#although I am getting to a point where my life has been empty enough that I can't remember what it feels like to have a genuine friend

[skinnypaleangryperson]

That bubbly fan in the tag blocked me, as soon as you start being yourself in fandom spaces and not just constantly being a constantly positive easy person to swallow you start to see how a lot of people feel about you. I've been doing this fandom thing for a long time so I'm not surprised.

[ninii-winchester]

I don’t wanna live forever

Pairing : Demon!Dean X Reader

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: angst, demon dean, violence, language. Unedited

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO COPY MY WORK, TRANSLATE IT OR POST IT TO ANY OTHER PLATFORM. REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED.

Been sitting eyes wide open behind these four walls, hoping you'd call

It's just a cruel existence like there's no point hoping at all

Baby, baby, I feel crazy, up all night, all night and every day

Y/n knew Dean getting the Mark of Cain was the most stupidest thing he's ever done, taking into consideration that he's Dean Winchester and he's done plenty of stupid in his life. Part of her wants to strangle Crowley for getting him into that mess but part of her knew that Dean would've done whatever it'd take to take down Abbadon. She didn't think it'd bring them here to this day where Dean would turn into a demon and leave the bunker for good. He's with Crowley and God knows where.

A knock on the door breaks her away from her thoughts. She looks up to see Sam standing in the doorway.

"Glaring at the walls of his room won't bring him back Y/n." He said sympathetically. He knew she was hurting as much as he was. After-all they both love Dean.

"What am I supposed to do, Sam." She sounded defeated. "I've tried calling him a thousand times and he doesn't answer."

"We're doing the best we can and we will bring him back, you know that." Sam replied walking towards her and sitting on the bed. "You know we always do." 

"Part of me thinks he doesn't want to come back, its like there's no point hoping." She felt herself tear up. "The mark is overpowering him."

"Hey don't think about it. Our Dean is still in there. We'll bring him back." Sam looked at her face. She looked tired. "Y/n you haven't slept in days. You should get some rest."

"Yeah."

I don't wanna live forever, 'cause I know I'll be living in vain

And I don't wanna fit wherever

I just wanna keep calling your name until you come back home

It's been days since Dean left and Y/n has had enough. She knows Sam's been torturing demons to find out Dean and Crowley's location but she can't just sit around anymore. She'll do whatever it takes to find him even if it's illegal. She opens up her laptop and hacks into the traffic signal camera's all over the country. She runs a facial recognition of Dean's face and the Impala's license plate. She crossed her fingers hoping it does it thing soon because the longer she stays on the site the more risk she's at getting into trouble. Although the bunker is untraceable they can't afford the feds on their ass.

The screen loads successfully and she jumps in happiness. The Impala last crossed a traffic signal three towns over. She didn't know when Sam would return so she didn't wait for him. She quickly changed into her Fed suit and drove towards her destination.

Knowing Dean, he's probably at some bar, she shortlisted the bars across that town and hoped she'd find him in one of those. She visited two bars and much to her dismay he hadn't been there. However at the third bar, she didn't find him but she found a clue.

"That man? Yeah he was here a few hours ago, got into fight with another guy. Beat him to a pulp so had to kick him out." The bartender said while cleaning the countertop.

"Any idea where he went?" She asked with hope.

"There's another bar ten minutes from here, you can check there." She tipped the man, thanking him for his help.

"Agent." He called out behind her, she turned to him, "be careful out there, that man's feral." She nodded and left

the place.

She walked in the inside the bar and it was almost empty considering it's pretty early in the day. She noticed a figure sitting at the bar top and immediately recognised him.

"Dean." She called out softly. He turned to look at her but then he turned again focusing on his drink. She said his name again and moved towards him but was stopped by an annoyingly familiar voice.

"Oh Vixen found her Squirrel. Didn't bring Moose along?" The voice spoke in a Scottish accent.

"Fuck off Crowley." She replied glaring at the man in the black suit.

"You wound me, darlin." He sassed. "Dean doesn't wanna go back so why can't you two blithering idiots.... LET HIM GO."

"I'm not fucking around here." She pulled out her gun pointing it at him, she removed the safety. "Let me talk to him. Alone."

"Your guns don't work on me." He replied smugly.

"I wouldn't be so sure." She challenged, knowing she'd carved the devils trap into the bullets. She knew she'd never have the heart to use it on Dean but Crowley is a different matter. The short man rolled his eyes and poofed away. She made her way towards Dean and sat beside him.

"Dean.." she said his name ever so softly just the way she always did. He didn't even turn to look her continuing to pour drink after drink in his glass. "Baby, let's go home." She moved her hand to put on top of his. He raised his brow at the gesture.

"I'm telling you this once. Leave." Dean moved his hand away and looked at her. No trace of a smile on his face, the smile she had come to love.

"No, I won't leave here without you. Come back home." She partially begged. "I don't wanna live without you, Dean. Please come home with me."

He stood up, his laugh resonating through the empty bar. She looked at him, hurt written all across her face. She knew this wasn't her Dean but seeing him act this way didn't hurt any less. She walked right in front of him as he stopped laughing.

"What's funny huh?" Anger bubbled inside her.

"Oh nothing." He shrugged, an evil smile appeared on his face. "You said you wouldn't leave here without me, yeah?" He asked rhetorically circling around her. "And you said you can't live without me either." He paused, dramatically thinking for a second.

"Dean.."

"How about I kill you then, right here, right now." He said stopping in front of her with a blade knife. "It'll be so much fun, for me." Y/n took a deep breath, her gun clutched in her hand tightly. "For you though..." he drawled with a chuckle.

"I don't wanna hurt you Dean." She replied.

"I don't think you can, even if you want to." Dean smirked evilly. "Last chance. Leave."

"I'm not going anywhere." She said. "Not without you."

"I'm gonna have so much fun." Dean scoffed before he grabbed her by the neck, choking her. She tried pushing his hand away but she was having a hard time. She kicked him the stomach making him loosen his grip but not completely let go. He threw the against the bar top, she groaned as fell. Her gun falling from her hand.

"This isn't you Dean." She coughed getting up.

"I told you to leave." Dean threw a punch but she moved out of way and his hand smashed a bottle. She punched him the jaw and he recoiled. He pushed her to ground and straddled her waist. He pinned her arms above her head in one of his hands, immobilising her.  The mark on his arm itched and he brought the knife to her throat. He pressed it and watched as blood trickled down the column of her neck.

"Do it." She said looking at him.

"I'll take my time with it." Dean replied smugly. Her scratched her cheek with the blade. He then moved it down to her collarbone and she screamed in pain. His lips formed into a sinister smile.

Y/n took a deep breath. She wasn't sure if Dean forgot that she mostly fights with her legs or was it his cocky demonic self that made him leave her legs completely unattended. She brought her legs upwards and hooked her them around his waist, catching him off guard and flipping him off her. That seemed to have pissed him off. 

She made a run for her gun but he was able to slash her side before she got her hands on the weapon. She gasped, her right hand touching the wound while she gripped her gun in her left.

"You're pathetic, you know you can't win yet you try so hard." Dean growled closing in on her. "But now I'm bored." He grabbed her left arm and twisted it until a crack was heard. She screamed as the gun fell from her hand. He picked it up and pointed at her head. He pulled the trigger without even blinking.

Y/n blinked as she felt herself being moved from her place. And then she heard a gunshot. Turns out Crowley moved her last minute before Dean fired. She watched Dean wide eyed, unable to process that he was going to kill her. She's alive not because he didn't want to kill her but because Crowley intervened.

"Why did you-" she barely let out but Crowley had disappeared but this time with Dean.

I'm sitting eyes wide open and I got one thing stuck in my mind

Wondering if I dodged a bullet or just lost the love of my life

Back at the Bunker, Y/n had her arm in a cast, the wound on her side stitched up and bandages all over her. She had taken painkillers for the physical pain but she doesn't know how to sooth her hollow heart.

She laid on Dean's bed and stared at the ceiling, unmoving. A knock resonated at the door and it opened a few seconds later.

"If you're here to tell me I was stupid and reckless. Save it." She said without removing her eyes from the ceiling.

"I know you just wanted him back." Sam replied.

"He's gone, Sam." A tear slipped from her eye. She sat up and looked at the younger Winchester "He wasn't my Dean." Before she knew her body shook and sobs escaped her lips. "Makes me wonder if I dodged the bullet or just lost the love of my life."

Sam sat beside her and wrapped his arm around her as much as he could without hurting her. "After everything that's happened, you still?" Sam trailed off not knowing how to continue.

"I told you Sam he wasn't my Dean. My Dean would rather die than hurt me. Of course I love him." She whispered in his chest. "It hurts to think of what he's become, so much more than these wounds could ever hurt."

"Dean's lucky you chose him. I'm sure he'll agree when he comes back." Sam assured her. "I won't give up on him. He's my brother. I'll bring him back for you. For us." Sam promised and he hoped he could keep that promise.

Part 2

[happiest-hotch]

3 AM

part one

Summary: Aaron shows up somewhere he shouldn't be with some words for you

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader (Angst/Fluff)

Word Count: 1.4k

Content Warning: mutual cheating

You go home to a house that doesn't feel like home, which isn't anything new, but today, it upsets you. Maybe it's too late, and the case drained you too much. Your self-preservation instincts refuse you to consider an outside factor.

Thankfully, your need for sleep trumps any chance of facing an existential crisis, so instead of staring at the ceiling wondering how your life got to this point, you're asleep almost as soon as your head hits the pillow.

It doesn't last long. Too soon, a knock on your door wakes you, and you reach for your phone to check the time. 2:52- great. If it were BAU-related, Penelope would have called and left messages before pounding on your door in the early morning. You run through who it could be. Maybe your pathetic excuse of a husband lost his keys, but nothing would inspire him to come home unless he learned of your affair and was hypocritically mad. Or it could be much more mundane; police, firefighters, a neighbor. 

Speculation gets too exhausting, so you get up and walk to the front door, checking your gun is sitting on the side table before opening the door.

It's one of the last people you expect. You wrap your robe tighter around yourself, defensive and hyper-aware that he's in jeans and a shirt, and you're in a tank and sleeping shorts. 

"Hotch." You greet him coldly, colder than the chilly DC night air. 

He didn't expect a more positive reaction. "Don't call me that." He says slightly too pathetically. 

"What can I do for you?" You ask, unsure what's compelling you to continue the conversation and not just slam the door in his face.

He shouldn't be here.

He knows it, you know he knows it, and you know it.

"Let me in." The Unit Chief tone, commanding authority, is nowhere to be heard, no matter how hard he tries to muster it up.

You sigh, momentarily weighing the pros and cons before stepping aside. Aaron follows you in carefully. Houses, thus far, have been off limits, like there was some unwritten rule neither of you would show up at the other places, knowing the consequences, but he's here, and you're still not sure why.

As you lead him down the hallway, Aaron keeps his head down, obviously trying to avoid being nosey. It's amusing since the personal pieces he assumes you have and refuses to look at don't exist. You wonder if he's drawing similarities between you and where you live, both beautiful on the outside and empty on the inside.

"Is he-" His question quickly gets reframed. "Are you alone?"

"I was." You answer. "He's in Pierre, South Dakota."

"Our case was in Pierre, Sou- Oh." Unsurprisingly, he put it together quickly. Pierre, South Dakota, is not a big enough place for you not to have run into your husband.

You laugh humorlessly. "I know. It's smart to have an infallible lie, but maybe not that specific." You remark. "He's actually in Miami. I checked the credit card and told him our case was there, so he always has to look over his shoulder."

Aaron doesn't smirk at what you consider a wonderfully devious plan. Instead, he looks concerned. "You still have joint credit cards? Are you keeping any money he can't touch?"

"Surely you didn't come here to discuss my financials." You shoot back, but he raises his eyebrows, and you know you can't progress the conversation without answering his question. "Yes. I've been to a lawyer and an accountant. He's only running himself into massive amounts of debt." You assure him. "Although, I'm not sure when this became your business."

His answer doesn't come quickly, and when he speaks, it's inadequate. "It's not."

"Okay, so what are you doing here?" You prompt. "Because you look like hell, Aaron, and you could really do with some sleep."

"I went home and sat there for an hour just thinking." He tells you. So, he didn't get lucky enough to fall asleep and avoid dreadful spiraling thoughts.

"You want to talk about your feelings?" You ask incredulously, unsure how he conjured the audacity to come here. His lack of answer is an answer. "No." You shake your head firmly. "You don't get to do this. Whatever we are, we don't discuss feelings."

"We could," Aaron begs desperately. It's not hard to profile that he keeps his emotions bottled up until he's bursting, so you know Aaron's here for a different type of release, for you to drain yourself listening to his problems and leave before he can consider that you have feelings.

You could hit him hard enough that he stops talking, and it's tempting.

"I'm okay with running to you when you want to have sex, but I can't be who you run to when you want to talk to someone about your day." You explain it as simple as you possibly can. 

"I don't think of you like that," Aaron assures you, his eyes softening as his words fall short of being stern.

Frustrated, you huff. You're tired and wound up, easily upset, and Aaron shouldn't be here. "Well, I have to think of you like that... or I can't sleep with you and not feel anything."

"You're not hearing me." He argues, a tiny flicker of the fire you saw before appearing in his eyes. "I want you to feel things."

You bit down on your bottom lip to avoid crying. You've become so callous to everything around you, bottled so much of it up that it's difficult to let any emotion show without breaking the floodgate. 

"You don't." You fight back, although it comes off far weaker than you expected. "I'm messy, my whole life is just one disaster after another, and I'll never excite you if we're not sneaking around."

Aaron's hands come to cup your cheeks, surprising you completely. It's a soft touch that has your lips closed in a second. "Don't say that." He instructs, speaking firmly but gently. "You're not a mess, not at all."

"Look at where we are, Aaron!" You remind him, throwing your arm at your side. For a detail-orientated person, he's only focusing on the big picture. "I'm married, you're married, and this is so damn messy."

"I know, I know." He nods. "It's... less than ideal, but we can get through it." He promises, holding you tighter now, like he's worried you'll slip away. "I want to be there for you. I don't care about any mistakes from your past. And please, please don't say that you won't excite me because I will always be excited every time I see you." It's enough to have you in gentle tears, not angry, heavy sobs, and he does his best to wipe them up delicately. "But if you don't feel the same way..." 

Aaron's waiting for your decision, and he isn't about to add more pressure, but he will stand there for as long as you need to decide. 

"I do." You affirm. "God, Aaron, I want to be with you more than anything, but I'm not sure I know how to." Being married is just a technicality now, and a divorce is something you're fiscally ready to do now. 

"Tea." He decides, his permanently furrowed brows relaxing. 

"Tea?" You repeat. 

He moves slightly away from you. "Where's the kitchen?" You're still confused about why now is the right time for tea, so you wait for him to explain. "I'm going to make you tea, and we're going to drink it while you tell me how you're feeling, and then whatever you want- a drive, breakfast, you name it, it's yours."

You pull away from him, offering your hand to take him to the kitchen. "Sleep is what we're doing after this." You tell him. "I don't say it to be mean, but you do look like hell."

"Wait." He stops you before you're in the kitchen, turning to hold your hands in his. "You need to know that I don't care about anything in your distant or soon-to-be past, but it's always going to be my privilege to be part of your future."

Aaron isn't meant to be here, and you aren't either, but wherever you're meant to be, it's with him.

[blissfulip]

Dopamine

on AO3

Viktor x f!reader

Rating: Explicit

Tags: enemies to lovers, slow burn, angst, idiots in love (?) dubious science, mostly canon compliant, no use of y/n, chemist!reader, eventual smut, masturbation, angry sex, unprotected sex,

Cw: uhhhh smut

Words: 2.5k

[A/N: russian very kindly corrected by soln, ly<3, tags and content warnings to be updated in each chapter, updates weekly(ish). (also, let me know if you want to be tagged in fic updates!)]

Tags: @ihopeinevergetsoberr @chemical-killjoy @jinxed-jk @bobobomao

Previous Next

Chapter 6: Big-headed? (NSFW)

The corridor leading to Heimerdinger's office was markedly narrower and longer than the others at The Academy, as though he was covertly attempting to thwart visitors. It didn’t stop you, however, and as you found out when you got there, it hadn’t stopped Viktor either. It made sense that, at one point in his life, long before you even met each other, these halls must have been a habitual destination. His close-knit relationship with the professor also showed itself confidently in the volume of his voice, a line that, despite your frustration with the situation, you’d never dare to cross.

You had every intention of staying put and waiting for him to come out, but the half-open door compromised your presence, and given that you were almost certainly there to make a fuss about the same issue, you decided to get it done and over with; after all, perchance Viktor's presence there could give your argument a compelling edge.

"Well, I’m glad you were able to join us at last, dear. I trust you are feeling better." Heimerdinger started.

“I’m okay; yes, thank you for the concern, professor. I should say I have a surmise that I am here for the same reason as him."

“Yes, I was trying to argue that our work styles do not meld well, and making us work together for any period of time greater than 5 minutes could be catastrophic; would you confirm as much?”

“Absolutely, I can do the work all on my own if that’s necessary; just don't make me work with him.”

“Interestingly enough, he has offered to do the same. Although I do commend both of you for your altruism, I must insist. This is what the Academy has decided.”

“Professor, if I may—"

“Enough delays, my boy; the decision is final. If I were you, I would get to it immediately; you have only a couple of hours to work.” You were swiftly rushed out the door by him, swept away by tiny, impatient footsteps and a heavy wooden door closing behind you.

Another door closed right on your faces when the sweet librarian denied you access on the pretense that your arguing had inconvenienced a whole two people the past couple of weeks, and you were now banned from using the premises at the same time. You had to compromise and go in by yourself to get the books you needed and then go all the way to the half-empty and uncomfortably cold cafeteria tables, where you worked tirelessly until you were yet again kicked out once the place closed. 

-------------------------

A couple infectious yawns and rubbed eyes later, you leaned back on the stiff plastic chair and stretched your back.

“What time is it?”

“Past 9.” Viktor answered after lazily turning around to try to make out what the clock read. You groaned loudly.

“We’ll need to move again—my dorm or yours?"

“Mine is probably cleaner.”

“Are you implying I’m messy?”

“No, I am affirming as much.”

“Rude.” You were offended, though only as a habit, because he was not entirely wrong.

“Oh no, have I offended you? Someone put me out of my misery!” He dramatized.

“I’d be first in line.” You said already standing up and walking in the direction of his dormitory.

--------------------------------------------------------

“Not everything needs to be done your way, you know?"

In the wake of the cafeteria work stretch, you had found yourselves completely spent and depleted. With most of the work done and text written, you had taken some minutes to stretch and rest your eyes. Viktor had informed you as soon as you got there that it was imperative that you were as silent as possible, given the next-door neighbor's propensity to complain about noise.

You did your best to keep it down, of course, and granted, you had been doing a particularly good job. That is, until Viktor decided to wonder who between the two of you would be the one actually giving the speech with the material you had prepared. Although you did your best to ask him politely at first, his immediate negative response caused you to get defensive.

“I wrote most of the text; why can’t you just do me a favor once?

“It’s not a favor if you have to throw me under a train for it! You know I hate speaking in public, and genuinely, I’m dog-tired of you being so incorrigibly selfish.”

“I’m not selfish, how am I selfish?” You said almost forgetting you had to keep the volume down.

“You never think about any consequences, ever. You can go around saying you are a free spirit and spontaneous and fun as much as you like, but if truth be told, you are nothing but cataclysmic chaos!”

“I don’t make mistakes on purpose, Viktor; it happens; you just have zero empathy because you insist on making everyone believe you are the Academy’s perfect golden boy! You never make mistakes, and you never do anything wrong, right?. But I know all you really do is push people away because everyone is afraid of disappointing you! I don't know. If you were a little less hostile, maybe you’d have some friends."

“You mean friends like you? I’d rather staple my ears together than be friends with a jumbled  mess. He said, standing up from the chair, his nose flaring up as he inhaled a sharp breath and held his cane forcefully. “You are so excruciatingly intolerable, overwhelming, big-headed—”

“Big-headed?"

“That is what you take offense to?”

You couldn’t say anything beyond a dismissive shrug, and you knew your disregard for his opinion was what would sting the most anyway.

The silence was loud; it could be felt in the air between you, the irate flare of irritation in his gritted teeth, his ears colored in that familiar tone of blush, and his eyebrows uncomfortably knit together as he whisper-screamed at you. He took a couple steps forward, leaving you at no farther than a palm's distance. The sudden closeness somehow did not bother you; you could hear both of your breaths, heavy and panting from the strain of containing your screams, and you could tell by the heat you felt all over your head and stomach that your cheeks probably mirrored the flush on Viktor’s face.

In hindsight, you never really understood why you didn’t talk back to him after that last comment. You had so many things in mind you could have said, but an unknown force pulled your attention away from his amber eyes glowing with rage to his lips instead, which were a bloody cherry red from biting on them too much. You couldn’t look away, and Viktor quickly noticed.

Then his shoulders visibly lost tension.

"Ah…prydoruk,” he whispered, mostly to himself, and you wished you understood because it somehow felt like another insult. Perplexity became fright when the loud clang of his cane falling directed your eyes to the floor, but in an instant, both of his hands were holding your face firmly, and one of them slithered in between the locks of your hair.

You hated how fast your guard fell. His fingers, icy yet delicate, caressing the lines of your jaw, were enough to disarm you completely. You mouthed multiple offenses at him under your breath as you searched for his lips. You were agonizingly in need of each other’s taste. Your hands had a strong grip on his shirt, tugging at it unintentionally as your body, which desperately wanted that idiot, tried to gripe with your rationality. The war in Viktor’s mind was a similar one, but just as much as yours, his body was unable to pull back.

Eventually you needed to catch your breath from the kiss, beyond hungry, and when you pulled back just slightly, you looked at each other like two deer in headlights, frozen in place by a blend of contradicting emotions that prevented you from moving and still holding each other closely. Viktor moved first, and when he kissed you again, you could feel his hands move almost on their own, going against his orders to wrap around your waist and pull you closer to him. He felt his lungs grow hungry for air as his tongue buried itself deep inside your throat.

“Stop pulling," he tried to whisper in between kisses. You shushed him, bringing a finger up to his lips, and started leaving a trail of kisses along his jawbone. “If you tear my shirt, I—” He tried once again, but your lips got to his neck at the same time, and his sentence changed into a muffled groan.

“I won’t. Just shut up; don’t make me think too much about this; just sh—”

“So crass,” he said as he walked backwards to the bed, pulling you along with him. “You’re so unpleasant."

“You have history that says otherwise, asshat."

You already had a leg on the bed, fully intending to push him on it to straddle his lap, but he moved faster than you could think and shifted to hover above you. He crawled up slowly without ever stopping the deep kiss you were sharing and used one of his knees to push your legs apart, positioning himself between them. You tried not to react, but the feeling of his erection against you prompted a slight chuckle to come out of your throat. 

“If this is how you get when I’m unpleasant, I can’t imagine what could happen if I were nice to you.” you smirked. He sank his teeth against your skin in response, leaving a small bite mark on your collarbone before he whispered.

“You are not funny, Zaychik."

“You’re just humorless." You said this as you pulled his shirt over his head. This must have been the open invitation he was waiting for to introduce a hand under your dress, completely bunching it up to gain precious access to your bare chest.

Although the energy of the room had shifted noticeably, the pooling heat in between you never replaced the ravenous disposition. You still felt the frustration in him as he bit into you multiple times, leaving a wake of purple and red bruises you would have to explain the next day. You didn’t know if his motivations were guided by a fit of lust or if it was a way to punish you for all of the irritation you had caused him throughout the years of knowing each other; either way, it felt good, and you did not care to keep pondering.

His hand trickled down to your underwear in excruciatingly slow designs, one of his eyebrows raising in a self-congratulatory expression when he felt the dampness of the fabric.

“Pat yourself in the back; why don't you?” You said, rolling your eyes. He did not answer, and, to your astonishment, he did not take your underwear off. He took his hand back up, bringing the fingers wet with arousal into his mouth, pulled down the elastic of his sweatpants and underwear to reveal a cock you wished you hadn’t gasped at, and pulled your underwear to the side to position himself at your entrance, all without ever breaking eye contact.

Even though he was panting abnormally loud and you could tell he would probably soon burst into a cloud of smoke, he still nodded slightly at you, asking for confirmation, and when you nodded back, he impatiently tilted his hips as far as the position allowed it and his leg could withstand, plunging into you with hungry zeal. He didn’t start slow; he was incisive and deep with every thrust, making sure he was completely inside you with every move. Calculated bastard

You used both hands around his back to hold yourself steady, your not exactly manicured nails digging into the soft flesh of his shoulder blades as you did your best to not make any noises too loud. Down on the bed under him, you pondered the dim light in the room and the curious designs of the roof. They might as well have been figments of your imagination, swirls of light and haziness as your eyes filled with tears.

You confused the erratic rhythm of his hips for what you thought at first was the arrival of his unraveling and immediately realized was simply his leg tiring out, and you gathered enough momentum to push him off of you, his back now on the bed, and you were ready to ride him. Long overdue, you thought, you couldn’t let him get his way with you without having a mirriad of his whimpers to your name. Your pace wasn’t slow either; you drove him into you with the roll of your hips, making sure you could feel him in the right spots.

The look of enamoured trance on his face as you bounced on his lap was far from the vexed expression you were expecting, and the suppressed groans of pleasure touched something in you that made you suddenly bashful. You leaned over to nuzzle your face against the crook of his neck and pressed your lips against his when his grin was getting too wide for comfort. You devoured each other again for what felt like too little time before you could feel the overwhelming heat in your core preparing you for your climax.

You tried to tell Viktor you were about to come, but something in your face must have made that obvious, because he brought you close again by the back of your neck, your mouths nearly touching each other as he spoke.

“Say my name,” he murmured into your mouth.

“Yeah, right”

The hand on your neck slithered its way up to your hair, which he tugged at firmly.

“Say it; I know you’re close.”

“Fuck you.” You hissed, neither of you being able to contain a half-pleasure, half irritation, out-of-breath groan.

It didn’t take much longer before you felt the brief pain and sweet spasm that followed it, and Viktor revealed the feeling of your walls contracting around his cock. You took a second to compose yourself with your forehead pressed against his, and then gave him a devilish grin as you slid down to his lap. His eyes opened wide when you pressed the heat of his erection flat on your tongue, taking it in as far as you could manage.

His head shot back and his face contorted in pleasure, the hand that hadn’t left your hair oscillating between pulling at it harshly and gently caressing your head. You tasted him, salty, in your throat soon enough, and sat up after swallowing every drop of it. Viktor drew you back to him, and you laid there next to each other, avoiding eye contact, even though you were too high from your orgasms to feel any regret yet.

‘Yet’ came soon enough, though.

[moriartyluver]

FALSE LOVERS CHAPTER XXIII

'IS THIS THE TEXTBOOK I SAW WILLIAM READING?' (Name) asked herself as she looked through the library book. She had seen her rival take out this book from the British library. It was a mathematics textbook that she was certain he had used to beat her on the previous exam. The girl had felt distracted by her own issues lately, but now she had the chance to focus on her studies once more. 

The library was quite empty, it was late at night after all. She would have asked her rival to accompany her to the library as usual, but she didn't have the chance after being bombarded with questions from Theodore's friends as to where he may have been. 

(Name) knew where he was though she feigned innocence

Hell. 

As she looked through the book, a piece of paper had fallen out onto the ground. A little note which she opened, recognising the handwriting instantly. 

"I knew you'd come looking for this textbook, (name). You and I haven't spoken much recently, likely because you keep 'forgetting' about meeting with me. How about we have a meal together after Friday's lecture?

~ W. J.M ( ◠‿◠ )" 

She rolled her eyes, putting the note in her skirt pocket and shutting the textbook. The doors of the library had swung open, a gasp could be heard amongst the silence of the library, the sounds of loud footsteps were approaching the corner where (name) was stood. She turned around fast enough to cause whiplash. 

Behind her was a group of men, each wearing military police uniforms. She looked at them skeptically, an eyebrow raised at them as they towered over her. Her previously neutral expression shifted into a cunning smile. 

One spoke, clearly the highest ranking based on his pins and badges. "Lady (Name) (last name), you are under arrest on suspicion for treason, murder, and acting in hostility towards the crown" 

"I expected I'd get caught at some point.." (Name) laughed, putting the textbook back on the shelf then holding out her arms "Very well then. Cuff me and take me away." 

The  officers looked surprised for a moment at how compliant she was. They had been warned of how dangerous this young lady was, and yet she obliged so easily. They looked at each other as if to say 'Make sure she doesn't try anything' 

Shortly after, (name) was taken into a carriage to the Military headquarters and guided to an office while the other officers littered in the halls looked in surprise that such an innocent looking woman was being taken into custody and has such a large group of some of their strongest soldiers surrounding her to prevent her from running off. 

Eventually, (name) was stood outside a couple of large doors. One of the officials knocked on the door, using some strange code words which the lady deduced to be referring to her, earning a 'enter' from the opposite side. 

The doors were pushed open and (name) was dragged to a seat, opposite a man with dark blue eyes and a piercing gaze. She sat down reluctantly, groaning in annoyance. 

"You may all leave now." The man said. 

"Bur director..! What if she attempts to—" He was cut off 

"Do not make me repeat myself." And with that, they had all left, although hesitant. (Name) was still quiet. She had barely said a word since her arrest despite feeling the urge to pester the officers during the carriage ride. 

She finally spoke. "You must be Director Mycroft Holmes, I'd like to say it's a pleasure to meet you but given the circumstances.." 

"I see you already know who I am, how did you find out?" He asked curiously, maintaining a serious demeanour. 

"It was rather clear based on your appearance and authority, but the sign on the door certainly helped." (Name) said nonchalantly as the man looked at her, dumbfound. "Now, what do you plan to do with me, a life imprisonment? Torture? The death sentence?" 

Mycroft stood up from his seat, walking around his office as (name) fidgeted with her handcuffs. 

"Not only did you kill my former superior, you also tortured Theodore Arden to death, so extremely that the autopsy report couldn't even determine what had caused his death," The Director spoke in disbelief "You killed his father, Viscount Arden, along with his entire family. They're calling it the Arden Massacre in the papers which I suspect with garner quite the audience, the nobility have been curious in regards to their absences. Not to mention, that wasn't the only family you killed. You even had their estate bombed to eliminate any possibility of it being traced back to you" 

"Correction, Director. I bombed it for the sake of my own vengeance. I couldn't care less if I were caught," (name) smirked "Had I wished to commit the perfect crime, I would have done so with ease. I would have killed as many people as I could ever desire and not get caught."

Holmes turned around, his eyes narrowing at her. "Is that a threat?" 

"I prefer the term 'promise'." She said, clicking her fingers as her handcuffs fell to the ground with a clatter. "Would you not be glad that you were promoted because of me? Surely that should be reason enough to have me executed in a clean and merciful manner, like Queen Anne Boleyn" 

(Name) had long ago accepted the possibility that her thirst for revenge could result in her own death. She didn't care though. If she had to die to do the right thing in avenging her brother, she would.

"If you truly are concerned with this so called 'Arden Massacre', perhaps I can give you a list of offence I had found when spying on the Viscount through his son." (Name) continued with a smile "Believe me, it's certainly not short." 

Mycroft raised a brow, sitting back at his desk. "And you believe it'll lessen your punishment?" 

"Punishing me wouldn't be wise, Sir Holmes. Besides..!" Her smile shifted into an angry scowl "You British bastards and your bloody empire have done enough to hurt the rest of the world. I mean, how would you react if  your brother was ordered to be killed in the most humiliating and painful way possible solely to be a 'warning' to your parents because they had tried to defend the right to their country maintains its current leadership instead of handing it to you ghostly pale know-it-alls!" 

She hadn't noticed the sympathetic glint in the directors eyes as she struggled to hide her rage more and more by the second. (Name) bit the inside of her cheek as if containing her words. 

"Rest assured, I have no intention of having you executed. From what I understand, you likely would have something up your sleeve." The Director rested his elbows on the desk, his chin against the back of his interlocking hands. "Humour me, what exactly would you do if I attempted to have you eliminated?" 

(Name) furrowed her eyebrows at the question. "If I were put in such a position.." she trailed off "I take it you are aware of the vast collection of blackmail I've gathered in the last year or so. I also assume you would hate to become the enemy of countless countries within and outside the British Empire. I understand you didn't request to have my brother killed, but I can be merciless when I wish to." 

"...You are aware of the effect your actions could have on (home country) and the noble house of (last name). We're in a stalemate, if you will." Mycroft commented in regards to their situation. 

If he had exposed (name) as the criminal behind the Arden Massacre and the linked murders, there was the possibility of starting a butterfly effect, causing Britain to wage war with (home country), however (name) was threatening to expose multiple scandals the British were involved in and cause a war involving numerous countries. Neither party could make their move without the other fighting back. 

"I'm aware." 

The Director nodded, turning back to the brothers. "Enough chatter..thank you for retrieving the documents, M..! I will include Adler's death in my report to her majesty." He said as he shut the door, ready to leave. "Farewell." 

Albert directed his attention to a nervous Adler. "Now..only one thing left to do." 

Once the group had returned to the Moriarty Manor in London, Adler was to be given a new identity, and in turn, a new life. 

"Now, there's only one thing left to do." 

Adler averted her gaze, awaiting instructions. 

"Fred, search the morgue for a body similar to that of Irene's here." Albert ordered the boy who nodded in response. 

"Understood." 

"Irene, from this moment, you are dead. As a member of our organisation, I will assign you to the secret service so we can make the most of you." He gestured to the colonel sat in the corner. "Colonel Moran is agent number 6. Feel free to ask him any questions." 

"O-Okay.." Adler stuttered 

"Soon you will become agent number 7, with a license to kill. You require a new name as well...for your given name, you may have ours: James. You may choose a surname yourself." 

Adler contemplated the potential options, thinking aloud "James...a new life..friends..ties.." she trailed off. "Bond." Taking a knife from a briefcase, Alder sliced the bun in her hair with a knife, golden locks falling to the ground. 

"My name is Bond." The new member spoke, wiping away lipstick with a thumb. "James Bond." 

"Your belongings have been delivered to your room," Louis told Bond as he gave him a tour of the estate.

Bond smiled in gratitude "Thank you, Mr Louis." 

"From today, Ms Adler, you will assume the role of a servant within our household and will be recruited to help with various activities." Louis explained 

"Understood." Bond nodded. "But please, stop referring to me as 'Ms Adler'. That woman no longer exists. Treat me as you would a man...and call me 'Bond'." 

"Very well then. Let me give you a tour of the estate, Mr Bond. I would've asked Miss Evans but she's having tea with (name) currently.." 

"Thank you.." 

As the tour continued, (name) and Josephine (along with Romeo who was sat with (name) as usual) were out on the porch, sipping tea as they discussed the latest gossip and such. (Name) had begun opening up about recent events in her life as Josephine had her journal and pen in hand. 

"..and then I said 'Especially if this young woman is from—'" she paused looking at the girl opposite her, writing keenly on her leather bound journal "Josephine, what are you writing?" 

Josephine's freckled cheeks flushed in embarrassment. She averted her gaze as she explained herself  "My apologies, (name)...I've recently started writing a novel of my own but I haven't had much time between chores and missions. I'm using all the free time I can get" 

This has piqued (name)'s interest. "A novel? What genre?" 

"Ah..it's quite a blend really..primarily it's a bit of a mystery book but there's a side plot of romance too.." She said quietly. 

"Like the new Sherlock Holmes books?" (Name) asked, stroking Romeo’s white fur. 

"A lot like those actually.." Josephine smiled "It's a work in progress though..! Just the first draft! I'm still unsure of the main protagonists name really but she's rather likeable, I'd say."

"Well, when you're ready, I would be honoured to read some of it for you," (name) smiled as she took another sip of tea.

As for the tour, Louis had explained each of the rooms on the many floors of the manor. 

"To the east of the second floor is Albert's bedroom and study. To the west, William's room and (name)'s too.  (Name) has her own study although it's slightly smaller than William's so (Name) insists it's why they tend to work together a lot, usually till sunrise." Louis explained. He had grown fond of his sister in law over the years he had known her. She seemed to have a respect for him he hadn't felt before.

"This is a nice estate.." James hummed "you seem to look out for the couple quite a lot too..I can see every nook and cranny of this place has been taken care of with much love from you, Mr Louis." 

Louis smiled but his expression quickly became one of distaste. "Yes though William, (name) and I often spend half the week in Durham so I've never had the time to clean this place up properly..No thanks to Mr Moran. Always dirtying up the place with his filth..just the other day Miss Evans told me she had caught him dropping his cigarette butts all over the floor..can you believe it? She gave him quite the talking to thankfully." 

"Mr Moran you say?" Bond smirked as they walked up to the third floor "I couldn't believe he was from a prestigious family myself."

"The third floor in this estate is for servants. The room in the middle is used by Fred and Moran as a training room. (Name) trains Miss Evans personally in combat, outside though." 

"What about that room there?" Bond nodded to it curiously 

"Next to Miss Evan's room? That is the changing room. You can use it too Mr Bond, but if you would rather your own..." Louis explained as the door was pushed open

"Not at all, but thanks for your concern," Bond said as he peered inside the changing room to see an unclothed Moran and Fred getting dressed 

"Huh?" the colonel grunted 

"Good day, I will be working together with you from now on—" Bond greeted politely

"Dwaahh!! You bloody woman!! Don't just barge in here!! At least knock first!! Where's your common decency?!" He exclaimed, covering his crotch with a towel 

Bond feigned ignorance and smiled "Why are you acting so embarrassed, Mr Moran? Do you feel insecure about your body?" 

Moran gasped in disbelief "What?! Of course not!! My body's a work of art! Its as sculpted as Michelangelo's David!" He posed as he slung the towel over his shoulder "Wait who cares about that?! You're a woman! You can't just barge in when us men are changin'!! Come on Louis, say something!!" 

"You have a point Mr Moran...but it would be quite discriminatory to build a female changing room for Mr Bond who is also a man.." Louis said thoughtfully

"Are you mad?!" Moran yelled "I can clearly see the racks on that bird!! Besides think of poor Fred!! How do you expect him to contain himself around those things?!" 

Fred sighed in annoyance, as if to say 'don't bring me into this.' The racket had started to draw the attention of the other three people in the manor. 

Bond had spoken up as if to step in "I think there's been some confusion here, so allow me to make one thing clear. I am a man. I wish to be treated as a man." He said " With that said, you can stop worrying and go about your business as usual, all right?" 

Moran clenched his teeth in frustration " It may be all well and good for you, but I don't approve it! For argument's sake, let's assume you are a man on the inside...there would still be problems." 

"You don't need to worry, Mr Moran. As you can see, I am very much a man. From my voice to the way I walk, even to the slightest gesture: I am a man." 

"It's not just about appearance lady," Moran said as footsteps approached the changing room. "You still can't match the strength of a real man. What if something happened during—" 

SLAM 

Bond had lifted his foot up, pinning a crouching colonel down against the wall. "Persistent, aren't you? Do I need to keep repeating myself to you? If you truly wish to see it my strength can match yours," he leaned forward to whisper into his ear menacingly "Then why not try and see for yourself, Mr Moran?" 

"Jesus Christ!! That woman scares me!! What does she mean by that?! Try?! Try what?!" Moran leapt up to hide behind Louis as the door opened to reveal both (name) holding Romeo,  and Josephine along with William too.

"What on earth is all the commotion about?" (Name) sighed as Louis placed his hands over the two ladies' eyes, shielding them from seeing Moran naked. 

"(Name)! William!" 

"You sound lively, Moran. What's the matter?" William chimed in as he stood in the doorway. 

"Listen to this! She—" He was cut off by Bond 

"We were discussing whether or not I can use this changing room. What do you think, (nickname), will?" He asked 

"The changing room, mr bond?" William repeated. 

(Name) removed Louis's hand from her eyes "I see no issue with another man using the male changing rooms.." 

William turned to Moran with a confused expression "Do you have something against another man using the changing room, Mr Moran?" 

"She can always change with you, come on!" Moran pointed to (name) who rolled her eyes. 

"Surely you mustn't be suggesting that I allow a man to change with Josephine and I. How improper." She said with a furrowed brow. 

Moran's jaw dropped, expecting to be backed up. "D-Damn you...William, (name).." 

Bond rested his hand against the door with a satisfied smile "That's settled then. We'll do as you two say." 

'Damn that woman...she knows how to get William an' (name) on her side..' Moran thought to himself 

"Oh, Mr Bond, once you're finished with your tour, please come to the living room. The rest of us will wait for you there," William smiled "And Mr Moran, please put some clothes on, there are ladies present." 

After a while, William had entered the lounge along with Louis and (name) while the 'servants' and Romeo (who had taken a liking to Bond) waited for their orders. 

"Bloody hell, man...don't go doing trivial things just before a meeting!" Moran complained 

"Now don't be like that, Moran. After all, all of you will be working together for today's job." William explained. 

Moran shot up "Wait! All of us...including Bond?!" 

"Naturally." William said as he sat down beside (name) who had Romeo now sat in her lap "Though Bond is now one of us, he is inexperienced in the way we operate. It's your job to guide and support him." 

"But what if we don't work well together!?" The colonel interrupted. 

"We will do as Albert said and make the best out of Bond. This letter contains all you need to know about this job.." (name) had noticed her husband voice becoming softer, more exhausted by the second. 

"If you say so, William.." 

"I'm going to take a little rest..(Name) can explain the rest to you..." Williams eyelids grew heavy, his eyelashes fluttering shut "And Mr Moran, get out of those clothes...put on something proper.." 

(Name) had suddenly felt something heavy land on her thighs while Romeo leapt up onto the arm rest. She looked down to see William snoring softly, asleep as his head rested on her lap, one hand gripping at the skirt of her dress. The room was silent for a good few seconds. The others (apart from Bond who had still not become aware of the circumstances of the couple's marriage) had half expected her to shove him off in embarrassment and try to change the subject, yet (name) remained sat there and even more shockingly, resting a hand in his hair affectionately, another tugging the collar of his shirt upwards to avoid further unwanted embarrassment. 

"William!" Louis stood up, removing his jacket to drape over his brother, fussing over him as usual.  "You'll fall ill if you sleep out here!"

“Honestly..you geniuses and your lack of self care..” Josephine muttered from behind (name) who frowned in guilt “We get worried when you don’t sleep or eat properly..” 

“Taking a nap, eh, will?” Bond laughed from the other end of the sofa. 

(Name) brushed a strand of hair out of William’s face, tucking it behind his ear, a smile tugging at her lips. “Not exactly..William often gets exhausted like this from thinking too much.”

“When he falls asleep like that, there not much that can wake him up.” Louis commented as he covered William with the jacket, shielding him from the cold. 

“Ah..I see,” Bond nodded “Hey, (nickname), are you and will…?” 

(Name) blinked at him in confusion. Josephine smirked, taking the opportunity at hand “Oh they most definitely are. William’s always calling (name) very affectionate pet names and is usually teasing her non stop.” 

“I once caught ‘em in William’s office about to—“  Moran was about to expose (name) for the previous incident following her husbands kidnapping before (name) cut him off. 

“It wasn’t what it looked like..! A-And besides, our marriage is none of your concern!” (Name) exclaimed, clearly flustered, then turning to Bond “It’s nothing of the sort, I assure you. M..Moving on..” she coughed, gesturing to the note which Moran opened  “In there you will find the rest of the instructions. There’s a key for the bank vault. I’ll stay behind to keep an eye on William, farewell.” 

Once they had been sent off, not without a few gilt whispers between Bond and Josephine , (name) had remained resting on the sofa with William laying comfortably in her lap, fearful that she may wake him if she got up. She sat there, petting Romeo sat on the arm rest beside her and speaking to him as if he were a small child,while absentmindedly playing with William’s beautiful blond hair. 

After what had felt like a while, sitting and watching over William, occasionally looking at the same few lines in her book, (name)’s legs had started to grow numb and she noticed her husband occasionally shivering and leaning against her, so she had decided to get a blanket to keep him warm. 

She took a pillow from behind her back and slowly got up, quickly swapping her lap for a pillow with some difficulty as the blond had gripped onto the fabric of  (name)’s dress as if she would disappear upon leaving. 

(Name) pressed her lips to his forehead before heading upstairs to get a blanket for William, Romeo following behind her, which had taken a surprisingly long time. Eventually she found a thin purple blanket to cover the professor and went back downstairs to see that the others had returned. 

There was an elderly man who was stood over the sleeping William, pinching his cheek. Moran was holding a flask of alcohol and yelling at Bond and Fred, Josephine and Louis were stood beside them. 

“I see you’ve all returned then,” (name) Said, approaching where she previously sat, then turning to the old man “You must be—“ 

“The old man!!” Moran exclaimed in shock “I-I mean…Instructor!!” 

“Little will hasn’t changed at all since I last saw him..” The Instructor chuckled as (name) covered ‘little will’ with the blanket and ushered Romeo away to not disturb him “nothing I do would wake him up..” 

“Instructor..?” Bond repeated “Yours, Mr Moran?” 

“Hell..so that’s why William called you..” Moran mutter, ruffling his hair 

Louis placed the box they had retrieved down “It seems so..the package we picked up from the vault indeed belongs  to him.” 

“Knives?” 

“How I missed these,” The instructor said, taking a knife out, unsheathing it “I had thought I would never see these again..” 

“The old man’s name is Jack Renfield. After the old Moriarty estate burnt down, it was him who took care of William and his brothers as a butler at Lord Rockwell’s estate.” Moran explained “He served in the British army during the first Anglo-Afghan war, and was given the moniker ‘The British Jack Knife’ by the enemy. During his time in the army, he also served as a close quarters combat instructor. Although now, he’s just an old butler who has been forgotten by history. Only those who still remember the war recognise him.” 

“Why would will summon such a man here?” Bond asked

“A killer is currently on a rampage across London..what’s worse, the psychopath is using the same name as our old instructor here.” Moran replied as the instructor put on the gear previously contained in the box. 

Bond put a finger to his chin as he thought “The infamous killer who was in the paper..I remember his name was..” He widened his blue eyes in realisation “Jack..!”

“Yes..” Moran confirmed “But this is the real Jack..

‘Jack the ripper’” 

William : (name)  and I are having a baby

Josephine: That’s great—

(Name), slamming adoption papers on the table: It’s you, sign here.

A/N: Teen fl was a menace to society. If I was Mycroft I wouldn’t have let her go like that but whatever. Also I will be referring to Bond from now on with he/him pronouns and if u have a problem with that, idk what to tell you. Liam really told Romeo that fls lap is his territory ‼️ Ik that cat wanted to scratch his fathers face off after that. Liam is lucky tho that Albert wasn’t there when he fell asleep because imagine he saw the hickey fl gave him 💀

[crazyvaleska]

Jump | Jerome Valeska

summary: Jerome's death from his point of view

warnings: suicide, blood, gore, intrusive thoughts, suicidal thoughts, implied self mutilation, death. i suggest you skipped this if you are sensitive to any of these topics. read at your own risk, you have been warned.

words: 2818

You know these moments where everything is good then you just get this sinking feeling out of the blue. Don't know where it came from, don't know how to get rid of it. Suddenly everything turns grey and it feels like your whole life has been nothing but melancholy and emptiness. Your brain erases all of your few happy memories, turns them into dust and tosses them away so you no longer have something positive to cling onto. Why does this keep happening? How suffocating it is to be trapped inside your own mind. To never be able to run from yourself. To be so bound of trauma you can't even help yourself. To get stuck in every room in your mind like an endless void and no one is coming to save you. Because you can't be saved, because nobody cares enough to understand. To understand you or your motives. Because in their eyes you always have been a horrible person who did horrible things and it's pointless trying to deny it over and over again so you just prove them right in the end.

I sprint up the stairs of an empty building. I'm running so fast it feels like my toes are being torn apart. These shoes may appear stylish and chic, but in reality they are so tight they've bruised my feet and I can just tell my ankle is now bleeding, they are a pain to wear.

Why are you whining like a baby, Jerome? Thought you were numb to pain.

Oh, screw you, give it a rest.

This wasn't supposed to happen, me being shot in the arm and having to rush up here. Damn you, Jimbo! So many stairs, they never seem to end. I climb and climb and climb and the unwanted thoughts come and come and come. They never stop coming. They're consuming me. They're eating my brain up. But this is fine, you're fine, you're, you're fine! It's okay, Jerome, you've finally reached the the final stair. There's a door right in front of me, probably leading towards the roof. Suddenly, I hear footsteps approaching. Oh shit, he's after me, I can tell. He's chasing me. No turning back now.

I run forward and push the door open. Uh-huh, I'm on the top of this clownhouse. Blood keeps pouring down my left arm although I've been holding it ever since I found those stairs. The bullet's stuck there, I need to get it out. Or do I? It hurts but I like the pain. Besides, this is nothing compared to what I've been through... I keep applying pressure to the wound with my right hand, my white glove now painted red.

Why are you doing that? You should just allow yourself to bleed out, who cares? That's right, no one does!

Maybe when I see blood splashing out of my every vien I'll be able to rest. I wanna swim in a pool of my own blood. I want my blood splattered everywhere when I cut my very own body into millions of pieces then I would plant the remains in the Garden of Eden. I want to rip my face out, can't stand those scars no more. They're itchy and irritating and perhaps suffocating. I scratch them all the time but that is never enough to make me feel something, it doesn't draw out enough blood.

But oh, the cold breeze felt so perfect while I was faceless. It felt like my flesh was being ripped out and torn apart, it felt like my flesh was melting and I couldn't do anything, I couldn't groan, I couldn't laugh, I couldn't talk, I couldn't even smile 'cause every inch of my face hurt and I kept swallowing my own salty, sticky, slimy, metallic, fresh blood. My, my, what a silly little dark and twisted memory even for someone like me. But that's my favorite fever dream. I wonder, if I pick up on my skin for long enough would I be able to pull my skin out again? What if I peeled it all off? Would it work the same way it did on my other body parts? Oh Jeez, this is sick. I am sick. I have always been.

Note to self: try skinning yourself alive next time you have an anger outburst.

I shudder as wander around, taking steps closer to the edge. Gordon should be here any moment now. I look down. There's a long, long way down. If I pushed Jimmy from up here he wouldn't survive. No one would, actually.

Jump.

What was that?

Jump.

Oh, stop it.

Jump.

They're back at it again.

Jump.

They won't ever let me rest.

Jump.

The voices.

Jump.

The intrusive thoughts.

Jump.

They send shivers down my spine, body's aching all the time. Such a foolish thing to think that I could ever be free. I'm not a whole person and I never will be. Parts of me died in the house I grew up in and I visit them in my dreams. They say time's supposed to heal you, but I ain't done much healing. 'Cause time is an illusion and so is hope. There is no hope, there is only delusion. Something inside of me has died and I can't bring it back to life. Every time I think a thought I get nauseous. I can't be cured of whatever this is. I can't be cured of being me. Sometimes it feels like I've got a war in my mind. They never leave me alone. They're funny and entertaining sometimes but right now they're bugging me out. Maybe hitting myself in the head with a brick would fix me. Haha! That was funny, I should add it to my to-do list. It would probably be more effective than setting my knees on fire.

Jump.

Shut up.

Jump.

So what if I jumped?

Jump.

Maybe I'll grow wings and fly...!

Jump.

Fly my way out of here.

Jump.

Fly among the beautiful butterflies.

Jump.

It can't be that bad, can it?

Jump.

Jump...

Jump!

I don't feel safe anywhere. I never did. Everybody's tryna hurt me. I always feel watched. All eyes are on me. Or at least Gordon's are, because he's here. I observe his every move. Uncertainty follows him everywhere. He's hesitant when he points his fire gun at me yet to anyone else it would look the other way round. "Hands up," he says. How the hell am I supposed to do that, jerk? You shot me! Boy he's got some nerves. I hate him so much I'm gonna chop off his fingers and put then in a blender, make a smoothie then serve it to him.

For a few seconds, maybe minutes even, ignorance takes control over my body. I don't say anything in return to him. I only look around while holding on the grip on my wounded arm. Everything is quiet up here, so quiet that my harsh breath and disturbing thoughts are the only things I can hear. I can see the whole city. All its glamour, all its elegance... yet, all its filth, all its arrogance, making me feel sicker than I already was. I must remind myself that all of this was to create a better version, if not the best, of Gotham. Doing it all for the city's sake. Isn't that so generous of me? Would you look at that! The blimp's flying in the air. It's filled with gas, my laughing gas. I cannot wait for everyone to get sprayed! Ah, it's going to be a true delight! Laughter will replace this deadly silence. They will all know what the inside of my mind looks like at last. They will understand. They will soon know what's it like not being able to control yourself, to control your thoughts, to control your actions. They will get a taste of what's it like to be completely aware you are slowly going insane yet not being able to stop yourself from getting worse, like you're watching yourself through a brick wall and you're unable to help yourself. They will experience the scariest thing about losing your mind: acceptance.

"Beautiful, isn't she?" I break the silence. Whoopsies, I had forgotten Jimmy was here. Man does he look puzzled! He hasn't moved an inch. He's going to fire his gun, eventually. There's no escape. There's no going back now. I must do what I originally intended to do.

"Just gimme a second," I say while dialling a number on a cell phone. For the record, it's not my phone ―I never got the hang of those― it's a phone I had stolen, duh. "Gotta call the pilot, tell him he's in position-" BANG! Gordon shoots my right hand and I can't help but grunt in pain and drop the phone. Savage. I never thought he had it in him. Eh, people change all the time don't they? "Not cool," I mumble reluctantly, though there's more to say but not enough words and definitely not enough time. Somehow, I can still hear the pilot speaking to me on the phone, "Yes, Jerome. Jerome? Jerome? I'm in position," but he wouldn't hear me if I replied. So I cackle because that's what I do best. It's probably more of an ironic chuckle since I now realize my plan is most likely going to fail too. But for some reason, I couldn't care less. I am failing once again. What else is new? I laugh because it makes people feel uneasy, makes me feel like I'm in control though I'm not. The look on James' face brings me pure joy. I have no idea what I'm doing, but he thinks I do and that's enough. What was I doing? And what's the point in doing anything, anyway? Maybe I should just give up. Give up on everything. Go ahead and give up like you always do, Jerome. Quit trying, that never worked out for ya. And even if the city won't get sprayed, dear ol' Jeremiah will. Made a special gas just for him. Wouldn't this be the perfect revenge? To turn him into the one thing he hates most: me. It's like killing him but worse. Because this way I kill the Jeremiah our mom has always loved. He will live but he'll be forced to carry out my plans and ideas. He will live as the monster he made everyone believe I was. He will live but he'll be dead all at once. So theoretically I will have killed my whole family and there's only one member left to murder: me.

Jump.

I could still do it.

Jump.

I could jump.

Jump.

End my bloodline.

Jump.

"It doesn't matter..." I cackle out.

Jump.

This is it.

Jump.

"...too late, anyway."

As my gaze softens, I now realize today is the day that I die. Today is the last day that I breathe. Today is the end, it's just a matter of how it's gonna happen. It's either he kills me or I do it myself. No, I won't give him that satisfaction. I'm not going to let him win. I'm going to jump before he gets the chance to shoot my brains out. I'm not scared, I'm calm. I don't fear death. I have died before but before I knew it I was back. No resurrections this time. I have been waiting for this very moment my whole life. Could, perhaps, everything go quiet once and for all? Could everything go quiet forever?

Jump.

I think I'm gonna do it.

Jump.

I think I'm gonna jump.

Jump.

But first...

"Bombs away!" I yell from the top of my lungs hoping the pilot can hear me. Ouch! That son of a bitch fired his gun again. The bullet hit my stomach this time, but it didn't kill me.

I grunt then laugh, I should've seen this coming. I swallow down my throat the urge to throw blood up, he mustn't see me weak. I spit out saliva instead. "Funny." It's funny because I'm aware I'm about to lose my balance and fall, although I was going to jump off anyway. So I was right, my death truly was inevitable. I lose control over my body as I collapse helplessly. I close my eyes and breathe in. It's happening and there's nothing I can do about it because I don't want to do anything about it. Right. Then why am I hanging on a pole for dear life. Survival instincts, I'm guessing. Why am I still holding on? Why can't I just let go? Why can't I just die already? I don't wanna do this anymore. I can't do this anymore. Nothing ever lasts forever. Euphoria and other emotions are temporary then are replaced by a choking feeling of emptiness. I rarely feel anything but when I do my emotions are so intense, I cannot keep up with them, making me do impulsive and reckless things, hurting everything and everyone around me, including myself.

I look up only to see him staring down at me. He could save me. He could save me from dying. But do I want to be saved? Do I need saving? No, I have made my decision.

"Quite the dilemma, Jim."

Death is my salvation.

"You gonna let me fall and die?"

But spending my last moments alive playing mind games with James Gordon seems like a great deal, giving him the impression he could be my saviour. It's funnier this way.

"Or are you gonna pull me up and arrest me? What's it gonna be?"

He won't wanna let me fall. He will want to pull me up. But I won't let him.

"Lawman or murder?"

I can't hold on much longer. Soon enough I will have to let go. Let go of everything. Jeez, isn't he predictable? He reaches out his hand for me to take.

"Ah." A hollow laugh escapes my lips. I'm going to spend my last moments alive snickering because what's the point in sinking in my own emotions, sinking in my own sadness again? Why should I let my guard down now and let him see me at my lowest? I'm only human, after all. Nope sir, I have to pretend it doesn't matter.

"Good ol' Gordon. Always playing by the rules. That's why I'll outlive you. That's why I'm loved 'cause I don't give a damn about the rules." Not sure about the last part tho, loved? Maybe, by other loonies. Understood? Not in a million years.

His pained expression speaks volumes right now. Deep down he wants me to fall down too, he would push me if he could, if he wasn't sane.

"It's a long way down." No shit, Sherlock. "You sure you'll outlive me?"

"Oh, I'm sure," because Jeremiah will take my place, " 'cause I'm more than a man. I'm an idea, a philosophy. And I will live on in the shadows within Gotham's discontent." Not sure where that speech came from but it does sound quite poetic. "You'll be seeing me soon. Au revoir." Well, I guess this is it. Time to push up the daisies. It's okay, it's fine. Just breathe. Breathe while you still can. You're fine, Jerome. You're fine, you're fine, you're fine, you're fine, you're fine, you're fine, you're fine.

You're fine.

I wanna change my mind for a brief moment.

Woosh.

Failing.

Floating.

Flying.

Falling.

I did it. I let go. I am now falling and nothing seems real. My lungs are probably exploding right now and I feel like I've ran out of air. Everything happens so quickly yet so slowly at the same time. I want to scream but instead I laugh as my life flashes before my very own eyes. I get a glimpse of all the pain and suffering I had to endure and I'm glad this will soon be over. I laugh because I wanna die happy. I never truly felt happiness. Amusement, sure. But not happiness. Until now, when I will finally have received the sweet kiss of death. I am done with this war. I have done enough. I have enough blood on my hands. I don't need to prove anyone anything anymore. I can rest now.

At last, my back hits the ground and I take one final breath. My skull is crushed and the bullet stuck in my abdomen hurts more than ever as my vision gets blurry. I won't close my eyes, I wanna take a final glance at the blue sky. With my last strength I curve my scarred lips into the brightest smile I've ever smiled. A smile that will be frozen on my face forever. I hear the birds chirping while the cold wind blows and I lose the ability to move my muscles. Then everything turns black.

[lettersleftunread]

// the last falsetto //

dear you,

when i first listened to this song, i easily associated it with someone. the song makes me feel like i'm walking barefoot at the beach, feeling the warm sand in between my toes, my hair flowing freely with the cold breeze, and my chest feels light as i breathe all my frustrations out in the air. he feels exactly like that. he feels like sunshine.

but after looping it for hours and rereading the lyrics multiple times, i took back the association because it doesn't match. all along, there's an underlying reason why i liked the song, and now, i realize it may be because of you.

there's probably a million things i'd like to say to you, but honestly, i think it'd be best if i just ask — how have you been?

a part of me wholeheartedly wishes that you're well, and that you're living your best life. a part of me wishes you're happy. but the part of me that recognizes the pain you caused totally wishes the opposite. i can't blame her though.

do you even remember how we started out as friends? it was the 5th of december, and we had emptied a lot of bottles. we were both drunk, and you were muttering the most nonsense sentences the world has ever heard despite us having a sensible conversation because the alcohol already took over. when the morning came, we were waiting for everyone to finish getting dressed so that we can go home. you sat by me while i'm hugging my stuffed bear and asked "can i hug you?". you were clingy when you're drunk, and funnily enough, i am too so i said yes. i think that was the first out of the many hugs we get to share. too bad the count finally halted.

we met again that afternoon for a photoshoot, and you, despite sleeping so soundly on the jeep to the point that your friend carried you to his apartment, turned out pretty decent. you looked great, like you weren't hurling hours before. that day was filled with so much bliss, and it's vividly etched in my memory. little did i know, the 6th of december marks a start of a beautiful friendship — so beautiful that the world doomed it to end terribly.

i don't want to delve deeper into what we had because even i cannot verbalize what that was. was there even a concept of "us" or was it just in my mind? all these years, the chronic thought of asking "what are we?" haunted me and what's sad is that i will never know the answer to that. maybe it's better not knowing. maybe it's better to just settle with the fact that you were the reason why my life was filled with bliss for a certain point in time, and for that, i will be eternally grateful.

at the back of my mind, i have this small box filled with little details about you. i know the song you listen to when you need that little push. you know how to braid someone's hair because you do your little niece's hair. you have this certain hyperfixation on this one particular italian word. oh god, i still remember how you smell like -- intoxicating, gentle, familiar.

and at the same time, you knew things about me, things i never even had the chance to verbalize out loud, but you still knew because you paid attention.

it will always be a mystery to me how you knew that i loved that particular song to the point that you asked me to sing it with you. i will never forget every single time you braided my hair because you knew i loved it when people play with my hair. you knew i love stickers, so you bought one that matched mine.

your arms, up until now, are what i consider my safest place in this world. no one has ever come close to the way you made me feel that night – the security, the serenity, the peace, everything – and five years later, you still own a part of me.

i'd like to think we knew each other pretty well -- perhaps to be loved is to be known. however, like the seasons, you and i went through drastic changes. we outgrew a lot of things, including each other. although sometimes, i think about these versions of us -- the version of us who deeply knew each other -- where did they go?

at nights when i walk home alone, or during spontaneous karaoke nights wherein i sing duets with a different person, and whenever i get the urge to braid my hair in the morning before i go to work, the question lingers, "what if?"

i'd like to think there's a universe out there wherein we decided to give in to chance. there's probably a universe wherein i decided to tell you that i love you, and you eagerly said it back. there's probably a universe in which the yearning and pining were mutual, and the love was unconditionally reciprocated.

like the song we sang to each other, i'd come home after a long day because in that world, you'll be mine and i'll be yours.

but that's all this was gonna be – a "what if". ours was never a case of bad timing because we're never made to course through this lifetime together. what we were were just ships that pass in the night — meant to meet at one point in time, but destined to sail off on our separate voyages, never to cross paths ever again.

it's bittersweet that i couldn't even say that our time has passed because we never even happened, but i grew to accept that i was never meant to be a part of your story. not a sentence, probably not even a phrase. i never made a mark on yours, but do remember that you are a whole chapter in mine.

[snzysimper]

FINALLY!! I haven’t posted a fic in AGES. Apologies for that. This is probably the longest thing I’ve ever written. I’m really proud of how this turned out. It took me a while, but I hope it was well worth the wait for everyone. This is the re-write of this fic. I tried to keep it loyal to the original, but also make it better.

Note: I had everything italicized and shit, but tumblr is stupid and doesn’t keep it when it gets copy pasted from a google doc so I’ll go back and fix it later. For now, you can just use your imagination because I am to lazy to do it rn.

Another note: not that this really matters, but Security Breach doesn’t exist in my AU, so first of all, no ‘Burntrap’ and also no SB Vanessa. I much prefer the fan made version from Help Wanted, so that is who I use in my fics and such, but feel free to portray it however you like. She just looks better. Feel free to look at some fan art else where.

A Warm Surprise

A Will/iam x Van/ny Snz Fic

Written by SnzySimper

Word Count: 1950

TW: Spray, Snz (ofc), mentions of deceased children (only briefly)

| I am allowed to write what I want and I would appreciate if you keep whatever rude comments you may have to yourself |

It is about 11 o’clock at night. The pizzeria was far past closing, which was 8 o’clock. One would generally expect for the place to be empty. Isn’t that how this works anyway? Starting in only one hour, the haunted robots spring to life and, well, you know the rest. But, no, not right now. We are far beyond that point. Long story short, after the closing and re-opening, new animatronics were made, and the Fazbear brand was re-started after someone bought the name. As of the current moment, a new man owns the name brand. Well, not quite. After escaping his presumably eternal hell, William Afton put his consciousness inside of a game, making himself nothing but a piece of computer code. With the help of an innocent bystander, he was set free into the world again and, under a new name, bought his company back. Who’s his partner in crime, you may ask? A young woman named Vanessa, or Vanny, as William usually calls her. His little reluctant follower, although she has become less reluctant as time has gone by. In fact, she had become much less of a follower and more of a friend. The two did most everything together. Were they themselves together? Well, no. Not right now, anyway.

Sitting down on a table, Vanny looked over towards the animatronics. They were powered off, as they should be. She and ‘Dave’ planned to keep it that way. No more vengeful ten year olds wanting to damn your soul. And hopefully not ever again. He didn’t have any reason to make it happen again. He had obtained his immortality, so why would he need to kill more children. It’s not like he needs the remnant. She glances around the pizzeria, not used to it being so empty and quiet. No sounds of children giggling and screaming. No music. Only the hum from the air conditioner. A bit creepy and unsettling to most, but she had come quite accustomed to it. She found it almost peaceful. It was silent, and peaceful, and not a single sound to-

“-gGGes’SSHHhss!!”

Slightly startled at the broken silence, Vanny looks up. She was alone in the pizzeria, minus her ‘boss’. It had to have been him. Come to think of it, had she ever heard him sneeze before? Being a computer code, she didn’t really think he could sneeze. Oh well. Who cares? A sneeze is a sneeze. No skin off her teeth. She pulls out her phone, not paying it anymore mind. “Hh’gGG’shhh!!..’Ggsshh!” Well, this was certainly interesting. It was strange enough for this to happen once, granted that it had never happened before. But three times? Curious to what could possibly be happening, Vanny hops off of the table to go and find him. It was getting to be time to head home, so she should go and get him anyway.

~~~~

“Hhhh…”

Sitting at his desk, William breathes heavily. He was happy that the day was finally over. He could just go home and fall asleep on the sofa. He crosses his arms and lowers his head, about to fall asleep in the chair. In front of him are blueprints for trying to fix SpringBonnie. Trying. Although he may as well just start from scratch. The suit itself is beyond repair, but the internal parts, or at least the springlocks, could possibly be salvaged. It would take a good bit of effort though. As the AC turns on, he shivers, wrapping his arms tightly around his chest. Was it usually this cold in the pizzeria? Or maybe someone had just messed with the thermostat. Who knows. Giving William the benefit of the doubt, he is a TWIG. The average weight for someone who is 7’2 is around 230. William is 190. One could say that this is due to him not eating much. He doesn’t see a reason why he should. As we have previously established, he’s already immortal. It isn’t like he can starve. Although, the occasional meal is nice. He slowly raises and tilts his head back, his breath hitching slightly. “hhHh’GGschh!!” Damn. Why is he so cold? Wiping his nose on the back of his hand, he sighs. Was it possible he could- no. No, no. He’s a piece of computer code for crying out loud; barely even able to be classified as a human being at this point. Being sick is completely out of the question.

Right?

It had been a long day of listening to the same 6 songs on repeat, children's laughter, and, worst of all, the smell of shitty cheap pizza. He was more than ready to go home by now. Vanny walks in the room, softly knocking on the door. “Mr. Afton?” She walks up behind him, and gently places her hand on his shoulder. Having completely zoned out, he jumps at the touch of her hand. She jerks her hand back. “M-Mr. Afton-! I’m so sorry, did I wake you?” While they were ‘friends’, Vanny’s voice still trembled whenever addressing him. She knew all that he had done in the past, and was terrified of what he would be capable of doing now that he was immortal and essentially invincible. William, however, didn’t respond in his usual manner. “Vanessa,” he gives her a small weak smile. He doesn’t face her directly. He simply looks back at her using only his eyes. His piercing, icy blue eyes. “It’s nearly midnight.” She wrung her hands. “Shouldn’t we be leaving soon?”

“Yes. Worry not, we will be heading out soo-”

He abruptly stops speaking. He looks a bit dazed for a moment before quickly bringing his hand to his face, pinching his nose. “Ht’nnt-!” It is almost silent. “Ht’nxxt!! ‘nxxT -nnt!” And again. “hhHt’nkkt!!”

“Bless you,” Vanny says softly. He lets go of his nose, which is now a warm pink, and sniffles as he wipes his nose on the back of his hand. “Hhh, thank…thank you.” At last, he turns in his chair to face her. Vanny is worried by the sight of him. His cheeks are a touch of pink, and so does his nose, although his nose is a brighter shade. The parts of his face that aren’t flushed somehow look even more pale than they usually do. The dark circles under his eyes are more noticeable than normal. Tiny droplets of sweat are present on his forehead. Almost by instinct, she reaches up and gently presses the back of her hand against his forehead. “Mr Afton, you look awful. Are you feeling alright?” Realizing that she literally just reached up and touched his face without any sort of warning, she panics and quickly tries to jerk her hand away. Before she can fully pull her hand away, William reaches up and presses the palm of her hand against his cheek, sighing happily. Vanny blushes, shocked by the intimate gesture. He closes his eyes and lowers his head. He looks very happy to say the least. “Your hand,” he says quietly. “It feels really warm. It feels nice.”

“Your face is very warm, too. And not in a good way.” She lets him hold her hand and uses her other hand to feel his forehead again, now assuming that he doesn’t mind her touching his face. “You have a fever. I’m sure of it.” She removes her hand from his forehead and moves his hair so it isn’t covering his eyes. “Mmhm,” he hums in agreement, although she is quite sure that he isn’t paying all that much attention to what she is saying. She laughs softly. “Come on, let's go home.”

Vanny helps walk him into the house. Leaving her side, William walks away and flops face first onto the couch. He looks pretty comfortable. Vanny giggles. She isn’t used to seeing him so relaxed. Usually when he interacts with others, he lacks much emotion and is very curt. Any time someone tries to care for him or assist him with something non-work related, he snaps at them to leave him alone. With her he is usually a bit more friendly, but not much. Tonight, he had been everything but that. He even smiled at her. Vanny walks over to the couch and sits down next to him. William helps himself and rests his head on her lap. She lets out a small squeak, shocked at the fact that he is being so affectionate. She sighs and begins gently scratching his head. He smiles. “We should probably get some medicine for you.” William hums softly. “I’m fiiine.” He closes his eyes, sighing softly. Vanny sighs. “Alright. If you say so.” She didn’t want to challenge him on anything, so as not to take his gentle and chill attitude for granted.

They are silent for a good ten minutes before William starts sniffling. Vanny looks down at him. He is rubbing his face with the back of his hand, his nose clearly irritated. William eventually gives up, deciding that his efforts to relieve the itchy tickling sensation in his nose are fruitless. He looks adorable, Vanny thinks. She gently presses the tip of his nose with her index finger. “h’EHshhSS!” Vanny jumps slightly. “Oh. Bless you.”

“Mmm..what was thah for?” He grumbles sleepily. “Sorry. You just looked so cute. Your nose was twitching like a little bunny.” Vanny giggles. William rolls over to face up at her, his eyes still closed. “Could you..do it again?” She is a bit surprised, and pretty confused. “What, why would you want-”

“My nose..it’s still itchy. I need to sneeze. Please…” He opens his eyes looking up at her, his eyes practically begging for her to do something. Vanny can’t help but feel bad for him. “Alright.” She takes her thumb and index finger and begins gently rubbing the sides of his nose.He sniffles a few times as she continues to gently touch his nose. “I-is this helping? Is it working?” He sniffles once again. “Y-yeah, snff, sorta.” Vanny moves from the sides of his nose to the base, just below his nostrils. “Oh- hihh right sndff there..” She continues rubbing his nose, a bit harder this time. William’s breath is hitching. He tilts his head back, before inhaling sharply. “Hh’Gggshhs!! HGg’essh!! EH-shhiis! Ht’chh ‘chtt!!” He tries his best to avoid spraying Vanny, although he still gets her a little. Vanny lifts his head off of her lap. “I’ll be right back. I’m gonna go find some tissues.” She quickly rushes out of the living room to go and search for tissues.

William sits up, holding his nose shut as he continues to sneeze wetly. “hMP’tchh! Ht’CHH!! T’chh k‘chh -gSHH!!” Vanny comes back with a box of tissues and sits back down on the couch. She hugs William, leaning him back in her arms. She holds the box of tissues out in front of him. He quickly grabs one and holds it up to his face. “H’ppshh!! Hh’IISHH!!” He sighs, having been able to finally catch his breath. He rubs his nose with the tissue. His nose is revealed to be much more pink than it was before. He sniffles, draping his arms on Vanny’s shoulders, holding on to her like a sloth. He rests his head on her shoulder, closing his eyes. “ I’mb sorry sndDF for..snff sneezigg on you.” Vanny chuckles softly. “It’s alright. I don’t mind.” She rubs his head and begins playing with his hair. Laying down, she holds onto William and hugs him close. “Try and get some sleep, alright?” William hums in response. It isn’t long before she hears him softly snoring. She smiles, kissing the top of his head. “Sleep well, Mr. Afton.”

[gaiaxygang]

Blorbos From My Games: An Introduction

So you may have seen me talking about EnaMafu from Project Sekai. What the hell is an EnaMafu and why do they remind June Gaiaxygang of seemingly every PerthChimon pair in existence? Since my circle on Tumblr is majority Thai BL fans (unlike Twitter) this felt like a good time to make another Big EnaMafu Post wehehehhehe

Project Sekai: Colourful Stage

First off, what is Project Sekai (PRSK)? Project Sekai: Colourful Stage ft. Hatsune Miku is a Japanese mobile rhythm game launched in September 2020 featuring a cast of 20 original characters and of course, Hatsune Miku and her Vocaloid friends. It features rhythm gameplay (obviously) as well as 5 main stories, and ongoing event stories.

We're currently at 3 years of service, and the characters have been aged up by a year! Because I don't read (I HAVE A BAD ATTENTION SPAN) I'll only cover what is neccessary for Ena and Mafuyu, but their stories are heavily linked to every other cast member, especially their unit.

In PRSK, several music-loving teenagers notice an 'Untitled' music file on their devices. Clicking on it transports them to another world, 'SEKAI', where they meet Hatsune Miku. Miku encourages them to pursue their dreams and helps them overcome fears and soar as musicians.

25ji, Nightcord de.

One of 5 units in PRSK is 25ji, Nightcord de. (aka Nightcord at 25 or Niigo!). They're an online music circle who make songs anonymously, communicating via messaging service Nightcord at 25:00, or 1 AM from roughly 2 years before the start of the story.

This unit consists of songwriter Yoisaki Kanade, lyricist Asahina Mafuyu, artist Shinonome Ena, and MV maker Akiyama Mizuki. The 2 I will focus on are Mafuyu and Ena, though I'll be making references to the others (and occasionally characters outside of their unit).

Kanade has loved music since she was young. One day, she writes a song for her father that wins a competition. This causes her father to later overwork himself, unable to live up to Kanade's composition, falling into a coma.

Kanade, blaming herself for this, sets out to write a 'song that can save people'. She posts music online under the alias K, where she eventually meets honour student Mafuyu, going by Yuki. Touched by Kanade's songs, Mafuyu wants to write lyrics alongside her. Soon, they are joined by aspiring artist Ena and social outcast Mizuki.

The 4 of them continue unit activities as usual, Mafuyu offline, until one day a file named 'Untitled' appears on Kanade's computer, together with a white-haired Hatsune Miku that urges her to 'find that girl, before it's too late'. Clicking on 'Untitled', the 3 are transported into an empty 'SEKAI', where the 4 meet for the first time.

Asahina Mafuyu

Asahina Mafuyu is the lyricist of Niigo, who goes by K online. Although she has a friendly exterior, she has long lost sight of herself under the weight of others' expectations.

Throughout her life, Mafuyu has always been pressured to be a perfect 'good kid' by her parents, especially her controlling mother who wants her to be a doctor rather than a nurse, which Mafuyu wanted to be when she was young. Mafuyu strives to meet these expectations, getting perfect grades and even becoming the class president in her second year of high school, and regularly participating in the archery club.

At some point, Mafuyu started to realise that her true 'self' had been lost. For years, she had changed herself over and over to fit into the 'good kid' mold to meet expectations of everyone around her. Unable to feel anything or have preferences of her own, she started wanting to disappear.

Upon hearing Kanade's song, she felt something stirring in her chest. This prompted her to reach out to K, eventually forming a music circle with her. She also writes her own songs under the pseudonym OWN, publishing them and gaining enough views to match Niigo's numbers on her own.

Mafuyu despises her natural talent. It has never been something she has wanted, and has always caused her pain as it led to people expecting more of her over time. She searches for something, anything that will save her to no avail, and her feelings manifest in the form of the Empty SEKAI, a world with nothing.

Shinonome Ena

Shinonome Ena is the artist of Niigo, drawing their thumbnail and MV art. The daughter of a renowned artist, Ena has strived to create art loved by many, often to little success.

Ever since young, Ena has loved art. She looks up to her father, Shinei, a well-known artist. She attended an art class and intended to apply to a high school with a specialised art course.

However, once Ena confides in Shinei about wanting to pursue art as more than a hobby, she is quickly shot down. Shinei tells her that she has no talent and cannot succeed in the world of art. The next day, when she attends her art class, her teacher Yukihira tells her that she won't be able to make it as an artist because she draws for attention from others rather than a love for art. This leads Ena to believe her art is worthless, but at the same time strengthens her resolve to draw and prove everyone wrong.

Ena was touched by Kanade's song. After hearing it, she drew illustrations based off the music. This prompted Mizuki to use her artworks for a fanmade music video of the song, causing Kanade and Mafuyu to reach out to them, officially forming Niigo.

Ena craves acknowledgement and respect. She has always felt inferior to others around her, especially those that she considered 'talented'. These feelings cause her to start to want to disappear, similar to Mafuyu. She wants to try hard, yet her efforts rarely bear fruit and she starts to wonder if it's worth trying at all. To fill the void in her heart, she posts selfies on social media, only to be disappointed when her personal account gets more interaction than her art account.

The Story: EnaMafu Cut

In main story, after finding out about Mafuyu's emptiness, her want to disappear and her activities as OWN, Ena is furious. She doesn't understand why someone like Mafuyu, with talent and recognition would be suffering, as those are things Ena has desired for a very, very long time. She is taken aback when Mafuyu points that Ena, too, wants to disappear and hates that of all people, it's Mafuyu that understands her pain.

Later in main story, Ena yells at Mafuyu, making her true feelings known. Deep down, she loves Mafuyu's music, her lyrics and screams and Mafuyu to not disappear because she has to keep creating on this earth, suffering with everyone who doesn't have the talent she does. Although this is honestly something you should never tell someone on the verge of suicide, it's something Mafuyu needs. Ena's bluntness, together with Kanade's promise to save Mafuyu, is enough to convince her to return to the real world and continue making songs with Niigo.

In the next event story, Imprisoned Marionette, we find out more about Mafuyu's relationship with her mom. Mafuyu's mom (I will call her ASHN Mama because she is unnamed) is controlling as well as verbally abusive, wanting Mafuyu to be nothing short of what she envisions. This makes Mafuyu feel like a puppet in a cage, dancing in her mother's palm. This is where, in my opinion, Ena starts to understand Mafuyu more. She sees for herself why Mafuyu is the way she is, even if she doesn't know what to do with these feelings in her heart, she wants to try to help.

The next event story is Ena's. In Unsatisfied Pale Colour, Ena enters an art contest against Shinei's suggestion. She wants to win it and prove Shinei wrong, but ends up proving him right in a way when she fails to win a single award. This, together with comments that suggest viewers of Niigo songs don't care about Ena's art on its own, lead Ena to start to consider giving up on art entirely.

Ena enters the SEKAI, starting to understand why Mafuyu came to it when she wanted to disappear. It's comfortable and silent, with nothing to disturb her or remind her of things that hurt. When she is found by Niigo, she confesses that she doesn't want to give up on art, but sees no reason to continue because her efforts will never amount to anything.

When Kanade and Mizuki reassure Ena of the importance of her art to Niigo, the blunt Mafuyu tells her something else. She tells Ena that in her eyes, she doesn't have a reason to give up on art. If she wants to be acknowledged by the public and by Shinei, she has no reason to stop drawing now. Niigo has to continue making songs as a unit anyways, so what's the point in quitting?

This. This is such a big moment to me. Although Ena needs reassurance, sometimes it isn't quite enough. And just like how Ena's blunt words got through to Mafuyu in main story, Mafuyu's honest thoughts get to Ena, too. Niigo give Ena support that she's never truly received, causing Ena to become more open about her feelings and concern for others, which is crucial in later parts of the story.

(dangerous romance folks. this is why i say ep 3 is the pale colour of drts. so much of it parallels kanghan's own arc and revelations in the end of ep 3)

As the story continues, EnaMafu takes a backseat. As Mafuyu discovers more about herself, her trauma and starts to feel something like warmth again because of Kanade in Mirage of Lights, Ena is also becoming kinder and softening up to her unitmates. She shows concern for Mizuki, who she notices is distancing herself from Niigo. This is shown best in My Footsteps, Your Destination, where Ena tells Mizuki she'll keep waiting for Mizuki to confide in her. (happy 2 irl years since, btw. no progress has been made!)

Niigo is slowly realising that ASHN Mama is the cause of most of Mafuyu's pain. This becomes more apparent as Mafuyu skips mock exams to spend time with Niigo and her grades in class start dropping, resulting in ASHN Mama trying to isolate Mafuyu further.. After discovering traces of Niigo on Mafuyu's laptop, ASHN Mama suspects there is a music-loving classmate encouraging Mafuyu to do music, distracting her from her studies.

Niigo is, of course, trying their best to support Mafuyu throughout this. It is Ena who takes the first step, in a way, on a rainy day after her art class.

The Big EnaMafu Event

Sorry. Header not necessary but it is my favourite PRSK event of ALL TIME. I was top 3000 I can prove this. Someday, This Wish Will Transcend The Morning Sky is an event that focuses on Ena and Mafuyu. The event title even references Mafuyu's surname (asa, meaning morning in this context)!

In this event, Ena is heading home from her art class (which she has since started attending again, despite quitting after what Yukihira said to her in middle school) when she runs into Mafuyu. It's starting to rain, yet Mafuyu is making no move to get out of the rain. Mafuyu is internally contemplating whether she should go back home immediately or stay outside longer, knowing that there's something about her home that makes her feel uncomfortable.

Ena, noticing this, invites Mafuyu to the Shinonome household. Shinei is currently out on a work trip, so it's only SNNM Mama (again, unnamed) and her younger brother Akito (from another unit, Vivid Bad Squad) at home.

Once they're in Ena's room, they call ASHN Mama, requesting for Mafuyu to stay over. ASHN Mama doesn't know Ena is one of Mafuyu's music friends, of course, but she doesn't want anything distracting Mafuyu from her studies. In response, Ena does the one thing she despises. She uses her father's name, saying that she is the daughter of artist Shinonome Shinei, who wants to draw Mafuyu for a project while Mafuyu helps her study. This works, and although Ena doesn't like it, she's glad Mafuyu is safe.

At dinner, Mafuyu starts to notice something different about the Shinonomes.

The Shinonomes aren't a perfect family, even without Shinei present. The siblings bicker, and SNNM Mama, while loving, sometimes fails to understand Ena (she is implied to have absolutely no idea about Shinei and Ena's fight but that's another topic). But it's warm. Mafuyu can feel the warmth of their family, despite their flaws, so different from her own. Asahina family dinners were always cold, despite them seeming like a perfect, quiet family on the surface.

Ena is the only one that can make Mafuyu realise this. Kanade lives alone as her mother passed when she was young, and her father is in a coma. Mizuki's parents and older sister work overseas, so Mizuki also lives alone. Ena is the only one who is able to show Mafuyu what a warm, somewhat normal family is like.

After dinner, the 2 return to Ena's room. Ena and Mafuyu have a heart-to-heart about what Mafuyu's feelings towards her mother. When Mafuyu expresses how she's afraid of letting down her mother, Ena starts to understand. Ena herself had similar feelings about Shinei, but while Mafuyu has suppressed her true self out of fear, Ena rebels and strives to continue doing what she loves.

This conversation also gets Ena to reflect on her own relationship with Shinei, realising that although their relationship is pretty much unsalvagable, she respects him as an artist and acknowledges that he didn't have bad intentions. Akito had previously talked to Shinei and told Ena that Shinei just didn't want to see Ena fail like several of his artist friends. Ena doesn't forgive him for this, continuing to avoid him as best as she can despite coming to an understanding.

Later at 1 AM, the two log on to Nightcord for their Niigo meeting. As Mafuyu starts to work on lyrics, Ena notices how focused she is. Although Mafuyu claims to have no dreams or aspirations of her own, her expression while she writes tells Ena something else. Seeing this, Ena gains inspiration for her art project and starts to draw.

Silently, Ena prays. Seeing how Mafuyu is like doing what she loves, Ena wishes that someday, Mafuyu will break out of her shell. That one day, Mafuyu will be free of her mother's chains, doing what she loves, no longer suppressing herself to make others happy.

This... this is an incredible event. It reflects EnaMafu's development, especially Ena's. From not being able to understand eachother (something that Marionette's event song, Jackpot Sad Girl highlights) to empathy and concern and even love (of the platonic type! or romantic idk up to you). It highlights why Ena and Mafuyu are important in eachother's lives, and how they have a role no one else can fill.

And that's pretty much all the major EnaMafu stories! Since then, Mafuyu has gotten closer and closer to finally escaping her mother. Some key events are Immiscible Discord, where Kanade reveals herself as Mafuyu's music friend and swears to ASHN Mama that she will never leave Mafuyu's side after realising there is nothing like love in her heart for Mafuyu. Another one is Our Escape for Survival, where Mizuki tells Mafuyu that sometimes, running away from your problems is okay as long as you face them someday.

(i... i really like mafuyu's card in this event. 1. RAIN MOTIF! not posting mizuki's but she's giving mafuyu an umbrella and getting drenched herself in it!!!!!! 2. holy hell that hairstyle and the piercings. i need it to come home during the rerun or i WILL die)

This all culminates in Niigo's final event before 3rd Anniversary, Saying Goodbye to My Persona. Here, Mafuyu finally cuts the strings binding her and admits her true feelings to her mother.

ASHN Mama, of course, rejects this. She is unable to comprehend that Mafuyu has been suffering all this time. She throws Mafuyu's phone into the fish tank and in response, Mafuyu runs out into the rain (!). Niigo search for her, and eventually it is Kanade who finds her. They hug, sharing in eachother's warmth in spite of the cold rain.

And that's where we're at with Niigo! Their next event is in like under a week so we WILL find out where their story goes soon... Ena and Mafuyu are now 3rd years, and Mafuyu is living with Kanade!

Why Ship EnaMafu?

I have been an EnaMafu fanatic since Pale Colour (my PRSK account proves it but I do not currently have screenshots...). They're opposites, yet they complement eachother so well. They're able to relate because they've both been mistreated by their parents, yet unable to comprehend because they reacted so differently to it. Mafuyu hiding away parts of herself and Ena becoming bolder, trying to rebel even if it hurts her.

They're able to see through eachother, and their bluntness (Ena due to her personality, and Mafuyu because she is unable to understand why her words might hurt) is something so unique to Ena And Mafuyu. They've become key parts of eachothers' lives, despite their initial conflict. Although Mafuyu has difficulty showing it (writing issues lol) Ena like all members of Niigo is someone she cares deeply about. And Ena, who has always been stubbornly supporting Niigo, slowly starts to open her heart up to someone she used to hate.

They also have 3 cover songs that highlight their similarities. Hello/How are you, about a lonely girl who just wants her voice to be heard (this is the one i think is kanghansailom). Hurting for a very hurtful pain, a song about, well... pain (i am not a vocaloid expert sorry). And my personal favourite, Love me love me love me which can be interpreted in a number of ways but is mainly about a girl crying out, desperate to be loved.

All of this drives me Up The Wall. I love their dynamic and development over the 3 years I've known them. I may be biased (I own like $100 SGD of Ena merch) but I really, really love EnaMafu!!!

So Why Does This Remind Me Of BL?

(this one is mainly for my bl mutuals you can skip this if you want)

The obvious answer is that I am unwell and like making my interests about eachother.

A slightly more serious answer would be that many have compared EnaMafu's dynamic and tropes to yaoi. Contrary to popular belief I do not read or watch yaoi so I cannot confirm this. But it sounds about right!

The actual answer is that it's because some BL characters have arcs that are similar to this. As I have pointed out many many times, Ena reminds me a LOT of Kanghan (Dangerous Romance). From the dad problems to how they've changed because of Mafuyu and Sailom (on Ena's side it's a group effort! But come on).

They're also very ChopperBen to me in quite a few ways. The obvious one being the parental problems (let's be real here.) but also how to me, ChopperBen have a certain level of... Misunderstanding... between them. They've led different lives and been through different things and have different personalities which is why the Bathroom Fight happens!!! Of course there are more feelings below it but it goes down to their fundamental differences in the end. Which is pretty much early EnaMafu.

(also because i erm. the enamafu fic i wrote from ena's pov is a scrapped ben pov chopperben fic? certain elements of it, not the whole thing lol. i was thinking about how ben likes to play off his very serious wants as jokes and how he can barely speak his honest thoughts, then i went, Wait A Minute. and wrote 500 words. you can read it here)

This is pretty much why my PerthChimon wishlist looks something like,

miserable teenagers (this one is likely knowing GMMTV)

unable to understand eachother for some reason (and its not funny)

burdened by natural talent and fears being untalented (self explanatory)

THANK YOU for reading my absurdly long post. I adore PRSK and EnaMafu and they've been my personality for 3 years and counting (PerthChimon gives them competition). You can listen to Someday, This Wish's event song I Nandesu here!

(and of course thank you @naomi-obsessions for reading and supporting my very unhinged enamafu posting <3_<3)

[solastay]

Color Wheel (Chapter 1)

Color Wheel (Chapter 1)

(artist! Taehyung x artist! fem reader)

❥pairing: Taehyung x reader

❥genre: college!au, artist!au, fluff smut, crack

❥rating: M

❥summary: Kim Taehyung and you were best friends for over a decade. Between watercolours and tons of acrylic paint, will an art contest and a memorable trip finally reveal what is inside an artist's heart?

Colour wheel: A circular diagram of the spectrum used to show the relationships between the colors.

I dream of many things. Many of which I consider to be impossible or rather unlikely. A word that I’m fonder of because it hurts less. It’s gentler on the heart.

I dream of things that are unlikely to happen. Those dreams feel like a canvas. They trick my mind into a fictional reality, a different world where everyone is who I want them to be and follow the lines of my sloppy sketch. They bring happiness, not the genuine type, but the one you get from immersing yourself deep enough that it feels real. Only to be confronted by the first rays of sunshine that warm the body but not the heart.

In my dreams, everyone has a colour within themselves. Said colours reflect their personality. The ones who shine green are, general rule, fun to hang out with. Others shine yellow, those always have food to share. Others are red, owners of a competitive nature. However, only one person shines blue and grey.

“Admit it (y/n), you can’t live without me".

It truly felt like I couldn’t, but he didn’t need to know how much I wished that he felt the same for me. How I wanted to be the one he craved for.

“Well, who else would drip coffee on my couch and call me at ungodly hours to eat take-out? Yes, a necessity in my life.” It wasn’t irony, even if my tone betrayed me.

“You underestimate me, I am a vital piece in the puzzle that is your life, and therefore, I think it is also vital for me to see what you have been drawing on the sketchbook I gave you.”

Of course, he would eventually ask that.

“You can see the others, not this one.”

“Not even if I say that I love you very much?” he mumbled hugging my pillow and staring with big bright eyes. He has always known most of my weak points.

“You would make a great actor, Tae” I replied, not batting an eye, used to those same old techniques.

He frowned, following my every movement while I got off the chair to get a jar of water. “What makes you think I’m lying!? You hurt me every day…”

I knew Taehyung's words were honest because he declared his love on a daily basis. He says it to the meaningful people in his life. Those were never empty words, he meant them, he truly cared about the people around him. Although I know that what he feels for me is no more than the love you feel for a long-term friend. He has said so before.

He loves words of affection, both receiving and delivering them. It’s the way he is, and I know better than to get my hopes up.

He is often the one who texts first and the one who wears a smile as often as possible. It becomes annoying how much his smile can brighten up a gloomy day. I hate that, it doesn’t matter how much I try, I can’t ignore it, or him. He is always there.

“How dare you to doubt my affection” he dramatically laid down on the couch, taking the space for himself and glancing upside down at me.

“I don’t doubt your affection Tae. However, I do think that one day, you are going to declare yourself to the woman of your life and she will think you want a piece of her food.” I answered going back to the kitchen.

“I do love you, tremendously and hopelessly so, can’t imagine where I would be if it wasn’t for you” he mumbled the last part while sitting up “But I feel like I am missing a part of you”.

He had a reason to feel that way. As an artist, he understood that the way one expresses themselves through lines and colours was a huge part of their life. It was no exception m. Sharing your art is sharing part of you. Your drawings and paintings were the way you perceived not only yourself but the people around you.

“Well, I appreciate your interest, but I’m not planning on showing it to anyone, any time soon. But if you must know, if it satisfies your curiosity, it’s just filled with anatomy studies.”

Showing the sketchbook was out of the question because it was filled with sketches of him. Yes, I draw many people. Many people I don’t even know, just as a practice, meaningless doodles. But Taehyung soon became my favourite model. I realised that when, in the middle of a lecture, I found myself drawing a random outline, that wasn’t at all random, it was his profile. It was his nose and his smile, and it was everywhere. That very moment was one of the first signs that made me realise I was a cliché. A disgusting and predictable cliché. I fell in love with my best friend.

“Interesting… Where have you been getting your material, hm?” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“Pinterest, as per usual.” A pillow was thrown at his face.

“Alright, I won’t insist on the subject, you draw your muses, and I will depend on my imagination. I just find it funny that you let me read your diary back when we were twelve, but I still can’t see your sketches.” he took the jar of water from your hand and wasted no time in dipping his round brush.

“Bingo. The quirks of being an artist.” You give him a wink while making your way back to his side.

“It’s been years and you still manage to keep secrets from me.”

You approach him and mess up his recently dyed blue hair “Well, one day you might know them all. Maybe when we are both old and grumpy”.

He looks at you endearingly under his dishevelled bangs “I hope we are still painting together by then.”

“Do you really believe I would stop sending you classical art memes?”

No matter what changed, I hoped he would, at least, stay by my side. Because I can handle the changes of life, but having him with me makes it much more bearable, even if he doesn’t love me as I wish he did. My therapist says I should consider letting go. But “letting go” means leaving behind the movie marathons we religiously do on Saturday nights, the awkward-but-not-awkward-at-all dancing in the living room whenever a funky song comes on, the funny comebacks and the meaningful embraces. I know I am not ready for that, and I am not sure I ever will.

To my dismay and disappointment, Tae is not open to the idea of having someone like that in his life. Which seems to go against the overall image he portrays to the people around him. He is flirty, touchy, and a hopeless romantic, but all of that was not necessarily directed towards a significant other, at least not a lover. He lives for the beauty of poetry and watercolours and the sunny afternoons by the flower fields. He dresses like he is in a Luca Guadagnino movie, listens to jazz and loves Vincent Van Gogh. His colours are beautiful, I could never replicate them as much as I tried, because I fear. I fear for my sanity, but since I can’t afford to be far away, I pat myself on the head and say that it’s okay to mourn for the thing that will never be. I’m okay.

Or at least I should be.

That’s what comes to mind during the current situation. It’s the end of the year, and we have just received the news that we were both selected to participate in a painting competition. The prize is for the piece to be presented in the biggest art museum in Seoul.

Now, let me clear things up, first and foremost. We are not exactly full-time artists. We graduated art school a couple of years ago, but ever since then, Tae still works as a restaurant server, a part-time job he picked up as a student which ended up being enough to pay rent, and I am a receptionist in a nearby hostel, having started half a year ago. I have been making commissions and illustrations here and there but it’s hardly enough for the end of the month, while Tae has kept art as a hobby.

Tae was the first one to know about the competition and I ended up signing in, on the condition that he would too. After that we promised that for once, we would try to accomplish something more than just pretty doodles on the corner of the page because we believed that at least one of us could make it big. Tae always said that I would win, while I never doubted, he would be the one.

We have always painted together and even though I hated many of my drawings, he was always there to show me how they were not at all worth ripping to pieces. During the last four months, we met every two days to work on a piece to submit for the contest, and even though I am not one to brag, we did a pretty good job. The first selection of pieces was just about choosing the contenders for the bigger competition. If they liked the artwork, the artist was officially approved for the event and could start working on the official project.

And we were in. We both made it in. Which meant that it was time to work on the bigger picture.

________________________________________________________________

Her doorbell had rung three times that morning. In an attempt to wake herself up, she threw on the first pair of sweatpants she could find and washed her face with cold water, trying and failing to blink the sleep away. Whoever was behind the door, could not wait more than thirty seconds, and it made her grunt and drag her feet to the door, rather than hurrying up. She gave her apartment a quick look around, noticing her pile of unwashed laundry and desk covered in papers and shrugged. After all, there was only one person who would dare to bother her so early in the morning, and his flat was in a worse state, she could bet her life on it.

Opening the door slowly, she stared at Taehyung’s glowing smile and moon-shaped eyes. “Rise and Shine!” he greeted.

Fucking golden retriever

“Morning” she replied with less than half of his enthusiasm.

Extending his arms filled with groceries, he excitedly gave her one of the bags “I brought breakfast, care for a decent meal?”

“If you insist…” she smiled, letting him in, closing the door after he crossed the entrance and made himself at home.

This wasn’t anything unusual but it did not fail to make her heart flutter. It was obvious that he would bring blueberries and her favourite type of bread, and she would have the sesame snacks he always asked for when he was around. He knew where everything was, every pan, fork, and cup, so it didn’t take him long to get everything ready for the pancakes.

“You know, one of, if not the main reason that makes you come here to cook is that you’re too lazy to wash your dishes” she peeked over his shoulder.

Looking down at the frying pan, he slightly smiled “I can’t deny that, but your apartment is much cosier than mine.”

“Hmm fair, you’re also a better cook than I am, so I can’t really complain.”

He kept a smile on his face. It was warm and genuine, and he seemed to glow while flipping pancakes and preparing two plates with berries and cream. She hated it. She truly hated it, but he was a magnet that would pull her into his vicinity with no resistance.

After a comfortable silence, Taehyung started speaking again in a soft tone. “I’ve been thinking about something…”

"Oh no." she snickered.

“I think we should take a break from this."

“From what?

“From this, the city traffic, the noise, the people…” He put his fork down. “I think that if we are doing this, we should do it the right way and take some time for ourselves, maybe a week. Just us, nature and two blank canvases. I miss painting like that.” There seemed to be a slight pout on his lips while he ate another blueberry.

She understood what he missed. The school times when our lives were based on the colours we put on paper. The way we used to paint the sunset just because we had time to draw one more line. She missed it too. How the flowers seemed more yellow when he laid on the grass, and the way he took her hand to trace that same colour because she didn’t make it bright enough. After the paint had run out and the stars were visible, they would lay down, talking about anything and everything, because the world was their own. They would make it their own.

That was love in its purest form, and even though she missed it dearly, she feared it would be the last drop that would make her break. A week alone with him would be simultaneously a dream and a nightmare.

“Where did this idea come from?” She asked in hopes of gaining some time to think of an answer.

“I thought about it as soon as we submitted our entries… we could go to my late grandmother’s place.” He seemed nervous, which was unlike him. “No one would bother us there. It would be like a spiritual retreat.” He explained while looking at his food, drawing a smiley face on the pancake with cream.

She kept observing him and decided that, in order to avoid the question, she would ask even more questions. “I’m not sure Tae, a whole week? Is your boss even okay with that?”

“I haven’t skipped a day, and he’s got more clients because of me. I’m sure he would let me off the hook for a few days…” He smirked, raising his gaze. “I think this would be good for both of us.”

“What about Yeontan?” She genuinely worried about the little dog more often than not.

“Yoongi will take care of him.” He readily answered.

She arched an eyebrow. “Fine, but did you consider my job?”

“For a matter of fact, I did, and I know you haven’t taken holidays in forever so it’s time to take what is yours, my lady.” He ended with a triumphant wink.

“Well, fair, but I also have several commissions.”

“Yes, but I know you, and I know they will be ready in three days if you want them to.”

She slumped in the chair. “Tae…”

Taehyung seemed to have given himself a second to think. Saddening his smile, he added “Unless you don’t want to go.”

“I wish I didn’t.” She sighed.

He held her gaze for a few seconds, before looking down once more. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize; we’ve been through this.” She replied nonchalantly.

Tae’s shoulders tensed up and he quickly tried to amend the situation. “Well, I know, but-”

“It’s fine, Tae.” She finished her food and got up, taking her plate to the kitchen.

That was what she told herself every time they would be together. Tae knew about her feelings, and she knew he didn’t feel the same, he was clear enough. His words were engraved on her brain like a mantra.

She heard him get up and bring the rest of the dishes. While cleaning the counter, she suddenly heard him stop behind her, and gulp before saying “I just…I don’t think I can do this any other way.” He put a hand on her shoulder, turning her around to face him. “I can’t unless I leave this place, and I know I need you with me. I know I am being selfish, but I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t think it would be good for both of us.”

“What do you mean?” She crossed her arms still holding the kitchen cloth in her hands.

“I mean that you could use the break too. Do you think I don’t notice that your eyes don’t shine as they use to? My (y/n) pours her soul into everything she makes. I don’t want to see you lose that passion.”

She rolled her eyes. “Sorry to disappoint you, but that is just adulthood.”

“It doesn’t have to be.” He was truly serious.

Of course, he would say that. The forever hopeless romantic.

“Tae,” she paused. “What I have to paint is not what I want to paint. People are not looking for a new Dali or Gogh, people want what they want, and they want it fast. Of course, I lost my spark! Back then I didn’t know how tiring my life would be. How I can barely pay my bills, even though I have two fricking jobs.” She exasperatedly explained.

“But this contest could be your chance! Our chance!” He now held both of her shoulders, too close for comfort. He wasn’t gripping her skin, his fingers held her both firmly and delicately, like if he ever let her go, he would never see her again. “If one of us wins, we will have a foot set inside their world.”

She scoffed. “Always the dreamer, Tae.”

“Please, believe in yourself. Let me take you on an adventure. I know we both have what it takes to win.” He then looked down and took her hands in his, throwing the cloth to the sink. His eyes had none of the insecurity they once had when they looked up in determination. She saw vulnerability, yes, but also a fire that burned like no other.

“Please (y/n), I need you. I can’t do this with anyone else.”

With that final sentence, she knew she would end up signing in for her doom. Her nightmare. How could she deny that from him? How could she, when he asked for her like she was the only one in the world? She didn’t find the strength to say no, and she was sure she would regret it.

“I’m going to think about it.”

“Do you promise?” He asked not breaking eye contact.

“I promise I’ll think about it. It’s not a yes.” She emphasised.

“I’ll take that, thank you so much (y/n).” He took her face in his hands and kissed her on the forehead.

Oh, how she wished her heart hadn’t turned into an orchestra, and that her cheeks hadn’t turned a deep colour of red. And that she hadn’t melt at the warmth of his hands and the softness of his lips. She hated it because when she felt him holding her face and saw him looking down at her in awe, she realised that she had said yes.

[hotchnerobsessed]

Hey everyone, I’m about to get deep into my own feelings and trauma dump so feel free to keep scrolling if you don’t want that dose of real life right now 😂

The Go It Alone series started as a love letter to myself.

I had gone to 3 weddings back-to-back last summer and I ended up coming home more and more heartbroken each time.

When I write, I always try to put myself in the reader’s shoes. But with this story, it’s more raw and honest than all the others. I’ve written it all, and will continue to write the rest, with absolute transparency in how I feel, and how I believe I would react in certain situations.

I just turned 30, and when I tell you that it hit me like a ton of bricks I’m not exaggerating. When I was younger I never thought turning a certain age would bother me, but that’s because I never thought I’d be where I am today.

The honest truth is that I am now in my 30’s and I’ve never been kissed. I’ve never slept with anyone. I don’t know what it’s like to have someone care for me in that way.

I thought by now I’d at least have shared that moment with someone.

But I haven’t.

I thought by now I’d at least know what it feels like to have someone want you.

But I don’t.

I still feel guilty for feeling the way I did during those weddings, because I know deep down I truly am happy for those special people in my life, but..man..

When you’re sitting there in the crowd, watching two people so clearly in love sharing that love with friends and family, it doesn’t do anything except shine a bright spotlight directly on all of those insecurities.

The feeling of never being good enough. The feeling of never being wanted. The feeling of thinking your life has been nothing but wasted years.

That’s why I started writing in the first place, all those years ago. I was lonely, and desperate for any kind of connection, even if I had to dream it up myself.

And that’s not to say that I didn’t try. There were people I cared about. People I was honest with about my feelings for them. But they all left. Every single one of them.

To get even deeper for a second, I lost quite a few special people in my life when I was very young. I learned about death and loss very early on, and one quote my mom always used to remind me of when she could tell I was struggling was, “I would rather have loved and lost than to never have loved at all”.

Those words still ring true today, just in a different way. Although I’m not mourning the loss of a loved one, with every birthday, Valentine’s Day, New Year’s Eve, etc that passes, I’m mourning the loss of all the years I could have been happy.

I’m not trying to diminish the heartbreak people go through when a relationship ends, but my god what I wouldn’t give to experience that. At least then I’d know that at some point someone had cared for me, even if it was only fleeting.

At least then I’d know I was worthy of love.

Because right now all I feel is empty and invisible.

[zec-kosmajski]

Pre nekoliko godina, kada sam pisao priču o mom gubljenju nevinosti i Milici, na samom početku te priče pominjao sam da sam tadašnju devojku, u jeku ljubavi otpratio na autobus pa otišao do Manijaka.. I tamo sreo Draganu njenu sestru od koje sam saznao da Milica nije više sa nama... Nastavak ko nije čitao, može da pročita nekoliko postova niže.

Ovog puta možete pročitati nešto napisano dve godine kasnije. Devojci koju pominjem na uvodu te priče, kojoj sam tada zaljubljeno mahao dok je njen noćni autobus polazio za Zemun sa Trga Republike.

Napisano je na Engleskom jeziku. Pisano kao da ona meni šalje pismo. Želeo sam da se distanciram od maternjeg jezika pošto sam pokušao da bude pisano tako da moj stil pisanja ne bude prepoznat odmah, što bi trebalo da ona shvati i zbog svega, najviše zbog velike razlike u godinama, ona napiše i pošalje meni. Bio sam jednostavno slab da raskinem sa njom, a ovo je bio moj pokušaj da joj stavim do znanja da ona treba mene da ostavi....

Dear Aleksandar,

I don't really know where I should start. I never was good at writing letters, especially the important ones. You're the one with all the words on. You always knew just the right combination of them to make me feel better. That's something I'll never forget. But I can't keep quiet about this any longer on although I can't write this letter as well as you could. Well, perhaps that's the point.

I'm sorry, Aleksandar , but I have to leave you. I know that must come as a shock. Believe me, I never imagined I'd have to write those words, least of all to you. But it's true. I'm sorry, but I can't be in this relationship with you anymore. I suppose that requires some source of explanation, while I still haven't convinced myself that this is totally the right decision. The least I can do is tell you how I arrived here. Over the past few months, I've been doing a lot of introspection. I knew that something in my life wasn't right, and hadn't been, for quite a while on.

I wanted to know what that was. There was this deep unhappiness and emptiness inside me. I felt like a seed. So much potential inside me for something greater.

And yet something was preventing me from breaking out of the heart out of the casing. I couldn't stand this any longer, so I went on a search for what it was. Each time I did this, there was a truth that bubbled up from my subconscious. And each time I didn't want to listen because I didn't want it to be true. But we have to listen to our subconscious, as it knows, far more than we care to admit. Once I did listen, I couldn't deny that truth any longer. It was you my dear love, that was preventing me from flourishing into a tree. Sorry, I'm talking in metaphors. I did say I wasn't good at writing letters, but you understand what I'm trying to say. You always did.

Please don't take this too personally. Without you I wouldn't be the same person that I am today. You taught me so much about the world and protected me from all sorts of things that would have otherwise hurt me. You helped me navigate the tangled webs of the outside world without getting caught in them. It really is a jungle out there, and I can't thank you enough for what you've done for me. So far, both of these past few months, I've come to realize something else. Maybe it's just me, but I feel better without you. Like my life has meaning again. When you go outside to smell the roses, it's normal to be worried about pricking your finger on the thorns. That's something I had to come to realize on my own.

It's a scary place without you, no question about that. And there are thorns around every corner. But I can't remain with you forever, and everyone leaves the world with a scar or two. So that's why I'm writing this letter. It's look like as you wrote it for me, for my last goodbye.

That's a cigarette in my left hand, like you always hold it, and more than a few tears on the pages.

I truly am sorry. I'll miss your warm embrace more than anything else in this world. But this is something I have to do for myself If I want to survive. I know that I have to be strong enough to take the steps necessary for my own survival. I know deep down that's what I have to do. Some people remain seeds their whole life, but not me.

I'm a tree, one day I'm going to look at my brilliant foliage and I'll know that I made the right decision. Thank you for all that you've done for me, but I'll have to live my own life from here.

All the best,

****

[trumpetnista]

It’s the entitlement that makes me not want anything to do with you even when you legitimately need help. If you want me to help you, especially when you’re waking me up out of a dead sleep, a simple Please and Thank You can go a long way. I’m a Caregiver. I have been a Caregiver since 2012. I love what I do and I love being able to help people. I’m your daughter. I’m your daughter and I love you. THAT BEING SAID, I am not a servant for you to order around. I am not your nurse. I outright refuse to wipe your ass for you. I’m not going to do it, no matter how passive agressive you are. You wanna know why? Because I am not being paid to look after you like that. I am being paid to look after your autistic daughter because you’re too selfish and traumatized to do it yourself. 

Do not mistake my kindness for weakness. Do not expect me to set myself on fire to warm you or anyone else anymore. I did that for years and it led to me having a psychotic break. I will no longer sacrifice my mental and physical wellbeing for the sake of making your life easier. 

The only reason I helped you as much as I did this morning is because you truly are prone to infections and the last thing the family needs is you in the hospital too. Although, if you were in the hospital, you would have all the people you want to order around and they would actually take home a paycheck to deal with your bullshit. And it is bullshit. Yes, you are physically disabled. Yes, you are in constant pain. I understand and I have empathy for you but you are not nearly as helpless as you play yourself up to be. You can get to the bathroom. You can use a washcloth. You can use body wipes. You can use an actual toilet instead of a commode that you don’t even empty yourself. You can but you refuse to.

I understand that you’re in a lot of physical pain and you don’t want to move as much because it makes it worse. I definitely understand but there’s such a thing as pushing through. There is such a thing as doing for yourself. There is such a thing as trying. Even if you tried and failed, I would be more inclined to help you because you actually put forth an effort.

And even if you were in a condition where you couldn’t do for yourself, your entitlement makes me want to leave you to dwell in your own filth. It makes want to let you starve. It makes me want to let you “forget” to take your medication. It makes me want to ignore everything about you. You treat all of your children like we’re tools and servants to you. You see us as little more than resources to be used day after day, over and over again without any consideration for our feelings, our autonomy. 

I don’t doubt that you love us. There have been enough moments to prove that you do love us as best as you’re capable of but your narcissism, your entitlement, your learned helplessness makes us all want to be rid of you. 

That’s why I keep my answers to you as short as possible. That’s why I help you as little as possible anymore and have been saying NO more often. 

That’s why Valerie outright refuses to do anything for you anymore and barely acknowledges your presense, which I know drives you crazy.

That’s why Thomas is getting closer and closer to his breaking point, which is leading him to rightfully find a way to move out.

That’s why Nina is helping you but with a strong sense of resentment that she’s getting less inclined to hide as the days get closer to her 18th birthday. 

That’s why Kimberly has absorbed herself even more into the world she’s created so she can ignore your constant bullying, despite her being sweet enough to help you whenever you demand. Not ask, demand. 

That’s why Diane is continuing to search for nursing homes that will take both you and Dad. 

It’s why she didn’t come over to have a sister day like we planned yesterday because she didn’t want to deal with you. I was so upset and disappointed that I initially blamed myself. I thought that she was angry at me. I thought I that had triggered her. I thought her bad and tired mood was all my fault for assuming that she’d want to spend time together. I thought I had overstepped. I thought that I had ignored her need for agency but she straight up told me that it was because of you. She sent me a screenshot of you demanding, not asking for her time and energy.  You didn’t even say Good Morning. You didn’t even ask how she was doing. You didn’t even say Please or Thank You. All I saw was demands and attempted emotional manipulation. It looked like a screenshot from a toxic employer, not a loving parent.

Diane and I were supposed to spend time together. We were supposed to go see Barbie and then I was going to take her to my favorite Japanse restuarant. We were supposed to spend time together outside of me needing a ride to a doctor’s appointment. I wanted her to have a fun day off where she didn’t have to stress about her job or her husband. I just wanted to do something nice for her. I wanted to make my best friend happy.

We were supposed to have a day where we could be sisters and catch up and just be together in person but you ruined it. 

You ruined it like you ruin everything else.

The common demoninator is you. You are the problem. We are all miserable because of you. You are a burden and a leech.

We have spent too long catering to you out of a sense of duty and love, conflicted love but love at the end of the day. Dad spent too long catering to you out of a sense of duty (and as a way to assert control over you) and now that he’s incapacitated, he can’t. He can’t and you expect everyone to pick up the slack instead of stepping up and doing for yourself. Not only do you expect it, you demand it and then have the nerve to pitch a fit when you don’t get your way immediately or at all. You should count yourself lucky that we haven’t stuck you in a roach ridden nursing home for you to be neglected to death.

You’ve become accustomed to a lifestyle where you can do the bare minimum but act like you’re making grand sacrifices all the time. You’re not making grand sacrifices. You’ve never made grand sacrifices or even small ones when we all needed you to. Every time, every fucking time, we have to accomodate you. We have to give you all the attention you seek or you make a public scene or do a private guilt trip. Everything has to be about your comfort, your satisfaction, your needs. Everything has to be about you, you, you!

I’m fucking sick of it. I’m fucking sick of you. 

The hate I feel for you grows every day but it’s still outweighed by love.

Hell, the hate and love I feel for you is topped by one emotion, one constant emotion that consumes me every time I look at you.

Frustration.

You are far more capable than you claim to be. You are far better than the way you behave. I’ve seen the person, the mother you could and should be for brief shining moments but then they go away. They always go away and leave behind someone that I’m terrified of becoming. They go away and leave behind someone who causes nothing but stress and sadness to people who just want to love them. They go away and leave behind someone I want to protect myself and my siblings, older and younger, from. 

All you have to do is try. All you have to do is put forth some consistent effort, any consistent effort, and things could be better for you. There’s still so much potential in you but you always squander your chances to do better and to make matters worse, you’re very self aware. You’re self aware but you’re too scared and selfish to do better because you figure that it’s too late anyway so why bother? You fail to even consider those around you. All you care about is yourself at the end of the day.

All I ever wanted was a mom who acted like a mom but I got you instead.

It’s not fair.

It’s never been fair.

[thecpdiary]

The CP Diary: 13 today

In 13 years of writing, I’ve seen a lot of external changes and in my personal life. But having already lost my mum, losing dad and now my twin, these are the biggest changes, because the family dynamics are changed.

In 13 years, mental health is another big change. Mental health is at a critical level and it's not being addressed, why? Through my blog I address mental health. I am also now dealing with neuralgia that I think has got something to do with the brain injury I sustained before I was born. I will know more about that in June.

Brexit

Then in 2016, UK politicians called the Brexit referendum. And although the public didn't understand what Brexit meant, we now know we have been lied to, with Brexit biting back with vengeance. As a consequence of Brexit, the UK has now been thrust into a cost-of-living crisis which is mostly hitting the poor. Food prices have soured, energy bills are biting also, as we continue to struggle to find the money to put food on the table, to stay healthy, warm and to be able to pay our bills.

Brexit and its consequences

It’s hard to hear stories of elderly people trying to heat their homes, versus can’t afford to heat their homes. Source: theGuardian.com news headlines, 'I feel abandoned by the state: UK pensioners on the cost-of-living-crisis.' I've read about one elderly woman dying of hyperthermia because she was too afraid to put her heating on. Her mental health must have been in her boots. I cannot start to imagine how she must have felt before she died.

Although supermarket shelves aren’t all empty, (certain veg isles, and shelves are decreased, in certain cases empty) shoppers are reporting fresh supply issues with empty supermarket shelves. (Source: indepedent.co.uk) prices are extortionate because of Brexit. That's bad, but we're also being fed lies to cover the tracks of politicians who made decisions to leave the EU, its biggest trading partner.

Covid-19 Pandemic

But the pandemic has given us the biggest change. I continue to write about these issues, primarily because they are decisions that have affected my mental health. With the removal of masks, we are now living in a two tier society with people who can get into their lives, living their lives normally and/or choosing to mask up voluntarily, and those who are considered vulnerable who are struggling to go out and mix among friends and/or the wider population. The virus hasn't gone, it's waiting until we get comfortable enough, then it will strike and bite back. It's naive to think we can relax.

Conclusion

When the pandemic hit, the world took a ginormous mental health knock, to the point where mental health became a challenge and the world stopped thinking about it. Catapulted into flight and fight mode, it became every man for himself. But still, through the diary I continue to bring mental health to life. The CP Diary makes mental health palatable, relatable and digestible, so that at any point you can start to deal with your mental health.

There is nothing out of the ordinary about mental health. The name itself can spread concern, but mental health isn't like that. Mental health starts with an issue, an experience that lingers, a crossed word, a disagreement that needs to be addressed.

But what The CP Diary does is provide you with the truth on the facts out there, information that keeps you informed, prepared and safe. 13 years in, and with 13 years of blogs behind me, there is a lot of information to absorb and to take on board. Just give yourself time.

The CP Diary is not just for me, it's for anyone who would like to change their mental health for better health, for a better lifestyle... for us to be better people, living better lives.

For more inspirational, life-changing blogs, please check out my site https://www.thecpdiary.com

[arjunasearth]

caught a cold after 1,5 years. weird. Throughout the last year, literally everyone around me got sick. Besides me. Now that that the new year has started , my body seems to react. Have so much to do but chose to just regenerate this weekend, taking it slowly and caring for my body. Also, it's new moon today and recalibration doesn't seem a bad idea. Feels really weird to be 'sick' cause my perspective on 'sickness' literally changed over 2 years on a fundamental level i would say. Also my point of view of how society deals with sickness in general. Ive been living very unhealthily the last 6 months or so. Although I've improved in many ways, I also did not treat my body fairly. I drank a lot of alcohol (regularly), especially last summer and in December . It came to a point where I began to turn depressive and felt empty. I always hated alcohol and there are so many reasons to it. The moment I abruptly stopped drinking , I got sick. Surely, I could argue that someone may have me infected me for sure. BUT. I ,myself, infected my body with toxic substances that harmed my mental and physical health. Feels like my body is telling me 'Woow finally u stopped doing this shit. I'm exhausted. I need a break' . And it is all happening, I give my body the break it needs. Finally. I stop this loop of toxicity and replace it with regeneration. I numbed my mind and body for so long that I procrastinated its true needs . It's been crazy how Ive been letting myself drag into own addictions and addictions of others. The last three years have been so intense. Isolated. rigid. loop. A healthier life also includes stopping to numb the senses all the time and get clear about intentions.I cannot pretend that I live healthily, workout and at the same time not eat enough and drink too much alcohol, while doing the household and university at the same time.It has been pure survival mode , not a healthy and consistent way of life that made me thrive. This cell-f-destructive state of being has been, in a way, pure opportunism towards my immune system, my body and mind. I basically lied to my-cell-f about my health. I took the right direction but at the same time always went backwards again into my old karmic habits instead of moving further. That was the strongest illusion and , at the same time, the biggest and most painful lesson. Nevertheless, a fundamental lesson.

Wow, first New Moon of the year and already so much clarity arising. I am grateful for these insights and where they will lead me.

I am open to recieve.

I am ready to give my body all the care and love it needs.

I am open for improving my mental health.

I let go of toxicity within and without. I clear my waters with water, the Source of ALL life.

I move my waters with ease.

So may it be.

Blessings,

Arjuna

[shawnjacksonsbs]

Tired. It may be an under simplification, but, usually worth it right?     10-1-22

 “All life events are formative. All contribute to what we become, year by year, as we go on growing. As my friend the poet Kenneth Koch once said, you aren’t just the age you are. You are all the ages you ever have been!” – Mr. Rogers

All the ages I’ve ever been? That explains a lot. Oh why. . . so tired. Lol

And instead of “no notes”, it’s no proofreader. That’s been a while huh?

Now,

I am going to be pretty busy tomorrow, helping my son and my very pregnant daughter-in-law move. Be nice to see them again, even if we’re working through most of the day. Lol Don’t get to see my kids nearly enough anymore. Hoping to see my grandson too, but he might be going to his grandmas, so . . .we’ll see.

Seems I’m always busy anymore. Scratch that. I am always busy.

Look, I think as I get older, with a better set of priorities, I feel super busy all the time. Time away from work is great, but I stay tired. Lol I am seriously ready for a day off. But . . .

Not like a vacation, or even a weekend, because although those are very important to maintaining mental, emotional, and even physical health, we all know that they aren’t usually down days off. Maybe I’ll start referring to them as down days off.

I am really looking forward to my next down day off. You know, the kind where you sleep in . . . until 5, 5:30, maybe even 6 a.m. and then feeling good you start drinking that wonderful Folgers Black Silk, and by lunch time, after a few hours of nothing but couch, and streaming some t.v., you end up missing the ideal time to nap, and when you finally try, you just lay there with your eyes closed for what seems like hours. You get up afterwards, maybe upset that your mind wouldn’t cooperate, but you proceed back to the couch to finish up that lazy, day just sitting there. Trying to keep your head empty, because between still turning things around at work, and dealing with the aftermath of the move from the fire, which isn’t even done yet, the “busy” that you stay is just as busy between your ears as it is in your exterior, so you really just want lazy, empty, nothingness to continue.

AMIRITE???

Who knows what I mean?? Lol

Or is it just me? Lol no lol

Anyways, that’s just my way of over dramatizing the fact that I’m just tired. I don’t really feel old for real, unless old just feels like tired. If that’s the case. . .I’m beat.

There are plenty of positives, and reasons for gratitude, but I needed this one to be an unloading of the negative exhaustion. My way of shaking it off.  

I get to see maybe a few of my kids this weekend, and maybe even a couple of my grandkids, so . . . it's absolutely not all bad.

Plus, I do really look forward to Pawpaw’s story time to the grandkids on Sunday afternoon/evening. It has turned into a bit more than I thought it would, but it’s pretty damn cool. And, I get to share my new Daniel Tiger book I got from my momma. It would be a great way to connect my love for Fred Rogers with my grandkids. I mean, it’s Daniel Striped Tiger c’mon.

I guess I’ll wrap this up. I know it ain’t my usual, but aside from staying tired, I’m still living a far better life than I deserve to be. My life is full of love, kindness, gratitude, trust, and truths. I wouldn’t change much.

Short and to the point.

Did I mention I was tired. Lol It is Friday night, and almost bedtime, so. . .

Please don’t forget to share your love and your laughter with the world around you,and be kind as always as you can. Civility will work, instead of kindness, in times of weakness or distress. Lolol

Also, someone out there may need your smile, so share it. And limiting those deathbed regrets is still vital to my way of life,and living. Hopefully it remains that way.

If you never take anything else away from what I write, at least remember this, when you try and do everything with love and honesty, whatever it is, will always be worth it. It's on how we look at it, rather than why. Lesson or blessin’?

Until next week;

“Life is too short to wake up in the morning with regrets, so love the people who treat you right, forget about the ones who don't, and believe that everything happens for a reason. If you get a chance, take it. If it changes your life, let it. Nobody said life would be easy, they just promised it would be worth it. – Dr. Suess