#The thin thread keeping my sanity together

[greencarnation16]

[coffeefleecy]

Xavier cannot see or get enough of you and the knowledge that you're just a floor below and existing in the same building as him is a heavy burden of knowledge to bear. He's usually able to keep his wits about him, but after a particularly grueling day, he has to see you.

It's late - just after 11 - but not too late that Xavier has some plausible deniability. "I didn't realize the time," He rehearses as his feet carry him to your door. "You forgot something at work," He says to himself under his breath as he raises his fist to knock.

You've grown closer to Xavier and he's no stranger to your apartment. It's not strange for him to be visiting, but this time is different no matter how Xavier tries to justify it to himself. Fleeting touches plague his mind and every instance of eye contact is filed away.

You take permanent residence in Xavier's mind despite the innumerable attempts he's made to fight it for the sake of his sanity. With a deep breath, Xavier knocks on your door. He isn't surprised when you answer immediately.

"Xavier," You cross your arms over your chest and he zeroes in at how thin your pajama top seems to be. "Is everything okay?" "I," He begins, but pauses to steady his voice. "I think you might have forgotten something today."

"I forgot... something?" You tilt your head in confusion. Xavier realizes he doesn't have anything tangible to give you and make his story plausible, so he does his best to recover. "Yes, do you not remember asking whether or not we could go to that cafe together?"

"Yes... I do, but - you didn't have to come all the way down to remind me," You laugh. "Yes, well... I figured the best way was to ask you directly, but I could have texted." He runs his hand through his hair, eyes downcast. "Well, since you're here, do you want to come in?"

Xavier's expression blanches - he didn't think he'd get this far. You uncross your arms to lean against the doorframe - a normally innocent action if Xavier's eyes weren't lazar focused on your every movement. Your nipples pebble beneath the fabric and his throat feels dry.

"I shouldn't intrude," Xavier finds himself saying. "Well, maybe you could ... watch some TV with me and stay over? We could go to that cafe tomorrow since we'll both have a free morning?" "Stay over?" Xavier's eyes meet yours and a warm, thick sense of awareness dawns on him.

"Stay over," You affirm mirthfully with a little glint in your eye that doesn't escape his notice. Xavier steps forward and brings his palm to your cheek - an unmistakable display of his intentions he hopes you'll accept. His touch lingers like he's waiting for you to pull away.

You surprise him by nuzzling in to his touch with a soft, barely audible hum. It drives him insane. "Tell me to go back to my apartment," He says, hanging to his last thread of rationality as his restraint begins to slip. "I'd rather you come inside," You look up at him.

An inferno begins to bloom in his chest to spread warmth throughout his entire body and settle into his fingertips. He captures your lips in a hungry, all-encompassing kiss., pouring his longing and restraint into a physical act to get you to see how much he needs you.

His lips are hot and starving, insistent as he slots his lips against yours. Xavier walks the both of you back into your apartment just enough that he can kick the door closed with a slippered foot and turn you back around to press you against it.

"You're so warm," Xavier murmurs against your lips, giving the both of you a moment to catch your breath. "Tastes so good - so sweet." You don't have much of a chance to reply because his lips are descending on yours once again, his tongue parting them.

Xavier's hands are soft in contrast to his lips as he cups your face, cradling you gently as he devours you. His tongue presses against yours, slick and dominating like he can't taste you enough. You gasp as you feel his thigh slip between yours and press against you

"Is this okay? Is this something you want?" Xavier breaks the kiss to rest his forehead against yours to ask. "Can you tell me what you want?" "Don't know," You answer honestly, dizzy and robbed of breath. "I just want you to keep going." He doesn't need to be told twice.

Xavier hooks his arms beneath your thighs and easily pulls you up to drape them around his waist. His hands find your ass and he squeezes. "Do you still feel like watching those movies?" He teases, a small smirk playing at his normally tight lips.

"N-No," You shake your head as Xavier walks the both of you to your couch. "I want you to kiss me like you've been wanting to." "Are you certain? You want me to kiss you exactly the way that I've been wanting to?"

You nod, a little confused at how that statement would need clarification. A small, amused laugh escapes Xavier's lips and you squeak as he drops you on to the couch and drops to his knees in front of you.

Xavier hooks his fingertips into the waistband of your pajama pants and fixes you with heated, glassy eyes and parted lips. "Lift your hips for me so I can kiss you like I've always wanted to," He commands gently, an unspoken but unwavering dominance radiating from him in waves.

You obey as if if entranced, captivated by him and this quiet confidence you've only seen in battle. He takes the movement as permission and pulls them down your legs until they're off entirely. "Spread them?" It's framed like a question, but you know he isn't asking.

Xavier wastes no time. He presses each hand against either thigh, fingertips biting into your skin as he leans forward to press his mouth directly against your heat through your underwear. Your heart skips a beat as he inhales, a shuddery, quiet 'fuck' escaping his lips.

One tiny taste and he's addicted, your scent and flavor so inviting, he can't even be bothered to remove the fabric. He drags his tongue across the fabric, groaning as the tastes the wetness that's seeped through.

Xavier makes the neediest noises - like he's making it his mission to vocalize just how much he needs you. He's moaning against you, tongue and lips frenzied with saliva soaking through your underwear. It's desperation that borders on frantic, like he's afraid you'll disappear.

Wanting to taste you directly, but not bothered with the time it'll take to remove your underwear, Xavier simply shoves them to the side. When he gets his tongue on you, his eyes roll into the back of his head and a whimper rips from his throat, muffled but audible.

Xavier notices you gripping a couch cushion and without pulling away from you, removes his hands from your thighs to bring your hands to his hair. He squeezes them, indicating that he wants you to guide his head; use his face.

It doesn't take long until you're tugging, biting your lip to avoid waking up your neighbors as your thighs tremble around his head. Xavier doesn't relent, his mouth fixed on you until he's sapped every last bit of your orgasm from you and you're nothing but a shaking mess.

"B-but what about you?" You ask as you catch your breath. "It took me less time than you did," Xavier admits, shakily standing to gesture towards the wet spot at the front of his pants. "May I use your bathroom?" You can't help but laugh and when Xavier pouts, you laugh harder.

You offer Xavier a fresh pair of his own sweatpants from another less salacious visit and guide him to your bed. He immediately cuddles against you, soft breath steadying and quiet as he falls asleep.

In the morning, he shows you how many other ways he's been thinking of kissing you and promises he'll take you to the cafe some other time.

[lostwysteria]

(Part 19

Comin in hot guys! Buckle Up ya'll! I am both happy and dissatisfied with this one. The curse of being a writer or an artist. Just one more left for this arc. I'm going to take a few days off after posting part 20. Let myself recharge and not burn out.)

Masterlist

Lin Ling was grocery shopping and looking for some starters to put in the small veggie and herb garden Nice and Wreck had set up for him by the huge windows on one side of their new apartment. Tomatoes, cabbages, lettuce, and onions were his main goal at the moment. He was just passing an alley when he was grabbed and his mouth was covered by a cloth. He passed out.

…

He woke up restrained and some kind of metal thong gagging him. 

“Good evening, Homemaker. Or should I call you Lin Ling?” Enlighter asked as Homemaker opened his eyes. “You are an absolute Mystery. I have absolutely NOTHING on you! It's impossible. Yet, here we are.” Enlighter said with a tsk. “Show time. Look pretty for the camera.”

The next few minutes were confusing. Apparently Enlighter was fueled by Fear, now. He was going by God’s Eye and was bound to expose Nice in any way he could.

…

Moon spat out her drink in horror. Lin Ling was being held captive by that crazed former hero. And this time it wasn't being staged. She shot a portal to Hero Tower as soon as she was suited up.

…

Shang Chao dropped his tablet. “Yang Cheng! Suit up! Lin Ling has been captured by a Fear powered Enlighter. He’s snapped!”

…

Miss. J reached the ground floor right as Moon portaled in. “Good. We're going to need you to help restrain Nice.” 

“I figured. We don't need him rampaging right now.” Moon agreed. Even she knew how thin the thread of his sanity was. Moon opened a portal to the trio’s floor.

They walked through to see Wreck struggling to keep Nice pinned.

“LET ME GO! I NEED TO SAVE HIM!” Nice was yelling desperately. 

“A little help?!” Wreck asked the newcomers. Moon put Nice in a hold, letting Wreck have a chance to catch his breath. He used his powers to restrain his lover as well. Nice went limp and was just laying there, trembling. It was heartbreaking to see.

“You need to stop and think, Luo Xiaoxing!” Miss. J used his true name. That made even his tears stop. 

Moon gasped quietly in the background. She had never known his true name. Just his hero one. 

Wreck went over to her. “His name uses the characters for Collection and Little star. He’s mine and Lin’s collection of small stars.” He told her. “Hello, Xiao Yueqing. My name is Yanshi Tiantang. Using the characters for disguise and heaven.” He introduced himself. 

“Disguising the heavens, huh? It fits.” she told him. 

…

Lin Ling was listless and boneless at this point. God’s Eye had been trying to get something from him for hours. He was exhausted and dehydrated and in pain. He had refused to say a word this entire time.

He knew Miss. J was probably handling things and trying to stop Nice from losing it. He just had to wait a bit longer. 

…

God's Eye was delighted when Nice and Wreck arrived through Moon’s portal. 

Before he could even say anything, Nice spoke up.

“You want the truth? You can have it. I'm not perfect. I am an orphan that grew up in the system. I only got into good schools because of my grades and pretty privilege. Wreck and I were Idols together in Highschool and College before trying to become heroes together. I made it, he didn't. We were separated and he gladly became a villain just to stay close. We are in love. We have been for so long.”

“I only dated Nice to boost my own status once I saw that people wanted us together. I didn't know that they were in love until after the public tied us so tightly together that my powers trapped me with him.” Moon admitted.

“I come from a good, third generation wealthy family. I grew up with luxuries Nice never could dream of back then. When I couldn't get the one thing I truly wanted, I selfishly chose to be a villain just to get it..” Wreck confessed next.

“I went along with dating Moon just to boost my own image of ‘perfection’. I never loved her. How could I, when we were using each other? I got so bogged down by my own perfection, that I lost sight of what truly mattered. I lost sight of my heart.” Nice cut in again.

He stepped forward. “I tried killing myself. I tried killing myself when the weight of being me was too much to bear. I stepped off the same roof Homemaker was on. This very same roof, in fact. He caught me and then I caught him when he fell while trying to save me. He listened to me as I cried for hours. He took me home and cared for me. Not some imagined image of me. I fell in love with him, too. Wreck and I both have.”

“Homemaker listened to me as well when I kidnapped him out of jealousy and rage at the thought of losing Nice to him. I poured my heart out to him and he didn't judge me. He comforted me and fed me a home cooked meal.” Wreck chuckled wetly.

“I am not perfect.”

“I used people.”

“I am just selfishly trying to keep what I want.”

“Let him go.”

God's Eye screamed in rage at his plan backfiring. Paradoxically, the three confessing their faults was gaining them trust. Who knew that people loved it when people took accountability for their own actions? 

He looked at the weakly struggling Homemaker. A few hours of light torture had taken it's toll on the physically weaker hero. The rank 260 hero wasn't a fighter or even a defensive hero and it showed. That little bit of struggle seemed to be the last straw and he finally lost consciousness.

God's Eye attacked the heroes with his little robots. Unfortunately he was outclassed and outnumbered. He decided to make one last fuck you to the three that thwarted him so easily. The fight had moved him and his captive close to the edge of the roof. He gathered the remaining robots and sent them at the heroes at the same time he tossed Homemaker off the roof. 

Let’s see how the public reacts to a rampaging hero that just lost a favored toy.

[rottenpumpkin13]

How would AGSZC react if they had to spend one week working at a retail job?

Sephiroth: His disdain for humanity is palpable. His tone is dry and clipped. His patience as thin as the thread holding his sanity together. He hates stocking shelves but does it anyway because it's less annoying than dealing with people. Every time a customer asks him to check the back for an item, Sephiroth goes back there and screams into a cupboard. He spends an hour staring into space in the break room, quietly contemplating how much effort it would take to burn the store down without leaving evidence.

Customer: "The milk was cheaper yesterday." Sephiroth: "And I was happier yesterday when I wasn't having this conversation. Unfortunately, both the milk and I are subject to the relentless march of time. The difference is the milk gets to expire quicker to escape this mortal coil."

Angeal: He's the employee everyone loves. His smile is warm, he's patient, and he genuinely seems to enjoy helping people. He's unnervingly good at handling difficult customers. A woman demanding a refund for a clearly worn pair of shoes leaves apologizing and feeling better about herself. He even offers advice to customers about practical purchases, and sneaks free samples of store-brand snacks to them.

Genesis: At first he's all smiles, ready to help and to chat up customers, ready to be completely in his element by helping them pick out items. This doesn't happen. It takes exactly one customer interaction to ruin him.

Customer: "Does this Banora White juice come in another flavor? I'm not a fan of apples." Genesis: :) *this is how Angeal has to pry a Banora White juice can from Genesis' handsbefore he uses it to hack open the customer's skull*

By hour two, he's locked in the break room, rocking back and forth, muttering Loveless passages like dark incantations. By hour three, he's rearranged all the clearance signs to spell out "Abandon hope, all ye who enter here." By hour four, he quits dramatically, throwing his name tag on the floor and as he storms out, all for the crowd he assumes is watching. "Thus concludes the chapter of my servitude. Retail is a blight upon the soul."

Zack: He's a golden retriever in human form. He's energetic, enthusiastic, and genuinely excited to help customers. He's everywhere at once; helping customers, restocking shelves, cracking jokes over the intercom, but has bad habit of oversharing. A customer asks for shoe recommendations, and he ends up telling them about the curious case of Gongaga's mass foot fungus of '92. His only flaw is that he's too helpful.

Customer: "I need directions to the bathroom." Zack, with a map: "Here's the fastest route, alternate routes in case of congestion, my personal rankings of every bathroom in the store AND the key to the cupboard where we keep the good toilet paper." Customer: "But I—" Zack: "So how are your bowels?" Customer:

Cloud: Does not want to be here. At all. He's awkward, quiet, and avoids eye contact with customers like his life depends on it. He spends most of his shift trying to stay out of sight, reorganizing shelves in the most remote corners of the store. He clocks out exactly on time because he refuses to give anyone a second more of his life. When he does interact with customers, it's something like:

Customer, pointing at the register: "Are you open?" Cloud: "No, I just stand here for the ambiance." Customer: "You just lost a customer!" Cloud: "You just gained some free time to reflect on your life choices."

[mandoriana]

Gwen: What was the greatest achievement of your life?

Merlin: Not having gone crazy yet.

Gwen: Huh?

Merlin: I mean, I’ve had plenty of opportunities to lose my mind, but I keep holding on. I think I just haven’t gone completely crazy because I haven’t had the time!

Gwen: 😮

Merlin: I missed scheduling a day for it. It seems like my sanity is held together by a thin thread. Sometimes I try to keep my mind busy just so I don’t give space to my madness.

Gwen: Oh, poor thing, but as they say: “An idle mind is the devil’s workshop.”

Merlin: If that’s the case, then my mind’s workshop is more productive than ever, running at full steam. It must have hired about forty workers just in my head; they work day and night, weekends, holidays. Man, this devil is a hard worker! He should go start a business in the depths of hell.

Gwen: Oh Merlin…

Merlin: And look, I’m a person who is both very intuitive and very paranoid. I never know if what I’m feeling is my intuition or a paranoia crafted by the devil. So I never know how to judge my own convictions! In other words, I don’t even know myself!

[iguessyouwonderwhereivebeen]

is two double espresso, chilled in a mason jar, with honey, milk and ice enough caffeine? If I have a third will I explode?

I keep having strange dreams. I keep trying to document them as soon as I wake up but it’s shocking how quickly the threads of the unconscious get whisked away by reality. Sex in a bathroom stall, a murderer in the garage or my parents home, a doctors beautiful house in the hamptons, a little girl trapped in a neighboring apartment, etc.

I’ve been spiraling about my weight. About being an ever changing being. About myself facing myself. Scrutinizing my habits. How can I be a fully realized adult woman? With a 9-5, and rent, and a mortgage, and two cats, and a significant relationship, and friends, and a social life, and a creative practice, and a work out routine, incorporating cardio and yoga and strength training, and still maintain beauty, and sanity, and happiness??

Well I’ve never been thin, but I’ve definitely been wildly happy. At least I have without doubt experienced moments of pure, intense, clarifying joy. I can still change, fine tune myself. To be better, more aware of my needs, healthier and more balanced.

I’ve started intentionally sitting down with myself. Myself sitting on one side of the table with a cup of coffee, with myself on the other side of the table sipping a glass of wine or sparkling water or smoking a joint. I’ve been trying to look myself in the eyes.

I’ve been doing morning pages, as part of a creative writing class I started three weeks ago. Maybe I’ll intentionally start reading The Artist Way too. Maybe I’ll finish the other book I’m reading. Maybe I’ll delete instagram.

Breakfast this morning was big. Two hard boiled eggs, half a cucumber, half a small avocado, a cup of plain Greek yogurt, some blueberries and granola. I feel satisfied for the first time in days. I made chicken soup last night for my cousins arrival later today. I’ll finish work and finish cleaning and get a bottle of wine and make a salad before she gets here later. We’ll go to a Broadway show tomorrow and the beach on Sunday. I’m taking off work Monday and Tuesday, we’ll go to some museums and Pilates classes together, it’ll be healing.

[the-journal-in-law]

Escape

Half an hour after the first attack on Superhero's agency, Supervillain finally made it to the jail cells underneath the building. They bolted past the bars keeping the unimportant prisoners, holding on to their sanity by a thread.

As the seconds slipped by without them finding what they were looking for, a sickening feeling overcame them. What if they were too late?

Finally, they caught sight of a familiar blue jacket draped over a slumped, bloodied form. Their heart skipped a beat, and without hesitation, they phased through the bars of the cell.

They examined their subordinate's injuries, dark eyes narrowing with concern and anger. An ominous power lashed around them.

"Right Hand," they whispered with barely contained fury. "What have they done to you?"

Right Hand, though weakened, managed a small smile. "I've faced worse, boss," they rasped, their breath shallow. "I had hoped to see you one last time."

Supervillain clenched their fist, their eyes flashing. "You're not going to die!" they said fiercely. "I won't let you!"

Right Hand just stared at them with sad, knowing eyes.

"I won't let you die," Supervillain repeated, but the words now sounded more like a plea. Whipping around to the corridor outside, they called desperately - demandingly, "Are there any of you who can heal? Tell me and I'll pay you handsomely!"

Suddenly, they felt a pressure on their shoulder, and they realised Right Hand had reached out with a pale (thin, too thin) hand. They still had that awful, reassuring smile. "It's alright. Not every battle can be won."

"Shut up," Supervillain hissed, eyes wild. "Are you so desperate to die? Your life is mine. You are not allowed to leave me until I say so."

Right Hand's eyes widened, and their expression became solemn. They bowed their head, acknowledging the order. "We have fought many battles together," they murmured. "This won't be our last."

Supervillain nodded, satisfied. "Damn right. I'll get us out of here."

Taglist:@memepsychowhowantsuperpower-blog@faeruine@a-sunset-outside-my-window@sketxhdragxn@kaiwewi@eri-would-like-to-not-thanks@bownkboo@those-damn-snippets

[mako-neexu]

smth smth rambles that are entirely my opinion and i could be wrong (so dont attack me) you know this chapter made guda, fuijmaru ritsuka with already Many Issues worse is because of "mash" or rather kyrie's death but ultimately comes back to mash...that dantes did for them.

we even see a while back how guda was already shaken by not knowing whether mash is safe during lb6 after that fog like their priority is mash. mash.

they were already frantic as soon as they remembered mash almost questioning everyone about her whereabouts and immediately got reckless just trying to reach her at norwich. and when only when they were together did the "narrator" emphasize on the sheer relief guda felt like-- wow the obvious signs in OC chapter 2 makes you realize furthermore that guda's sanity hangs on a thin thread named 'mash' asdfgh

yes guda loves mash!! yes they care about her!!! but look and read at how guda tells absolutely nothing to mash- and that applied the same to kyrie!

(more below)

kyrie wanted to know and ask her senpai about the situation like we see her really wanting it but ultimately backtracking in the end because she trusts guda and she's even supportive. and guda was grateful/relieved that she stays innocent about the weird things going on in their tokyo.

they do compromise at one point that if kyrie really demands on explanations, guda would tell her but...

guda doesnt tell her anything, (kyrie believes in her senpai so even when faced with death, kyrie didnt break under pressure) keeps her in the dark so no one comes after her. for her to be ultimately safe. so she remains...innocent, normal who stands alongside "mama" and "little sister" as they arent involved in the first place about whats been happening. and guda wants to keep it that way for their family. not a real family, but a family nonetheless that cared about guda. an epitome of normal- which mash kyrielight has attained.

and now you see guda, who, upon waking up asks mash kyrielight if she was okay. if she was alright. guda doesnt stop their questions until mash answered. and so mash answered.

"I'm okay, Senpai. My vital signs are normal... so I'm completely okay."

all the while guda had just dismissed being in pain literally one minute ago and just hugged her tight. they "save mash the trouble" to tell her about the pains they went through in the singularity so as not to burden mash. so they stuff their pain inside the corner of their heart again, completely satisfied with mash's safety and disregarding their own health. (you also see in section 23 that theyre cherishing the normal and small moments with mash.)

mash is normal. mash looks pure to guda, her heart filled with "color" in comparison to guda whose heart has become "transparent". an inverse character development which will ultimately destroy them both.

for mash, who sees her Senpai as strong and unwavering, the image of kindness and strength when they held her hand during part 1 crushed by a coffin which she continues to believe them to be that way until now.

for guda, who sees mash as someone who's become normal. one last remnant that reminds them of a past life lost, mash with that purity and normalcy becoming an ideal to protect (as if she was glass) because they no longer have their own. (and mash is also literally the only one left close to guda, who remembers all the events of part 1. which... adds more to how losing mash would break guda even further.)

(also we see guda say 'tadaima' coming home to an empty house, the loss of kyrie and their family still in mind, and a little later, the Avenger mindset comes back and settles in as they're plagued by bloodlust. then when guda comes back to mash, their home, mash is their home. do you realize that? do you realize what im saying? mash says: "welcome home, senpai." and that was enough for guda. that eased everything in guda's tumultuous heart.)

i remembered guda avoiding on telling "mom" that they and kyrie were near the "gas leak site" / britoalter's battleground so like.....of course their lying to medical staff about getting back to the battlefield would carry over here.

deliberately making sure the "normal" components of their fake high school life remain untainted is what we see guda do. they shouldered everything, terrifying as it is, just to protect them but ended up inevitably losing them in the process.

there's also that contrast in seeing a dead body between kyrie and guda. kyrie still stood strong against dantes and remained rational and calm while telling "ojisama" that this wasnt good for guda. meanwhile guda, while still able to think about calling the ambulance after seeing the da vincis absolutely lost their mind when it came to kyrie which their mind thought of mash- and i think guda thought of both as 'one' person so they went absolutely insane right then and there

during the conversation with amatsuka, thats the part where guda became finally stable. because its implied guda's mental state really broke at kyrie's death which their mind automatically thought it to be "=mash is dead". but ukelele-senpai saved the day by reminding guda where they are, if mash and kyrie were the same person, and helping guda calm down and think of seeing that blue sky with mash during the part 1 epilogue.

and augh guda you shit!!! you need therapy!! dont put mash in a pedestal!! dont treat her as if she's fragile!! dont treat her like porcelain meant to be protected while you take on everything for the sake of keeping mash safe because she is the only remnant of your past left, because she is the only "normal" person you have left!!! guda you need to understand that if ever mash gets hurt someday or dies and its out of your control, you need to understand that it wont be your fault!! you need to understand that because someday you will part ways with her as well and you need to be able to be ready to lose again. if you lose mash once and for all, what will you do!?!?!? this is not healthy guda!! gudaaa you hear me!!?? gudaaaaaaa

[jaywaslost]

I Tried to Hold Him (but it didn't really last long.) [Kolour]

----

Helloo :) This is, once again, something I've forgotten thats been lying around in my docs unposted for no real reason!

I don't have much to say about this one here, perhaps trigger warning for major character death? Should be about it though. Enjoy :)

----

Sypnosis:

Colour healed him, put him back together.

The very man who kept him in one piece, held him like he was the most fragile thing in the multiverse with such gentleness, the one Killer found himself clinging onto.

He was colder than he should ever be.

Word count: 2.7k

Death was something Killer was familiar with.

It was something every Sans had long since gotten used to, but he was especially acquainted with it. The way it would come so suddenly, bearing its fangs and sinking them deep into the victim, leaving no time to process what had happened until it was too late to save them.

He had experienced it many times, but the amount of times he caused it far outweigh that. It’s what he would assume, at least.

The feeling of his knife tearing into the body of another, over and over to the point he lost count of how many had fallen to his hands. Hands and clothing covered in a thin veil of dust, all that remains after someone is gone. A reminder he is why they are no longer there, t̶h̶e̶ f̶e̶e̶l̶i̶n̶g̶ o̶f̶ i̶t̶ n̶e̶v̶e̶r̶ l̶e̶f̶t̶ n̶o̶ m̶a̶t̶t̶e̶r̶ h̶o̶w̶ h̶a̶r̶d̶ h̶e̶ s̶c̶r̶u̶b̶b̶e̶d̶ w̶h̶y̶ d̶i̶d̶ t̶h̶e̶ d̶u̶s̶t̶ n̶e̶v̶e̶r̶ l̶e̶a̶v̶e̶-̶ t̶h̶e̶ b̶l̶o̶o̶d̶-̶

It was almost like a dance to him by this point, the familiar weight of his knife grounding him in the midst of this sickening choreography he had become so accustomed to. It’d be a matter of time before the other monsters fell regardless of their skill, and he would simply need to last longer. A test of endurance, if all else failed.

He lost many people throughout his lifetimes, one’s sanity can’t stay intact for long after seeing your own family be mangled over and over, but Killer had long since lost track of time when he snapped. It felt almost like he was torn to pieces and put back together by fragile thread barely holding his aching soul in one piece when he made that deal.

It was too late to take it back by then, a decision he regret for a long time after.

His first victims were the family he tried so hard to keep safe.

If he killed them, it would hurt less, surely.

He would make it fast and easy, they would not have to deal with the pain much longer.

If he left it to the human, they would suffer.

They did not need to suffer more.

S̶a̶n̶s̶ Killer would make sure of that.

T̶h̶e̶ w̶a̶y̶ P̶a̶p̶y̶r̶u̶s̶ d̶i̶d̶n̶'t̶ b̶a̶c̶k̶ a̶w̶a̶y̶ f̶r̶o̶m̶ h̶i̶m̶ w̶i̶l̶l̶ a̶l̶w̶a̶y̶s̶ h̶a̶u̶n̶t̶ h̶i̶m̶. D̶e̶s̶p̶i̶t̶e̶ t̶h̶e̶ f̶e̶a̶r̶ i̶n̶ t̶h̶e̶ o̶t̶h̶e̶r̶'s̶ e̶y̶e̶s̶, a̶l̶l̶ h̶e̶ s̶a̶w̶ w̶a̶s̶ h̶i̶s̶ b̶i̶g̶ b̶r̶o̶t̶h̶e̶r̶.

H̶i̶s̶ b̶i̶g̶ b̶r̶o̶t̶h̶e̶r̶ w̶h̶o̶ p̶l̶u̶n̶g̶e̶d̶ a̶ k̶n̶i̶f̶e̶ i̶n̶ h̶i̶s̶ c̶h̶e̶s̶t̶, t̶h̶e̶ o̶n̶e̶ w̶h̶o̶ b̶e̶t̶r̶a̶y̶e̶d̶ h̶i̶m̶ a̶n̶d̶ l̶e̶f̶t̶ h̶i̶m̶ t̶o̶ b̶l̶e̶e̶d̶ o̶u̶t̶ w̶i̶t̶h̶o̶u̶t̶ a̶ r̶e̶s̶p̶o̶n̶s̶e̶, s̶t̶e̶p̶p̶i̶n̶g̶ o̶v̶e̶r̶ t̶h̶e̶ s̶c̶a̶r̶f̶ h̶e̶ c̶h̶e̶r̶i̶s̶h̶e̶d̶ s̶o̶ m̶u̶c̶h̶ w̶h̶e̶n̶ h̶e̶ f̶a̶d̶e̶d̶ i̶n̶t̶o̶ n̶o̶t̶h̶i̶n̶g̶n̶e̶s̶s̶.

Killer felt nothing about that any longer, it had been a while since those events happened. It didn’t matter to him, they forgot him when he left with the last reset, afterall.

T̶h̶e̶y̶ d̶i̶d̶ n̶o̶t̶.

H̶e̶ w̶a̶s̶ s̶o̶r̶r̶y̶ h̶e̶ w̶a̶s̶ s̶o̶ s̶o̶r̶r̶y̶-̶

From those days, Killer learned the price one pays for loving another.

A mistake he refused to repeat. He learned his lesson, he was not stupid.

T̶h̶a̶t̶ w̶a̶s̶ w̶h̶a̶t̶ h̶e̶ w̶a̶n̶t̶e̶d̶ t̶o̶ b̶e̶l̶i̶e̶v̶e̶.

It was no issue for a long time, especially after he met the one who called himself “Nightmare”. A̶ f̶i̶t̶t̶i̶n̶g̶ n̶a̶m̶e̶ f̶o̶r̶ t̶h̶a̶t̶ f̶r̶e̶a̶k̶ o̶f̶ n̶a̶t̶u̶r̶e̶. T̶h̶a̶t̶ c̶r̶u̶e̶l̶, v̶i̶l̶e̶ c̶r̶e̶a̶t̶u̶r̶e̶-̶ With him, Killer did not have to feel. He didn't worry about it anymore, he didn’t need to feel guilty anymore.

It was freeing.

I̶f̶ o̶n̶l̶y̶ h̶e̶ k̶n̶e̶w̶ b̶e̶f̶o̶r̶e̶h̶a̶n̶d̶, f̶r̶e̶e̶i̶n̶g̶ h̶i̶m̶ f̶r̶o̶m̶ t̶h̶e̶ s̶h̶a̶c̶k̶l̶e̶s̶ o̶f̶ s̶h̶a̶m̶e̶ w̶o̶u̶l̶d̶ o̶n̶l̶y̶ o̶p̶e̶n̶ s̶p̶a̶c̶e̶ f̶o̶r̶ n̶e̶w̶ o̶n̶e̶s̶. H̶i̶s̶ f̶r̶a̶g̶i̶l̶e̶ m̶i̶n̶d̶ c̶o̶u̶l̶d̶ n̶o̶t̶ t̶a̶k̶e̶ a̶n̶y̶ m̶o̶r̶e̶ f̶o̶r̶ m̶u̶c̶h̶ l̶o̶n̶g̶e̶r̶, d̶e̶s̶p̶e̶r̶a̶t̶e̶ f̶o̶r̶ a̶ s̶o̶l̶u̶t̶i̶o̶n̶ h̶e̶ o̶n̶l̶y̶ d̶u̶g̶ h̶i̶s̶ o̶w̶n̶ g̶r̶a̶v̶e̶.

S̶t̶u̶c̶k̶ o̶w̶i̶n̶g̶ a̶ d̶e̶b̶t̶ h̶e̶ w̶o̶u̶l̶d̶ n̶e̶v̶e̶r̶ b̶e̶ c̶a̶p̶a̶b̶l̶e̶ o̶f̶ r̶e̶p̶a̶y̶i̶n̶g̶, t̶u̶r̶n̶e̶d̶ i̶n̶t̶o̶ a̶ t̶o̶o̶l̶, a̶ t̶o̶y̶ i̶n̶ r̶e̶t̶a̶l̶i̶a̶t̶i̶o̶n̶.

If he was unable to feel, then the sensations in his chest were simply illness. His immune system was good, but even it gave out sometimes as any other one did.

It didn’t have anything to do with the one he had become so accustomed to, no.

He was too wounded to feel anything anymore, let alone one as pure as love.

Wound, after wound, after wound. Everything ached as he had been gutted of all empathy. Once fighting for love and now left with nothing, without the right to even dream of it any more.

Once with a gift of feeling so deeply, free as one could be in the underground, relaxed and happy.

The memories have never felt so distant.

A being made of events wrapped up together, trying to piece a person and falling apart constantly. That’s what he is.

A fraud, a construction of failed images and ideals, betrayal, dishonestly, filth all in a person’s form.

Something he would never qualify to truly be. Afterall, the soul has its own memory, his will never forget what he has done.

The blood that stains his hand is heavy from the sheer amount, but he has not the time to think about that.

But..

That man- the colours he brought into his world, these feelings that made him want something else-

Killer hated it. H̶e̶ c̶o̶u̶l̶d̶ n̶e̶v̶e̶r̶ b̶r̶i̶n̶g̶ h̶i̶m̶s̶e̶l̶f̶ t̶o̶.

He hated the way the other would always talk to him like a friend. Like he was an old familiar, the same as anyone else. He knew of Killer’s behavior and yet he never faltered.

When Killer decided to finally let him in, he learned the other's name was Colour.

Quite fitting. M̶u̶c̶h̶ l̶i̶k̶e̶ h̶i̶s̶ o̶w̶n̶.

Something about him drew Killer in. He didn’t know when it started- When he got so attached.

Killer didn’t deserve his kindness.

Colour never listened.

Killer warned him a multitude of times. Befriending someone like him will only end in pain. Colour only smiled at him, shrugging his shoulders.

“Doesn’t everything? Might as well do what I want to, won't you humor me?”

Speechless, he did.

Killer didn’t realize when they’d gotten so close. Before he knew it, all of his free time was spent with the man or thinking about him. He had something to look forward to for the first time in years.

It terrified him.

I̶t̶ w̶a̶s̶ a̶ m̶a̶t̶t̶e̶r̶ o̶f̶ t̶i̶m̶e̶ b̶e̶f̶o̶r̶e̶ N̶i̶g̶h̶t̶m̶a̶r̶e̶ n̶o̶t̶i̶c̶e̶d̶ a̶n̶d̶ k̶i̶l̶l̶e̶d̶ h̶i̶m̶. A̶ m̶a̶t̶t̶e̶r̶ o̶f̶ t̶i̶m̶e̶ b̶e̶f̶o̶r̶e̶ S̶t̶a̶g̶e̶ 4̶ c̶a̶m̶e̶ o̶u̶t̶ a̶n̶d̶ l̶e̶f̶t̶ t̶h̶e̶ o̶n̶e̶ h̶e̶ h̶a̶d̶ c̶o̶m̶e̶ t̶o̶ c̶h̶e̶r̶i̶s̶h̶ i̶n̶ s̶h̶r̶e̶d̶s̶, i̶f̶ n̶o̶t̶ d̶o̶i̶n̶g̶ t̶h̶a̶t̶ t̶o̶ h̶i̶m̶s̶e̶l̶f̶. C̶o̶l̶o̶u̶r̶ i̶n̶s̶i̶s̶t̶e̶d̶ t̶h̶a̶t̶ h̶e̶ c̶o̶u̶l̶d̶ h̶o̶l̶d̶ h̶i̶s̶ o̶w̶n̶ w̶e̶l̶l̶, b̶u̶t̶ h̶i̶s̶ r̶e̶f̶u̶s̶a̶l̶ t̶o̶ e̶v̶e̶r̶ s̶h̶o̶w̶ i̶t̶ made K̶i̶l̶l̶e̶r̶ d̶o̶u̶b̶t̶ h̶i̶m̶ t̶o̶ a̶n̶ e̶x̶t̶e̶n̶t̶. H̶e̶ d̶i̶d̶n̶'t̶ w̶a̶n̶t̶ t̶o̶ b̶e̶ t̶h̶e̶ c̶a̶u̶s̶e̶ o̶f̶ t̶h̶e̶ o̶t̶h̶e̶r̶'s̶ e̶n̶d̶, n̶o̶t̶ l̶i̶k̶e̶ a̶n̶y̶o̶n̶e̶ e̶l̶s̶e̶.

H̶e̶ w̶a̶s̶ d̶i̶f̶f̶e̶r̶e̶n̶t̶.

…

They were supposed to be safe.

Months of planning. Countless trials and tricks, effort beyond what Killer ever expected a person to invest into saving him had finally resulted in his freedom.

His complete freedom.

The acceptance of it was a hard path to walk, but he never felt so loved.

If he ever doubted Colour’s dedication to helping him, he could no longer bring himself to after that. He owed the other everything, and for once it didn’t feel shameful. The strength he doubted before had been proven in front of him, a topic of conversation for weeks to follow. A̶t̶ l̶e̶a̶s̶t̶ n̶o̶w̶ h̶e̶ k̶n̶e̶w̶ i̶f̶ h̶e̶ w̶e̶r̶e̶ t̶o̶ l̶o̶s̶e̶ c̶o̶n̶t̶r̶o̶l̶, C̶o̶l̶o̶u̶r̶ i̶s̶ c̶a̶p̶a̶b̶l̶e̶ o̶f̶ g̶e̶t̶t̶i̶n̶g̶ r̶i̶d̶ o̶f̶ h̶i̶m̶.

Acknowledging his feelings was quite the wreck in and of itself. He could not go to Colour to ask, the man being the very subject of those feelings, but he had little else to go.

Denial only got him so far, Killer knew this feeling well.

It was love again, wasn’t it?

Maybe he was given a chance at being a person again?

..

And yet.

As his knees scraped against the ground, covering him in enough dust to the point it looked like it could have been his own mixing with the blood, Killer wondered if he was the laughingstock of every deity under the goddamn sun.

(If there were any, he knew they despised him. After all, a jester of the likes of him would never see the heaven they reside in. Yet, they had it in them to rip away the closest thing to one he will ever lay his eyes upon.)

After all of that effort.

All the work they put in.

Killer had finally gotten better. They finally had a chance, it was so close to being worth it.

Colour healed him, put him back together.

The very man who kept him in one piece, held him like he was the most fragile thing in the multiverse with such gentleness, was the one Killer found himself clinging onto.

He was colder than he should ever be.

Colour hated the cold.

Killer refused to believe the scene in front of him was real, truly, it felt like another one of his realistic night terrors.

Colour would never die on him like this.

And yet the limp weight in his hands told him otherwise.

This was a scene he was long familiar with, why did it hurt so much?

He knew better than to get attached, why did this hurt so much?

Colour was too good for him. He was never meant to be roped into this situation, he never deserved to be tangled in this mess. He was a good person, the best person Killer had ever had the honor of knowing.

If his suffering meant getting to experience the other’s warmth and comfort, then maybe it wasn’t all pointless.

..The missing fraction in the other’s head had gotten bigger. Instead of taking up the space of one of his eyes, it had teetered to them both.

The colours Killer loved seeing so much had gone dull, extinguished by his anguish.

He didn’t know what to do.

Killer’s eyes stung as his vision blurred, he pulled the other’s lifeless body as close to his as possible.

Perhaps he was crazy, wishing to hear a beat, feel a pulse, while holding the other.

Killer’s arms ached, he couldn’t feel the rise and fall of his chest anymore either.

He was gone.

The dust was his, and Killer would never get to see him again.

In his state, Killer failed to notice the figure approaching him. Towering over his hunched form was another he had found himself drawn to.

While it was not in the same speed, let alone situation, he always found Cross quite the interesting man.

The newbie to their little group, a clueless man who lost his world, trapped in a body with the ghost of a child who nearly killed them all. H̶o̶w̶ f̶a̶m̶i̶l̶i̶a̶r̶.

He was a funny little thing, easy to mess with and even easier to get reactions out of. Quite entertaining when Killer had nothing better to do with his days.

Killer was the first to notice the way Nightmare toyed with Cross. All too familiar, praise and mockery blended into sentences that would make one question their sanity. The man did not lie, but that didn’t mean he was honest either. A fact he never hid and more often than not, used against everyone who fell into his grip.

He tried to warn the monochrome one before, but his comments elicited no response. Killer didn’t bother to question it too much until the other approached him on his own once.

He couldn’t remember what happened that day.

His head hurt.

Cross stopped when his head lifted.

Their eyes had not met, Killer facing the same direction in front of him. Despite his inability to see what the other was holding, he could make a good guess on what was going on at the very least.

“Killer?”

The teary one’s head snapped in his direction before turning back to whatever was keeping him occupied. Cross didn’t have a chance to examine his expression, but that single glance was enough to tell him all he needed.

Only one person could get that reaction out of Killer, and judging by the dust, he was gone.

Killer’s whispers were inaudible, though he could make out a why.

Cross does not speak, as it is not his place to answer. The one being questioned is long gone, he will not return to answer no matter how much they may want it.

Suddenly, his voice spikes.

“Real nice of you to join us, what, the newbie wanted to feel good? Or is it that you’re glad someone else feels the way you did losin’ all of ‘em?”

His world.

Biting back a remark, Cross kept his mouth shut. Killer was the farthest from stable he'd been in a long time. This was a habit the other had, according to what Dust had told him. In a vulnerable position all Killer knew was to kick and scream, pushing people away until he could lash out and break himself enough to not feel anymore.

The fact he was still unharmed standing as close as he did was a miracle all on its own. Killer's body tensed as footsteps approached him again, his hands shaking more in tandem as he gripped onto the torn jacket in front of them like it would bring the man who held his heart back to them.

It would not, the stillness under his hands hurt more.

Colour was never this still, he hated feeling stuck.

He was in pain and Cross is the only one he has left.

“I can see you holding your emotions back from here, you can grieve if you wish to. Loss is unbearably” He began, trying to offer any comfort he could.

“‘Grief’? Am I allowed to feel that?” Killer’s voice had only sounded this empty on two other occasions, Cross shuddered mentally at the memory.

“What do you mean”

“After what I’ve done to all the others y’know? I shouldn’t even be capable of feeling this it’s not— what would make me worthy of it?”

“Killer—”

“Am I allowed to do such a thing? Mourn the loss of somethin’?”

Cross sighed.

Killer’s grip on the coat tightened, at this point his hands were probably bleeding through the fabric.

The fact Colour did not dust as quickly as any other monsters was not really helping their predicament, Killer could not bring himself to look at his face.

The pedestal Killer placed him on was crumbling just like his body, to say Cross could stand watching it was a lie.

They had spoken, become friends once upon a time.

Nothing that mattered now, he was gone.

Gone just like everyone else Cross had ever valued.

“That’s what he’d want you to do? Say something along the lines of how you don’t earn the right to feel sad”

In all seriousness Cross was pulling that entirely out of nowhere. He had no idea what Colour would have said in a situation like this, he had a way with words neither of them ever quite got to.

He snapped out of his thoughts when Killer let out a small giggle, likely at his words. The small smile on Cross’s face dropped when that laughter quickly turned into sobs.

Killer’s hand found itself covering his mouth immediately, trying to conceal any sound that came out of it.

He would not be weak like this.

He shook like a leaf in the wind, more fragile than he ever looked before.

This was not Killer before him, it was not the apathetic murderer he had heard so much about.

It was a boy his age broken by circumstance, one who lost his world the moment he got to have it.

His hope was torn out of his hands the moment he felt comfortable enough to dare and imagine a better existence.

Cross could not find the words to comfort him.

H̶e̶ w̶o̶u̶l̶d̶ n̶e̶v̶e̶r̶ k̶n̶o̶w̶ h̶o̶w̶ t̶o̶ c̶o̶m̶f̶o̶r̶t̶ h̶i̶m̶s̶e̶l̶f̶ a̶f̶t̶e̶r̶ a̶l̶l̶, s̶o̶ w̶h̶y̶ w̶o̶u̶l̶d̶ h̶e̶ b̶e̶ a̶b̶l̶e̶ t̶o̶ c̶o̶m̶f̶o̶r̶t̶ s̶o̶m̶e̶o̶n̶e̶ s̶o̶ s̶i̶m̶i̶l̶a̶r̶?̶

Seating himself next to the other, he gently pulled Killer’s hand aside, gripping it just tightly enough to keep it in place.

Killer didn’t look him in the face, but he didn’t need to.

The man basically launched himself into the taller’s embrace, all the walls Cross saw him put up crumbling in record speed as cries choked their way out of him.

Grief, confusion, sadness, betrayal, hurt, all hitting him at once.

The emotional baggage he carried was never light, but it would never change.

The one who could have made it do so was never coming back.

Killer didn’t even get to say goodbye.

He would never be coming back.

[tireddovahkiin]

I want to take a moment and talk about my Boisvertsona, that has a somewhat very special meaning to me that I never talked about. But that's important. (Warning, it's gonna be a LONG post.)

This is Youth. You've probably seen her with Room, most of the time. For those unfamiliar with her, this is a self insert I made, inspired by a youtube series of surrealism/phychological themed videos named _Boisvert. Youth is the character I use to self ship with Room, the main antagonist of the series. But, this self ship has a much deeper meaning to me.

Youth symbolizes what her very name means: mental youth. That feeling of childlike innocence, dependence, gullibleness, curiosity. Regression. Physical and mental fragillity. But, an actual manifestation of trauma coping.

Her whole design has a lot of interesting details with meaning behind them:

See full design here!

As you can see, Youth has one eye, that is always closed. That is because she 'dreams' (indicating to coping mechanisms like maladaptive daydreaming and escapism). Youth always has her eyes closed, because she distracts herself from the harsh reality that surrounds her. There is also visible dark circle under it. She's tired. If she was to open it, she would become 'unstable', she wouldn't handle it all. But don't worry, she can still see even with that eye closed (DON'T QUESTION THE FUCKING LOGIC OKAY SHUSH)

The tape over the place where Youths mouth should be indicates at her shyness, and need to keep silent. Bottled up emotions. (Another way of unhealthy coping) She is mute, after all, she only speaks through noises like squeaks, whines, hums, coos, no actual words. The noises of a child. It may silences her, but for a reason: it keeps her together, from "tearing apart" (I'll explain the reason later)

There is a vertical line across her face, and goes all the way down her body, and between her legs, continuing behind and back at her head. It is supported by these 'stiches', the only thing keeping her together from falling apart (indicating to her fragillity, that she's barely hanging by the thread of self-destruction.)

Those strange, long creepy hands behind her are a physical manifestation of her mind. They appear from time to time, when Youth feels somehow on edge, or nervous, they act like shielding limbs, though always like having minds on their own. When the hands are out, Youth uses them as regular hands instead of her sleeved ones. Since she's mute, usually, her body language should be visible in either the way she acts with her hands, or her posture. But here's the thing that gets interesting: see that blackness behind her head? That is not a shadow. That is actually a little detail of the percent of her 'sanity'. The blackness would spread along the lenght of the whole arms, if her sanity would start to drop, and her hands would start acting a little uncontrolable. If the arms get 100% black, that is a sign that Youth is about to lose it. Her arms go haywire, and start to try and tear off her stitched skin, reveal what's hiding inside it. To let it free. To claw its way out, even if it takes force.

Youths thin, small, frail body, and her hunched posture symbolises her 'weakness'. Self-neglect. Dependence. She is too weak, too distracted to take care of herself. And we all know The Complex is a very dangerous place, there are always threats at every corner of that place. Youth is submissive in nature, she is not built for fighting, of course. She is peaceful. No, actually, she is harmless. A fragile, emotionally vulnerable being, like an exposed nerve. She is small, because it indicates that she is a person who doesn't want to be noticed, She wants to blend in in whatever situation she finds herself in. To stay in the background. But, even if her heart sometimes wishes to be seen, heard, and noticed, she cannot be. It always gets ignored.

Her long sleeves that cover her hands (that she never reveals, she uses them over the sleeves like Ariana Grande style💀), as well as the long leg sleeves, indicates to her subtle clumsiness. Making it difficult for her to move around properly, like they're restraining her a bit. But also a need to hide, go her way. She WANTS it that way. She is not comfortable with actually rolling them up and letting it all be 100% easier for her. She chooses the more difficult choice for the sake of her own comfort. (And maybe only maybe because she has this need to be taken care of by a certain triangle headed man hm hm)

And now, onto the actual thing: the dynamic and deep meaning behind Youths and Rooms relationship.

They met under weird circumstances. Exploring The Complex and hiding from unwanted company, Room came upon an odd room/dimension; it was a very, VERY high room with no ceiling in sight, fading into grey fog above his head. It was also just as wide, spreading endlessly to both left and right, but the depth of the room was short, only about twenty meters. Room is facing a very tall and wide wall ahead of him, made of reflective material, but that has gaitn cracks on it, so big, as the size of lightning bolts. And behind it, on the other side? There was Youth. A completely white void, with nothing ahead, just complete bright abyss. With her laying on the floor, drawing with a black charcoal stick and filling it with many of her drawings. Already making a rather big patch of small and big doodles. Her legs playfully kicking up and down, as Youth was supported by her elbows, focus completely on doodling.

Room would observe her. His first thought was, how utterly small she was. And alone. As if stuck behind that thick wall with no way out. With no care for the outside world, whatsoever. How he could easily kill her, if he could reach her.

Youth didn't notice him.

For the first time, the man felt... Curious. He simply stayed, and watched her do her own thing. So innocent. So... Pure. Looking like she had... Fun. A rarity in such harsh place as The Complex. It was almost sacred. Foreign. And that is why Room had to look more.

When his needs were satisfied, Room left. Without Youth even noticing a thing.

Room would appear again. And again. And again. He found himself returning to that odd place, and looking at that careless, child-like girl draw, and play around. As days passed, he started feeling this... Urge of protectiveness towards whoever she was. He was drawn to her. Room never saw something so pure before, he NEEDED to keep it that way. To keep Youth untainted by darkness, that already has swallowed him entirely. To shield her from it all. (Which would later lead to unhealthy overprotectiveness.)

And yet, Room still did not reveal himself. And Youth still did not notice him.

It would go like that for a good while, until one day, Youth noticed him. But, instead of being scared, nervous of this mysterious intruder, to see him as a potential threat... She somehow didn't. She forgot the feeling of fear. Her emotions fell humb, and she listened to the pull of her curiosity. Youth came face to face with Room, only divided by that shattered mirror wall. No one spoke. Words weren't needed. The understanding was somehow spiritual. They felt connected.

Now, why is that?

Are you aware of how self-shippers can depict their fictional others as a big part of themself, see them as a real partner, a soulmate? An important part that defines them and their life? A connection much deeper than normal?

Well, that is how I see Room, in a way.

I see Room as an important figure in my life. He is like my spiritual guardian: since he is depicted as a manifestation of negativity, I see him as a way to define my OWN struggles. Like an extention of my emotions, my mind. He feels like... He's THERE. When I feel sad, depressed, that means Room is there with me. And that he sees me. That he hears me. That he's close. And that he won't leave, not until I feel better. While in _Boisvert, Room is seen as an evil, violent yet passive man, full of this despair and need to spread it around, I see him more like this. Just a broken man, who is lost. And is hoping to find some rest. To find someone. Or something. An answer. To why this is all happening. Who lost hope, a long, long time ago.

Room protects me when I'm sad. It's like I can feel him standing behind me, just being there. Not talking. Just there. And that is honestly ALL I need. I'm not alone. Yes, it feels cold, I feel terrible, miserable, I want to scream and cry and tear my skin off. But it feels like some strange comfort. Thinking of him. That he's there, not helping me, but just watching OVER me. He's there to offer presence, as I figure a way to calm down by myself. And that is okay. That is truly what I need.

___

And when Room touches the glass wall of that room Youth was stuck in... That she formed as a way to TRY and hide and protect herself from The Complex... It shatters.

Room grabs her immediately, and shields her away from the shards so they won't cut her thin body. Just like that. And he can feel her panic. Youth was scared, she was shaking, all of it happened so fast. So he squeezed tighter, while the entire wall that was KILOMETERS high and wide kept breaking and falling apart. Room didn't let go until the danger was over.

But when he tried pulling away... Youth didn't let go. She kept holding onto him.

So they stayed there, surrounded by gigantic broken glass shards, embracing each other in complete silence.

And so, the two stayed like that until Youth has calmed down.

And that is the start of their relationship together.

With Room always moving, Youth would always be moving with him too. Following like a blind puppy by its owners side. Not knowing what else to follow, really. Room was the only choice she had, she didn't know anything beyond that place she was trapped in. And the being would always remain by his side, at all times. Never dissapearing even for a second, showing just how dependent she was in the world around her.

But it didn't bother Room. He now had something, a purpose. o protect, hide, keep at his side. She was odd, but in a such positive way. Youth kept showing him things he never saw, experienced. Affection, honesty, care, attention.

She showed him the bare minimum, but because Room was so unfamiliar with it, and OH, so utterly starved for love and care, he became even more protective. Possessive. Obsessive. No one would dare to lay a finger on Youth, because she was the only source of light he had in the darkness. If twas some sort of twisted devotion. Room is cold, distant, it's just the way he is. But if he was to see Youth even a little off than her normal, curious, playful, childlish self, Room is dropping everything. His fear gets ahead of him. He needs to know the reason of her sadness, why is she feeling unwell, out of fear that she doesn't end up... Like HIM. She cannot end up like him, he needs her healthy. Both because she keeps ROOM sane, and for her own well-being.

He does care, in his own way. Room does learn to open up slowly, under Youths (unknown) guidance (she doesn't know what's she's doing but she acts on impulse. Like a child would. If she feels a need, Youth will act upon it.)

As you can see, their relationship isn't perfect. It's FAR from it, it has many flaws, and it's unhealthy in both sides. But that is what makes it so special! They're so co-dependent from each other, for their personal fears and traumas. It even has the element of this weird, worshipping-like ideal. But they learn. And that is why it IS perfect.

So yeah, that is all. I am done with ranting. If you REALLY just read this whole thing, from start to finish, I am speechless, I cannot thank you enough, it means a shit ton. Seeing someone actually cares and respects that much can never fail in making my heart swell🥺

So with that, thank you for reading. <3

[hunzzzzz]

Fight for you: part 1 (Kendall Roy x OC)

Okay guys this is my first time writing if it’s terrible I’m sorry

Blurb :

Harper Aly is broken. Hanging on by a thread. Desperately trying to fix her life. Kendall is like a breath of fresh air, pulling her out from the deep end.

Kendall is also broken, but something about her makes him want to fight for her. Fight against himself to a better man, be the man she deserves. She was like the first daffodil of spring, after a cold, miserable winter.

Their lives end up entangled in one another, emotions are high, working together gets complicated, promises are broken.

Can Harper give him a chance, despite her trust issues?

Can Kendall prove to be the man that he says he is?

It had been another soul-crushing day at work. My brain felt like mush, utterly incapable of focusing on the screen in front of me. With a sigh that spoke volumes, I glanced at the clock - 7:10 PM. It felt like a cruel joke. Where was the "acceptable workday hours" mentioned in my contract? Exhausted, I yanked off my glasses and stalked out of the office, my vision already blurring without them.

The office was a ghost town. Through the haze, I could make out a few lonely lights flickering on distant floors. It was a small comfort, knowing I wasn't the only one sacrificing sanity for the sake of deadlines. Two months of relentless work on an upcoming project had left me pale, gaunt, and perpetually underscored. The marketing and PR weight on my shoulders felt like the entire building.

The roof, my only solace, beckoned. I gulped in the cool night air, the first real breath I'd taken in weeks, and lit a cigarette. The nicotine buzz thrummed through me, a welcome distraction from the day's tension. I often snuck up here for a smoke in peace when the building thinned out. I wasn't a smoker, not usually. Just the occasional cigarette when things got… messy. Like when the man you loved decided to humiliate you on the world stage.

The combination of heartbreak and this suffocating workload had driven me to a new low. I wandered to the edge, the city sprawling beneath me like a glittering tapestry. The view, at least, was breathtaking. Up here, the city's chaos muted to a low hum, a welcome change from the relentless daytime thrum. For a moment, my thoughts were finally clear.

"Thinking of taking the plunge?"

A voice ripped me from my fragile peace. I whipped around, squinting through blurry eyes to identify the intruder. "Just imagine the adrenaline rush," he said, a cigarette dangling from his lips. He'd materialized from nowhere, a phantom in the night.

"Yeah, well, why don't you try it and report back?" I snapped, my annoyance flaring. This stranger had invaded my one moment of peace, the five fragile minutes that kept me afloat.

“Uh, okay. Not your day huh?” He chuckled. He had the audacity to find humor in this, it made my blood boil.

“If you keep talking to me I might actually just jump.” I attempted to climb up onto the ledge.

His face washed over with panic. "Whoa, okay, hostile much? Fine. Just, can you please… not?" He gestured vaguely at the edge as he backed away from me.

I smirked in quiet victory, retreating a step. The last thing I needed was small talk with some cocky suit from who-knows-where. I'd endured enough of that for one day. I finished my cigarette with a vengeance, flicking the smoldering butt over the edge with a disregard for littering I wouldn't normally have.

"Seriously? There's a trashcan right there," he said, his voice laced with amusement.

I nearly leaped out of my skin. He was right behind me again! I scrambled back, heart hammering, only to feel the solid press of his chest against mine. His grip on my wrists was firm but not aggressive. "Hey, hey, it's me," he soothed, another chuckle escaping his lips.

First this man ruined my smoke break and as if that wasn’t enough, now he amped it up a notch and tried to send me into cardiac arrest. Some people have serious boundary issues.

"WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!" I shrieked, flailing against his hold. "Let go, or I swear to…"

"Or what? Jump off the building again?" he mocked, my own words twisted back at me. "Easy there, easy. Just thought I'd stick around, you know, considering you're a walking suicide risk." His deep chuckle sent shivers down my spine, a primal reaction that confused me. And then there was the cologne. The same scent that had shattered my world into a million pieces. It was all too much. Memories flooded back, a tidal wave of hurt threatening to drown me.

“Just leave me alone.” I muttered, my voice shaking, as I finally broke free of his death grip. Slumping my shoulders over the ledge, cradling my head in my hands. I rapidly blinked, trying to ward off the tears that threatened to spill, I can't let myself go back to that place. I won't let myself.

“Oh shit- I was fucking joking. Are you okay?” I felt a hand on my shoulder. “Look I’m sorry please– don't cry. I’m sorry, I’m a fucking idiot.” His voice was soft as he tried to awkwardly comfort me, trying to make sense of my sudden burst of emotions. Rubbing soothing circles between my shoulder blades. I shrugged his hand off, and cleared my throat, straightening my back, ready to tell him to go to hell. I turned to face him, only to be met by soft chocolate eyes piercing into mine, full of concern. Timidly breathing as though, any sudden movement might push me over the edge, emotionally.

It felt as though all the pain that I so desperately tried to block from my mind, began leaking through the dam. The facade that I had built, convincing my friends, family and co-workers that I was fine, came crumbling down like Jenga .

I choked out a sob as my eyes betrayed me. I let the tears fall, each one washing away a little bit of pain I had been holding onto for months. Drenching my cheeks and leaving me gasping for breath. Each stifled sob echoed the loud, resounding ache in my heart. I was finally allowing myself to grieve my broken heart, my relationship, my ex-fiance— since he's dead to me now .

Deep down I knew this emotional breakdown was bound to happen sooner or later. I just never thought it would be at work with a stranger comforting me.

“Hey, you're okay.” His voice was velvety, soothing my anxieties like a warm blanket. “You’re going to be okay.” His hands gripped my shoulders as they viciously shook.

Once the sobs finally subsided, I felt a lightness I hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Well shit, that was embarrassing.” I tried to humour myself, wiping at my mascara stained cheeks slightly, turning away from him and facing the city, so he couldn't see what a mess I had become.

“I’m sorry, I don't know where that came from.” I whispered, keeping my eyes glued to the skyline ahead, too ashamed to even look at him. Something about crying in front of people or in public, felt so deeply shameful to me, I felt so vulnerable. I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me whole.

“Are you sure- because uh, I don't know- there seemed to be a little something more to it.” He questioned sceptically. “Look, I've been there before, bottling it all up. Faking a smile to the point where I almost actually fucking convinced myself- that maybe, just maybe, I actually am happy.”

He smiled as he spoke, but there was a deep sadness behind his words. “I’ve been to rock bottom, countless times. So look- just- I’m saying, I don't know what’s going on with you, but, just trust me the more you try to push it away the more it consumes you.” His radiant voice was like a beacon of comfort, guiding me through to the light at the end of the tunnel. For the first time in months I felt like I could open up to someone, without any judgement.

“Okay you got me there, lock me up and throw away the key.” I admitted, earning a small laugh from him. “It’s just so embarrassing to even say out loud. Promise you won't laugh.”

I glanced over at him. I already had trust issues from my childhood, so being betrayed by the one person that I thought I could blindly trust without a doubt, shattered me. Before the betrayal, I would put effort into being more social and open with people I called friends. But now I found comfort in the loneliness. I was on a 24 hour look out, working overtime to guard my heart, from ever feeling that type of pain ever again. I knew I wasn't strong enough to survive it again, so I never gave anyone a chance to even challenge it.

“What- of course not. I promise.” He responded in an instant, hand held over his heart.

“My fiance cheated on me, I'm sorry let me reiterate.” I corrected myself. “My fiance of 8 years cheated on me with my best friend.” I confessed. “And the worst part is that it happened right under my fucking nose. But I was too busy planning our dream wedding, setting up appointments with realtors; looking for a bigger place for when we decided to start a family.”

I laughed at the last part, somehow saying it out loud sounded so ridiculous— how I was so oblivious to the truth. “I was so focused on the future, letting it blind me from what was actually happening right in front of me.”

“Shit— yeah no that’s uh— that's rough.” He nodded, taking in my words. “Fuck yeah, I get it now. Understood.” His voice was full of empathy. “I can't imagine- genuinely I’m fucking sorry.” Why was he apologising, when the person I longed to hear those words from, felt no remorse. Not a single ounce of guilt for hurting me in the worst possible way, leaving me broken.

“It’s fine. I’m in my acceptance phase now.” I reflected, feeling at ease sharing my raw thoughts with him, knowing that I’d never cross paths with him again. There was no harm in over-sharing with a stranger— what’s the worst that could happen?

“Yeah it sure seems like it.” He chuckled.

“No seriously— I am. Don't let my little breakdown earlier fool you.” I tried to defend myself. “That was partially work related too. The stress of this job has got me pulling out gray hairs. I’m too young to have gray hairs.” I sighed running a hand through my hair subconsciously.

“Okay now hear me out. Maybe- just maybe it’s just your bitchy attitude, that’s making you age?” He joked. Now that the haze of my inner turmoil finally simmered down, I saw his true colours shining through— god he was such an ass.

“Wow, creepy and a jokester. You really are a package deal.” I clasped my hand over my chest, feigning admiration. “I’m sure it’s not a big deal for someone of your prehistoric age to have gray hair, but for the younger generation, we take it very seriously. I don’t expect you to understand. You’re probably too busy dying your hair jet black every morning or getting fitted for your hearing aids.” My words left him stunned, as his mouth hung open in shock. It was clear that nobody had ever put him in his place before; humbled him; brought him back down to Earth. His entire persona radiated— finance bro— the worst of the worst kind of people.

“Okay- ouch. You fucking shoot to kill.” He finally recovered from my brutal attack. “And I’ll have you know my hair is naturally this colour.” He said, crossing his arms over his chest defensively.

I burst out laughing, feeling my chest tighten as I gasped for air in between giggles. “Oh god- my stomach hurts- please you’re killing me here.” I took a moment trying to compose myself, as he watched his lips pressed into a straight line, not amused. “I’m sorry but using twitter, and listening to Kendrick doesn’t qualify you to be as young, and hip as you think it does.”

“Fuck you- I’m not even that old. I’m not even close to middle-aged.” He threw his hands up frustrated.

“You keep telling yourself that grandpa.” I smirked, loving how easy it was to get under his skin. Playing him at his own game, if he was going to dick then so was I. It was clear that I was winning the sword fight.

“Jesus- you’re fucking mean.” He smiled, shaking his head, taking my insults with a pinch of salt.

“Well, you know my villain origin story.” I tried to lighten the mood. “Your turn.”

“My turn? Uh- for what exactly?” He asked, eyebrows raised.

“I don’t know maybe your villain origin story, you know, how you became such an insufferable prick.” I replied grinning. “Harassing innocent women who are enjoying a peaceful cigarette.”

“Oh wow- okay. So now I am what- some sort of creepy, stalker who uh- fucking comforts broken women?” He laughed, brushing off my harsh words. His laugh was like a breath of fresh air, so contagious, I joined in too. I couldn't remember the last time I laughed like this, let alone even smiled— It felt like a lifetime ago.

“Answer the question, creep.”

“I guess we're sticking with creep then.” He huffed. “No origin story here. Just a guy who came up here to avoid my family’s daily fucking drama. But then heroically saved a beautiful young lady’s life.” He smiled, eyes twinkling in the city lights. If my cheeks weren’t already pink and puffy from all the crying, they definitely were now.

“Wow, my hero!” I exclaimed sarcastically, rolling my eyes at the absurd lie.

The wind whipped my hair into a frenzy, mimicking the chaos inside me. Stupid, stupid, stupid for leaving my jacket on the desk. What was I thinking, a rooftop therapy session in a miniskirt? A shiver wracked me, and I subconsciously hugged myself for warmth.

“Are you cold here, take it.” He offered me his blazer, shrugging it off wordlessly, seeing my teeth chatter.

“You've gotta be kidding me. This is… cosmic irony on steroids?" A strangled laugh escaped my lips, as hollow as the wind whistling around the rooftop. I gaped at him, eyes wide as the blood drained from my face. I dropped the cigarette from my lips, backing away from him.

“Kendall fucking Roy.” A million thoughts raced through my head, the most prominent one being— I was definitely going to lose my job. I had just told the COO of the very company I work at, the future heir to Waystar and Royco; to jump off the roof; allowed him to watch me have a spontaneous nervous breakdown; and if that wasn’t already humiliating enough I then proceeded to insult him to his face.

Kendall raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement playing at the corner of his mouth. "Wait, are you serious?"

"Because… well, as you can clearly see with my superhuman eyesight," I stammered, "I wasn't expecting the COO to be… here. Rooftop therapy, you know?" I scrambled back, putting some much needed distance between us. “I have to go.” I quickly tried to escape, after digging my own grave.

He stared at me for a beat, then a slow smile spread across his face. "Interesting therapy technique."

The humor in his voice made the situation even more surreal. "Look, Mr. Roy, this is all a huge misunderstanding. I, uh, I don't wear my glasses at night, and—"

“Wait, hold up.” He yelled, hot on my tail. The door slammed shut behind me with a satisfying WHAM, momentarily muffling Kendall's surprised yell. I didn't wait to see if he'd follow. My heels hammered a frantic rhythm against the marble floor as I took the stairs three at a time. Bursting into my office, I practically dove into my chair, lungs burning.

Glancing down, I froze. Still draped around me was Kendall Roy's expensive blazer. A strangled groan escaped my lips. This was just not my night.

chapter 2

[l3nnyw1thencr0w]

I just want to write smth bru, all the character inside this draft is my ocs, no betareader no anything, pray for me🙏

It is extremely hard to distinguish between a remarkable clothmaker and a maniac, the line between them are rather thin. Francis knows that—because she is one of the above.

The clock keeps ticking, sunlight can barely shine through the windows, leaving little to no light inside the room. Thread and cloths laying everywhere, strings connecting to each other in a messy, awkward way and if you squint close enough, you could see Francis’ last sanity hiding somewhere between those lines. Even with the sound of shoe clacking on the ground growing louder every second, Francis doesn’t seem to notice.

“Francis dear, maybe it’s time for a break, really. It has been 5 hours since we talked.”

Voice ranging through the room, the voice wasn’t unfamiliar, it was, but that is a problem to Francis. Cause that god forsaken voice and tone could only be from Harper, a charming lady underneath but it’s covered by a massive ego that made her look hideous in Francis’ eyes right now. The clothmaker only lets out a sigh, her eyes don’t even dart to Harper for a second. She doesn’t have a reason to. Though, even with the sign of uninterested and clear annoyance, Harper makes no move to back down, she doesn’t want to. She move around the place, touching the cloth and dresses Francis has made. Fingers rubbing against the fabric, thinking about all the ideas that the clothmaker said. Though, her thoughts were cut short but Francis pulling the fabric away.

“We did talk, thats what matters anyways.”

“You said i should choked myself with my stupid and ugly brick-like tail. Don’t you think it’s a tad bit mean?”

“Better than nothing.”

Harper lets out a huff and there was a moment of peaceful silence that Francis gets to enjoy before she hears a snobbish rich voice again. This time however, Harper is standing right next to her, arms crossed, looking like a child, just waiting for something to happen.

“i think i deserve an apology.”

Francis audibly chokes on air as she turn back to Harper, her eyes slightly wide. The reaction makes Harper rolls her eyes annoyingly . She is aware that her clothmaker would be dying on the spot laughing if it weren’t for the fact that Francis is clinging onto Harper’s money to live. Usually, Harper wouldn’t batch an eye, why would she? it’s just someone wishing death upon her—no big deal. But it has been happening for the last 2 weeks.

“sorry for hurting your sensitive feelings.”

Francis says casually as she hold a few cloths in her hands, sewing it together. Harper’s eyes narrowed slightly, trying to remember all the fights they have before that 2 weeks of Francis tormenting Harper’s ego and mental health. There was one about ovens, fabrics being stolen, the bedroom pillows being too hard, headache, moods but none of them are really that important, they could have all of those fights in one day and they will probably kiss each other goodnight and share the same blanket without any problem that same day. Well, there is one that Harper hasn’t mentioned.

“are you sad about the toucan painting in our living room got dirty?”

Harper asks, waiting for a few seconds looking at Francis, who was sewing, suddenly stops and turns to Harper, putting all the cloths away.

“you did that in purpose! No one flings their pudding in a toucan painting so precisely that it only hits the eye!”

Francis raised her voice as Harper groans. And there she was, the only one being criticised for acting dramatic when her clothmaker get to hates her for a whole 2 weeks. Harper hates the way the toucan always looks at them when she is trying to kiss Francis. And at night when Harper was drunk, she could felt the toucan staring at her so maniacally. Its both scary and annoying to deal with. But Francis just has to love the stupid painting so much. So Harper thought pretending that it was an accident would be the perfect solution—she never thinks there would be a day where her little accident looks too perfect and lead her to her own demise.

“Well maybe the toucan should stops being all weird if it doesn’t want its eyes to be blinded by pudding!”

Francis wasn’t surprised by the sudden confession albeit a bit surprised by the loud voice. Harper did lower her voice when she noticed Francis moving away a bit. The clothmaker wasn’t over her precious toucan painting but laying in bed with her back toward Harper for weeks have been boring.

“could’ve moved the painting away.”

Francis says annoyingly, looking at Harper with narrowed eyes and a frown. Really, Harper doesn’t understand why Francis likes the painting so much. But nonetheless, Francis likes it.

“I could paint you a new one, with its eyes closed.”

Harper says, slowly moving her hand to cups Francis’ cheek before pulling her lips to kiss her forehead, and hold her close after a full 2 weeks of getting absolutely nothing. Francis takes a moment to soak in all the affection Harper is giving her and will give her after this. The clothmaker moves her hands, gently placing them to Harper’s waist and pull herself in for a small fleeting lips kiss.

“it wont be in the living room anymore, will it?”

The question was left unanswered but a few days later, there was a new painting of a toucan resting in the hallway. Francis can only imagined what Harper looked when she have to get a cup of water in the middle of the night when saw this.

Francis wonders sometime if her job is driving her crazy or it’s the noblewoman she is working for

[merge-conflict]

actually tell me a lil about cast not your stone too cos that is a killer title

:3 I can't take credit for the title, it's a lyric from wayward daughter by brown bird:

cast not your stone / at the wayward daughter lay down the gavel and the robe if not for the lure / of darker water no salvation we would know

This is part of the alternate ending (4 of swords) I'm working on for thread-safe! Basically, what if Goro failed to retrieve V and instead got captured himself. Instead of V focused on keeping her sanity, it's more like let's dig into all of the painful and awkward social interactions that follow:

V learning a copy of her engram exists and is working in Arasaka Tower

V learning that Goro has been sent to bring her back specifically as leverage/a hostage to make sure that her engram stays in line

Goro feeling extremely guilty that his anger at her abrupt departure almost led him to do something truly awful (put her back in a cage with herself)

Johnny extremely betrayed and hurt that V was ready to leave him behind without a word (sensing a pattern here)

And More!

I think I've underestimated the effort required on this one– I had the chapter already written and want to make it better but so far I've just torn things apart and haven't put them back together in a smooth way yet, so... still tinkering!

teaser:

V presses her lips into a thin line and doesn’t reply. She finishes cleaning the cuts and applies some numbing gel which allows him to finally relax. By the time she secures a few protective bandages over her work he begins to drowse, replete with the sensation of her fingertips running over his undamaged skin. “I don’t get it,” Eurodyne says, voice pitched low. “What kept you apart? You’re obviously…“ He trails off, and Goro makes the effort to open his eyes. V rarely looks at anyone face to face unless she’s giving a report, so it’s a shock to find her staring back at him. Her bright gray eyes are always intense, but now they bore into him, peeling back skin and chrome so that she can see straight to his core. She’s looking at him the same way she looks at problems. The same way she looks at something broken, before she disassembles it and puts it back together. He understands after several painfully silent seconds that she is also waiting to hear his answer. “It is my duty to protect the Arasaka family,” he says, stiffly. “All other attachments…are a distraction.”

[gwendolynwcde]

Casually flipping her hair to the side, Gwendolyn couldn’t help but break out into a cheeky grin and jokingly replied with, “Then my job here is done.” She’d always had a soft spot for children and so, she had a tendency to have a bit of bias for them than actual adults. When Noah repeated her words, she wondered if she had pushed the boundaries. However, she was trying to be more honest and truthful with her intentions towards him. “Mhm…” she hummed in agreement while finishing up her glass and set it on the counter. “I’m not like the other guys who abuse their power.” she pointed out with a laugh. “But all jokes aside, you should at least make it a goal of some sort and try to follow through with it. Bi-weekly seems reasonable from a sanity perspective, but I also feel like there could be a bit of wiggle room for even twice a month in general, especially from a time perspective if you’re always busy. You just have to find what works for you.” Shrugging, Gwen then clasped her fingers together and rested them on her lap while she crossed her legs and relaxed in her seat, “I know I’m bad at it and have been nothing but a workaholic, but I’ve been trying to do better…Not sure if it’s working, but I can confirm I haven’t reached total burnout as of yet.”

The thread was very thin and close to being cut if she was being honest with herself. However, each passing day, the Chief of Police did her best to find a reason to keep going. In regards to their mothers, Gwen nodded and murmured, “That’s true…Worrying is practically a love language.” She then maintained her gaze and nodded once more, appreciating the fact that Noah understood her. “Well thanks for hearing me out...It was nice to get a break from reality." Tilting her head, she then narrowed her gaze suspiciously and asked, "What would have you really done on your break if you didn't plan on seeing me?...Would you have really napped all day?"

A laugh escaped him at her clever spin on the twins' chaos. "Oh, so now we're calling chaos 'teamwork'? You're going to be their favorite adult at this rate." Noah smiled wider, watching her find silver linings in his messy parenting moments. Watching her defend his kids' wild antics, and damn if it didn't make him smile like an idiot. The way she saw the best in his twins—turning their chaos into something positive—reminded him why spending time with her felt so natural. It struck him then, watching her grin over her wine glass, that she understood his kids in a way most adults never bothered to try. "Looking out because you care?" The words settled in his mind, making him pause. "Well, when you put it that way…" He sipped his wine, letting the moment breathe. "And yes, we absolutely should hold ourselves accountable for taking breaks. Though I have a feeling you'll be better at enforcing that than I am." It had been forever since someone, besides his family, truly cared about him. He was surprised by her sincerity. His kids always knew when he needed a break, their little faces scrunching up in concern whenever he pushed himself too hard. The twins had this uncanny ability to read him—just like she did now—seeing through his attempts to brush off exhaustion. Funny how both his eight-year-olds and Gwen seemed to be teaming up lately to make sure he actually took care of himself.

He nodded at the mention of family, thinking of his mom's constant stream of messages and food. "What mom needs to realize is sometimes her love gets a bit overwhelming. But I guess that's better than the alternative." He smiled thinking about mom’s latest food delivery—enough kimchi and side dishes to feed an army, just like always. The constant stream of "have you eaten?" texts from mom drove him crazy sometimes, but after everything they'd been through, he understood why she needed to keep her family close. It was funny how becoming a parent himself made him appreciate his mom's love, even if she did go overboard with the banchan every single week. He knew exactly what she meant. Nothing beats being home with family. "Right, Like puzzle pieces finally clicking into place." The truth of those words sank in as he sat there. Moving back had given him this friendship—a gift he never knew he needed.

[glorianamultistan]

omg,, can i like, request park seojoon x male reader?? maybe something like some smut after a swimming session 😩 (because seojoon shirtless does unimaginable things to me, and it being forbidden would be so hot hhdhsgs)

love your writing!! keep up the good work omg

OMG! Thank you so much @flwrboi for requesting this. It took too much time, but I hope what I write will be worth it. Also, since you have not specified the reader's disposition, I am taking some liberty. This is obviously, a work of fiction, just presented in a different form.

Park Seojoon x Male Reader

I do not own the pic.

This letter was found in Seojoon's private room at the swimming club, it was not meant to be read by you but due to the request of many and the freedom of knowledge, here it is revealed, through some edits to conceal the names of the most immediate persons, you may form your opinions but remember that offense is allusive and envy is the real poison.

Hyung,

I never thought that I would be related, even if distantly, to you, and in the moments of our first random encounters as relatives, we both know how we tried to not let the past interfere with our present.

The first night in that hotel, when you took me to your room, a mere 19-year-old virgin, with an upcoming star, I felt the golds and whites rush through your skin into my body and all other marks and reliques you left on me; I preserved them till I was able to so without losing my sanity.

For months I felt the ghost of touches and bites on my whole body, you were there, on the screen, shinning brighter than ever and I lived on with the hauntings; nobody after you came close to make me live through those sensations again, they bit, spanked, kissed and put it in the same spots but all were just a parody.

Then, slowly, I recovered from the past and tried to focus on my current life; I had to finish my university degree, and watching you reach new heights assured me that the chance encounter was some cosmic justice done to me to balance out all the past misfortunes.

Yet, after two years of that, there you were again, with a blonde undercut, smiling, the perfect boyfriend of the perfect child of the family. Did you choose my cousin to come back to me? I know, I dream a lot.

I saw the disbalance in your eyes as I was introduced to you, but we had roles to play; we did well, for the most part of it. Two, three, four family gatherings, and the thread was thin, wafered ice, one hot breath away from the abysmal collapse.

And when you were asked to drop me off at my flat, you had to deny, you had to say no and I had to say that I am fine, and should've taken a cab.

I will mark that as the turn, the makeout in the car, the blowjob, the whole night at my flat; you kissed every time with such a fierce will to not let go that the whole next week my tongue felt rough, were you scared that it won't ever happen again? Is that why you wanted to fill me 'to the brim, everywhere'?

Then came the suggestion of swimming lessons, and the naive little cousin of mine, she thought you were a caring hyung to offer help to me.

Your manager arranged everything, and I could not be more thankful to anyone, booking the swimming club for the whole days we were there, covering up for us; for a moment I thought you were sleeping with him too to make him do this much for us, but some people genuinely want to see us happy.

There, in the pool, as you taught me how to swim, I always looked over at your body, glistening with water, and felt as if I were to touch you, you would flow away, like a mirage, but you always assured by quite smoothly going in me that you will be there, holding me, using me and keeping me with you.

You broke up with my cousin after your relationship was publicised and my whole family went against you. So I had no choice but to cut them out of my life to be with you, still, holding on to your promise of living together; I have waited for more than a year now.

Yesterday after we had our swimming session, and we had to drain out the pool as you insisted on doing it in the pool, I put this in your room before leaving, as a confession, though we have confessed many times before, and as a reminder to fulfill your promise too.

I will be meeting you next week now as you have to go abroad, so I hope you come back to me first before going to your place; I will wait while wearing your favourite apron.

love you,

M/L.

P.S.:- If you liked it, you can support me by buying me a coffee; link's on my page.

[viviennes-tears]

Birthing partner (Tom Hiddleston one shot)

18+ blog: It is YOUR responsibility, as a reader, to think about the content that you consume at your own discretion. 

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Summary: Amy has gone into labour and she is all alone. Her boyfriend Brian isn't picking up his phone and her nerves are completely wrecked. She can't have this baby alone, although it has felt that way for most of her pregnancy, however without the love and support of her best friend Tom she wouldn't have gotten this far.

Warnings: Anxiety, pre-parental panic, cheating boyfriend, giving birth (not graphic) and some use of strong language

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Amy tries her best to remember the lamaze breathing technique, as she pads barefoot across the hardwood floors at a somewhat fast, yet steady pace towards her phone that she left on the sofa. Once it was within reach she brought up her boyfriend Brain's number and held the phone up to her ear as it began to ring.

RING, RING!

The droning sound of the ring wasn't very reassuring, in fact it was agonisingly nerve-wrecking with each second it continued to ring, right until the nasally drawl of Brain's voicemail began. "Hi, this is Brain Jones. Leave me a message or whatever after the beep." BEEP!

Amy took a deep breath to keep calm through the labour pains and on the exhale, "Brain, you jerk...it's time...where are you?! I-I need you with me, to hold my hand!" Upon hanging up Amy screamed in pain while tears began rolling down her cheeks, and she had one hand over her baby bump, and the other clutching a death-like grip on her phone. She stayed there for a while until the contraction subsided enough for her to sit down.

Everyone around her has been telling her the most horrible birth stories ever since she announced she was pregnant, almost scaring her out of having this baby altogether. But without the love and support of her best friend Tom she wouldn't have gotten this far otherwise. God knows she needs all the support she can get.

Brain on the other hand certainly has been absent for most of her pregnancy and he hardly reassured her whenever her anxiousness was getting the best of her. He's missed a lot of the doctor appointments and he's missed every single parenting class. Plus any other preparations that needed to be made and the bounding time he could have had with Amy before the baby's arrival he avoided. He used every possible thin and lame excuse he could think of to get out of as much of the baby stuff as possible. Actually he had barely even picked up a paint brush to decorate the nursery, despite the amount of times she'd ask him politely, he was just always out of the door instead. And while Brain took a back seat Tom stood up to the mark and picked up the slack. Even though he's not the father he couldn't abandon his best friend and he genuinely enjoyed every second he spent helping her out. He went to as many parenting classes as he could with her so she wasn't always alone, he drove her to all the doctor's appointments that Brain hadn't gone to (which was just two), Tom also surprised Amy one day after he finished decorating the nursery. Amy was lost for words that day, she could only hug and thank him for the most beautiful nursery ever, it was better than she could imagine it to be.

He's been the perfect self-titled Uncle to her unborn child.

However, as the contractions became stronger and closer together after some time had passed, Amy was at the end of her sanity thread and she couldn't be alone anymore. Besides, it was clear Brian was in no rush to be there for her, so she decided to phone Tom, as she knew she stood a better chance of getting to the hospital with his help.

"Darling, I was just thinking..." Tom's familiar voice began on the other end of the line, after picking up after a couple of rings, only he was quickly cut off.

"Toooom." Amy whaled through the pain.

"Amy, what's wrong?!" Tom could feel the panic raise up rapidly from the pit of his stomach. While panic-stricken he got up onto his feet, and with such haste that his head felt dumb, as if he was experiencing brain freeze after eating too much ice cream too fast.

"Tom...Tom I'm scared and-and alone..." she says in between shaky and blubbery breaths. "The-the baby is coming now!"

"Ok, keep breathing for me, just like we learnt in class. I'll be right there." Tom took deep breaths himself and then pushed the panicking mess down. Once he had collected himself together and cursed Brain, knowing full well that he wasn't there for her, he grabbed his jacket and keys on the way out.

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Tom soon arrived and let himself into Amy's home with the spare key she gave him in case of emergencies. He was also quick to find her leaning against the kitchen counter with a glass of water in hand. He greeted her with a kiss to her forehead and preyed the glass from her shaky grasp before putting his hand into hers. His calmness was welcomed with a crooked smile and a thankful squeeze to his hand in hers as he helped coach her with her breathing too.

On their way out Tom scooped up a packed bag from by the door which had been packed for at least a month ready for this exact moment. He knew he didn't need to check it before leaving, as he'd done that enough times already leading up to his moment, plus he knew he wanted to keep her calm, and the sooner they were on their way the better. Although when they were out on the road Amy almost went into a full blown panic attack, thankfully Tom reached over and he squeezed her knee every time the pain was getting too much. It reassured her that he was still there and his soothing voice kept talking to her too which helped her loads.

As soon as they arrived at the hospital Tom carried Amy in bridal style as she couldn't walk due to the amount of pain she's in. Then everything went by in a quick blur and before she knew it she found herself in a hospital bed giving birth.

Amy's death-like grip held Tom's hand close to her chest and her nails dug into the soft flesh. He didn't mind at all, all he cared about was being there for her. He just whispered words of encouragement into her ear, patted her sweat-beaded forehead down with a cool cloth, and helped coach her through her breathing and the pushing. His warm breath on her ear, the light touch of his lips on her neck, and his soothing voice helped her immensely. Albeit she wasn't shy when it came to cursing and wishing Brain to go to hell in between it all.

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Amy's beautiful baby boy lay snuggly in his thick warm blankets in her arms. His small delicate fist wrapped around her pointer finger after she lovingly stroked his soft face. Tears couldn't be stopped once he held her finger. He was adorable and so tiny in her arms. Also Tom was so proud of her and he felt honoured that he could be there for this special moment. Although deep down he felt saddened and angry by the fact Brain couldn't be bothered to answer his phone. He should have been here for her, he should be there to greet his son into the world, on the other hand in some deep inner selfish way he was glad Brain wasn't there. As selfish as he knew it was, but he knew Brain didn't deserve such an incredible woman like Amy, nor did he deserve to try and be a good father. Right now this is exactly what Tom always wanted out of life and he couldn't understand why Brain was such a dick.

"Could you hand me my phone, please?" Tom was hesitant to hand Amy her phone, he didn't want this feeling, this moment together to go away so soon. However he managed to push his selfishness to one side and passed Amy her phone.

As Amy cradled her baby boy in one arm she rang Brain on her phone with the free hand. Just like earlier it went to voicemail after it rang out, only this time Amy tried his number as soon as she hung up before the beep sounded. Surprisingly the phone was picked up this time after three rings.

"Brain, what the hell?! You missed the birth of your son..." Amy began to speak sternly, but she tried to keep a lid on her anger so as not to disturb her little boy.

"Oh, I'm sorry sweetie, it's not Brain." A childish female voice suddenly spoke and caused Amy to feel sick to her stomach.

"W-wha, who's this!? Where's Brian?!" Amy demanded and her newborn squirmed in his sleep.

"Br-Brain...oh god...yes...Brain..."

Amy began to cry all over again for a completely different reason and she couldn't listen to another word, she already had an idea what was going on, she just didn't need to hear it. Tom instantly saw the mixed emotions flash across her face and he was quick to wrap his arm around her shoulders. Her head fell against his shoulder, her eyes closed tightly, and her hand reached up and grabbed onto his shirt instead of holding onto her phone, as she continued to cry and her already exhausted body shook.

"Shh darling, I've got you." Tom didn't need to know the details right now, but he felt as though for a long time he already knew deep down. Brain had fucked up. "Don't worry, Uncle Tom is here to take care of both of you." He kisses her forehead and slowly rocks both mother and son gently.

Tom Hiddleston Masterlist

Source: @viviennes-tears​