" well, well, look who's decided to show up again-- hey, princess. " // @adoranoia

( post — @adoranoia / tommy )

jeremy smiles. it's not like he has to wait long to make it home - and the bus itself is warm enough for him to stand it.

"eh, just bring it next time," he says, waving tommy's small protests away. "no biggie."

bus won't be here for another few minutes. he knows; he'd checked his watch looking away for a moment. as for the conversation, he tried to pay attention, but like anything else, he has to think hard to remember.

jeremy clears his throat, rubs his hands together. meanwhile, his eyes list away. "uh, think it was something about the soda machine? in your break room, right? the-uhh." fingers snapping. "flavors, orrr...?"

@adoranoia said: “count your breaths with me, okay? ready? one, two, three, four…” // not a game au, tommy @ gordon, obvs! tfw ur bestie has a panic attack bc shits fucked. sorry buddy.

>>From this meme

     It's probably unbecoming of someone who's supposed to be the leader, but honestly Gordon long ago ran out of fucks to give. He's allowed to have what Dr. Coomer called "a case of the crumbles". I mean, you try being in that situation!      It's kinda funny in a sad way though. Soldiers and aliens and whatever-the-fuck-else and he manages fine decent well enough to function, but all it takes to lose that held-by-a-thread sanity is a flicker of the lights.      The power had gone out. Not for long. Maybe a minute. The lights came right back.      Gordon hadn't.      A scream, a shot at the wall (thank fuck he hadn't hit anyone), and the others had found him when light returned having scrambled back up against a wall, left arm clutching his right, hyperventilating. Eyes blown wide behind cracked glasses looking but not seeing.      It's not gonna happen again.      They aren't taking anything else from him.      He needs to...      To...      "Count your breaths with me, okay?" A familiar voice breaks through. "Ready? one, two, three, four…"      Really? Fucking breathing excercises? Now is not the time for–for fucking therapy bullshit! Heart pounds in his ears and he swears he can see the damn skeleton in his peripheral, but Tommy gets his attention again and repeats himself.      Alright fine. Whatever. Not like he has any better options. With a shaky nod he tries to slow himself, following in and out with Tommy's numbers. One, two, three, four...      Again.      And again.      And it actually begins to work.      Reality fades in with every round and when he can finally register more than Tommy's voice, see the concern written in their features, Gordon slumps; head to hands resting on knees, eyes on the HEV suit curled beneath.

     ❝God. Fuck.❞ He's a mess. A clipped sigh as he comes back up, good hand running through messy bangs before looking up at Tommy. It's always Tommy. Like the universe is trying to smack him upside the head for his initial treatment. The one he judged most, doubted most, is the one to come through the most. It's always Tommy. ❝Sorry you had to–shouldn't have had to deal with, with whatever the fuck that was. I don't deserve you, man.❞

closed with @adoranoia ! cont. from here.

it had been a terrifying ordeal: while jumin is aware of the dangers that come with...well, everything (his position, seven's job), it still had been terrifying to be in the thick of it. perhaps it had been foolhardy to duck down a quick little shortcut, perhaps it had been something they should have known better than to do, but...

well, at least it was over, jumin tells himself. at least it is over, and no one got killed. now, they are safe. now, they are in his penthouse, and there is more security than before, and now everything will be alright.

hence, the whispered...confession? could it be called that?

and then the fluttering of eyes, seven's gaze meeting his, butterflies in his stomach and his heart a hummingbird in a cage--

oh, shit. seven heard it.

words catch in jumin's throat, eyes wide, pink rushing to his cheeks as lips part and he finds himself unable to look away from seven. " a-ah, well...! " thoughts race, jumin trying to find a way to back out, to take it back, but he can't. he can't, can he, after seven almost died for him?

that was what scared him the most. it wasn't for his own safety, god, no: it was the fact he could have lost seven in that moment. the cold fear, the dread in his stomach, the horror of oh, oh god, he could lose seven before he ever told seven that he--

" i did-- do mean it. " the words are said before jumin can think any further, and oh, he is doing this, isn't he? he said it out loud, and the words hang between them, laden with unlabelled emotions. " i owe you my life, seven. " his gaze is intense, eyes locked onto seven's, and a hand goes to gently cup seven's cheek. when his palm touches seven's skin, jumin swears he could feel electricity.

" it is yours. and it has been for a long time. "

🌙 🪵

send 🌙 and i'll recommend a blog for my favorite character  ,  send 🪵 and i'll say a positive thing about my own blog

            a  lot  of  the  fandoms  i  write  for  are  obscure  or  dead  ,  but  i  have  like  ...  one  character  that  i  actively  know  and  love  and  someone  who  writes  them  !  i  say  this  in  the  sense  that  ,  i  love  all  the  canon  characters  i  interact  with  (  solivcgant's  eiji  ,  ubiquitousidol's  yuna  ,  some  of  my  favorite  writing  partners  )  and  they're  amongst  my  FAVORITE  CANON  characters  to  write  with  ,  but  i  didn't  originally  interact  with  the  source  material  ,  yfm  )  as  for  favorite  characters  that  like  ,  i  interact  with  their  canon  material  (  ie  game  ,  show  ,  etc  )  ,  adoranoia's  saeyoung  from  mystic  messenger  is  one  to  check  out  ,  as  well  as  galaxythixf's  yoru  from  valorant  ,  as  well  as  itsybitsypeterparker's  peter  parker  from  mcu  and  earth  616  .

                  a  positive  thing  about  my  blog  :  i  haven't  deleted  it  yet  HAWYEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

                                  𝙏𝙄𝙈𝙀  𝙁𝙊𝙍  𝙎𝙊𝙈𝙀  𝙋𝙊𝙎𝙄𝙏𝙄𝙑𝙄𝙏𝙔  .  𝙖𝙘𝙘𝙚𝙥𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜  !!  

@adoranoia pressed ♥ for a Ben Paul Starter

Ben didn't know what day it was anymore. At the start of the apocalypse, he had made it a habit to keep track. After he had gotten impaled in Savannah, the days had begun to blur together. He lost track during those days. He only went by seasons now. Organizing when to do what, in order to stay alive.

It was fall now, he was sure his birthday had passed, another year older. Another year wasted. He used the fall to scavenge, harvest any plants he'd managed to plant, and gather seeds. He was never one to garden before, but now, it was necessary.

He had a bandana over his mouth and nose, as he looked around a convenience store. Having been years after the fall, it was pretty picked through. There was pretty much never anything worth grabbing, but sometimes there was something left.....

His head perked up as he heard the front door open, the bell above it ringing to signify what used to mean a customer had come in. Now it meant danger had entered.

Ben hid behind a shelf, a pistol on one hip, and a knife in the other. He'd need to figure out if this was a human or a walker if he were to respond appropriately. So he listened.

It's  been  more  than  a  while  since  he  encountered  someone  his  age.  While  it  was  a  relief,  he  was  still  skeptical.  He  didn't  seem  to  be  in  a  large  group  at  this  moment,  but  then  again  there  was  no  way  to  be  sure.  Perhaps  the  latter  teen  stepped  our  for  some  time  to  himself  ?  Or  he  was  up  to  no  good.  

It  was  impossible  to  tell  and  Ben  has  never  had  the  best  of  luck  with  strangers.  He  watched  from  his  safe  spot  in  the  brush  a  moment  longer  before  losing  sight  of  the  Russian  teenager.

Oh  shit.  Ben  raised  himself  from  his  crouch  and  gradually  begins  to  investigate.  ❝  Where'd  he  go?❞...  Pacing  back  he  hears  a  snap.  He's  stepped  on  a  pretty  loud  twig  and  made  himself  known.  ❝      Oh,  man.  Oh  shit.  ❞  He  raised  his  arms  over  his  head  immediately.  Pathetic.  He  should  be  better  at  this  by  now.  He  had  made  a  promise  to  himself  that  he  would  be  better.  Or  even  stronger.  A  promise  not  just  for  him  but  the  people  he's  let  down.

❝      I'm  -  I  don't  want  any  trouble,  okay?❞  Like  he's  going  to  believe  that...he  just  caught  you  snooping  around.  

@adoranoia . S T A R T E R for Arvo

@adoranoia​​  liked  this  post  for  a  starter.

                     ‶  i’ve  been  thinking  about  potential  plans  for  our  next  summer  vacation.  ″  itsuki  begins,  holding  in  his  hands  a  few  travel  brochures.  ‶  my  uncle  offered  to  fund  a  group  trip  for  us.  he  thinks  it’s  good  for  me�� to  able  to  get  out  and  explore  the  world  while  still  young,  and  he  said  he  was  more  than  happy  to  cover  the  cost  of  my  friends  if  i  chose  to  bring  them.  ″

                    he  places  the  brochures  on  the  brigade  leader’s  desk,  each  one  detailing  famous  locations  across  the  globe.  wherever  they  chose  to  go,  the  agency  would  follow  and  ensure  things  went  smoothly.  it  was  important  to  itsuki  to  keep  the  girl  busy-  as  well  as  keep  up  good  relations  with  her.

                    and,  most  importantly,  he  enjoyed  seeing  her  happy.

                    ‶  unfortunately,  i’m  at  a  loss  for  where  to  go.  and  since  i’m  planning  on  bringing  the  brigade  along,  i  was  hoping  that  you  could  help  me  make  the  decision.  ″

{ @adoranoia // Continued from here }

     He hadn't meant to stare. He just hadn't noticed until right then and it's kind of hard not to stare. He's seen scars before; he's helped manage Snake's, bandaged up Raiden a few times, and he's got some of his own. But none of them are missing a body part.      And when Seven realizes he's staring, ❝Gyah! Sorry!❞ he immediately grabs the tablet pen he'd been reaching for and looks away, back to his screen, feeling awful about being rude. He'll just go back to his modeling program now. Awkward...      Except Seven actually brings it up? Invites his curiosity? That was unexpected. He's used to Snake and Raiden shutting him down when he asks about injuries he wasn't there for. Snake opens up sometimes but it's not common enough for Otacon to expect it, let alone from others.      Yes, he is wondering what happened, and he sits up straighter when Seven keeps going.      And the story, what little Seven is willing to share, is impressive.

     ❝You're braver than me.❞ It slips out before he can catch himself. But it's the truth. Or at least, back at Shadow Moses. He'd withheld information on REX form Liquid out of suspicion, but one talk with Ocelot and he'd spilled it all. And Ocelot had only threatened, nothing more. Then when the ninja had him at swordpoint, his life for answers, he'd been a coward. Sure, he didn't actually have answers, and he'd expressed as much, but he knows he would've given them if he did.      He'd like to think he's better now. That he too wouldn't talk no matter what his captors did. After all he'd do anything to protect the people he cares about. He conquered his fear of heights for Snake. But... he's not sure he'd hold out through losing a body part, even one as small as a finger. He'd like to think he would, but... Well hopefully he'll never have to learn the answer.      He reaches back toward Seven's hand, a muffled snort at the joke and teasingly replying, ❝Sometimes it's too bad we aren't part starfish.❞ as he threads his fingers between Seven's. Curiosity has the better of him for the moment, but after just a second or two he quickly pulls back, flushing a faint pink as he tries to cover for the slip-up with the question that had prompted the gesture in the first place; ❝So, uh, h-how long did it take you to relearn typing? You're pretty fast. I wouldn't have guessed.❞

@adoranoia sent this in...

“--yeah, well. we’re a team, right? it’s you and me, always!” seven says, smiling brightly at the other, at vanderwood.

... Why did unease curl in his gut? There's a pointed look of cynicism, finely trimmed brows narrowing at the abrupt (abrupt, abrupt, Seven Zero Seven was always abrupt) sentiment; at his own desk, more finely kept than Seven's own - crumbs, emptied carbonated drinks, it takes a trained willpower to not take a torch to it - however surprisingly, a sharp-tongued comment doesn't spit out. Whatever venom that runs along Vanderwood's veins cease, if only temporarily.

“Assigned teammates,” they correct — before, the very notion of 'teammates' was obliterated on sight, disgust evident in their delivery, but the blow was softened... that is, if Seven recognized it as such to start with. “Assigned.”

Ticktickticktick, Vanderwood tacked at his keyboard, hit enter, sighed and slouched in their seat. Reaching across, his palm landed atop Seven's shoulder, gently squeezing, unsure of what precisely he was adding into the touch, and that uncertainty made him grind his teeth. Seven was lucky Vanderwood hadn't requested for a new partner.

Yet.

(They had yet to fill out the paperwork; maybe would never, his meticulous fingers never able to guide the pen, never able to let it touch the paper.)

“Get back to work, Seven Zero Seven.”

If his voice was lacking that casual disdain it usually carried... Vanderwood made no effort to acknowledge it.

@adoranoia / x.

the legion. 

he'd thought it curious when he went back to ormond after all those years, only to find that no one had heard from or seen the four in ... so long. even the lodge had long since been abandoned, though the mural they'd asked for way back when still remained on the walls, as fresh in his memory as the day he'd painted it. they'd given him a six pack as payment — and thenoffered to let him hang with them for the night. jeff had never been much for socializing, but that evening, he'd felt like he was part of something. and deep down, he knows that if he hadn't left ormond with his mother not long after that, he'd have stuck around with their group for much longer.

it's a bitter sort of irony, isn't it, to find them in this fog. this place that snatches people up and thrusts them directly into horrific circumstances. survivors, running and fighting to survive from those who would stick a knife into their backs. maybe he shouldn't be surprised that the legion turned out to be one of the latter, all things considered. still, as he runs from the assailant, a pallet dropped to slow them down, he knows which one is under the mask right now — of course he knows. it's one advantage he has on the other survivors : jeff knows them.

it's a split second decision, one made behind the safety of the window he'd just scrambled over. he stops running. does she recognize him? probably not. jeff is far older, more scarred, than the last time she saw him, years having passed by in the outside world. but. turning so that he's facing her,  he knows he's willing to try, at least.

“ c'mon, suzie ... you don't have to do this. ”

i  was  making  my  way  down  the  halls  --  almost  unbothered  before  noticing  that  there  was  a  fellow  classmate  that  was  lingering  a  bit  too  closely  for  my  liking.  i  turn  swiftly  on  my  heels,  facing  the  other.  ❝  unless  you're  telling  me  you're  planning  on  joining  to  literature  club,  i  would  suggest  you  watch  how  closely  you  follow.  ❞  the  smile  on  my  face  remained  unchanged.  ❝  people  might  get  the  wrong  idea.  ❞  /  @adoranoia

✨ fuck it we ball

🐝  *  ―  send ✨ or ( ‘SPARKLE’ ) and i’ll tell you at least one thing i like most about you, your blog, your portrayal, or your muse. [accepting]

;; it feels like we haven't really written together much, but you've been around my blog and corner of the rpc for a long ass time. I appreciate your continued support even though we don't write much~ As for physical things I like, I think you make good graphics and I love how you format replies... it's simple but thematic to each of your muses~

“WAIT HUH WHAT I DON’T HAVE ICONS REMADE HOLD ON WE CAN’T BE BACK!! SAYORI, YOU ALWAYS DO THIS-”

@adoranoia ;;

haruhi vc: is s/b jelly ??? peanut butter and jealous ???

              ❝  and  what  am  i  supposed  to  be  jealous  of  ?  feel  free  to  bother  koizumi  more.  ❞

@adoranoia said : the RFA had decided to meet up that day for party planning purposes, and as they chatter amongst themselves about decorations, guestlists, and whatever else... one member seems a bit distracted, quickly scribbling something down on a spare piece of paper he'd found.

then, a tap, tap, tap. he taps his foot against jumin's who's sat beside him, obviously trying to get his attention, and he slides something over. a small note, folded up all messy haphazard.

once opened, it reads 'this meeting is boooo-ri-ng! do you wanna do something together after this? how about it, juju?', featuring a little doodle of himself posing, sticking out his tongue, with scattered stars.

looking up, jumin would find seven zero seven looking back expectingly, head propped up in his hands, with a big smile.

focus was something that came easy to jumin -- generally speakng, anyway. today, however, his attention seems to drift, hazy half-formed thoughts dancing at the edges of his mind, begging for him to look away from whoever was speaking, to stop thinking about the words said, and instead let his mind wander.

he had been doing alright (mostly), until he felt a tap against his foot. jumin raises an eyebrow, glancing sidelong at the prime suspect, lips pursing slightly as he does so. jumin had thought it to be suspicious that seven was taking notes, and it looks like his hunch was correct.

passing notes? how childish.

but does jumin subtly take the note and unfold it, quickly scanning the scribbled words? oh, most certainly.

a small smile tugs at his lips, a silent laugh huffed as he begins to scribble a reply on a scrap of paper.

focus, 707. this is important. ...but fine, i guess. what do you want to do?

and below that, a quick doodle of a small cat with a question mark over its head was drawn, before the note was folded and jumin tapped seven's foot with his own. once the redhead's attention was given, jumin slipped the note back over to his partner in crime.