax is growing! The music shifts into the relative minor as Jeremy fully gives in to the SQUIP’s evil influence. This is the point of no return, the point where he’s literally being surrounded and overtaken - if you’ve seen this on stage or even just a bootleg, you’ll know what I mean, when the lighting shifts and the circuitry start closing in around him, it’s wonderful. The bass ascends, Jeremy declares once and for all that HE IS NOT THE LOSER, THE GEEK, OR WHATEVER, and he never will be again! As some have pointed out, the sequence of notes on the final “again” is the same as at the end of Be More Chill Part 2, except the last note is different. In BMC part 2, it goes further down by a minor third, but in Loser Geek Whatever, it rises up to the same note it started with. This foreshadows Jeremy’s fate - that he will eventually overcome the SQUIP and that he still has it in him to do so. Man, let me just point out how amazing that last belt is - it lasts for a full 15 seconds in a really high range and takes a LOT of control to bring it back up to the high B without breaking. This song really was written for Will Roland - his voice can pull it off seamlessly, but other actors and understudies have had to find workarounds. No disrespect to them, it’s a damn hard song and it kicks ass all the way through. Scott Folan apparently had trouble with it too, but on the day I happened to see him, he pulled it off without breaking, so props to him!

Overall, Loser Geek Whatever is my favourite song in Be More Chill and not just for its sentimental value to myself. It’s a genuinely deep, complex piece that earned every second of its six minutes. Loser Geek Whatever is definitely the missing piece the show needed - not only is it Jeremy’s solo song, it’s also his “I Want” song and, in a way, his 11 o’clock number all in one, as he’s having a major epiphany after going on a journey, albeit only half of one. It’s easy to see why Joe Iconis dubbed this his anti-Defying Gravity, but it’s also easy to draw parallels to No Good Deed - how both Jeremy and Elphaba vow to become something that society is forcing upon them rather than what they are, even if that society’s will is objectively worse for them. Loser Geek Whatever deserves a thousand times the recognition it has and I still wonder to this day what the fandom reaction would’ve been if it had been in the original soundtrack.

So, that was it. I’m not sorry it was this long.

TL;DR: Loser Geek Whatever is wonderful and anyone who doesn’t think so is wrong.

[gardenerian]

i absolutely adore your gifs they're always so pretty and the colors are sooo perfect! any advice for someone trying to learn how to make gifs ???

i was literally sitting here despairing over a gifset and this made me wanna cry 😭 thank you! here’s a basic rundown of my process - if you have any questions please don’t hesitate! and if there’s any interest, i’m glad to do some more in depth tutorials 💕 

this is for sets like this one. if you wanna chat about other styles (like blending, black and white, or painting), or text or anything else let me know! 

first things first: import, crop, size, and adjust your frame rate. i’m assuming you’ve got that down, but if not, no worries! shoot me a message and i’ll go through that process. 

once you have your gif prepped, the fun begins! 

next up: sharpen! i use smart sharpen bc i am LAZY. to do this, convert your gif to a smart object. then head up to filter - sharpen - smart sharpen. these are my settings:

then your gif is sharpened! now, depending on the scene, you might need to play around with these settings or adjust the opacity of the filter. you can also double up for a pretty glossy look! 

now that we’re sharp, it’s time for the lighting! all of these settings are found under adjustments.

first up: curves. this adjusts contrast. for me, this step usually entails dragging the curve up to brighten. for darker scenes, sometimes i’ll adjust the input and output at the bottom. (i’m not sure how detailed this should be so please reach out if none of this makes sense!)

then comes levels. it also adjusts brightness and shadows. pull the first slider to the right to darken/increase shadow, and pull the second one to the left to lighten. i tend to leave the third one be because i don’t like how it affect image quality, but play around! (i say this a lot asdfhjs)

then head over to brightness/contrast and adjust as you like. i think curves/levels do more heavy lifting, so i don’t do as much with this. just little shifts. 

i’ve also been playing a bit with exposure lately, which is fun! play around with that setting and see what cool details pop up. 

once i’ve done this, i’ll go back and see if any of these settings need to be altered. then i color! 

to start, i do a little color correction. for shameless, this is usually important! there are a few steps for this - they may not all be necessary, so mess around with these as you like. 

first i adjust the vibrance and saturation. this really brings out the colors. i don’t yank them up too much at first, but just enough to see what colors i have to work with it. then i do the same with hue/satuation. again, just little adjustments to make everything bolder. you can always go back and add more!

i might play around with channel mixer or color balance to color correct, but i’m doing this less lately. it all depends on what the scene calls for or what vibe you want!

then i head over to selective color and go insane. you can really play around here - add color to color, increase some, decrease others. lately i’ve been focusing on the blacks and neutrals a lot - adding/decreasing red or cyan can really lift a scene! (again - if a more detailed explanation here is needed, hit me up! i can do screenshots, before/afters, etc.)

now.... this is the basic order, but a lot of time i am adjusting one setting, then going back to another, then even going back to the curves/levels... just keep messing around until you find the look you want! 

when you’re done coloring, you can add text or noise or overlays or borders or paint or gradient maps... you can put gifs ON TOP of gifs or blend them together or fade one into another..... gah there’s so much! if you’re interested in any of these effects, let me know! we can do a series 😅

[cadykeus-clay]

remember a few days ago when i said i was writing a collection of mismatched scenes of all the times that I think jester and caleb should have just kissed on the mouth? hehe :)

I.

“Caleb, can you hear through it?” she’s yelling, head tilting and eyes squinting as she looks at the one-way glass he’s just apparated in the middle of the hall. She leans in, scrunching her nose and sticking out her tongue a little as she detectives. “Can we come into it?”

He grins, he can’t help himself. “Only you.”

“Do we just hit the side of it or -” 

Her fingertips press through the barrier, disrupting the near-transparent bubble with a ripple and he reaches out his hand for hers, guides her in. Her mouth makes the cutest little oh! shape as she passes through and she can see what he’s seeing. 

“Caleb. This is so COOL!”

The grin hasn’t dropped from her face, and it spreads infectiously across his. 

“I’ve been working on this for weeks,” he says, smacking his legs with triumphant fists. 

Her grin gets even wider, sharing in that joy. A few more silent moments pass, as she takes it in with awe. 

“So, can anyone come in, or like, only people you like, or … ?”

He thinks for a moment, grins slyly. He sticks a finger out, just barely missing her nose. “You can come in.”

She leans towards him, returning the affection he seems to be offering. She gets close to his face, on purpose. She likes making him blush. “That means you like me.”

Blush he does. It’d be near impossible not to - they’re alone and unseen together, and she’s leaning towards him, her grin pushing up the freckles on her cheeks he’d love to try and count. And he’s tired, exhausted, barely functional. He’s got no strength left to carry all the layers he usually hides himself behind, but it’s alright, it’s only Jester looking anyways. 

She hasn’t pulled her face back yet, like she’s waiting for him to do something. Tease. 

Even after everything they’ve both seen these past few days, fear seems gone for just a second. They’re safe inside their shell, and no one’s watching. It would be so easy to just lean down, steal a moment to remind her that he cares, remind her that he’ll always care, remind her that he did this to keep her safe, take her mind off why. 

It would be so easy ...

******

II. 

“Can we like. Stick things through the bubble?”

“Uh. Ja, you can put your weapons through it, but no magic can come in or out. But you can leave and come back any time you want.”

“Okay. Just checking.”

She tries to hide the wince in her face as she nods a bit too heartily, jostling the half-healed slash across her chest left from panther-like claws. He notices. She notices him noticing, notices the way his brow furrows even deeper. 

“But, please. No walkabouts when we are sleeping, okay?” 

He looks up at her through those drawn-together brows when he says it, pleading more than he really needs to. She learned that lesson. But it’s still sweet to see how much he cares. 

He’s been caring a lot lately, come to think of it. Chatting with her on the boat. Checking in. Making sexy jokes when they’re supposed to be stealthing. Doing a very bad job of hiding his attempts to make sure she laughed at it.

“I’ll stay right here. I promise.” She settles back onto her hands, hoping it’ll bring a little relief to the pain starting to spark across her ribs.

“Well. That’s good enough for me.”

And he pauses for a second, just a second, like he’s giving her an invitation to double down on that promise, make sure he knows she knows someone cares, and who someone is, and that someone else cares back.

It would be so easy … 

******

III.

When she was little and read a lot of fairy tales, she’d often think about kissing a beautiful boy in a beautiful room full of paintings and tapestries and a billion things on shelves that glittered just to be pretty, and the light would somehow be reflecting off all of them at once, and his shirt would be off for reasons, and it would be glorious.

The tunnel they're in can’t really constitute as a room, but the way the crystals shimmer even in the dim glow of the Dancing Lights, rippling all around them is arguably better than shiny decorations. Caleb certainly can constitute as a beautiful boy. After all, she’s just admitted he is neither stinky nor dirty anymore. And arm wraps aren’t quite the same as a shirt, but he has taken part of his clothes off in front of her. 

Creepy snails and the third day without daylight weren’t her romantic vision, sure. But. She feels safe here, with him, and she hopes he feels safe with her. She had meant what she had said, a few days back, when he spilled his fears and his history on the floor of their wagon. She didn’t think he was a bad person. And the way he looked at her when she said it, man, he wanted to believe it. He wanted to believe it so bad. 

She ought to let him know. She ought to tell him, again, that she believes in goodness in him. She believes in love in his heart. She ought to tell him right now, in this glittering cave with his heart and arms bare before her. She ought to tell him in a way where he can’t argue back ‘cause his face will be preoccupied. 

It would be so easy …

*******

IV. 

“YOU GUYS!”

She practically burst the door to their new ally’s house down with excitement when she got back, holding out the little striped carrying box in front of her like it’s the coolest loot they’ve ever found. She bounces on her toes, making it hard for anyone to get a real look at the confections inside. 

“What do you have?” he asks, knowing she wants to tell him.

“Cupcakes!” she beams back.

“A lot of them, or?”

She flips the lid up and pushes her nose nearly into the icing topping as she examines the haul. “Well I have thirteen here, so … one, two, three -” 

He almost says the numbers along with her. Counting things and making Jester smile are both muscle memory at this point.

“ - six, so good! That’s one for each of you and the rest for me!”

He looks in the box properly now, the counting having slowed her jitteriness enough for him to try and piece out flavors. There’s some dark ones that could be chocolate, but he doubts it, and some that are paler, dotted with blue. He reaches for a blueberry one, and takes a cautious bite. 

“Caleb,” she says, pouting, and he’s worried he wasn’t supposed to try one, “you are Missing. Out.” 

She sticks her face in towards him, to make sure he can get a good look at this reprimand. She’s got a little bit of icing stuck in the corner of her mouth. 

“You can get blueberry cupcakes anywhere.”

He keeps his eyes trained on her, longer than he really ought to, but he’s trying to figure it out. 

Is that a challenge, Lavorre? Is that a promise?

It would be so easy...

*******

V. 

She has to get up on her tip toes to reach the shelf where they keep the scribing paper, pulling the stack towards her so she can count out sheets. 

“About 300 gold?” 

“Mmm.”

She counts out the sheets, thumbing them forward into a little pile that she pulls apart, before stretching up to push the rest back onto the shelf. She turns on her heel and marches for the front counter. He lingers a moment to straighten the pile on the shelf, and trails after her. 

His gaze is buried in the inside of his coat as he searches for his coin purse. His hands are still buzzing, just a little, from where she held them earlier and promised him she’d be at his side. He can’t stop thinking about it. It’s distracting him from getting his coins. 

The distinctive clink of metal on countertop jerks his gaze up just as he reaches his hand in for the first coin. She’s already dropped the gold in a neat little pile, pleasantly smiling at the clerk as she snaps the clasp on her purse shut. 

“That’s very generous of you,” he says, hand still frozen holding his own money. 

She swings around, flashing a thumbs up and a grin. She holds it a little too long for comical effect. Of course, he snickers. 

She turns to the paper on the countertop, making to gather it in her arms, but he starts, and she turns back to face him. He’s frozen there, hand just barely outstretched for her, mouth agape like he was going to say something. 

What is there to say? What can he possibly say to her, to repay everything she’s ever said to him? What can he say that’s worth the sound of her laugh, and the way her tongue sticks out a little when she smiles? What’s worth the way she brightens up a room even when she’s grumpy, the bubble to his gloom? 

What measures up to a tap on his shoulder as he turns to leave his study, and hands in his as she swears, with the most somber honesty he’s ever seen, that she watched him face what he could have been, tied up like a feral beast in a prison cell, and she stares in his eyes and tells him it’s ok, she saw it and loved him even through it, and then bought him presents afterwards just because?

He’ll never deserve her, he swears. 

She’s still looking at him, expectantly, and his mouth is still stuck open, and his hand is still halfway between the two of them. Maybe it’s just him, but the memory of her holding it seems to be burning even hotter. 

He tries to say something again, and the words aren’t coming out. She’s still waiting on him, expression starting to tip towards worry as he tries and fails to express just how overflowed his heart is right now. He can’t say it but gods, she ought to know how much she’s worth to him. Maybe he can just show her. He’ll tell her later.

It would be so easy … 

******

VI. 

The hallway is orange. Pale, warm, sort-of-translucent orange, swirling about her in patterns of lollipops and unicorn hamsters. Her own spells wrapped in the tender grip of his magic, handed to her with something like reverence. 

I believe, he had said, I have no choice. 

He’d done little things like this before, casting spells to make her and everyone else happier, letting her play with his cat because it made her smile. But he said he’d been working on this for weeks. Pouring time and sweat and his precious paper into making this thing, just for her. Everyone liked to tease her about the Traveler and how it was totally a cult, and usually she let it roll off her back, even if it stung a little on impact. And Caleb was here, telling her he took her belief in the Traveler at face value, simply because it was hers.

I don’t know anything about faith, he had said, I am learning from you.

He was a suspicious man. She knew that. He held grudges, and he mistrusted, and he had every right to. And yet all these months, he’s been putting everything he had in her hands, sure that she would not drop it. She would hold it as gently as she could.

I am the transmutation wizard, he had said, but you are the one who changes people. 

How was he supposed to know that was what she was afraid of, leaving no mark on the world at all? How was he supposed to know she made art everywhere she got the chance to in hopes that she would stop being erased, start existing outside of one little room and a handful of people? 

He wouldn’t have any reason to, except for he knew her so well, better than nearly anyone. He could tell when doubt was crawling up out of her gut, spilling its black tendrils from her mouth and across her eyes. He could see when the veneer got scratched, and he knew how to brush it just so, so it looked okay again. He knew how to comfort her. 

“It’s beautiful.” 

She knows it’s barely anything, but she doesn’t know what else to say. It caught her by surprise, and she’s reeling a little in the aftermath of seeing just how far he’s willing to go for her. 

He says something else, she barely processes, but it’s enough to get her babbling about some kind of performance. She trips over her words a little, she’s just so excited. He can tell, he smiles, and that just makes her heart jump even more. 

“But you have done so much for m- for all of us,” he says, and he’s not sneaky.

For me. She knows he was going to say it. For me. 

Tears are almost brimming in her eyes, happy ones, and he put them there. Done so much for her, she thinks, has he counted how much he’s done for me? She’s clasping her hands at her mouth, trying to keep all her feelings from coming out at once.  

He doesn’t know the half of it, everything he’s done for her. To make her feel safe, to make her feel smart, to make her feel seen, to make her feel believed in. He doesn’t know it at all, and yet the hallway is orange as a testament to how much he’s done, and she can’t let the sentiment go unreturned. 

It would be so easy … 

*******

VII.

“Didn’t go as well as you were hoping?”

His voice seems to startle her, as if she’d forgotten in her sadness that there were other people around her. He knew the feeling. 

“In some ways it went better?” she says, doubting it even as it leaves her mouth. “But. No.”

His face softens. It’s the only thing he can do, really.

Her breath is coming out shaky.

“I can’t speak for him,” he starts, offering what little encouragement he can, “but you do have us.”

“I know,” she answers, grateful even through the sadness. 

“So, whatever you land on. Jester.” He stops for a second, letting her name linger in his mouth. “We will make it happen.”

She nods, curt, tears still pricking in her eyes. “I have to figure out what I want to land on.”

He laughs, hollow and breathy, what else is there to do. He starts to reach his hand out for her, and catches it, his own hesitance getting the better of him.

He knows what he wants her to land on, he’s known for … longer than he really cares to admit. He knows he’d follow her to hell and back, that’s why he’s here on this island with her. 

He knows how hard it is to love without a compass to direct it. He knows that moonlight makes selfishness a much more appealing color. 

It’s dark, and he’s hopelessly in, and she’s searching for a place to not be so alone. He could show her a place to land. 

It would be so easy … 

******

VIII. 

He’s holding it out to her, a black ball clutched between his fingertips, just a little iridescent in the blazing sun overhead. He’s grinning, and his eyes are bright. He looks so happy, for just this moment, with a pearl in his hand. 

Forget the water pouring down their faces as they come up from the murk, plastering their hair to their foreheads at odd angles. Forget the wrench in both their guts about the monster brewing beneath their feet and in their minds. Forget the clothes sticking to their skin in all the wrong spots. Forget the sounds of their friends arguing twenty feet back. 

She jumped in the water with him for a reason, because he wanted pearls, and she wanted him to be happy, and he’s holding one out to her right now because he is, and that’s all she could really ask for.

Maybe it’ll be extra wet and slippery. Maybe it’ll taste like salt and seaweed and that weird fish stink that all bodies of water seem to have. Maybe her hands are covered in sand and they’ll get some in their mouths and it’ll be disgusting. 

Who cares? She jumped in the water with him and he’s happy. 

It would be so easy … 

******

IX.

The funny thing is, when she was little, she actually planned her wedding in this room. The canopy bed would double as the altar, gauze draping about them and the window lighting them from the back as they knelt with their hands together, wrapping them up with silk ribbon as someone spoke some formal rites. Mama would sit in the guest of honor chair at Jester’s desk, a tear running down her cheek as she watched her baby girl marry the love of her life.

Now Caleb’s in here with her and she’s realizing there’s no good angle to get the window backlight and be in full view of her Mama.

He’s lying down on the bed, because she told him to. She’s flopped down next to him, squirmed up into his side with the excuse of “small bed” but the intent of “I like the way I rest against your side”. 

He’d commented on her array of books - she knew he would. She may or may not have pulled the smarter looking titles up to the front a few visits ago, just in case.

He’d looked at her artwork too, spanning the walls in all its multicolored glory. He’d bent down to get a good look at her earliest, shittiest paintings. But not in the way where he wanted to see how bad they were, to laugh at. In the same way he looked at new artifacts they’d picked up along the road, as he traced his runes for Identify. Like he was trying to glean a missed history out of them, to get to know just a little bit more about what was in front of him now.

So she’s curled into his chest, careful with her horns, wrapping her hand over his to point out every last detail. Her other hand falls to his stomach, her fingers brush his, and neither of them pull away.

She always figured they’d fall like this, her and her husband, backward onto the bed after the ribbon was knotted to finalize their union. They’d be too happy to stand and they’d just collapse at each other’s side, and they’d plan their honeymoon like this. Pointing out places they wanted to go in her little snapshot of the cityscape, nestled into each other’s chests. 

Caleb’s enraptured, she can hear excitement in his breath, and she’s more than a little pleased. She didn’t know people cared this much about her art, about her childhood, about who she was before she became who she is. She hopes she has all the time in the world to tell him more. 

She’s still on his chest, their hands are still touching, even though she’s finished pointing out the painted landmarks. She’s kissed a lot of imaginary boys in this room. 

It would be so easy … 

******

X.

Spinning with her arms out, feet tracing circles in the snow, they haven’t even made it to the dance hall yet and she’s already waltzing like he taught her all those months ago in a scroungy gnomish bar. The cold is bringing a flush to her cheeks and god damn it, it’s cute. She’s humming. 

They could get inside where it’s warm, where they don’t need to get close for heat but they do anyway. Wrap an arm around her waist and take her hand in his. Keep her close enough to hear her giggle with each twirl he leads her on. Get drunk off her smile alone. 

Find a far corner where the music is softer and they have space to just sway together. Write new memories over old, equally as sweet, slightly less bitter. Look at that smile that won’t have faded since before they stepped through the door. Run his fingers across her jaw, save this moment in tactile too. Lean down in slow motion, as she stretches up.

It would be so easy … 

******

XI. 

“What are you drawing?” he asks, not even looking up from his spells. He’s grown comfortable with having her in his space.

“A cup of hot cocoa.”

“Are there dicks in it?”

“No, just two very lovely marshmallows.”

His head lifts up at that, gazing at her with the gleam he’s been giving his runes. He’s trying to figure her out.

“Shnuggling up next to each other,” she continues. “With consent.”

“We’re not talking about grass are we?”

“No. I’m talking about marshmallows.”

“Marshmallows?” The gleam in his eye grows a little brighter. He leans a little closer. “I thought there was a hidden meaning for a second.”

There’s a reason why she sat down here, why she wanted him next to her as she thought about love and commitment, and telling people things after all these months. There’s a reason why he didn’t start as she settled at his side. There’s a reason why he’s looking at her with a cocked grin on his face, sure of himself, in a way that he so rarely is. 

Maybe she wanted him to figure her out. Maybe she’s been trying to get him to figure her out for a while. He’s starting to turn back to his spells, so maybe she needs to get even a little more obvious.

It would be so easy...

******

XII.

She knocked on the door with her heart already in her throat, but the second she stepped through the door and saw him looking over at her, tired but welcoming, it started to settle back where it belonged. 

“Caleb. Will you cast tongues on me? YouknowImeanthespell,” she said, rushing words out because her heart was starting to leap back up again. “I just want to read the book.”

He nervously tucks some hair behind his ear. “I could read it to you, if you want?”

She knew he’d offered before, but she’s still surprisingly happy that he’s done it again. “Okay.”

He stands, wiping stained ink from his fingers on his pants as he leaves his desk, gesturing her over towards his fireplace. She swears as she walks over the flames get a little taller. She’s always liked it warmer than Caleb does. 

She flops down onto the couch, wiggling a little bit to get comfortable. She pats the seat next to her and he obliges. She holds the book out and he takes it from her, so very gently, and she can’t tell if it’s just the way he treats books, or the way he treats her, or both. 

He clears his throat as he prepares to open the cover, glancing over to make sure she’s ready. She scooches a bit closer, resting her cheek against his shoulder, you know, to see the pictures better, and hums to let him know he can start. 

He talks to her in a quiet kind of voice. It’s soft, and it makes his chest rumble, and it feels like home. She could close her eyes and fall asleep here, and she can bet he wouldn’t even get up and risk disturbing her. She nearly does, but he’s stopping every few sentences to show her the pictures, without her even asking, he just knows she wants to see them. He’s pointing out the hidden cat on every page. She loves that he still remembers where they all are.

“That was a happy story, Caleb!” she says, mostly to his shoulder, because she doesn’t want to move from where she’s nestled herself. 

“Mhm,” he agrees. “That’s why my mother read it to me.”

“I really thought, like, the cat prince was going to trap him in there forever, and then he wouldn’t be able to go and see his mother.” She cranes her head up now, propping her chin on his arm, stabilizing herself with arms she was barely aware she’d wrapped around his waist. 

“Well,” he says, turning his head towards her and finding their noses nearly touching, “a lot of Zemnian stories do end that way.”

She laughs, he smiles, and neither of them want to move. 

“The Cat Prince kind of reminds me of the Traveler,” she muses. She buries her face back in his shoulder as she talks, squeezing her arms a little tighter around him. 

“It’s true, isn’t it?” 

It’s a question only in technicality. The way his voice sounds as he says it, she can tell. He’s read so many stories, he could have picked any to leave in her room, but he chose this one about a boy and a bedroom and a magic cat and a brief escape, with a happy ending. He knew she’d ask. He wanted her to. 

She’s glad she did. She’s glad he knows her so well. She’s glad for the way he turned up the fire to make her comfortable. She’s glad for the smile that’s still on his lips, lasting longer than his smiles usually do. She’s glad she’s here with him, after everything they’ve seen and heard and done. She’s just glad. 

Gods, she’s so in love with him.

It would be so easy.

fin.

[caffeinated-cryptid]

ashes, ashes.

10.8k | AO3 link | tags/tws: intrulogical, serial killer/deity of death au, lots of death (murder, mentions of a previous suicide attempt, and brief descriptions of animal death), injury, violence, swearing, morally grey characters, crime.

““You’re not supposed to be able to see me.” Logan blurted out with a start, eyes wide and looking at Remus like he had just killed a guy in front of him. Oh wait-

“Mamma always told me I was special.” Remus replied with a woozy grin, leaving back against the cool bricks of the alleyway. Seeing things that weren’t there was a new level of fucked-up for his brain, but hopefully that was just a side effect of hitting his head and not something he’d have to take pills for later. Either way, at least this spectre was pretty to look at. Trauma had its benefits.

“You think a deity of death is pretty?” Logan asked wryly, cutting through the stream of subconscious babble he’d accidentally spilled into the frigid night air. “I’d be flattered, if that didn’t sound like such a red flag.””

(aka: remus chases death like it's his favourite pastime, since it means he gets to see logan again. understandably, logan has some objections to this.)

--------------

Case 1: the man in the alley.

The first time Remus and Logan met, it was more or less a complete accident.

As a part-time warehouse operative slash freelance artist, Remus had a lot of free time between jobs, and one of the things he enjoyed doing most while waiting for his next gig to come around was spray-painting obscene images into the side of alleys. 

His latest project was a 7-foot tall purple unicorn with generous proportions. Pretty tasteful by his standards, all things considered.

If nothing else, the piece of work would give passers-by a topic of conversation, and that was always something Remus aimed to inspire with his art. These topics, however, often happened to be the ‘why’ variety. Most commonly, the old classic (and his personal favourite): ‘why are you like this?’.

Regrettably, the evening passed pretty quickly with no curious pedestrians passing by his alley and starting up such a conversation. By the time Remus finished, it was past midnight and by now the only people around were the regular nightlife-- primarily the local college kids who had recently come home and were enjoying their break from classes, and adults like himself who were trying to chase away their loneliness with some other kind of high.

...Woo, and that’s enough depressing thoughts for tonight. Remus declared to himself. After all, he had a new piece to admire! Stepping back, he spent a moment taking in the completed artwork by the light of his phone’s torch before deciding it was as perfect as it could get. He’d come back later and get a picture during the daytime to show off to his friends, so for now he begun preparing to leave by packing his paint cans into his backpack.

It was when he had collected the last can of magenta from the ground that he felt something grab the back of his coat hood. Remus had no time to process the fact that someone had snuck into the alleyway before he was shoved against the same wall he'd painted his mural on, coming face-to-face with a hooded man waving a rather pathetic-looking pocket knife at him.

“Give me your money. Now.” The man demanded.

Remus blinked in delayed surprise. Usually he was the one being the creep in the alleyway. He had never expected to come across an actual creep. Heck, this situation felt like it was pulled straight out of an old PSA with how stereotypical it was.

“What?” He blurted out unthinkingly, because of that exact train of thought. 

“You heard me! I want you to get your wallet and hand over everything you’ve got.”

What an unfortunate victim this man has chosen.

“You think I have any money to my name? I’m practically the starving artist every parent warns their kid about becoming.” Remus said with a huff of amusement.

“Don’t try to bullshit me!” The hand clutching the front of his coat tugged him forward before violently slamming him back against the bricks. The back of Remus’ head ricochetted off them roughly with the sudden movement, and the small grin he had been wearing quickly faded with flash of pain and the realization he may actually be in trouble.

“I saw the paint you’ve got in your bag,” The man continued over his dawning concern. “Somebody who’s broke wouldn’t have all that.”

Remus’ thoughts halted for a second. His bag…! He knew the paint can he was holding onto for dear life wouldn’t do much in the way of self-defense given that it was practically empty, but a whole bag of them? Hitting this guy with that much weight would make him think twice about trying to stab him, at least.

“Okay, okay. You got me, I’m rich as hell. Just let me get it, alright? My wallet's in there.”

The man gave him a skeptical look, but stepped back slightly, continuing to hold the weapon in his direction. “I know how to throw knives. Try to run and you’ll have a hole in your back quicker than an onset stroke.”

Yikes, and Remus thought he was bad at metaphors. He didn’t even need Virgil here to tell him that that made no sense. Still, he grinned placatingly. “Cross my heart and hope to die, stick a needle in my eye: I won’t run.”

Finally, bad-metaphor guy let down his guard and allowed Remus to side-step around him. He walked a few paces towards where he dropped his backpack in his initial shock, putting the magenta spray in before he picked it up by the straps. True to his word, he didn't run; instead he swung around on his heel, slamming the full force of his hardback sketchbooks and cans of spray paint into the face of the hooded man.

He instantly dropped his knife, falling backwards and clutching his nose as blood erupted from it. Under the low-lighting of the street lamp, Remus was transfixed for a second, feeling like he was in one of those gritty r-rated movies he watched with his babysitter as a kid. The moment was ruined when he realized that 1) the man was approaching again very quickly, and 2) he couldn’t get the momentum quick enough to swing his bag around and hit him a second time.

Before he knew it, Remus had accidentally let go of the makeshift weapon when he was tackled to the ground, wind completely knocked out of him as the two of them collided against cobblestone moistened with rain.

“You fucking bastard.” The guy hissed furiously. His voice was nasally now that his nose was crooked and broken-looking, and Remus almost wanted to poke fun of him for it until he felt two hands wrap around his throat and start to choke him. “‘Could’ve just made things easy, but now you’re gonna die with all the other trash.”

Why? Remus wanted to ask. Over the 7 dollars and 15 cents he had?

But as he tried to tear away the vice grip on his neck, he couldn’t find the voice to talk back, even though the seriousness of the situation was hitting him like a freight train. Maybe it was his own fault for escalating things instead of playing along. Go figure, he had overestimated his own abilities after years being the off-putting one; the person others thought they had to watch over their shoulder for. Either that, or maybe it was the fact that his wallet carried more sentimental value with it than monetary. It was small and made of orange ducktape, but it carried so many things that Remus wanted to protect; a photo of his family, one of Virgil's guitar picks, the ticket to the last Tenacious D he went to, and of course, the receipt for his first condom purchase.

His mind flashed to his friends and family, and he wondered how they’d feel about this; him dying because of some dumb robber in a dumb alleyway because he was painting his dumb artwork. That was hardly the kind of death one could look back on and regard with pride (Hell if it wasn't funny to imagine how everyone will react to the news, though). But as he focused on the face above him, he realized with some panic that the grip wasn’t loosening, even as he could feel his lungs burn and a near-soothing feeling telling him to just let go.

As a final act of desperation to save himself from becoming a wholly embarrassing funeral eulogy instead of having a rockstar’s death in his 40s like he always imagined for himself, he patted the ground frantically, looking for a loose rock or something to stop this with. That’s when he felt it; the slightly warm plastic handle of the knife the guy had been holding. Remus’ heart pounded as he realized what he needed to do, and he barely even considered the repercussions of the action before he was plunging the knife into the side of the guy’s neck.

Finally, the grip around his throat loosened as the guy gasped, his expression flickering back and forth between anger and shock. Remus ripped the knife away, inhaling air greedily when the sudden action caused the man to loosen his grip and move off of him, trying to cover the stab wound with his hands and failing.

Remus quickly scrambled back and pulled himself up the wall, watching and waiting for the guy to fall still. He did, after what felt like a few minutes, and Remus didn’t know whether to cry or laugh. He’d just killed a man. It was self-defence, but still… even the morbid thoughts he had over the years couldn't have prepared him for what it would have actually felt like to go through with any of it.

In that moment of pause, his injuries caught up with him as both his head and neck begun to ache. He was so disoriented that he barely even noticed the third person standing in the alley until they spoke up.

“Well. I didn’t see that coming.”

Remus snapped his head towards the source of the voice, and immediately regretted it when the hasty motion made him dizzy. The only reason he didn’t immediately jump into fight mode was because of the unusually casual way the voice had spoken. Beyond that, the figure he saw standing a short distance away didn’t really… look like a regular person. Beyond the odd formal clothing that had no discernable modern style to it and the shock of white hair that could only be achieved with hella bleach, his skin was a cool grey like a cadaver and he had a ghostly appearance to him; transparent and misty around the edges.

Definitely not the sort of thing Remus expected to see, but he was always one to accommodate the unexpected. 

“...You and me both. My only goal for today was to draw unicorn porn.” Remus replied lightly, once he decided it wouldn't hurt to entertain whatever was currently happening.

The figure turned, startling at the sight of Remus staring directly at him.

“You’re not supposed to be able to see me.” He blurted out with wide eyes, looking at Remus like he had just killed a guy in front of him. Oh wait-

“Mamma always told me I was special.” Remus replied with a woozy grin, leaving back against the cool bricks of the alleyway. Seeing things that weren’t there was a new level of fucked-up for his brain, but hopefully that was just a side effect of hitting his head and not something he’d have to take pills for later. Either way, at least this spectre was pretty to look at. Trauma had its benefits.

“You think a deity of death is pretty?” The man (deity???) asked wryly, cutting through the stream of subconscious babble he’d accidentally spilled into the frigid night air. “I’d be flattered, if that didn’t sound like such a red flag.”

"I can't believe my own brain is kinkshaming me." Remus whined, slipping down slightly as the worn-down soles of his boots lost their grip on the concrete for a second. 

Death frowned, until a metaphorical lightbulb lit over his head. "Ah- you think you're hallucinating. Well, that's not an unfair assumption. Keep believing it, by all means."

"That doesn't sound like something a hallucination would say." Remus pointed out.

"Well then, I'll gladly prove my non-existence by disappearing." Death said as he took a step towards the body.

"Wait!" Remus called before he could figure out why. The ghostly figure stopped, looking at him with a raised eyebrow. Remus’ composure slipped as his eyes darted between the body and Death. "I...I need to know that this is real. That I'm not making this up. This feels like something I'd dream, but…" 

His hand clenched around the knife, feeling the squelch of blood and the tremor of his hand. Despite the mixed signals he was currently getting on the state of his sanity, it felt solid and real, and Remus wasn’t sure what to make of that.

"Fuck. Please tell me! Am I being as messed up as usual or did I really just kill someone?"

Death’s eyes softened. "You did. This is real." 

"Well shit. Okay…" Remus looked back at the body with a deep resignation. He wondered if he should do something about that. Probably not; that would look even more incriminating.

"...If it makes you feel better, he has hurt people in situations like this before, and completely unnecessarily; his only motive was to achieve a rush.” 

That did make Remus feel better, actually. 

"Good. I’m glad I killed a piece of shit and not someone down on their luck." Remus sighed, eyeing the spectral figure. "Speaking of, if this is real, then I guess that means you are too right?"

Any sympathy on Death's place quickly faded as he was caught out. "Erm-"

"It's cool." Remus leaned his head back again. "Talking to a cute ghost man? Sounds like a typical Thursday night for me."

Actually, this was the furthest thing from a typical Thursday night for Remus, but he didn’t want to admit that to the cute ghost man and risk looking uncool.

"You shouldn't get acquainted with it. Seeing me is hardly a good thing." Death replied, though his cheeks were distinctly a darker grey. 

"Aww- don't sell yourself short. I love your work!" Remus waved away vaguely. He always had a strange relationship with death in a way that others didn’t; always the first to laugh at a funeral or smile instead of grieve. That was probably why he felt so comfortable right now. “Besides, we’ll all be food for the dirt and worms eventually, anyway. Why get uncomfortable with it?"

Death met his eyes again, seeming slightly more firm. “Perish those thoughts, it's hardly your time yet."

Remus pouted. "It's still inevitable, though. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy I didn’t die today and got to meet you instead, but what’s so bad about something that’s going to happen either way?”

“I’m starting to think I was right by judging your attitude as a red flag.” Death muttered.

“But I'm right aren't I?” Remus prodded.

“Indeed.” Death begrudgingly conceded. “And do you know just how inevitable it is? Approximately 2 people die per second; 106 per minute. There have been 6435 events of armed conflict in the past year alone, and over 690 million people who are undernourished as we speak. Beyond that, there are even more people losing their lives to case-by-case natural events and incidents. So if you’d be so kind, do not be so eager to create more work for me.”

Remus absorbed that information, tilting his head. “Despite all that, you’re still here?”

“...I am.” Death agreed after a heavy pause, in the same manner most would admit their own defeat. “I’ll admit, I’m not used to… talking so much. It’s an unusual feeling, but it’s been pleasant, I suppose.”

“Death likes my company.” Remus laughed. “That’s gotta be saying something.”

Death rolled his eyes. “My name is Logan, not Death.” 

“Huh. I’m Remus.” Remus replied, a little baffled. He didn’t expect a deity to have such a normal name.

“Remus ‘Tsukio’ Kaneshiro, I already know of you. We’ve met before.”

Remus’ bafflement only grew. “We have? I think I’d remember meeting someone like you.”

“You wouldn't; you were unconscious. It was after you overdosed on cold medicine. Thankfully your parents got you to the hospital on time before I could do my job, but I remember it being a close call.” Logan looked at him knowingly.

“...Oh.” Remus laughed nervously. He definitely remembered that. Finding out you could overdose on a lot of common household items was pretty dangerous for him to learn as a teenager, and he’d never forget how furious his entire family was with him for being so reckless. He never knew how to tell them that it wasn’t quite the accident they assumed it to be (needless to say, his adolescent years were pretty shitty to him, being the outsider in this town in more ways than one). Thankfully, the taste of cold medicine had become too repulsive for him to try anything like that again.

“...I am glad you’re alright. It’s always unfortunate when a life ends too soon.”

“Well…thanks. This has been pretty trippy, so I’m glad I met you too, Logan.”

Logan hummed and looked towards the end on the alleyway. “By the way, you should think about leaving soon. There’s a group of people approaching us.”

Shit, Remus had almost forgotten that he had just committed a crime. Given how awful this scene looked, there was a big chance he’d get thrown into jail for this if he got caught. But at the same time, he was almost hesitant to leave behind the spectre that had enchanted his heart within a few minutes, even if his mind was still trying to catch up with the overload of information.

“Why would you help me?” He asked quickly and somewhat suspiciously.

Just as Logan finished his business with the body, he looked at him over his shoulder with an almost sly expression. “You seem interesting, Remus. I’d hate for you to lose your life over someone so unworthy of one.”

And with that, Logan disappeared like a cloud of fog. Remus stood there transfixed, until he remembered Logan’s warnings and snatched up his bag, shoving the knife into his pocket and dashing into the night.

--------------

Case 2: the man who couldn't leave well enough alone.

The next time Remus and Logan met, it was slightly less of an accident, but fuck if the guy didn’t deserve it.

When Remus got home after the night he first saw Logan, he was more grateful than ever that he lived in such a run-down part of town. There were barely any security cameras to look out for, let alone people who were willing to be out during the early hours of the morning. 

He was able to slip into his apartment complex unseen, avoiding his early-bird roommate long enough to wash away his crimes in the shower.

After that, he fell into his bed, completely unable to process everything that had just happened. So instead he fell asleep and left the deep thinking to his future self.

As expected, he needed plenty of time to collect his thoughts. First of all, he knew he hadn’t hallucinated the whole thing because after weeks and months of taking it as easy as possible, he hadn’t seen anything else as strange as a personification of death named Logan. Logan...what kind of name even was that? It felt like the name of a teacher, not something that should be as grim and macabre as Remus himself. 

But that was the other thing; Remus couldn’t get the thought of Logan out of his head. He was like the angel who had come down to bless him in a moment of weakness, saving him from further misfortune. He knew he had little to no chance of seeing their deity again, but that didn’t stop him from plaguing his mind constantly. 

Remus figured the best chance he’d probably get at seeing Logan again was to become involved with death once more. His mind immediately jumped to animals, the easiest targets; he pictured slipping into a farm late at night and slitting the throat of one of the sheep, going to a pet store and buying a hamster for the night before ‘accidentally’ leaving it in a box to suffocate, picking up a stray from the street and snapping its neck quickly. But just as soon as those thoughts came to him, he waved them away with a grimace. He wouldn’t be able to go through with any of that, even for Logan.

People had always talked about him like he was a serial killer in training. They would keep a wary eye when he picked up sharp objects and ask his brother if Remus had ever hurt one of their pets as kids, as if because he had unconventional ideas, he was a complete sadist towards the innocent. (And yes, perhaps he did have thoughts of that nature too, but they’d always fill him with sickness because he fucking loved the pet dogs they had as kids, damn it). In any case, he knew that going through with those ideas would only be proving those people right, that he was a dangerous individual who’d murder an innocent creature just for someone his brain maybe made up.

...Perhaps he was losing his mind after all. What was he doing, plotting out the best way to see Death? If anyone else could hear his thoughts, they’d think him half-mad or suicidal. It seemed like the best thing so do was to try to push this out of his mind, so eventually, that's what he did. He wasn’t so good at that usually; his mouth ran a mile a minute and the people who knew him would often say that his brain-mouth filter was non-existent. But this felt like something he’d like to keep for himself, especially when news of the murder made it onto the local news, presumed to be the outcome of ‘gang activity’ simply because the victim was successful and had a loving family and what else could explain this?

He decided to not think about making plans anymore, and he only thought about Logan when his mind was otherwise unoccupied. It stayed that way until the very next week when he found out about the situation with his roommate’s ex.

Remus didn’t have many people in the world who were willing to put up with him, but the one’s that did, he cherished dearly. So when Nadia, the woman he’d describe as belonging among the Valkyries (if only she could get past her deal of not wanting to hurt a fly), came to him looking uncharacteristically shaken and upset, Remus felt something in him snap.

She told Remus about how her ex-boyfriend was following her to her workplace and making threats on her life. He’d even begun showing up outside their apartment late at night in an attempt at intimidation, and that detail alone pissed him off considering he’d been too in his head to even notice.

“All because I decided I deserved better.” Nadia told him tearily. She was so strong usually, both physically and emotionally, so seeing her so close to crying felt like a punch to the gut. “I just want for him to be gone… But James would probably kill me before I could even file a restraining order.”

“What if he was gone?” Remus blurted out. “Hypothetically.”

Nadia blinked at him, wiping a stray tear. “Honestly? I think the world would be a better place. But that’s never going to happen.”

Remus nodded. “Right. Of course. Do you still have his number, by any chance?”

--

Remus’ plan was simple: Nadia would call her ex and ask him to come over to ‘reconcile’, and when he did, Remus would confront him. Scare him enough to stay away for good. He was pretty great at being intimidating when he wanted to that the both of them assumed it would work out.

Well, James came as planned. Their apartment complex had one massive security flaw in that anyone could get in without keys or permission, so the only clue Remus got that James was coming was the sound of footsteps bouncing off the walls of the stairwell. Remus stood upright and waited, until he saw the top of James’ head slowly ascending up the stairs, pausing on the second-top step.

“You’ve got to be shitting me.” James scoffed disbelievingly as Remus moved in front of him. “Did Nadia seriously send out the guard dog? What? Suddenly too afraid to talk for herself?”

Remus considered barking at him in response, but considering how James was way above the common creep in terms of persistence, he crossed his arms instead and glared steadily.

“Hell yeah she did. You should know why, given how much of a low-life asshole you’ve been acting all week. When are you going to give up the big guy act, huh? Curley called and he wants his complex back.”

James, in all of his 5-foot-no-thoughts glory, only squinted as the insult went over his head.

“...I knew I never fuckin’ liked you. Don’t get involved in our relationship, you little freak.” James tried to pass him, and Remus quickly blocked him, taking out the knife he’d stolen months ago.

“Take another step and this is going in your goddamn eye.” Remus raised his voice, confident that most of their neighbours were already out at work. “You’re not going near Nadia ever again, do you hear me?”

“Or what?! What’ll you do, Kaneshiro? Stab me? Put the toothpick away and step aside, for god’s sake. This is embarrassing, even for you.”

The two of them stood in a standstill, staring each other down as the echo from James’ exclamation faded out.

“...Fine.” Remus said finally. He slipped the knife back into his pocket, and James smirked smugly until Remus grabbed the front of his shirt instead. “It’ll be more fun to do this, anyway.”

With that he shoved James backwards, who quickly lost his footing and fell down the long and narrow flight of stairs. He tumbled for few moments, hitting each step, until he landed on the ground floor with a distant thump.

Remus stared after him, preparing for James to get up and start making a scene like he always did when he didn’t get his way. He didn’t.

Frowning, Remus descended the stairs, and as he drew closer to the slumped-over body, he noticed the puddle of blood around James’ head and the odd way he’d landed.

“Damn.” Remus commented under his breath. “Nadia’s going to kill me.”

He heard a sigh somewhere ahead of him, and fearing someone had walked in on his compromising position, Remus quickly glanced up, excuse at the ready.

“It was an accident-!” He exclaimed, before he realized it was Logan standing there, looking between James and Remus with a pinched expression.

“I know you pushed him, Remus. That’s not exactly what the law would define as an ‘accident’.”

For a second, Remus was starstruck (and opting to ignore the consequences of his actions). “You remember me.”

“Of course I do. I didn’t expect to see you again so soon, though.”

That almost sounded like an accusation, so Remus held his hands up defensively. “Hey, in my defence he was just asking to die. The dude's a dick!”

Logan sighed. “Regardless, you shouldn't go around killing people. Sooner or later you’ll get caught.”

“Well, I’m 1 for 1 so far! But if you’d rather me not get in trouble… Have any tips on how to cover this?” Remus joked, winking.

Logan frowned at him before he truly considered it, looking around at the scene thoughtfully. “...Double check to make sure you left no evidence. Move quickly, before anybody stumbles across the scene. And if you have time, plant something which will make this look more like an accident-- for instance, a spill on the stairs.”

Remus’ eyes widened. “I wasn’t expecting actual tips. Holy shit- okay.”

He went over to check the body, feeling his cheeks heat up. He absolutely should not be getting flustered over advice on how to cover up a murder, yet here he was.

“I feel like you shouldn’t be encouraging this.” Remus said jokingly as he smoothed out the creases on the front of James’ shirt. “Didn’t you say something about having more work to do? Who knows, you might be giving me a new hobby.”

Remus laughed. Logan didn’t. When he glanced up, the deity was frowning.

“Perhaps not. Forget what I said; I shouldn’t be interfering in matters like this. I shouldn’t even be appearing to you now.”

“Woah, woah, woah. What’s the matter? I thought you liked talking.” Remus hastily stood upright, furrowing his eyebrows.

“I- regardless of my personal feelings, I have a job to do. I can’t allow myself to become so partial over one human.” Logan replied, rubbing at the crease between his eyebrows.

“Why? What’s the worst that could happen?!” Remus argued.

“You could cheat death, for starters.”

“You already know how I feel about that.” Remus whined. “I’ll off myself when the time comes, if it’ll make you feel better.”

“Don’t-” Logan exclaimed, before he reigned himself back in. “Just. No. You’re supposed to go naturally. Neither you or I should interfere with that.” 

Remus frowned. He wasn’t so sure he liked the thought of such a boring death. If anything, he wanted to go out in a blaze of glory. Otherwise, he’d be just another body no one would remember-- like loverboy over there.

“That means no more meetings like this.” Logan continued on.

“But what if I want to see you again?” Remus muttered. He looked across the room to Logan and found him wearing a similar downtrodden expression, until it grew serious.

“You’ll just have to deal with that, because we were never supposed to meet in the first place. I have a duty to fulfil and you have a life to live. Our paths are as parallel as can be.”

“This is bullshit, Logan.” Remus said, but he didn’t argue any further. Not when Logan walked around him to complete his business. Not when he prepared to leave, either.

“Don’t do this again.” Logan said finally, giving him a stern glare. “I mean it.”

--------------

Case 3: the woman in the streets.

The next time Remus and Logan met, Logan was starting to think Remus was making a habit of this after all.

In Remus’ defence, he totally wasn’t.

Logan’s parting words just wouldn’t leave his head. It was even worse than last time; the knowledge that he could kill anyone and get to see Logan again plagued him, and he found himself pulling away from his family and friends after the questioning from the police was over and done with.

They were all worried for him, but especially Nadia who knew exactly what he did and assumed it was because of the guilt that he was becoming uncharacteristically withdrawn. Although she was shocked at how things had escalated, she tried to apologize multiple times for letting Remus confront James, which he would always blow off. It wasn’t killing James that had gotten to him, not at all; in fact he was glad that prick was out of their hair. Rather, he grappled with the idea of never seeing Logan again, one of the few people who truly saw the worst sides of him and accepted them nonetheless.

He didn’t deal with it well. 

The night of their next meeting, Remus was out drinking alone. It wasn’t something he was proud of, but he didn’t want to justify why he wanted to get absolutely wasted to his friends, so being sad and lonely for one night it was. 

He had stumbled out of the bar late at night, beginning his unsteady trek home since he had accidentally spent too much money and couldn’t afford an uber to drive him back. Stepping onto the street a couple blocks from his apartment, everything was quiet until the person ahead of him crossed the road, just as a car sped around the corner and knocked them over with an awful crunch.

Remus stood in shock. He looked after the swerving car to get the licence plate, but it was already too late and they had hit the gas upon noticing him. Swearing, he stumbled over to the person left in the road. 

“Shit- Are you alright? Of course not, you need an ambulance.” He was struggling to unlock his phone when he noticed how still the person-- a frail old woman-- was. It didn’t even look like she was taking breaths, though it was hard to tell through his swimming vision and the thick coat she was wearing.

With unsteady fingers, Remus pressed against the pulsepoint on her neck, and felt the moment her heartbeat stopped.

“Oh…”

And then he turned on his heel and threw up.

Death wasn’t supposed to bother him like this. He had always been proud of his ability to frighten others with his dismissive attitude towards life’s eventualities. But this was different. He had just watched the murder of a complete stranger right before his eyes, and there wasn't even anything he could do. What the fuck?

He didn’t even feel better when the person he’d been longing to see all night appeared right in front of him, arms crossed and ready to give a lecture.

“Again, Remus?! What did I tell you?! No more murder!” Logan threw his hands up at the sight of Remus next to the body, that was until he noticed the cause of death and Remus’ sickly appearance,

“I-I didn’t do anything this time, I swear. Logan I promised myself I wouldn’t.” He picked himself out of the gutter he had been puking into, trying to look at the deity, just so he could feel some sense of reassurance. “I thought I’d never see you again. ‘Thought I was okay with that, but I’m not. I missed you.”

Logan only stared at Remus when he began crying. He was a sappy emotional drunk when he got through the fun tipsy phase, sue him.

“...I apologize for yelling at you.” Logan said, awkwardly hovering his hand over Remus’ shoulder until it shuddered with a sob and accidentally brushed against him. Remus jolted at the cool touch, as did Logan, who quickly retreated his hand, eyes darting around worriedly.

“‘Always thought you’d be like mist.” Remus slurred, awestruck enough to forget his sadness. He reached forward to prod at Logan, who furrowed his eyebrows thoughtfully.

“I… Yes, that’s definitely strange.” Logan cleared his throat and straightened up. “In any case, you need to get off the street, report this incident, and go home. Being around so much death isn’t good for your mental health.”

“Maybe.” Remus sighed. “I quite like hanging around you, though.”

Logan pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re drunk. You’re going to feel a lot worse about seeing me in the morning, I promise.”

“I never feel bad about seeing you.” Remus said, picking up his phone from where he’d dropped it. “I only feel bad that it’ll be a long time before I get the chance to see you again.”

“...I don’t get it.” Logan replied softly after a heavy pause. “You shouldn’t want to see me at all. I’m a bad omen. You’d only ever get to meet me in times of tragedy.”

“‘Bad omen’... And I thought Emo was dramatic.” Remus chuckled weakly. “You’re not so bad, Lo. You guide people to the end. You care for them even when you have so many people to watch over. You’re opinionated and you’re easily curious when things don’t go to plan. You don’t mind when I’m weird and you’re fun to talk to. I like you.”

Logan blinked rapidly with surprise, clutching his chest. “I wish we could be having this conversation away from the recently deceased. But... I suppose I feel the same way. I still don’t know how or why you can see me, but our conversations haven’t been unpleasant.”

“Death likes my company.” Remus said, smiling softly to himself. “...You’re right though. I should probably phone this in. I just wish I could remember the licence plate… Something like XQ... ugh.”

“XQR 460.” Logan supplied helpfully. 

“That’s it!” Remus cheered, sloppily kissing Logan on the cheek. “Thanks babe!”

Logan floundered for a second as Remus begun calling an ambulance, struggling to regain composure. “I hope we don’t meet like this again soon. Three times over the span of a year is already too much.”

“I don’t know.” Remus looked at Logan slyly. “I’ve always had pretty bad luck.”

--------------

Case 4: the bad doctor.

The next time Remus and Logan meet, it’s completely coincidental and under less stressful circumstances for once.

Well, still stressful. Just for different reasons. 

Roman was in the hospital because of some dumb motorcycle crash he got into, which near-gave Remus a heart attack when he heard about because he may often ask for death these days, but not like this. Never like this.

Anyway, he was more or less alive in the end. Just a broken leg and a lot of scrapes and bruises since he always refused to wear the proper protective clothing when he went riding (due to it ‘not fitting his aesthetic', apparently. Remus assumed it was pussy talk for ‘I don’t look badass enough to pull off leather’).

Remus had stopped by to visit, bringing some of the fancy name-brand crackers Roman liked since he kept complaining about how stale and awful the hospital’s ones were, and to say hello to Virgil while xe was on shift. The three of them even managed to sit down while Virgil was on break and catch up, too. Roman and Virgil seemed glad Remus was doing a bit better after his downward spiral a couple of weeks ago, even if they didn’t mention it.

After a few hours spent catching up and teasing one another, he decided to leave Roman to get some rest. His plans for that evening were to take a load off and perhaps call for some takeout with Nadia. Honest to God, he didn’t plan on looking for any trouble.

But still, trouble found him when he noticed Logan walking the halls of the hospital, following a doctor to the elevator.

Remus double-taked. Though he shouldn’t really be surprised to see Logan here in a place with so much death, it was still odd witnessing the cloaked figure walk around normal people, none of them noticing his presence. 

Remus quickly jogged over. "Logan!" He hissed under his breath.

The deity startled (startled!) before turning to him, just like the doctor he was following. 

"Do you need something?" The doctor said, raising an eyebrow.

"Uhhhh, nope! Just… getting into the elevator." Remus replied, stepping in and standing next to Logan.

"Why must you have such awful timing?" Logan sighed stressfully as the elevator doors slid shut. Remus looked at him, unable to verbally reply with the doctor standing right next to them. Fortunately, his unspoken request to elaborate was picked up on.

"This doctor is going down go the morgue. I was here to see a patient that died under his care, and I noticed how death seemed to latch onto him. I got curious."

Sounds like a bad doctor, if even a deity of death was interested in him. Heh, that probably said a lot about Remus too. 

Logan elaborated for Remus’ misinterpreting amused expression. "Remus, he murders patients purposefully. You should not have gotten on this elevator."

...Oh. Remus looked past Logan to the doctor, who had noticed his glances.

"...Hm, aren't you supposed to be in your room? Broken leg, road burn, lacerations?" He questioned, eyes flicking down to where he assumed Remus must be injured.

"Nope! You’re thinking of my twin. I came to visit him today." Remus responded as chipper as he could manage, suddenly a lot more unnerved knowing that this apparently dangerous doctor knew about his brother.

"Ah! I see. I did wonder how you managed to grow a full moustache in a day." The man chuckled. "Twins… quite fascinating."

Uh oh spaghetti-os. "Yeah… people say we're like two unrelated people, we’re so different." Remus laughed dismissively. It didn't seem to bother the doctor. 

"Interesting… Say, a partner of mine is conducting a study on the differences in the individual psychologies of monozygotic twins. I'm sure it would please her to get more data, if you'd be interested in participating. There would be monetary compensation for your time, of course." 

"This is such an unethical form of recruitment. What kind of professional are you?" Logan argued in frustration. Remus almost burst into laughter on the spot from the bizarreness of the situation, but he somehow managed to turn it into an agreeable grin instead. 

"Sounds good, doc." Remus said. 

"What-?!" Logan exclaimed. Remus spared him a glance, hoping it would let him know he knew what he was doing. Logan didn't look placated in the slightest.

"Excellent! I'll pass the details onto your brother and we can arrange a meeting sometime this week.”

At that moment, the elevator stopped to let a few other people on. Remus took the opportunity to head out before they could reach the basement floor. 

“See you later!” He called to both the Doctor and Logan.

“REMUS!”

--------------

Case 4.5: the dead doctor.

The next time they meet, Remus fully expects it.

Roman asks him over text why he volunteered them for a study, and Remus makes some vague excuse like ‘sexy doctor’. Thankfully, he bought it.

Before the date sent to them by the doctor, Remus decided to do his own research first. To do so, he contacted Virgil and asked for details on the man. 

After copious amount of friendly jabs (like 'oooh Remus, I didn’t know tall, straight, and boring was your type'), Virgil told him his name and not much else, given that xe wasn't exactly close with the older staff member. That was fine; Remus used the information to find online profiles, where he found contact details and photos, where he found business accounts, where he found history.

After pulling a few more strings from people that owed him one, he managed to gain access to the vital records from the hospital. It didn’t take long to discover that Logan was right, there had been a spike in deaths since the doctor, a mister 'Stacey’, had begun working there. It was a mystery how no one had noticed the pattern honestly. Weren't doctors supposed to get their licences taken away after a certain number of incidents? As he begun looking through the files more closely however, he realized that the deaths were often chalked up to accidents; small things that could have been due to anything, from mistakes during operations, to the patients overdosing on their prescribed medication, to incidents days after they’ve been discharged.

As Remus closed his laptop, he begun feeling very glad he had impulsively accepted Stacey’s offer. 

--

The meeting ended up being scheduled for Friday evening, and by the time it rolled around, Remus was fully prepared and waiting outside of the agreed location. He dialled Roman’s number, looking out to the empty parking lot and familiarizing himself with the location.

After a few rings, Roman picked up, sounding slightly agitated. “Yes, Captain Dookey?”

Remus snickered at the old nickname-- it was practically a relic from when they played pirates as children. Perhaps Roman was feeling sentimental after his accident.

“Aye aye first mate. You should know that I’m not gonna make it to the study. I already called Dr. Stacy to let him know we’re cancelling for today, so you can stay home.”

“Really Remus? I just got ready.”

“Yeah well, you’re supposed to be resting anyway. Unless you want to drop a visit by yourself that is, but Virgil told me he’s straight, soooo...”

He heard a retching sound on the other end of the line.

“No thanks.” A sigh. “I’ll see you tomorrow then, I guess.”

“Bye, ugly.”

“Later, Rat Bastard.”

“Rats are cute, that’s not an insult. Byeee~.” Remus quickly hung up, his grin quickly fading as he took in the apartment complex. 

It didn’t look like the sort of space that would house an office, but Stacey didn’t look like the type to break the Hippocratic oath either, so perhaps the world wasn’t as straight-forward as it seemed.

Slipping his phone away, Remus buzzed the number he’d been given, and it wasn’t long before the good doctor himself came down to answer the door personally.

“Remus.” Stacey almost looked surprised to see him. “Is your brother not coming?”

“Oh, no.” Remus waved a hand. “I just got off the phone with him and he told me he’s running late. He said to get started without him.”

He received a charming smile. “That works just fine. Come on in.”

Stacey led him up the stairs to his apartment, and the whole time Remus felt the weight of the kitchen knife in his pocket. When they got to the ‘office’ (which was really just a living room with minimal furnishing), he offered him a drink.

“No thanks, I’m good.” Remus said, looking around. “...Seems pretty empty in here for an office.”

“Ah… Yes, unfortunately my colleague is having renovations done in her usual space, so we’ll have to collect our data here. I hope that doesn’t bother you.”

A fair enough explanation on the surface, and one his brother would probably accept if he was here, but Remus wasn’t nearly as trusting as Roman was. Nor was he as ignorant to the true purpose of this meeting.

“I see… That makes sense. Or at least it would, if I didn’t already know all about your dirty little secrets.”

Stacey glanced up from where he’d been looking for a pen. “...Pardon?”

Remus smiled back; a grin with all teeth. “You have quite a few skeletons in your closet, doc. Even for a fine medical professional like yourself.”

The doctor very carefully didn’t react to that. "My apologies, do you have the right person? To the best of my knowledge we've only spoken once." 

"Yeah." Remus agreed. "And once is all it took. I found out about all those little accidents that follow you, doctor. Weird how many times your patients pass away from nicked veins and potassium chloride overdoses, hm?"

The only outward response Stacey gave was the clenching of his fists. Subtle, but Remus noticed it. "Be careful Mr. Kaneshiro, because that sounds an awfully lot like a baseless accusation. People sue for that, you know." 

"I don't doubt it. But you already know it's not so baseless, don't you? You know exactly what I’m talking about, which is why you invited us here to a shady apartment late at night, no colleague in sight."

"Remus what the hell do you think you're doing?!" A familiar voice chimed from behind him.

Remus startled out of his focus, whipping his head around. "Logan?" 

"Don't look at me, you ignoramus-! You met a serial killer alone after I told you to stay away?!"

"He knows my brother, I couldn't just-!"

Remus looked back at the doctor was closer now, looking down at him pitifully. "I see now. The talking to air, the erratic behaviour, the pushing your delusions onto others… you mustn't be well. It's alright, Mr. Kaneshiro, I could easily refer you to a mental health facility who will take care of you."

"Remus, you have to get out! Now!" 

"I know!" He wasn’t a complete idiot, damn it! But he needed to get Stacey to confess or-

"Ah, perfect! If you wait here, I’ll go and make a call." 

Remus stepped backwards, hand going to the knife in his pocket. He needed Stacey to confess, but if he didn’t-

Unfortunately, Stacey noticed his movement and quickly grabbed his left wrist, putting way too much pressure in his grip than was necessary. 

"Ah-ah. I told you to stay put, didn't I? Come now, don't be difficult. I'm only trying to get you the help you need."

If he didnt-

"Let go of him!" Logan demanded to the man who couldn't hear him. 

Stacey froze, feeling the cool touch of Death on his arm as Logan tried to pull him away, and at that moment Remus pulled his knife out and stabbed him in the chest; slipping the blade right between the ribs. 

Red pooled around the knife, staining his crisp white shirt vividly. Stacey stared at the knife, and dug his nails into Remus’ wrist. 

"Fucker." Remus yelped with pain, pulling the weapon back out. 

Finally, Stacey let go and stumbled back, hitting the wall and sliding down to the floor. His expression didn't recover from the shock from when Logan touched him; he didn't even try to apply pressure to the wound as he bled out. He just sat there until the light left his eyes, and the only sound left in the room was Remus’ laboured breathing.

"I… shouldn't have done that." Logan muttered, eyeing the limp body. 

"Done what? I'm the one that killed him. That was my backup plan all along." Remus replied numbly, looking at the scene he had caused. 

"I gave him the touch of Death, it's- it's an omen. I'm not supposed to use it ever."

"Gee, I'm flattered. I promise murder was always on my brain though." Remus said as he took the tape recorder out of his pocket. No need for this anymore. He wanted to get a clip of Stacey saying something incriminating so that he could defame him and ruin his reputation, but well, him not being able to benefit from a reputation at all was the next best thing.

Logan watched him, taking in the claw marks across his wrist. "...Right. He scratched you, so remember to clean under his nails." 

Despite everything, Remus smiled softly at the advice. "Aww, you really care about me, don't you?"

"I- no. Absolutely not. That’s absurd" Remus snickered as Logan flushed an adorable shade of paynes grey, which he hid by going to deal with the corrupt doctor’s soul. 

"...Why did you show up, by the way? There isn't anyone dead in this apartment is there?" Remus realized belatedly, looking around the empty space. 

"Ah… No. Admittedly, I've been keeping a closer eye on this town than I really should, and after what happened the other day, I figured I needed to be here when I noticed you two meeting… I probably shouldn’t have.” Logan conceded.

"Well, at least you can't say this wasn't a business visit." Remus giggled to himself, wiping the blood from his knife with a tissue. Maybe he was a little giddy from the endorphins of confronting a prolific serial killer, or perhaps it was the confirmation that Logan cared for him, but either way he felt really good right now, like he could take on the world.

Logan looked at him and sighed. "I should've known you'd be trouble. No more killing, Remus. This has to be the last time."

"Of course, pinky promise~."

"...I can see you crossing your fingers behind your back, you brat."

--------------

Case 5: the one who tried to get away.

The next time they met, Remus broke his pinky promise. No surprises there.

It was hardly even a promise to begin with, but for some reason Logan expected him to stick to it. Quite foolish, if you ask Remus, given that he now had a total of three murders under his belt, and stopping there almost felt like giving up. 

Of course, he had to lay low after Stacey however. The hospital was holding a memorial for his death and Remus later found out that it was ruled a break in. (Made sense, since Remus took a few of his fancy cleaning products on the way out, as a treat to himself.)

It was a shame Stacey was being remembered so honourably, but he couldn't really do anything about that. At least he wasn't out in the world hurting more people. 

But unfortunately for Remus, the ruling of Stacey’s murder didn’t stop the incident from trickling into his normal life, as Virgil and Roman seemed to grow suspicious of him. Virgil didn't bring up the topic to him directly, but xe begun acting sketchy when the two of them hung out (Though that could easily be wariness after having one of xyr co-workers be killed). Oppositely, Roman brought the topic up at the first chance possible.

"Dr. Stacey was murdered the night we were supposed to meet him." Roman commented the next day they were able to have lunch together, arms crossed confrontationally. "Funny that."

"Yeah. Sounds like we had some pretty good luck, if you ask me." Remus grinned.

"Wha- why are you smiling?! A man died!" His twin hissed at him. Under his breath, as to not alert the other tables.

Remus’ grin faded. "Listen Ro-bro, I didn't want to tell you this but our good doctor wasn't as kind as you think he is. I called you off that night to help you. Trust me. It’s better off that neither of us went through with that ‘study’."

Roman leaned back, looking unconvinced. "What were you doing instead, Remus?"

"...Huh?"

"You heard me. Where were you? What's your alibi?"

"You're not accusing your own flesh and blood of murder, are you?" Remus sipped his drink casually; ice coffee with as many pumps of peppermint syrup as the barista would allow. 

"Just answer the question." Siiigh, what a tightass. How did they come out the same womb? 

"I was meeting an old friend, for your information. Logan." Remus smiled to himself at the inside joke.

"Logan? You've never mentioned a Logan before." Roman raised his eyebrows.

Remus leaned back in his chair with a shrug, opting to look out the window instead. By doing so he missed the flash of complicated emotions that crossed his twin’s face at the dismissive gesture.

"I don't tell you everything about my life, brother dearest."

"Clearly…"

--

A week or two passed since his conversation with Roman, and during that time Remus didn't get to see Logan again once. That wasn't such a terrible thing, most people would assume, to not run into a deity of death, but Remus was so bored! He wanted to see his favourite death pal again, but no opportunities arose to do that, and nothing was striking his murder-fancy.

That was until the day he saw a familiar licence plate parked outside a shop.

Remus froze in his tracks, remembering the night he last saw that car.

A woman crossing the street, a body too still, a car speeding away with no remorse-

Remus had given the licence number to the police, but clearly they hadn't done anything about it. Or perhaps they'd tried and the asshole bought them off. 

He growled at the idea, startling a passer-by who was crossing around him.

Thankfully, he didn't have to wait long before he found out who his ire belonged to. A familiar face left the shops and begun walking towards the car; Anton, a guy who had been a year above him back in high school. Remus’ memory of the man was vague; primarily made up of snapshots of cruelty and entitlement towards those around him.

He looked exactly the same, with his annoyingly polished appearance and ugly overpriced clothes. So he was right about the police being paid off, then. Typical.

He'd just have to do something about this himself. 

--

“I suppose there’s no point in trying to convince you to stop this, is there?”

“I mean.” Remus begun, looking down at the body he had just finished suffocating and rubbing at his bruised arms. There was more of a struggle than tv had led him to believe. “I kinda had to do this one. What? Was I supposed to connect the dots on a murder and not stalk and kill the guy who got away unpunished?”

“Most people would say yes.” Logan groaned, in the sort of tone that said he already knew he was fighting a losing battle.

“We’re not like most people though, are we?” Remus grinned, fluttering his eyelashes.

“You’re most certainly not. I’m barely a person.” Logan replied with finality.

--------------

Case 6: the one who pushed their luck.

And then shortly after; 

“Come on man, don’t do this.” The masked person pleaded, hanging onto the fire-escape for dear life. Literally.

Remus raised an eyebrow, making a show of contemplating the request. “Hmm, I don’t know. You did try to pull a gun on me.”

“It wasn’t loaded, jackass!” 

Remus tutted and held his foot over the person’s clammy hands. They shook violently at the unspoken threat. “And now you’re gonna wake up the whole neighbourhood too? No consideration!”

His joking tone must have angered them, because they began struggling to hoist themself back up again, red in the face with strain. “I swear, when I get up  there-”

Promptly losing his interest in hearing the rest of that threat, Remus stood on their fingers, causing them to let go of the fire-escape and plummet to the street below with a strangled yell.

“Whoopsie daisy.”

He leaned over the banister, whistling innocently as a familiar presence appeared next to him. Logan joined him in peering down at the body, eyebrow raised.

“At least this one was merely an accident?” He guessed by the cause of death, a twinge of hope in his voice.

“Nah, they’ve tried breaking in at least 3 times this year. It was getting annoying.”

As Logan scolded him for his recklessness, Remus decided not to comment on it when their topic of conversation turned back towards the casual banter they usually shared. The two of them stood on the fire escape until the sun was on the edge of the horizon and Remus had to dash back to his apartment to avoid being seen by the early-commuters.

--------------

Case 8: the innocent.

And then: 

Remus curiously nudged the raccoon with the tip of his boot. He’d just stumbled upon it and it still looked fresh; given that he was standing by a busy road, it was no wonder what had happened.

He was making a mental note to come back and collect the bones at a later date, when Logan appeared in-front of him in a blink, looking completely unsurprised this time around.

Remus on the other hand startled before regaining his bearings and shooting the deity a smile. “Our paths are looking less parallel by the day huh, Psychopomp-ous?”

Logan raised his eyebrows appreciatively at the word play. “It appears so. It’s quite the pleasant surprise to find you not getting into trouble for once.”

“There’s always tomorrow.” Remus wiggled his eyebrows back. “That said, I really didn’t expect to see you. I was wondering for a while if you dealt with this kind of thing too, y’know.”

Logan looked down, seeming to really notice the raccoon for the first time. He nodded after a beat. ”She had a life too. My brother brought her into the world, and so I must escort her out.” 

”Yeah? Anything of note happen?” Remus asked, eyebrows raised with genuine curiosity. He’d file away the latter half of Logan’s statement for later prodding.

”...She had a family. They stayed together under the porch of an old couple.”

“Ah, to be a racoon living under a porch.” Remus lamented dreamily. “I’m glad she got to live such a rich and fulfilling life before becoming road kill. I’m truly jealous.”

“In the wild, your lifespan would most likely be around 2–3 years as a raccoon.” Logan pointed out, attempting to contradict his idealistic tone.

“Exactly. The life.”

That earned a pinched expression from Logan that made Remus titter.

“Just messing with you, prim reaper~. Now, do you have any idea how long it’s going to take for her to decompose? I have a new piece of decor to make.”

--------------

Case 11: the matchbox.

Remus watched from afar as the house on Psyche Avenue burned. It was bright and brilliant, so of course the firefighters were already on the scene, trying to calm the fire and save the occupant inside. 

They’d be much too late; the trafficker was already unconscious and likely burning to death, along with any evidence Remus might have left behind. It was the perfect crime.

Satisfied with today’s work, he took a drag of a cigarette, delighted when Logan appeared beside him instead of with the dirtbag who deserved to burn forever (and since it was a mystery whether he'd end up with such a fate, it only seemed fitting for Remus to play god and speed up the process.)

“Those kill, you know.” Logan said in greeting.

“That makes two of us.” Remus grinned sharply, even when Logan rolled his eyes and pinched out the end of his cigarette.

For the second time in a month, the two of them overlooked the sky together, illuminated by the amber blazes of the fire. It almost felt like a date.

--------------

Case 13: the one with bad luck.

He was back in the alley that had imprinted itself so clearly in his memory, knife buried in the chest of a would-be assailant. Remus was boredly watching the blood seep between the bricks when Logan finally appeared to deal with the body.

“You’re late!” Remus complained with a whine. “This guy’s practically cold already.”

“Apologies. There was a flash flood across the country, and it took more of my focus to handle than I would've liked."

Remus hummed. He thought he heard something about that on the news. Mother nature could be cruel indeed. Perhaps even worse than Remus himself. 

“Anyone nearby?” He checked.

“Not in a half-mile radius, no. However, the police may be on their way.” 

“Plenty of time, then.” Remus said as he pulled Logan down to place a kiss on the corner of his mouth.

It had been months since that first drunk sloppy kiss happened, and less time since it had become a regular greeting. Remus would never get tired of the feeling of cold skin against his lips. It was like kissing marble-- if marble had a sassy mouth and a sexy amount of knowledge.

Logan pulled back first, smudging away the trail of blood running from Remus' nostril. “Did you have any trouble?”

“Nah, you should see the other guy.”

That earned a laugh-- a quiet chime that made Remus’ heart flutter. “I see them. Good job, you’re getting rather skilled at that.”

“Why, thank you~.” Remus preened under the praise. “It only took a couple tries, but I think I finally got the technique down pat.”

“Hmm. Speaking of 'Pat', my brother doesn’t seem to like this much. He’s not unappreciative of your choices in target, although he appears to be rather disapproving on the amount of times I've been called to your side."

Logan didn't talk about his brother much: the deity of life. From what little Remus had learned from his prying and Logan’s own complaints, he seemed like a bit of a killjoy. He blew a raspberry in response.

"Tell Patton to stop making so many criminals and maybe I'll consider it." 

The corner of Logan's lips quirked up. "I don't think I will, as humorous as I'm sure that would be. It doesn't quite work like that."

Remus shrugged, watching as Logan looked off to the side.

"...It seems I’m needed elsewhere."

”You can’t stay? We barely got to talk.” Remus said with a pout.

“Unfortunately so.” Logan turned to the body; what he should have been there for. It wasn’t long before his focus was back on Remus, though. “That said... It’s a busy night. Perhaps we’ll meet again sooner than expected.”

Remus’ frown tipped back into a smile as he watched Logan vanish. He then turned on his heel and retrieved his knife before walking off into the night. If he was going to make good on Logan’s expectations, he better get to work.

--------------

Case 0: the one who death followed.

It soon became an established pattern; Remus would come across someone shady, and he’d put together a detailed- or straight-forward- plot on how to get rid of them. By now his city must have noticed the string of deaths, but with such a random means and very little evidence, Remus was free to continue as he pleased.

In a sense, he was untouchable with Logan by his side, pointing out anything he left behind and giving warning for any potential witnesses. Especially when he gave up on persuading Remus away from this path. It's not like the moral argument could be made anymore; the city had seen a drastic decrease in crime once Remus had taken out a lot of big players (even if there was an air of fear that lingered in the back of everyone's minds, wondering if they'd be next up on the chopping block).

All in all, it was enough to make Remus cocky; perhaps even enough so to lead to his downfall. But how was he ever going to give up now? All his life he’d been hoping for some sort of excitement to fulfil him, and he finally found it in a surprise meeting with a deity of death. Death had gone from a distant longing to something familiar and welcome; something he could use to right wrongs and feel a sense of purpose with.

And as long as he was able to exchange a life for one more meeting with his beloved partner in crime, he would do his best to stay ahead of the game. 

(No matter who was out there, trying to stop the two of them.)

-------------- 

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