#you'll get caught up in the
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trouble shooting star ★
#Fire Emblem#Fire Emblem Engage#Yunaka#sometimes when u get into a new series/entry u have an idea of what goober you'll end up drawing first only to be completely wrong#girly came out SWINGING with her duality i love her#someone caught me using a yakuza song title for the caption on twitter#and tbh if i could use yakuza song titles for everything i draw i would#also someone commented 'youve hiya'd ur last papaya' on one of my posts and it took me out
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Justin Tyler Mcelroy: i'm gonna DM a fun theme park world where big corpo's investment in hardlight tech is an active threat to the likeness, autonomy, and agency of the creatives that they employ lol
WGA, SAG-AFTRA, and other unions: *fighting to protect their likeness, autonomy, and agency from the threat of AI and other tech*
#I'm almost caught up on steeplechase#I hope this series gets graphic novel-ed as well#something something it's not enough to market the art. we have to market the artist too.#corporate wants you to devote your whole life to this character so that you'll be nothing when we rip it away and turn it into a hologram#nostalgia marketing. parasocial currency. you will die and we will sell your ghost over and over
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Okay I understand where people are coming from with the "emotional suppression in Vulcans is learned not genetic" talk re: "Charades" but, consider......... the emotional suppression is muscle memory, and the aliens took away the mental muscles that remembered how to do it. It's a crude metaphor on my part, but that was the way I saw it.
Also consider: it's a sci fi show using extremely high-concept bullcrap science on a weekly basis and maybe nitpicking it is a fruitless endeavor because none of it is going to make sense otherwise and enjoying the ride for what it is is a much more enjoyable way to engage with this franchise. Sometimes you need to shrug and let dumb things happen and laugh.
#i am so sick of whatching people find itty bitty things to pick SNW apart over#I'm trying really hard not to get internet preachy about it because everyone it entitled to their own opinions#but some people really beed to calm down and stop taking everything so seriously#Star Trek has NEVER had completely accurate science#or consistent rules within it's own universe#I mean look at Threshold#that is 1000% Not How Evolution Works#like at all#but we all laugh it off and throw a party about it every year#or how about the fact that Miles O Brien was a Leiutenant#and then he was suddenly an enlisted man#I could go on#but the point is that if you get caught up in the trees you'll miss the forest#and also a bundle of laughs because that was a very funny episode#was it perfect? of course not#but I am not gonna let the flaws ruin the whole thing for me#I had fun and laughed and smiled and that's all that really matters in my book#Strange New Worlds#snw spoilers#I'm really hesitant to tag this because I don't want people coming for my head lol#but alas I need to make sure people who haven't watched the episode can block spoilers
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they released the full body image for the outfits and i now get to roast murr on unsafe lab practices (<- worked in labs before). Explanation in tags
#What he's wearing are just round glasses which is cute and all but also proper lab safety goggles have special rims that would also protect#your eyes from different sides#Cause things could splash from the side too not just in front of you#Covering your hands: good. Not covering your wrist: not good. Especially since your wrist has some pretty important vessels#I've seen some nasty burns that you really don't wanna get on your wrist cause again. Vessels are there and you'd rather burn your hand#Than your wrist.#USUALLY you'd tie your hair up if it's long so it doesn't accidentally burn or get caught in anything#But i feel like his hair is in this weird stage where it's like...kinda short so it's not TOO bad but also still long?#Would still tie it up tho#I am not explaining the chemicals or the lab coat i think that's pretty self explanatory. C'mon murr these are basics.#Metal is awful in almost all labs#you'll get burns if something goes wrong with electricity#Also can heat up if it absorbs radiation. More burns#Not to mention it's magnetic and a disaster if it gets caught in. Say. MRI machines#Depending on the metal it may also have certain reaction with other chemicals and. You guessed it. More burns.#murr hart#mahoyaku#mhyk#This is nowhere as bad as RIQUET WEARING *SHORTS* IN LAB#Also cain and oz need to tie their hair up IMMEDIATELY
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I FUCKING MADE IT!!!!
#yes logging out next to cylva because i'm manifesting <3 girl you'll be in the msq <3#dskfhsj there were a lot of streamers and yt people who started playing around the same time i did#and who managed to get caught up for endwalker early access#and i seriously thought i wasn't gonna make it for dawntrail's lmao#i'm a meanderer!!! i meander!!! i can't help it
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once again, "i think it's bad when someone dies" is a hot take
#like check my blog. i'm definitely not sympathetic to the guy. but this is still murder lmao. do i want the guy who did it to get caught?#idk! i think i hope he gets away with it. but at the same time i'll never say that this was a good thing to happen and i don't think this is#something that should be repeated. to people calling this class war: in violent revolutions it is always the most vulnerable who are hurt#the worst. not the most powerful. also i wrote a whole paper on this but look at the history of the ussr genuinely and tell me you think a#reactionary violent act will make the world a better place. news flash if you wanna build a new society that is kind you need to do so with#love for your fellow person snd not hatred of The Other. bc there will always be an Other. Always. and you'll end up spending so much time#trying to kill every Other that your kind society will be ashes#my anarchism#peace activism#ussr history#radical compassion#היסטוריה של עם ישראל
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Actually I'm ok with the fact that I didn't get to go to NYCC for Alex's panel because, having reviewed the footage, I think if I was there in person I would have simply actually passed away
#the fucking instinctual Bill Cipher laugh he did without even initially thinking about it had me screaming lmfao#also him teasing that Bill and Ax's lore is deep enough to need to be kept secret I almost dropped my damn phone#and the fact that we lost two whole pages of info about Bill's dimension im SCREECHIGN#***and*** him teasing that he might be exploring those two things in later gravity falls content if he gets the chance?????#I have Ascended. I am no longer on this plane of existence. Bill Cipher has physically dragged my soul out of my body.#back to the laugh - I think it was fucking hilarious that no one else seemed to catch it (or at least no one really reacted)#and how he then talked about it afterward because he caught it himself and he was like#“if you're recording this rewind to that after this is over and listen and you'll hear it”#meanwhile the moment i fucking heard it my ears perk up like a damn cat and im like “IS THE TRIANGLE GUY IN THE ROOM WITH US RIGHT NOW-”
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🎶🖤THOU SHALL NOT LIE🖤🎶
🎶THOU SHALL NOT CHEAT🎶
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Fandom: Johnny the Homicidal Maniac (But really Vargas lol) Rating: Teen and up Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
What, exactly, did Scriabin take from Edgar when they separated?
My first multichapter fic for Vargas! :D Yay!
(Pls read Ch. 1 first - Ch. 2 is also recommended, but as long as you're caught up on the first, you're good to go!)
-----
Side B
What the fuck.
"It's, it's possible that if, maybe whatever happened earlier, whatever caused all that blood and for us to be knocked unconscious-"
What the fuck.
"-and if I suffered a head injury, then maybe-"
No. That's enough.
Scriabin pushed away from the closet door he'd defensively pressed himself up against and put his hands on Edgar's shoulders, which quieted him. He looked at him expectantly, with eyes that Scriabin somehow only just now realized were casually guarded, curious, uncertain in a way that denoted inexperience. That was so messed up, that was completely wrong. Edgar should've been on guard, absolutely, but only because he knew exactly what Scriabin was capable of. He really didn't want to look at him right now if this was what he was going to be seeing instead.
He spun him quickly and pushed him out the door before he could protest. He got one last look at those wide, confused eyes before he slammed the door behind him, bracing it shut with both hands for good measure.
What. The fuck. His head came forward, making a dull thud as his forehead connected with the door. He doesn't remember me? His fingers curled on the door. What does he mean he doesn't remember me?! How could he not know me?! One hand pushed through his hair; his scalp tingled and that was so weird, he felt it and it was so weird- We literally just- He literally just-! As if pulling him screaming into life wasn't bad enough, now he had decided to play some sick prank!
This can't be true. It's just like him to try and make jokes at the worst possible time, he has no tact.
There was a timid knock on the other side of the door. Scriabin jumped as it resonated through his skull, his elbow, pressed to the door with his hand buried in his hair, set his jaw. Then silence.
If he was really trying to get back in, clear things up, say he was only kidding, he'd actually try.
Nothing.
Scriabin's blood was ice as he went over it again. The way he'd said his name. The vacant look in his eyes as he said it, like his mouth knew its shape but none of the meaning. No fear, no realization, nothing that really felt like Edgar, just sound, just noise.
Maybe he really had-
Oh god. His knees gave out, and his arms had no practice at holding him upright, not yet. His hand slid down the door, his other hand guarding his head as his hair fluffed against the grain.
How could he do this
This is all his fault
Stupid, idiotic
He can't do this to me
I can't believe him
I can't believe this
How dare he leave me alone like this
Thoughts spiralling, and all he could do was hold himself down, press his fingers into the back of his neck, force his chest to his knees and maybe he wouldn't immolate under it all. He was shaking, from tension or fear he couldn't tell, his mind too hazardous and loud to cut through it all. He was shaking, dizzy, and if he moved, letting go would surely kill him.
He can't do this to me.
He breathed. And breathed. And swallowed. Eyes closed, heart pounding, sure. Confusion and dismay, whatever. Pain. Fine. So be it.
This isn't like me. A hand untethered from his vice grip in his hair, and he stayed attached to the floor. It connected with the carpet below him and became a new lifeline. He pushed up and away into a limp sit, arms already burning slightly from holding himself up after all that. He shook his head mildly. This isn't who I'm going to be in life. His body, this fear response be damned, he was in control now.
Regroup. Let's- a mental pause, barely a quarter of a second long as he turned the word in his head. Let's pretend it's all true- what does that mean?
He flopped over, leaned upright with his back against the door, heels of his fists pushed down into the carpet to scootch closer. Moving was so awkward still, very unfitting.
He was acting normal. Well, Edgar's baseline for "normal" had changed considerably, so maybe put an asterisk on that. Not that he was ever normal to begin with, but normal-for-Edgar, -ish. That means he has to have some memory.
Scriabin held out a hand, arm slung over his knee, one finger held out. He had recognized his glasses. One. The apartment. Two. Which key to use. Three. He had said Todd's name. Four.
His stuff can be discounted, he's had all that for a while. Back down to one. The kid is a new fixture. Which means he remembers the last couple months at least. He shook his head and brought his hand up to comb through his hair. Well...it's fuzzy for me, so it probably is for him, too. Scriabin remembered everything in as much clarity as the last couple months allowed, there was no way Edgar would know more even if he had all his memories.
Speaking of which, Scriabin could remember everything. He flipped through; the last two months and bringing Todd in, Edgar's parting words to Johnny, his and Devi's conversation - he grit his teeth - and further back, everything along the way, all the way back. False dreams, shared childhoods, everything that was once Edgar's alone, he still remembered it. Nothing was out of place which made it all the more strange!
This is so fucking weird, if I remember everything, then why would he-
He stopped short. His purported purpose had been to replace Edgar. Take him over completely. If he bought into the conceit for a moment, just to play in the space... He was alive now. That was not as intended; it shouldn't even have been possible.
Did he...give me his memories? Like, all the way? Not just to borrow, to shape him, give him legitimacy - he was alive now. His own person. Separate, embodied, and whole. Was this the price of life?
That's stupid. But possible, he couldn't discount. If this - he brought his hands up and looked down at them, watched himself touch his own chest and felt it beneath his coat, shirt, the nerves firing as his slid his fingers up himself - if this was possible, then...
He continued for a moment, curious and reverant, all of him new and privately exciting, to exist and to touch, to feel, smell, see, all of it clear and fresh and penetrated deeply into his mind, as if a layer of film had been lifted from his senses. The moment passed as the memories, unbidden but important, cluttered in around him again.
There were still a lot of questions, and most of them couldn't be answered without Edgar, ugh. If getting anything out of him before had been like pulling teeth, he was very sobered to think about how it might be now. Depending on how much Edgar remembered, maybe he could start piecing things together.
Did he do it on purpose? Did he know this would happen? There's no way he would have been willing to if he had- But he couldn't ask him things like that. Even if he did remember, admitting something like that...
He was just spinning his wheels at this point. Better to gather what he could from the man himself. He looked up, preparing to stand.
Ah-
The room was still in something of a state.
Edgar would be annoying, or at least distracted by trying to pick up the clothes and uncarefully unpacked items strewn about the floor from Scriabin's very successful excavation of his old glasses. The clutter would have to go if he wanted his full attention.
He grumbled as he pushed off the door to pick up the first few things. First day of life and I'm already his maid. Figures. He's always needed me to clean up after him.
Silence.
Somehow it only just hit him. Thinking alone in the late hours, planning things behind Edgar's back, it was nothing new. But a barb unsunk into his mental flesh was left out in the wide emptiness, poised to stab whoever happened upon it next, and he was the only one here.
He felt very small all of a sudden, and he didn't like it at all.
His eyes blankly scanned the room, looking for nothing, until they settled on the toy at Edgar's bedside. His toy.
He dropped the items he'd bundled into his arms and made his way over. He picked up the small simulacrum, turned it over in his hands once, and stared at it.
He wouldn't know this. Not really. He brushed a thumb up and over the little mouth, the contours of its small face. Retroactively, I've never been this at all.
I'm no one to him.
Does this mean we can start over? The thought struck him like lightning, freezing his heart in his chest. He was fixed solid, staring down at the small figure in his hands.
Before he could even think, he'd already thrown it through the open closet door, landing noisily in the box he'd dug through with a clatter. He grabbed up the fallen clothes and items and stuffed them back in the box, burying the toy in mundane detritus, then closed the cardboard flaps and slammed the door of the closet for good measure.
His breath was laboured and he glared, like wishing it gone would make the closet itself disappear.
Answers. He needed answers, more than anything.
He ripped the door open, and there was Edgar who looked up, staring dumbly back at him and carrying the clothes he'd shed earlier over his arm. Something in his mind clicked over, and he didn't think about it.
"Alright," he caught his breath for half a second, "what do you remember?"
Edgar just kept on staring, mouth open, eyes unconfident behind weak glasses. Scriabin huffed irritably, I don't have time for this, and moved towards him, arm outstretched.
"Come on." Edgar gave a small startled sound behind him as he grabbed his collar and dragged him through the doorway. He threw him across the room, not bothering to watch his arc as he closed the door behind him. The bed was that way, he'd be fine.
When he turned back, Edgar had managed to catch himself, though already halfway on the bed. Scriabin stood with his back to the door, feet planted and he crossed his arms. No more speculating around impossibilities, tangible and present as they might be, it was time for a proper interrogation. It was at least preferable to-
Edgar made a face at him and scooted back, offering a seat next to him on the bed. Equal footing briefly flashed through his mind and while he wouldn't consider it ideal, nothing today was really going his way. He sighed, then made his way over and sat across from Edgar, who was eyeing him with a certain degree of caution. At least the feeling was mutual.
"Spill." He re-crossed his arms and leaned towards Edgar. "What do you know?"
Edgar hesitated, apparently thinking, his hands laced and fingers agitatedly if quietly rubbing the backs of his hands.
"I want to verify some things first."
Scriabin snorted dismissively. Where had Edgar's overly-trusting nature gone? A serial killer, well he's an honoured guest, but Scriabin? He didn't even distrust him for the right reasons.
He gestured with an open hand, Go ahead, then tucked his arm back in.
"Todd's last name?"
Pfsh. At least it was proof enough that anything Edgar knew, Scriabin did as well. As expected.
"Casil. His stupid bear's called Shmee in case you forgot that too." Edgar shook his head. No he hadn't? If only he could just check!
"Do you know our phone number?" Obviously he did, so he rattled it off quickly, Edgar nodding in turn. He flipped his hair in time with the last digit, careful to keep his eyes covered. It was a bit of a timid attempt, being the first in this body, which was a minor blessing he supposed.
Edgar mulled over what he'd given him for a moment, then a moment longer, then a moment even longer. His eyes searched absently, gazing down into his own hand, his other on his chin, lightly thumbing his goatee. He was focused on names and numbers, but those were child's play compared to everything, everything Scriabin still wanted to know. It was frustrating on a visceral level, watching him struggle with such simple innocuous nothings while the most important person in his life was sitting right in front of him.
He was supposed to be the most important.
It was frustrating.
"You really don't remember anything, do you?" He didn't hide the sneer as it shaped his voice - odd the way his body just did that now, did things without him actively thinking them into being. Even things like the little waver that made its way in that he pushed back down and under. He was frustrated, angry, tired - any emotionality could be attributed to those, nothing else.
Edgar didn't answer, just kept his gaze locked to his face. That was almost worse. Watching him fumble through things, it wasn't fun, but at least he wasn't trying to pry. He could see him try to look past his bangs, and the fact that he didn't know better...
Scriabin looked away for a moment, then thought better of it. Best defense is a good offense.
He reached for Edgar's face, for those damn scars, ever-present reminders. Edgar shied away, not wanting to be touched suddenly by someone he didn't know. As if Scriabin had ever cared about that.
Well, things were different now. Maybe he didn't really want to touch him anyway. Not yet.
"Do you remember these...?" Instead he framed his face with his hands less than an inch from his skin, and even there he could feel the heat coming off him. Edgar reached for his face, looking away from Scriabin as he touched the angry red marks. He winced minutely, then glanced back at Scriabin, searching him, his expression guarded again. Scriabin could hear his own pulse in his ears.
"...Johnny?"
"Fuck." Fuck! "Of course you'd remember him but not me." God damn it! It wasn't right, it wasn't fair, just because Johnny came first by a hair's breadth, just because he wasn't in Edgar's head, with Edgar's fucked up little obsession with the murderous stick figure- It limited what he could get away with too, if he remembered that far back. Absolutely nothing was going in his favour.
"I'm sorry..." He sounded genuinely remorseful, and it stuck in his throat. Disgusting. "So you know Johnny, too."
"Unfortunately." Scriabin tucked his chin to his chest, arms crossed again in close proximity. This sucks. Edgar just kept rambling, unaware as ever. His excuses held this time at least, one point in his favour, no points for bringing his annoying habits with him despite everything.
"I don't think I've seen him for a couple months now? Everything's awfully..." He gave a vague gesture and Scriabin uncurled slightly. He was giving him room to contribute. He shook his head.
"You haven't."
"Have you?"
He returned to his tight coil of sulking. Not like he was keen to meet up and chat, but he couldn't explain why he hadn't had the opportunity to either.
"I remember he called, too."
"Ugh," barely above breath. Enough about Johnny! Again, Edgar continued obliviously.
"Although I don't really recall what we talked about, not for a while..."
Of course not. I took over for half of those.
He perked a bit, and Edgar focused more on him, patiently setting his hands in his lap.
"You know."
He could play this to his advantage. Give Johnny some well-deserved karmic justice for fucking him over so many times. It was almost better that Edgar didn't know - Scriabin had been trying to get him away from Johnny all this time, and if he really had forgotten everything, not just the moments when Scriabin took over but every moment they had shared, then that meant it coincided almost perfectly with his first meeting with Johnny. Blank spot after blank spot after blank spot, all lined up immediately after getting his face slashed.
He could work with that.
"It's probably trauma." Edgar startled and his hand shot to his temple, lightly touching his hair.
"Like, head trauma?" Scriabing almost laughed. Yeah, probably that too. But that wouldn't help his case.
"No." He leaned in, taking a more intimate, secretive tone. "Think about it. When did things start getting fuzzy?" If he was right on this - which of course he was, but not being able to verify, not being able to see that he was right, it was disconcerting - but if he was, Edgar's memories of Scriabin should start with that first fateful encounter, give or take. A bit of reframing here, a touch of implication there... It probably wasn't even an outright lie; if Edgar's memory were perfect after experiencing everything Johnny had put them through, that would be some kind of twisted miracle.
His only real concern was their "childhood" - how much had Scriabin pulled with him? Would that throw off his story? But that was so far back, there was no way Scriabin or Johnny could be implicated in that. As long as Edgar didn't bring it up before he thought his way around it...
Edgar stayed quiet for a long while. His eyes raced behind closed eyelids, searching, scanning, retracing - Scriabin could almost see the moments where he hesitated, stopped and went back, then starting recollecting again. He wished he could see it for real, watch him unfold himself, touch those memories again, hold up his own in contrast. Even just hear Edgar's thoughts as they went by, feel the emotions he felt. But he couldn't, so he just stared as unblinkingly as this new body would allow, just watched as Edgar went over everything on his own.
He finally opened his eyes, staring back into Scriabin's though he was sure they were still hidden. He felt naked and awkward and Edgar still hadn't said anything. If he could just see like he was supposed to, or if Edgar would just tell him, he wouldn't have to ask. I have to do everything around here.
"It was after you met him, wasn't it?"
"You think it's...mental trauma?" An unspoken 'yes.' Relief flooded him, and he pushed ahead.
"Edgar. He stabbed you." Edgar gripped his shoulder, his eyes closing again and he looked to be in pain. That was a very effective reminder at least. "Do you even know why?" He shook his head and spoke throught half-grit teeth.
"I must have made him mad, but I don't remember-" Of course not, I did that.
"Your mind is trying to protect you." Not. But one of us has to with your inexhaustable deathwish. Scriabin reached out to touch him properly, but Edgar pulled away. He didn't follow, still not yet. Play up the pity. "He messed you up so bad," with a curl in his tone, an I told you so that barely made it to words even privately; how long had he been holding that in? "Surely you must've felt like you wanted, you needed to get away from him, that he wasn't good for you, that you-" He'd told him so many times, some it must have stuck, some of it had to have-
"Then-!" Edgar's eyes shot open, wide and desperate with an edge of disbelief. A strangled gasp escaped him, half-choking him as he tried to speak. "Then why can't I remember you?!"
He almost began rolling off the cuff, but really, he still didn't know for sure. And it definitely wasn't like he could tell the truth even if he wanted to; who, who hadn't lived it, would believe him? Edgar certainly wouldn't, not with his lack of imagination. He had to dress this up, weave a narrative that was plausible, had the perfect mix of truth and falsehood to stand up to scrutiny.
Huh. Ironic.
"I..." No. Some of this was Edgar's fault too. "We...argued."
"Argued?"
"I... Mng." He wanted to aim for some kind of levity, but his throat had tightened on him. He just wanted to tell this stupid inside joke and not have it affect him, not have it mean anything, and here he was getting emotional? He'd say it and fucking mean it. "It's not like I'm in your head, so-" spat out in a rush, there, he'd said it. Haha, isn't that so funny. He swallowed harshly, pushing down everything he felt into his stomach acid. He was in control. He was fine. This didn't shake him. "I can't know for sure," another humourless laugh inside, "but I was against your relationship with Johnny. Maybe you shut me out so you could keep seeing him with no pushback."
It certainly wasn't outside the realm of possibilities of what Edgar would do to avoid taking Scriabin's extremely basic advice about fraternizing with serial killers. How many times had he been ignored up to this point, only to culminate in the ultimate 'I don't know what you're talking about.' Pfeh. I bet he wishes he'd thought of this sooner. It did nothing for his painfully stuttered pulse.
"You know, I've been trying to convince you to stop going back to him for a while, but, well..." He waved his hand at Edgar's hand still death gripped into his shoulder, and Edgar averted his eyes guiltily. At least he showed some remorse. Better than his nigh constant apologia.
He stayed quiet a moment longer, and just before Scriabin made to fill the silence again, Edgar struck him with an intense look.
"What are you to me?" Ugh. Of course. There was not a single good answer for that. Even if he told him everything- no, especially if he told him everything, there was no way Edgar would believe him. But coming up with a convincing lie on the spot, when they were so clearly something to each other - even he needed time to come up with something workable. How could he have ever prepared for a situation like this? It was never meant to happen, so many things were never meant to happen!
He continued at Scriabin's silence. "You know Nny," Ugh! Even his awful nickname. "And Todd. And...me." He couldn't refute it, so he nodded tightly. "Do you live here?"
Technically he had, and technically he hadn't. Still, going forward, it would be easier to let Edgar assume that he did. It wasn't like he had anywhere else to go at the moment anyway.
"Yes."
"Are we..." He searched him, looked him over as much as he could and he wasn't subtle about it. If only Scriabin had his proper glasses, he'd let him look as much he wanted, behold his spectacle! As it was, he just felt self-conscious and it was very unbefitting. "...family?"
The baggage on that. He did not feel like opening that particular can of worms in either of their current states. He turned his head and flipped through any number of halfway decent ways to phrase it until he hit on something Edgar would remember. Better not to contradict for now.
"You told Johnny you have no family when you met."
"That's true..." Edgar blinked, processing. "Wait, did I tell you that?" Scriabin startled. Even after he'd accounted for his memory! Of course he had to pick his story apart now, he never knew when to leave well enough alone.
"When you-" No, he had to be involved. "When we bandaged your face."
Edgar mulled on that for a few seconds, taking on a thoughtful pose. "I only remember being alone."
"You don't remember me at all. What do you want from me?" He huffed.
"No, sorry, you're right."
"Thank you." He was right!
Where had Edgar expected him to be? There was something weird about how he'd said it. He filed the thought away for later.
"So, if you've been living here, where..." Edgar looked around the room, then back to Scriabin. "Where have you been sleeping? Todd's already on the couch..."
Scriabin couldn't help as a smile sprung to his face. If he was going to present him with such a perfect opportunity, well, he'd better take it. He even had the decency to look nervous in response! This was too good.
"Would you believe me if I said right here, in bed?" He again tucked his chin, playfully this time, his hair falling further in his eyes. Even through the dark tangles he could make out Edgar's face immediately bristling with heat.
Ooh. That's such a fetching shade on you, my dear.
"But-! I, I haven't been sleeping on the floor!" He was visibly sweating!
"Correct." His smile grew. This was too easy, and he needed an easy win right about now.
"W-" He leaned forward on his legs, though refused to get any closer. When he spoke it was a harsh whisper. "Why...?"
Scriabin shrugged easily, not bothering to reign in his smile in the least. "I mean, where else, right?" He leaned in since Edgar refused to, and oh. He was blushing all the way up to his scalp. Hilarious. "You certainly didn't seem to mind." He couldn't hold back the slightly musical tone or his eyebrows inclination to move on their own. His body knew what he was getting at, and he could see it only increased Edgar's fluster. All the better.
"Well I do now!" Edgar darted up and away, stumbling in his hasty retreat. "If you'll excuse me!" though he was already practically in the hallway by the time he said it. What a display, and Scriabin's laugh was loud and natural.
Finally, something positive. He'd managed to fumble his way through, not his best work in lying or manipulation, but he'd set some important groundwork. He'd gotten some answers, and he could start to shape some more believable stories around them.
The biggest hurdles were Johnny and Devi. As long as Edgar didn't meet with them too soon - or well, at all would be preferable, but he doubted he could just keep him locked up, as much as the idea appealed to him. There were so many things that were possible now, things that he had the ability to do, given the right circumstances... All of that in due time. For now he had a yarn to spin.
He listened as Edgar fumbled in the hall, the sheer sound of cloth being pulled and folded over an arm barely perceptable. Was he really going to try to sleep on what little was left over? Maybe he'd give up once he realized the pickings were thin and beg Scriabin to let him sleep with him. Hah.
While he was out, Scriabin made his way over to the pajamas drawer. They were all old and soft, even just to his hand. They'd do for now, until he could get his own. It wasn't like he hadn't worn all this before anyway.
By the time he'd finished dressing, his clothes discarded on the opposite side of the bed to where Edgar had set up his little nest, Edgar had finally gotten himself a set of pajamas. He wondered for a moment if he'd dress with Scriabin in the room again, though maybe his intense stare drove him off. Who could say. He patted the bed with a wide grin when he returned and was dutifully ignored. He settled down to the side, and Scriabin laid on his arms to look down at him.
"Ugh, lame."
"I don't-"
"Yeah, whatever." He'd heard it all before. At least he could literally look down on him like this. He folded his hands and leaned just a bit further, looking him over. A desire he hadn't realized he had surfaced in the dark and quiet. "Give me your hand."
"Sorry?" Scriabin held out his hand expectantly.
"I used to hear your heart beat every day." Edgar looked at him incredulously, but Scriabin was unperturbed. "Let me hear it again."
He hesitated but eventually slowly offered his arm. "...Okay."
He pulled his arm up and placed his thumb against his wrist. He felt a strange mismatch - where he'd been expecting one heartbeat, there were two. He covered his surprise, near shock at the realization that of course he had his own body now, by pulling harder on Edgar's arm, directing him up to his ear.
"Wh-"
"Shh." Quietly. He had wanted this, wanted this body, this separation, this freedom for so long, and now... He spoke quietly, his voice betraying nothing. "I'm listening."
Edgar's pulse was erratic, but he hardly paid attention to it. His own fingers on Edgar's skin, warm and pliant, and Edgar's fingers twitching in his hair, he could feel it, he was trying not to touch him- This hesitation was killing him, every jerky movement away not from fear of what Scriabin could do to him, just uncertainty, like he was still a stranger- He pressed him harder to his head, and he could feel goosebumps under his fingers. He wanted to just hold him there until all the memories they'd shared poured back through him, into his blood, into his breath.
Where are you?
But he replied in that same uncertain, guarded tone that indicated he didn't know, not really.
"C...can I have my arm back now?"
He pushed him away. "Fine." Edgar curled his hand protectively against his chest, and he noticed he rubbed it slightly, he probably hadn't even realized.
He mumbled out a harried "Good night," and it was almost enough to make Scriabin smile. Almost. He could still affect him but this wasn't enough, it wasn't right.
He laid his head on the pillow, not bothering to pull his arm up over the side of the bed. If he twitched in the night and touched Edgar, well, that could mean anything. Maybe he was dreaming. Maybe he did it on purpose. Plausible deniability was one of his greatest assets.
As it was, he was just tired. Maybe he didn't pull it back because he hated the thought of sleeping alone, pushed out and forgotten, and hated it more that he was even thinking something like that. How pathetic. He didn't need anyone, especially not Edgar.
But he was tired. Not in his right mind.
Does this mean we can start over...?
The thought echoed and died, and he slept.
#💟#Fanfiction#Blank Slate AU#Edgar#Scriabin#Todd#Shmee#He's technically in there but once again no speaking lines :P Yet anyway lol#It's fanfic time again! I fell into yet another writing fugue and finished Chapters 1 and 2 in like four days lol#If you'll notice tho ♪ Neither of those chapters are featured under the cut :3c Pls do read Ch. 1 at least to get caught up before diving in#This one took a bit longer but that'd be because it's Almost as big as both previous chapters combined lol#I'll update it to the chapter list in a few days! Y'all get a preview here :D It'll be the same there with slightly different formatting#Decided to try something new since tumblr doesn't normally allow underlines but it's very important to Scriabin's syntax#I promise they're all just links to the first chapter lol - you're welcome to check but I promise I didn't put a sneaky link anywhere lol#My one gripe is that it doesn't look as good on-blog :/ Fine on the dash! But I'm not willing to sacrifice the dark colouration on the links#Italics were chosen as the only light feature for a reason ♪#I mean at least it's not Bolded lol I'll take it#These were a lot of fun to write so far ahhh <3 I've been wanting to dig a little deeper for a long while now!#I mentioned this idea offhandedly in the tags of Incoming Outgoing but ahhh it's very rewarding to put to words :D#Fun Fun Fun
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so... i just got off work, and can see i've missed a few things.
gonna spend the rest of my waking hours getting caught up, but just want to say a few things.
one, thank you to all the love and support. publicly and privately. it's seen and appreciated, even if i don't individually respond.
two, i hope going forward, we all carry the lesson learned from what's been happening in the fandom. i wasn't the only one who has received nasty reactions or felt exclusion to any degree, and that's really important to remember. i'm privileged to have any sort of platform to any degree on this hellsite, and i can guarantee you anything that's thrown at an account with reach like my own (no matter if sometimes i misconceive just how far that reach can be, given i didn't expect the response garnered), can be thrown just as easily if not ten times worse at smaller creators/those whose voices are getting lost in it all. i'm also privileged that thus far in my online presence, my queer experience has been entirely different from my actual life, and that's largely due to having my shit figured out, and for being a white cis woman who can wholeheartedly say she identifies as bisexual.
fandom spaces have always experienced these issues. they don't get better unless we speak up, and especially unless we listen.
uplift each other. be kind to each other. life is hard enough without this kind of stuff - if we want to see a better online space to feel safe in, we've gotta make it. there'll always be people like that anon. it's sad and shitty, but it's the human experience. the way to change it? keep the energy i saw today.
it's not just a today thing, and it's not just a "it happened to ghost so it matters" thing. it always happens, and it always matters.
keep. that. energy.
and, again just for shits and giggles and to drill it into all our brains, be kind to one another. <3
#keep it in your day to day life#keep it with your friends and keep it with strangers#it costs nothing to be kind to the people who deserve it#and i think you'll find that category may be wider than you think#i just wanted to make it very clear; my blog is a safe space to all#i feel like i'm probably repeating myself but it was just... a not great feeling getting off work and seeing so many of you sharing your po#you all deserve to feel as though this fandom space is a place you belong#you think no one cares about your writing? no one cares about your art? wrong. i do. i do very very much#and as always my dms are always open to GENUINE conversations about this entire ordeal/situation#whether it be to talk experiences or feelings or to educate#okay im rambling in tags again#i'll put the soap box away and actually get properly caught up and then go to bed
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sometimes, when i write for this blog, i forget the most important thing.
yes, i wrote this for you --
but, i wrote this for me, too.
#writers on tumblr#it's so easy to get lost in the numbers and it's always strange because#i've come to realize that my proudest writing doesn't necessarily perform well but that that's okay#and still i have to remind myself of that all the time#reminders for the manic creatives who tend to get caught up in things like notes and followers#be proud - always - to have written#and be even prouder of knowing that you'll write again and keep on writing#🌧 raindrops
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me when I'm brave
#writing an email apologizing for a thing that happened that i feel so guilty about that it makes me sick !#but im apologizing instead of hiding away because im a brave responsible adult or whatever. and i gotta do scary and hard things bc it's th#best thing i can do in this situation#augwhauhahhggh#i still think of myself as a kid but im a legal adult and i have responsibilities and relationships to maintain and i have to be the one to#do that. im not a kid and i dont want to be treated as such so i have to do the hard bits of it too!!!!#i cant hide behind my parents#i shouldnt hide behind my parents#i dont want to hide behind my parents#and if i want that freedom i have to prove myself and take responsibility#theres a lot more conflict to be had in this life. being brave and handling this one will give me the experience and bravery to handle more#also i learned my lesson lolllllll you Can people-please too close to the sun and it will burn#there will be consequences that are worse than if you just straight up stated your boundaries#like it works the first few times but you'll get caught eventually....#guhhhhh#its okay i learned my lesson. isn't great to be human and have experiences 👍
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Sona and Comfort
#my art#my oc#Sona#Comfort#Comfort the fusion#Tried a background technique I saw on tumblr for this while lmao not actually looking at the tutorial#Just did what I remembered of it#The brain is the biggest clown cause you'll be feeling like shit actually like part of you has died the ego death WILL be real#And then literally the next day you'll be like oh wait nvm that was a really stupid thing to get caught up on why am I letting this hurt#So lmao will be taking jumper cables to my sona like nuh huh hisuian traits revoked we are coming back wrong²#The smashes or cracked forehead gem might stay tho#Pussied outta posting this yesterday but today I realised I don't care and Comfort looks cool as fuck and I love her and wanna show her off#Sometimes you gotta draw urself getting held and comforted by a big lady and realise there are people who care about you#Fingers crossed to manifest Comfort irl I bet she's soft as fuck to cuddle into#pokemon#Yes as obscure as this is they are pokemon fusions XD#I.Zoroark mewtwo latias fusions to be exact more obvious on Comfort tho
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If I'm not writing about our relationship as if it were a sports injury we didn't really have one I'm sorry babe
#a pattern. I am starting to notice!#never read the plays right. called fouls before a hit ever came. in fairness. I faked most of my injuries.#I am not on the sidelines. mainlining electrolytes. I caught my breath long before I hit him. one of us had to end up on#their back. out of breath. feeling like the fist came out of nowhere. it was a knockout round. you really didn't see it coming?#I don't start these things. i finish them. it takes negotiation to work me up to a fight. I'd never lose. you'd only get#hurt. neither of us wants this. can you hit me the way that I like?#something about the way the thing you loved can hurt you so much it's impossible to keep doing it. and you'll grieve it forever#still sadder about having to quit rowing than I've ever been about a breakup
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Maybe being a clone doesn't scare me because I had to recreate myself at one point in my life. When I was going through major depression (not like lol depression, but it was very bad), I reached a point where I could not differentiate myself from the depression. Depression seeped into every fiber of my being that I essentially lost everything that made me me. Changing for the better meant scrapping everything I knew. I had to start from scratch and build myself back up piece by piece. It was terrifying. Depression, as bad as it was, became a crutch I could always rely on. It was steady and consistent. It was everything I knew. To let it go meant venturing out into a world that I had no clue what was what anymore. I had to go on blind faith that I would make it through.
I've done it once I probably can do it again.
#rambles#i think that a lot of people that have had depressive episodes don't know how much worse major depression is#it's one thing to struggle with depression and another to be caught in the storm with no way out#i remember crying so much believing i was the worst person alive and didn't deserve to be loved#i remember wishing i was never born or hoping something would kill me in my sleep#i remember being absolutely starving barely having eaten in days but still being completely unable to eat#i remember crying forcing myself to stomach a few bites from an apple haha... took me more than an hour#it's so odd that it can make you feel so terrible yet you'll become codependent upon it#it's sticky like natto#can't get the slime off of you no matter how hard you try#until it becomes you#and it will *become* you#recreating yourself from that is such a task#in depression you'll lose what you're likes are... your dislikes... your hobbies... your beliefs... your values...#you lose essentially everything#you have to discover all of these things all over again#and then there's the fear that what if you come out of this as someone you can't even recognize?#this is why i'm so pushy when it comes to ppl with depression symptoms#pls just go to a doctor and get medicated#the more you leave it alone the greater the chance you'll end up like me#okay i shall finally sleep
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Thinking so hard about ryohei i miss him so much
#I knew kiyomiya was gonna break his heart the moment they partnered up but i still i am so...#my muts on twt keep scaring me with theories that ryohei will get caught up in the bc/noah scuffles#i mean he already has since kiyomiya left him for the noah pride brigade 😭😭😭😭#how could you treat him like an outsider ryohei come home#you'll never hear the end of it if ryohei ends up bc or WARDOGS LMFAO#ramblings that maybe only 2 other people on this website care about
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