Wait have I told you all that you can play DOOM on Art Warforged's head yet
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Hi, just wanted tell you I really love your FMA:B AU, but make sure to take care of yourself first before writing more. That being said, I look forward to the next chapter.
-dummy
Hi!! I'm really glad you liked it! And yeah, I've been taking care of myself, I've been pretty busy for quite a while and I'm not really sure when I'll have the time and energy to write again, but we'll see, I'm also looking forward to continuing the story, after all!
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"How do you do that? It's like you're reaching into my head and plucking out my thoughts."
"..good."
"That means I'm doing it right." They replied to his silent raised brow.
"What do you mean?"
"I like knowing how people think. And I really like understanding people I care about, down to the deepest bits that make them…them. Even if you're only a concept, a character in another person's story, I want to understand you as fully as I can.
"I want to understand how you move, why you do what you do, what haunts you, what you love, and what loves you back.
"I think….I think it's one of the only ways I can understand people anymore. To know them to their very core, to let them tell their stories, to hear the music they hear, to understand the rhythm they move in.
"I don't know why. I've just….always been like this, i guess.
"Maybe it's because I care about you, or maybe it's because my brain is a little broken.
"Or Maybe….maybe it's because I'm not much of a person anymore. So much so, that sometimes I doubt I'm even a "person" at all. I don't know. But, I know I like understanding other people, so I try to be damn good at that."
“...what?”
“You keep saying your brain works in a weird way. Could you explain?”
Galix let out a low hum, thinking about it for a minute.
“It's ... .well, it depends.”
“On?”
“Happier moments kind of look like…watercolor paintings? But done in the bright colors of gouache? It’s full of movement and light, and I can usually hear the happiness. Sometimes it's the scene of a bright cafe, with the sound of idle chatter, but it's focused on an expression. Rose on the cheeks, eyes widening, the dizzying feeling of ‘oh shit, i'm in love with this person’.
“Or maybe it’s all movement. Maybe it's laughter and the sound of music in my head. It’s the feeling of rhythms pounding through me like an electrical pulse, a silent demand to be heard and seen and felt. It’s hand interlaced, its clumsy steps and the flow of clothing to that rhythm that seems to command gravity itself.”
“But, if it's sad, it’s slower. It’s hazy and blurry and out of focus, making the sharp features really pop. It’s longer moments, things that are too still to even feel alive sometimes. It’s silent snowfall through a caved in ceiling, faint light shining into a dark room where no life should be.
“Or maybe it spins, a million thoughts racing but the only thing you can focus on is the fact that someone is crying. They don’t move, the world is still and silent, but tears are slowly pouring down their cheeks as flashes of near blinding colors and pictures briefly cut in.”
“Sometimes, though, it’s much smaller things. A faint whisper of a voice I know isn’t real. My brain can pull the patterns from peoples speech and replicate it sometimes, but that only really happens to people I'm really close to. Sometimes it's touch on my shoulder that burns across my ice cold skin despite my sleeve being in the way. I know it’s not real, but my brain can make it so, and it does.”
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