+ (post Security Breach) How Long Do You Think It'll Be Before You're Abandoned Again?

👀 + (post security breach) How long do you think it'll be before you're abandoned again?

Send me a “👀 + a question” and my muse has to answer honestly!

★ — Jeez ; he's not quite quick enough to cover the way he winces at the question, frame curling up defensively as he turns his focus to the ground just a few steps ahead with a harsh glare. The shrug he gives in response ( after a moment of trying to compose himself ) is trying too hard to seem as if he's unbothered.

It was only a matter of time, right? It was always only a matter of time. No one ever stayed. That was the only consistency Gregory had in his life — passed from home to home, guardian to guardian with little regard.

( but it hurts more, now, when he wants Michael to stay. he wants to stay with Michael. he doesn't want to be alone again. )

"I — I don't know. Some times are longer than other times."

Another shrug, followed by a shake of his head that causes loose strands of hair to fall into his eyes.

"It's fine. I'll be fine. It'll — it'll happen eventually, just like always. But I can handle being on my own."

👀 + why do you know how to hotwire a car? 🤨

send me a “👀 + a question” and my muse has to answer honestly!

★ — "Wouldn't you like to know, weather boy?"

I don't think it's talked about enough that gregory knows how to successfully hotwire a car

Send me a “👀 + a question” and my muse has to answer honestly!

👀 + tlou au How do you feel about your purpose never working out? Did you REALLY want to die for the cure?

send me a “👀 + a question” and my muse has to answer honestly!

★ — "How do you think it feels?!"

The snapped response is almost immediate ; something akin to a wounded animal barring its teeth when it feels cornered. A display of outward aggression to mask the pain, to scare them off, to keep himself safe. Gregory doesn't want to answer this question. He doesn't like talking about it, even if sometimes it's all he can think about.

How is he supposed to carry on knowing so many people have died? To infection, to fear, to keep him safe. There had been hope, once — the thought that it would all be worth something, at the end of it. Now he was left with nothing but the weight of it all, threatening to pull him down until there was nothing left of him.

"I feel like I let the whole goddamn world down. It was — I was supposed to be worth something."

What good was he at the end of everything? What was so special about him that he got to live when so many others didn't? Michael would tell him it wasn't his fault, but that didn't change anything.

"No —— . No, fuck, I don't ——."

His voice cracks, a hand lifting to violently scrub at his cheek despite the fact that no tears are falling to wipe away. He's curling in on himself, a sharp pang rocketing through his chest.

' You're worth more to the world dead than you are alive. '

Can Gregory even separate the voices in his head, repeating those words to him like a curse? Are they still William's? Marlene's? His own?

"But I think it might've been better if I did."

what part of this haunted house are you?

tagged by: @rentemotion tagging: steal it from me !

the mirror — What do you see today? Better yet, what don’t you see today? Probably the same as yesterday, right? Everything at once and nothing at all. You know the face looking back at you enough to know that it is not your own, whatever that means. You’ve learned by now that your face is irrelevant, one that takes a backseat to the ones that come to you every day, asking you to show them lies. You don’t, of course, you are an amalgamation of all the faces looking back at you, a reflection of themselves. There is nothing but truth in that. Don’t take it too personally, then, when they scream in your face and take off running. You show them what they show you: who they are. It’s something you can relate to, isn’t it? Not being able to confront yourself face-to-face.