Case File 003 — Adam Sackler
> STATUS
Emotionally volatile.
> THREAT LEVEL
Infuriatingly magnetic.
> KNOWN FOR
Building furniture with alarming intensity, random bursts of emotional honesty, & looking like he hasn’t slept in three days.
📍LAST KNOWN LOCATION
Brooklyn, New York
🔍 Observations
Supporting Documentation 📎
> FANFICTION
Please visit The Office of Literary Preservation to observe collection.
> HEADCANONS & RELATIONSHIP DYNAMICS
You'd be a practical, slightly anxious person working a structured, unglamorous 9-to-5 job in city logistics or book restoration.
You'd meet Adam through a weird but cute Craigslist rescue; you needed someone to haul away a massive, broken cast-iron radiator from your third-floor apartment.
Adam shows up without texting first, sweating through a tank top, and barely says hello before lifting the radiator entirely by himself.
He probably snaps a personal wrench while trying to disconnect a pipe, lets out a guttural curse, and refuses to leave until he fixes it properly.
A quick 1 hour pickup slowly turns into a span of a few hours, with you sneakily (or attempting to) observing him work (or more realistically: observe him)
It gets to be late, so you offer him a slice of cold pizza out of pity; he eats it standing up in your kitchen while staring at your bookshelf with intense scrutiny.
He pulls out your pristine, trendy copy of "The Denial of Death" by Ernest Becker that looks like it was bought at a hipster Brooklyn bookstore but has barely been cracked open.
"You actually read this garbage? Or is this just intellectual wallpaper?" "I read the first three chapters. Then it got depressing, so I used it to prop up my uneven bedside table."
"It’s performative. People buy this because they want to feel heavy. They want to look at their mortality without actually bleeding for it. It's safe. It's clean." "Look, man. I called you to move iron, not critique my reading habits. It keeps my lamp from shaking. That feels pretty practical to me."
"You’re deflecting. People do that when they're uncomfortable." "I'm uncomfortable because a stranger is yelling at my books."
"I'm not yelling. I'm just... saying. People don't want the real thing. They want the essay about the real thing. (He stares at your face for three long, agonizing seconds, evaluating if you're going to run out the front door. Then, he lets out a sharp, sudden exhale that is almost a laugh.) You're not scared of me. You're just annoyed. I like that."
"...Good. Now can you finish the pipe?
"Yeah, yeah. Hand me that wrench."
He'd end up refusing to take your money, even though you'd point out the hours of heavy labor he just completed. Which, of course, he cuts you off to explain how money would "corrupt" the moment you two shared between slices of pizza.
After that, he starts showing up unannounced under the guise of "checking the apartment's water pressure," always bringing a random tool he thinks you need.
Then one night after a massive thunderstorm floods your kitchen, you both spend an hour mopping the floor in silence. As you hand him a towel, he grabs your wrist, stares into your eyes with terrifying intensity, and kisses you hard, tasting like rain and cheap coffee.
He'd refuse to leave after the storm, claiming your neighborhood isn't safe in flash floods. He sleeps on your small couch with his legs hanging way over the edge, stubbornly rejecting pillows because they "soften the spine."
Without actually asking, he would abruptly ask you out ("There's a soup kitchen slash hardware warehouse down on Atlantic. They have these heavy, miserable sandwiches. You're coming with me on Tuesday. Six o'clock. Don't wear anything fancy, it smells like diesel.")
Within three months, his heavy boots permanently live by your door, and he starts replacing your flimsy particle-board furniture with solid, hand-carved oak pieces he built himself.
Makes eye contact like it’s a weapon.
Somehow looks better after a complete emotional breakdown.
Equal parts terrifying and deeply devoted.
The type to remember one tiny thing you said months ago.
Has absolutely no idea how to regulate his emotions.
Surprisingly gentle in quiet moments.
Gives “feral golden retriever trapped inside an emotionally constipated man.”
His nicknames for you: Kid, Babe, or just your real name/a shortened version of your name; there is also the possibility that he will forego a greeting all together and simply jump right into a heavy, intense conversation with you without warning. May sprinkle in a My Girl here and there.
BONUS (b/c Hannah can get fucked!!!): Meeting Hannah
This happens on a sidewalk in Brooklyn. Hannah is walking with a tote bag, and Adam stops dead in his tracks, holding your hand with a grip like a vise.
Adam doesn't ease into it. He just points his chin at you.
"Hannah. This is Y/N. They fix things. They don't talk just to hear the sound of their own jaw clicking."
(Hannah blinks rapidly, adjusting her bag, immediately threatened but trying to look intellectually superior) "Oh. Wow. Hi. "Fix things"? Like... conceptually, or are you in manual labor? Because Adam usually prefers people who are deeply broken, so it’s fascinating that he found an actual mechanic."
(Adam growls, stepping slightly in front of you) "Don't start your psychoanalysis garbage, Hannah. They're real. They don't live inside a diary."
(Hannah gets defensive, looking at you) "I don't live in a diary, Adam, I live in reality, where people usually give a text heads-up before introducing their new... whatever this is." (To you) "He’s going to build you a bookshelf out of raw logs and expect you to thank him for the splinters. Just warning you."
You'd deadpan, "He already fixed my radiator. The bookshelf is next week."
(Adam grins wildly, completely proud of your lack of drama) "See? No games. Come on, Kid, we're leaving." (He pulls you away down the street without saying goodbye to Hannah).
> BEHAVIORAL ANALYSIS
Coming Soon
🎞️ Film Reels & Audio Files
> PLAYLIST
Girls | The 1975
Lonely Boy | The Black Keys
Starlight | Muse
Fuck it I love you | Lana Del Ray
I Wanna Be Yours | Arctic Monkeys
Sex | The 1975
Brooklyn Baby | Lana Del Ray
> MOVIES YOU'D WATCH
Adam is aggressively anti-Hollywood, anti-ironic, and anti-algorithm. He hates anything that feels "slick," over-produced, or designed to make the audience feel safe, meaning movie nights in his apartment are a highly intense, physically exhausting experience:
The Panic in Needle Park (1971) or Scarecrow (1973). He is obsessed with 1970s gritty, low-budget New York cinema.
Anything by Werner Herzog or Rainer Werner Fassbinder. He loves movies about men being driven mad by nature or isolation.
Grey Gardens (1975) or a documentary about extreme manual labor, demolition, or obscure fringe subcultures.
The Iron Giant (1999) or Babe: Pig in the City (1998). Every once in a while, his rough exterior drops and he wants something with "pure, uncorrupted emotion."
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