#compared to the rest of the gang she's honestly a pretty selfless person
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artemis is one of the best characters ever created i think. she likes to feel like a cobb salad when shes having sex. she serves cunt at all hours of the day. shes bisexual. shes jewish. she's always serving a look. she is constantly on psychedelic drugs. she fucks nasty in the dumpster behind wendy's. shes perfect
#iasip#from time to time i think about how artemis transcribed charlies play into a script#with seemingly nothing to gain from it#besides the fact that charlie is her friend and she got to help put on a show#do you think she knew? do you think while writing it all down she figured out what it was actually about#i mean she doesn't deny what everyone is saying about the script but she kind of sides with charlie when he starts bickering with the gang#do you think she felt like the kinder option was to just let him express himself the way he wanted to..#compared to the rest of the gang she's honestly a pretty selfless person#i mean yeah. she'll usually only get into something if it benefits her#but sometimes there's no reason for her to be involved. someone just asked her for help and she showed up
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Endgame 1.1 || exhaustion. || Andy || RE: dansa med oss klappa era händer gör som vi gör ta några steg åt vänster lyssna och lär missa inte chan
(Breathe in).
(Breathe out).
Andrea Mori could feel the anger radiating from his neighbour.
“Grisha… please don’t”.
A weak, tepid smile, nothing close to his usual, unbreakable one.
The one he’d plastered onto his face for years, moulded lips cracking pathetically under any duress.
(Heh, he’d really turned into a crybaby, hadn’t he).
Now that they were firmly on the ground, he could finally stand up with shaky legs, making his way to the right, one, two, three, four seats, until he was looking straight up at their Grand Don.
Right up close.
(Breathe in).
(Breathe out).
“I...I understand. I understand, Evie”.
Had he known….
Hm.
He’d have felt he could relate.
(Honestly, Andy just hoped that when they met last cycle, they hadn’t had to deal with the ever looming menace of Robo Baby).
He couldn’t say more. After all, she probably had her reasons. He’d already said enough. But as for the other participant in this charade…
He could already feel his body tensing up.
(God, Sylvie really did have the worst luck with women).
“But I’m gonna ask. Miss Mori. What age are you? ‘Cause you have pretty bad skin for a 5 year old”.
His voice came out exhausted. No time for theatrics. No energy to go off.
“You ain’t any better than the rest of us. Please, stop acting like it. Don’t go acting like you’re a paragon of virtue compared to all us dirty evil bastards as if you didn’t personally kill multiple people. Do you think this place is in the same reality as outside? Are you even certain Mr Gambit has access to the memories of someone who may have died before he and this place even existed?”
Would a Saori who came back from the dead be the same person? Would she be happy? Would she be in pain? He didn’t even want to think about the ethical implications of bringing back your decades-dead ex.
(Actually, now that he thought about it.. What age was Gambit?)
Not really a question he wanted to ask himself, but… if this were a better time…)
“So please don’t go on as if you are the only person here who has tried being selfless. You ain’t pure evil, neither of you. I realize that. You didn’t set this up, you’re taking advantage of a system. You- you both saved lives before but... “
The pen in his left hand shifts.
Ever so slightly.
“I don’t know”
A gulp. Trembling lips.
The pen shakes audibly, twisting and groaning as Andy’s eyes begin to water.
“Maybe I was a shit person in past cycles. Maybe I’ll be a shit person in future cycles”.
CRACK.
Thick globules of ink fly up Andy’s arm, bleeding black stains into his fresh white sleeves, the pen clatters to the floor as his eyes focus on the two members of clubs he’d gotten to know.
Not even noticing as ink dripped down onto the floor below.
(He’d done this before).
(He just didn’t know it yet).
“I don’t know. Just know I ain’t in a position to vilify you”.
Fat tears streak down his face. Face red with.. What?
Anger?
(at himself).
Despair?
(at the whole situation).
Desperation?
(he just wanted to give up).
Exhaustion?
(all at once).
Everything.
Andy couldn’t handle it all for once.
(How many times had he died before?)
(How many times had he said the exact same thing?)
He couldn’t muster up anything but an exhausted,
“I’m sorry”.
Blank, red-rimmed eyes staring across the table as Andy attempted again to hold back whimpers. The slow shaky walk towards Myra’s seat.
(There were a lot of things he couldn’t remember. The hazy memories from his teenage years. The nonexistent memories of the last few months? Years even?)
What he said to her was barely audible, kneeling down with his head against the table.
(Something about the cordyceps, something about another apology).
A few minutes pass.
...
...
…
The tears didn’t leave his face.
His voice, creaky but audible, is finally heard again though.
“Was there any point to these last few months? Do we really just go back. All of us. You two might even lose your memories again. No point. Absolutely nothing”.
It was a rhetorical question.
(What would actually happen to Evie and Sute? Would-)
(He didn’t want to think about it).
“Are we even real? Is any of this even real?”
Just like months ago in their gang den.
Back on it once again.
(Were they?)
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