lindsohalloran

[lindsohalloran]

Linds and Jeremiah will end up surprisingly good co-parents.

at the end of the day, lindsay can't deny that jeremiah is a capable man ; it's clear how much he values his family and the lengths he would go to in order to protect them, and it's for this reason that lindsay has been a little more ... open in allowing him into maisie's life and giving him space to establish that connection as her father. it feels uncomfortable at times, knowing that doing so is going directly against what he knows were niamh's wishes for her daughter, but he's been trying to have faith in the thought that his sister would understand if she were only able to see the circumstances. it doesn't feel right, does it, denying maisie a connection to her only living parent? the poor girl's already lost so much. ( @jeremiah-rose )

[lindsohalloran]

moodboard meme 2.0 Send an emoji and I’ll make a moodboard

@lindsohalloran & @santiagodiazmunoz never asked but: 📚 my muse’s past

[lindsohalloran]

who ashton ryder ( @ashton-ryder ) where ashton's apartment / #306 when april 29th

compassion and empathy have never truly come natural to lindsay, have they? that isn't to say he is a cold or unkind man ― there are good intentions buried somewhere underneath that stoic, steely exterior ― but he does not have a bleeding heart or proper bedside manner to show for it. he never has!

as a child, his mother was half off her head from the pills ― which ones, he's still not certain, but they were potent enough to keep her contentedly chained to her modest three-bedroom home and the likes of his father ― and hardly capable of packing him and niamh a decent lunch for school, much less look after them with any sort of true concern. she was never a nurturer, emotional as she was.

enlisting in the military did nothing to help this. in fact, one could very easily argue that the royal regiment of scotland only exacerbated what was already a preexisting issue. what was true to his father in his childhood home was true in boot camp and basic training, it was true in the blistering heat of belize, and it was even feckin' true in the bloody outpost in nigeria where he was brought in to teach, to help ― softness equated to weakness.

it wasn't until lindsay met santiago that he'd even been able to question the mantra that was burned into his mind like a brand ; and, christ alive, but the amount of work he'd had to put into trying to unlearn all of it! for the better part of a decade now, he's been trying to do better ; to be better. and he has to now, doesn't he? not just for santiago or for himself, but for maisie's sake. she needs that compassion, that empathy, and he has to be able to provide it. he's trying.

but just because he's been working on it doesn't mean that lindsay is necessarily good at it. when he arrives at ashton's door, he does not wait for the younger man to answer. instead he knocks swiftly and loudly, thrice in a row, and calls, ❝ ryder! ye better be decent, ah'm comin' in! ❞ it feels just a bit slimy, taking advantage of the fact that he knows the door will not be locked ( can't be locked anymore, none of 'em, can they? ) but he's got good intentions, and that's good enough for him.

lindsay twists the knob and shoulders the door open, entering just as he'd warned. ❝ where're ye a', ryder? ❞ he calls, glancing around as he pulls the door shut behind him. ❝ ah've brought my kettle so ye can learn what it means tae have a proper cuppa. ❞ because lindsay does not know much, but he knows a good cup of tea can help a whole lot of things. and even if it can't, it still tastes feckin' grand!

if he feels guilty for waiting this long to come visit ashton, lindsay does not let it show ; he'd only heard talk of what happened to the man, why he'd been gone, and though his heart ached something fierce at the thought, he'd not wanted to crowd him in his recovery. so he'd kept his distance, at least a few days. but the way he quickly makes himself at home at the kitchen counter, you'd think he'd been there all the while.

❝ get out here an' show me where ye keep yer feckin' mugs! ❞

[lindsohalloran]

who hannah kaplan ( @hannahxinterrupted ) where hannah's apartment / #708 when april 22nd ?

when mention is made of a hospital run for supplies, lindsay is one of the first to volunteer himself. to be fair, with the way the pieces fell, the former scotsguard suspects that his participation in the scavenging mission would have been mandatory whether he'd willingly offered himself up or not. but he does. and there are a multitude of reasons why such an offer would make sense for him, even if his personal ties to the people of the wexley are few and far between ; he has no doubt he's capable of successfully accomplishing the objective ― without giving any undue attention to his ego, he can still admit he is far more qualified in the art of survival than most ― and, more than that, his immunity status ( which has been proven beyond any fragment of a doubt at this point, much to his chagrin ) puts him at far less risk than those without.

but lindsay is not selfless in that way, not in the same way that his partner is ; he is not guided by a kind heart, nor is he so readily willing to pass around his own into the hands of perfect strangers. he doesn't allow himself the risk. in truth, he'd never, really. but in this world? it seems nigh on impossible. the fact of the matter is, he will never understand how santiago does it, how he can be so generous with his love, his compassion, in a time where trust is a scarcer commodity than food or water ; it would be worrisome were he not entirely aware of how capable a man the chilean is. he can protect himself.

( this truth does nothing to soothe the worry that gnaws at him while they're clearing out snarling clusters of na neamh-mhairbh in the hospital, however ― the knowledge that he's not immune, that he's doing all of this for people he doesn't even know and he's not immune. lindsay knows better than to give voice to his fear and instead tucks it away in favor of focus, the more favorable of his only two real options. santiago survived long enough to find him, after all, and he even picked up a few strays along the way. )

no, lindsay volunteers himself for the hospital run because he knows what it feels like to walk in hannah's shoes. when he'd arrived at the wexley, maisie was wrought with fever, unwell in away he'd never seen before. and he cannot recall ever feeling more afraid, not once in his life. he sees that same fear, that desperation in her eyes when she approaches him ― a kindred ache. in his moment of need ― in maisie's moment of need ― the survivors of the wexley took them into their arms, helped them. there is not a world in which lindsay could imagine refusing someone else that relief, that comfort, not if he can help it. he tells hannah as much the day before they leave, in albeit far fewer words ; it is a measure of reassurance ― this is more than just a supply run, he knows that.

when lindsay and santiago return to the wexley, it is with good news ; they've not come back empty handed, having taken with them all the supplies they could carry ― including medication. fatigue lingers in his muscles when he finds his way to the elevator and even his vague reflection on the polished metal doors looks filthy. it would do him well to stop on the third floor and clean himself up, but lindsay rides straight past his own apartment and up to the seventh floor.

there's a bag in his left hand as he approaches hannah's door ; his right is curled around a small plush bear brandishing a heart-shaped get well soon! pillow, a last-minute addition snatched from the upturned shelves of the hospital's gift shop, and he reaches out with it to rap knuckles against her door frame. ❝ hannah, are ye in? ❞

[lindsohalloran]

who zach sanders ( @rioreeve ) where zach and emily's apartment when april 22nd

from the moment the pair of them leave ember's apartment, lindsay is very swiftly and blatantly given the cold shoulder by his niece ; and make no mistake, the young girl was all smiles while they were in the company of her neighbor ― even in spite of the fact that she'd somehow outright stolen her cat, like the wee lass had no shame about her whatsoever ― and seemed, by the end of it, like she'd actually come around to accepting that they couldn't have a cat of their own. never mind that he was allergic to the damned things, but pets were a responsibility, a liability that they were unable to afford right now. ( maybe one day, once they get out of here and find somewhere safe and remote to settle down, either on their own or in chile if they make it so far ― him and maisie and santi ― they can find her a dog. but not now. not here. he doesn't tell her this now, of course ; best not to get her hopes up when the future's never been more uncertain. )

but in spite of the act she's put on in front of ember, maisie wants nothing to do with him for the next day. she can't spend time with june ― he wonders, too, if that was what prompted her little cat burglary ; his heart is heavy with guilt at the thought that her contact with her friend is limited to conversations from a doorway and get well soon cards decorated on construction paper, but she'd been so sick herself when they arrived at the wexley and lindsay refuses to risk it happening again ― so she locks herself away in her bedroom and demands to be left alone.

in fact, it's only when santiago asks her the next morning that they can actually lure her out of her room for breakfast ; he tries several times before all but begging for his partner's aid. he knows he has to make amends somehow ― he's not jealous of her newfound relationship with santi, and in fact, he's grateful for how quickly she seems to have taken to him ( if not at all surprised ) but he doesn't know for how long santiago being the middle man between them is actually sustainable ― and he spends the duration of the short walk to the diner wracking his brain for ideas. what would appease a nine year old girl? lindsay doesn't know, not with any real confidence.

the idea strikes him on the walk back as they pass by the door of one of the sanders twins, and lindsay isn't sure if it'll actually help, but it's the best one he's got. does he know either of the twins well? not even remotely. but they seem decent enough lads. and besides, while he's no doubt there are many a resident who wouldn't mind telling him no, there's seldom a request maisie has made to anyone within these walls that hasn't been obliged. ( he gets it ― he would do the same for june, or any other children at the wexley, should there have been any. ) so lindsay makes an offer he's hopeful he can keep ― a visit to see doom, the wexley's resident canine, wherein maisie might be able to ask if she can play with, or even take the dog on a walk through the hall.

maisie perks up quickly at that and, because he's weak for that smile of hers, lindsay says she can skip her lessons for the morning ― just this one morning ― to go see doom. they've hardly got a moment to step into their own flat before she's hounding him ― pun intended, don't let him fool you ― to turn around and head right back out. it's no less than a half hour after breakfast that they're standing outside the door to apartment #307 and maisie's reaching out to knock before lindsay can even cross the short distance of the hallway.

❝ mr. zach? doom? is anybody home? ❞ her words are polite but eager, her volume belying her enthusiasm as she continues to knock with the force and frequency of a police officer ― until lindsay catches her by the wrist and gently tugs her hand back. ❝ give 'em a chance tae answer, aye? ❞

[lindsohalloran]

who ember wexley ( @emberwexley ) where ember's apartment when april 23nd / evening sometime ??

by the time maisie and lindsay arrive at the door to ember's apartment, they've both got tears in their eyes, if for vastly different reasons.

for nigh on a whole day now, lindsay has been quietly convinced there's something wrong with him. it starts off simply enough late the morning prior, an annoying but admittedly minor itch in his eyes that could just as easily be attributed to strain from reading or perhaps even just the dry air in the building. he digs the heel of his palm into the sockets to try and soothe the irritation and moves on.

by early afternoon, it becomes a prickle in his throat, like he's swallowed a handful of brambles that proceeded to get stuck, and he can't seem to clear the feeling away. it's bothersome, sure, but not worrisome. maisie seems to be keeping herself preoccupied in her room and santiago is off somewhere, likely charming the wits out of the residents of the wexley as he is wont to do, so lindsay allows himself the privilege of grumbling about it in peace while he tidies the flat and busies his mind. christ knows there's plenty to think about!

by the time he knocks on maisie's door to fetch her so they can head downstairs for supper, the prickle has turned into a cough and his nose is running like a tap. lindsay is worse for wear and attempting to suffer through it in silence ― a valiant effort, to his own credit, but it's hard to keep a stone face when it feels like there are a million wee ants crawling around inside of it. but it's not until maisie vehemently refuses his entrance for a fourth time that lindsay is concerned enough to deny her protests and open her door anyway ― he never likes doing it, never truly feels like it's his place ― and he quickly realizes why she'd been so adamant to keep him out. and why she'd been so quiet all day.

and why he's so goddamn itchy!

there, in her arms, wriggling and writhing in a set of baby doll pajamas, is a feckin' cat. it takes twenty tearful minutes to coax the truth out of her ― and all the while she's holding that tiny black menace, clinging to it in a way that almost makes him feel guilty for the fact that he's making her relinquish the wee beast ― but the moment he does ( well, after a conversation about theft and boundaries and asking permission before smuggling a new pet into the household ) lindsay is marching maisie down the hall to ember's apartment.

he would make her knock but her hands are still full of cat and he doesn't intend to go chasing the thing down the hall, so instead he reaches out and raps his knuckles against the door. for a moment, lindsay is worried she isn't in ― it feels wrong to try and pawn this off on santiago, but he doesn't want to deal with it long enough to try and hunt her down ― but after a moment, the door swings open and there ember stands, looking admittedly worse for wear herself. he knows it has nothing to do with the pet she's lost, but everything else.

❝ go on, then, ❞ he says to maisie, encouraging her forward with the hand that isn't scrubbing at the side of his nose, before lifting his head to look at ember too. ❝ 'ullo, ember. seems th' wexley's got a wee cat burglar. literal cats, she's thievin'. ❞

maisie has the decency to look abashed as she steps forward and holds up the kitten, still dressed in doll clothes. ❝ i'm sorry i borrowed hugs―❞ lindsay interrupts her with a subtle clearing of his throat and gives her another nudge, ❝―right, it's not borrowing without permission. sorry i took hugs without asking you, and i hope you weren't too worried about him. ❞ she pauses then before her features split into a grin as she gazes up at ember, and she thrusts the cat toward her. ❝ but look at his little outfit! ❞

[lindsohalloran]

none of this is what he'd anticipated on that fateful day when lindsay first arrived at the wexley with maisie in tow ― and in truth, there's nobody to blame for that but himself. it wasn't as if he was unacquainted with the chaotic and unpredictable nature of man even before daily life became little more than a feat of survival ; he should have expected that the relative peace he'd stumbled upon was never destined to last. and, more than that, he should have done so with enough time to make a plan and get out with maisie.

but it's never that simple, is it?

the former scotsguard tries not to live with regret out of principle. he should be able to stand by the decisions he makes, and even if he finds himself incapable, to wallow in said inability serves no purpose but to waste his own time and energy. ( of course, what his mind and his heart get up to in the wee hours of the morning when those closest to him are peacefully asleep is nobody's business but his own! ) so he tells himself it's no mistake that he's stayed.

after all, if they'd left the moment maisie was well enough, the pair of them would've been long gone before santiago arrived ― and christ if lindsay's heart doesn't feel a pang at just the thought! ( he's still rendered speechless if he thinks too long or too hard on how lucky he is that his partner found him again in spite of all the time and all the distance. )

and then there's maisie's father ― a bridge he'd not ever wanted to cross suddenly placed before his path, an unavoidable landmark in the hellscape he's been attempting to navigate. he'd entered this uncharted territory with every intention of honoring niamh's wish to keep jeremiah out of maisie's life ― it's hardly his right to go back on a decision she'd maintained for nearly a decade ― but to do so would be to rob his niece, his blood, of a relationship with her only surviving parent. her dad.

all of this to say lindsay has done well to justify the fact that he's still here, in spite of the fact that he and santiago are being treated like lackeys to do the bidding of a woman they've only just met. and that's not to say that lindsay is disinclined to take orders or help out for the sake of the greater good ― he owes it to the people of the wexley, after all they've done for him ― but it would be a lie to suggest he has any sort of faith in the current shift in power.

still, he arrives dutifully at the door of the scouting headquarters and pushes it open. he can keep his head down and do as told. at least for now, it's the easier of the options available to him. and, given his immunity status, he'd rather himself than many of the others. lindsay recognizes the man in the room, even if they've only ever spoken briefly. oscar, he thinks. ex-military, surely, though lindsay couldn't be certain which branch, and he'd never endeavored to find out.

❝ tha's braw wi' me, ❞ lindsay offers when he's addressed, pulling the door shut behind him. he doesn't take a seat, though ; instead, he approaches the map that oscar is studying and takes a look at it himself, an inquisitive and meticulous gaze flickering over each of the annotations in turn. ❝ this yer work, sae it is? are ye in charge o' th' operations here now? ❞ last he'd known, the responsibility was on ash, but that was before his old friend had all but disappeared. ( has he mentioned that he doesn't fecking trust this place? ) he hums thoughtfully as he continues to look over the map. ❝ ah'd no' realized how much ground t'were already covered. ❞

Who: Open

When: April 22nd

Where: Scouting headquarters

Oscar knew Sada was expecting results, Emily's life hung in the balance, dependent on their success, and Zach was entangled in the mess right alongside him - their benevolent dictator making sure neither man ran with the same team. Not to mention Ash was locked away from wandering eyes and curious minds, undergoing god knew what under Sada's care. There was no way for him to make sure everyone he cared about was safe and it was eating away at him. So he did what he knew best - lost himself in his work, intent on finding their way out.

Almost every spot on the map was now crossed off, notated, and scavenged. The next team he took out would need to branch further out to deliver, leaving a lot of unknowns up in the air. Back turned to the door, he'd been engrossed in figuring out routes, exits, possible stash sites, and most of all, a way to more vaccines out of Sada's control. The presence of another body joinging him was hardly enough to pull him from his planning.

"The rest of the guys aren't here yet, so feel free to take a seat. It shouldn't be too much longer," he said to who he assumed was one of the other team members. "Then we can figure out where to hit next."

[lindsohalloran]

❝ ach, dinnae get down on yerself, lass, quit yer haverin'! ❞ lindsay has a chair pulled up to the dining table right next to where maisie is sat in front of a math textbook, a look of exasperation on her features that's actually rather comical. ( it also distinctly reminds him of his sister in a way that tugs directly at his heartstrings ; christ alive, but she looks and behaves more and more like niamh every day! ) he does his best not to laugh at her frustration lest he upset her further and completely derail what's already been an antagonizing lesson in multiplying fractions and decimals. ❝ yer plenty smart enough, an' even if yer no', ah was rubbish at maths an' still had tae sit through my lessons. an' if yer uncle had tae do it, sae d'ye. ❞

if maisie wants to grumble in protest about how she shouldn't even have to do schoolwork ― lindsay knows, he's heard it all before ― she doesn't get the chance before a sound on the other side of the door catches his attention. ever on high alert, he's on his feet the moment he realizes it's not just someone passing by. with a pat to her head and an insistence that she just ❛ give it another go, mais, ❜ he's crossing the room in a few long strides and peering through the peephole to identify the unannounced guest lingering outside their door.

charlie. he can't say he's surprised by the sight of her. one of the few points of note during his last conversation with jeremiah had been how close the other man is to his siblings, and the truth is, if he's to be shocked by anything, surely it's how long she's taken to end up at his door since he decided to offer up the truth about maisie's parentage. surely she knew shortly after, if not by jeremiah himself, then simply because the walls of the wexley seemed capable of listening at times, and the rate at which gossip raced through the halls was often staggering.

what he can't ascertain from his glimpse through the peephole is exactly how emotional she is. no, it's not until he opens the door that lindsay realizes the full extent of it, and he's stunned into momentary silence by the sight of her. ( he's never been the best at dealing with feelings, has he? no, that's always been santiago's wheelhouse. he could encourage and motivate and he was fluent in constructive criticism, but he's always fallen short in his ability to console. ) but then she's speaking, and he wants to laugh, because of all the things she could've led with, the one he's most aware of is the one he's least expecting. or, if nothing else, he doesn't expect her to be quite so direct about it.

but lindsay doesn't laugh. he knows better ; he's not cruel. and he'd be the first to admit that charlie has been nothing but kind and gracious to maisie and himself since their arrival ― it isn't her he's taken any issue with. instead, he trains his normally stoic expression into something softer, a smile twitching at the corners of his lips. ❝ ah ken ye are, ❞ he says, and he's stepping aside to make space in the doorway to allow her in. maisie looks up from her schoolwork, positively beaming when she spots charlie, but lindsay clicks his tongue. ❝ ye can visit after ye finish yer maths, ❞ he tells her, his tone brooking no argument. ❝ let us talk a moment, aye? ❞

lindsay turns to charlie again, waving her in before closing the door behind her. ❝ come inside, i'll put on th' kettle. ❞

Who: @lindsohalloran Where: Lind's Apartment When: April 21st

Between caring for Roman and his injuries, throwing up, cleaning, and doing laundry there hadn't been much time for Charlie to get away, and even less for her to process what she'd been told. After having talked it over with Roman who had assured her that it was okay for her to want to get to know Maisie as her niece, Charlie finally took the plunge.

In the hallway outside of Linds and Maisie's apartment, Charlie paced, chewing the dead skin about her cuticles almost to bleeding as she stared right back at at the door that was almost seeming to heckle her. What was she even supposed to say? How was she supposed to do this?

She already knew Maisie. She's played with her, and made her goodies, had gotten to know her as she'd started to get closer to June as well once she'd found out she was pregnant. That was going to be another stop, talking to Hannah about how they could talk to June about having a sibling now.

How she'd managed to be familially connected to every child in the building she'd never know, but the lost time with her niece hurt to her core.

Her pacing must have caught his attention from inside his apartment, because the door opened before she could even knock and she knew he was faced with a mess, because she could feel the tears welling up almost instant.

"I'm her aunt..." It wasn't a question, it wasn't even really a statement, it was a plea.

[lindsohalloran]

THE OLD GUARD (2020) - Yusuf al-Kaysani & Nicoló di Genova ~ everyone's favorite van scene ♥

[lindsohalloran]

beau / linds / jude / vik

crucial muse development questions.   send a number in my inbox to find out more about my character as a person  ( because often, the most important things about character development have nothing to do with their shoe size or netflix queue ).

what would completely break your character?

what was the best thing in your character’s life?

what was the worst thing in your character’s life?

what seemingly insignificant memories stuck with your character?

does your character work so they can support their hobbies or use their hobbies as a way of filling up the time they aren’t working?

what is your character reluctant to tell people?

how does your character feel about sex?

how many friends does your character have?

how many friends does your character want?

what would your character make a scene in public about?

for what would your character give their life?

what are your character’s major flaws?

what does your character pretend or try to care about?

how does the image your character tries to project differ from the image they actually project?

what is your character afraid of?

[lindsohalloran]

the world, lindsay thinks, for as wholly feckin' massive as it is, is still far too goddamn small. the thought had more than just crossed his mind at first move across the pond, of course it had ; from the very first moment he'd heard news of his sister's tragic and untimely passing to those eventually spent in the waiting room of the children's psychiatric clinic while maisie spoke to her grief counselor, he was plagued by the thought of the young girl's biological father.

the man has never been anything more than a concept to lindsay ― a name scrawled in looping half-cursive or spoken in soft tones over a staticky phone line ― but the possibility of crossing paths with him at some point after relocating to new york had not escaped him. would the man have heard of niamh's death? ( did he have anything to do with it? ) would he show up suddenly and try to seek custody of maisie now that she was no longer there? lindsay was always waiting for the other shoe to drop.

but it doesn't. and then the world ends. or, just as well as, anyhow. it's hard to imagine in any way that a horror on such a grand scale could bring about peace of mind ― and to be fair, it does introduce a whole new slew of worries for the former scotsguard ― but the idea of running into her father in the aftermath? well, he'd be a liar if he said the thought had even crossed his mind. the speed at which his priorities shifted in that moment was staggering ; lindsay did not have to know anything about this man to know that he was no longer the biggest potential threat to her safety.

and yet, somehow, lindsay stands before him now in a rare chance of fate that seems nigh impossible. he does not respond to the question at first ; it's clear in the small details of his expression that jeremiah is coming up with the answer on his own. to hear his sister's name from anyone else's tongue ― to hear it from this man's mouth ― is enough to twist his stomach into tight knots. a muscle in his jaw twitches but his own flat visage remains unwavering and there is no visible reaction otherwise.

❝ aye, tha' i am, ❞ lindsay says simply. his gaze flickers over the other man's face ; he has no intention to intimidate or accuse but he makes no effort to hide the fact that he is studying him intently. ❝ o' course ye winnae. ye dinnae ken who'm i and i expect ye've no' seen her since she was a wee bairn, 'ave ye? ❞ he wants to tell jeremiah that he can plan to keep it that way, that she's gone this long without him ; that niamh didn't want him in her life and a feckin' apocalypse doesn't change that. but he bites his tongue. it's not that easy, is it? that's maisie's father. even his own issues aside, lindsay knows he has no right to deny her that relationship.

but only if she's safe.

lindsay takes a deep breath in and chooses his words carefully when he speaks again, making a point of holding the other man's gaze as he does. ❝ ye've go' family here. i've met them. verra kind folk, like, especially yer sister, ❞ he begins, his voice calm and his tone level. ❝ ye care about her, i'm sure. i ken ye do. so i'm going tae put this t'ye, man tae man ― brother tae brother ― in a way i hope ye can understand. ❞ he looks away from jeremiah then only to spare a glance over his shoulder at maisie, then he's turning back again.

❝ tha' little girl righ' there is all i've go' left of my sister, my family. she means the feckin' world tae me and there is nothing i would nae do fer her, tae keep her safe. nothing. i dinnae ken but what niamh told me about ye, but she dinnae want ye in maisie's life. sure yer reasonable enough tae understand my hesitation then, aye? ❞

crystal eyes watched the exchange between the man and his niece, unsure of exactly what the soldier's problem is but he has to admit that his interest has piqued and waned already. it's taking half forever for him to just spit it out all because the kid was there whining about this thing or that. just spit it out, man. it cannot be that big of a deal, he doesn't know either of them. but, apparently, this lindsay knows him.

"y'do do, do you? and who am i, pray tell?" there was a look of confusion on his face. he thought about the accent and then the name played in his head again. his lips parted and he slightly nodded. oh. oh. he hadn't seen maisie since she was a baby, niamh making it clear that she didn't want him in their lives. at the time, who was jeremiah to argue? it's not as if they were dating and he lived in a small apartment with his two siblings. despite the fact that he was involved with a large list of nefarious and dangerous activity. it was no place for him to split custody, if he would've won anyways. but why were they there?

for the first time in awhile, there was something that turned in his stomach. a twinge of guilt and something else. shame, perhaps? "you're niamh's brother, then." he nodded. "i wasn't, um, i didn't know—" he motioned between where maisie went and lindsay. "i didn't make the connection. i also don't see why she shouldn't know who i am."

[lindsohalloran]

it's a strange and disorienting feeling, to suddenly become so reattached to something ― or someone ― you'd long since thought you lost. but as he clings tightly to the familiar warmth of santiago's solid frame, lindsay cannot help but be struck by a wave of relief at the reassurances that pour from his love's lips. he's not going anywhere. he's here, he's alive, and he isn't leaving lindsay. the words could have just as easily been an empty promise, a band-aid on a wound meant to cajole him enough that he didn't turn into a blubbering mess of a man. but lindsay believes them. whether or not he deserves the intent woven into them is another matter entirely ( he doesn't deserve any of this kind, sweet, forgiving man's comfort! ) but he takes the words at face value and allows his emotions to be ebbed by them. he trusts them. of course he does. they're coming from santiago.

when warm, broad hands lift from his shoulders to find his face, lindsay allows his eyes to flutter shut for just a moment as he draws in a deep, shaky breath. he holds it for a beat, long enough to try and collect himself a little ; it catches in his chest when the pad of a thumb grazes his cheek, somehow both gentle and rough in a way that feels so familiar. so santiago. he shouldn't be surprised by santi's reaction to his apologies, the knowledge that they're sincere. there is no one on this earth, neither living nor dead, who knows lindsay like santiago díaz muñoz knows him. the thought brings a smile to his lips in spite of himself and eyes are opening again, a bright crystalline blue against damp, red-rimmed lashes. but if he has anything to say about it, any relief or gratitude, the words die on his tongue the second santiago pulls him into a kiss.

it's hard and heated and impassioned ― the kind of kiss that has lindsay's hands scrambling for purchase in his hair, his shirt, anything he can find to cling to in order to ground himself before he loses himself in it entirely ― and, in lindsay's opinion, entirely too short. christ, but he missed the taste of him! he's still struggling to catch the breath stolen from his lungs when santiago pulls away ever so slightly. the fingers of his good hand loosen from where they'd knotted in dark locks but they still remain nestled in the dark strands at the base of santiago's neck. when santi speaks, he shakes his head, guilt tugging at his features. where had he been? how far had he come to get here? the fact that he doesn't already know the answers to these questions stirs another painful twinge in his chest and lindsay forces himself to swallow past the emotional whiplash so that he might finally find his voice again.

❝ i never shouldae pushed ye out, ❞ lindsay manages to whisper past the lump in his throat. he can still feel the warmth of santi's lips against his forehead. ❝ christ, i'm no' even ― i dinnae ken why i thought ― i was just so scared, santi. ❞ he knows he doesn't have to elaborate further ; santi knows him, after all, knows all of his weaknesses and insecurities with an intimacy that makes lindsay feel more naked than if he were laid skin-bare before him now. how long had it taken him to open up, to actually allow himself to be vulnerable around his partner? his smile wavers and he pats santiago's hand softly before taking a step back so he can steal a glance over his shoulder toward maisie ― still blissfully unaware of her uncle's emotional display, she dutifully continues to decorate cardboard walls with intricate floral designs. a watery laugh escapes him and he sniffs, swiping a hand under his running nose. ❝ feckin' stupid, is wha' i were, ❞ he admits, honest. ❝ but all these years an' ye've always been th' brains between us, hav'nae ye? an' the heart. it's no' fair, really, never has been. ❞ and yet, just another one of the million reasons that lindsay loves him. he's always been everything that lindsay himself has not. he completes him, two halves of a whole.

lindsay heaves a shuddering sigh as he turns to face santiago once more. it feels surreal that he's even got the privilege of laying eyes on him in light of everything that's happened. ❝ i dinnae expect ye tae jus' pick up where we've left off, i could never ask that o' ye, but i cannae lose ye again, santi. christ knows i've made my fair share o' mistakes, but i've never ― there is nothin' in this world i regret more than shuttin' ye out when i needed ye most, because i knew ― i knew it was selfish, tha' it t'weren't just me it were hurtin'. and then tae think that i had lost ye for good, wonderin' where you were, what ― what country, an' hopin' that this bloody feckin' infection had no' made it tae ye, i ― ❞ lindsay swallows hard and shakes his head. ❝ i promise ye, i've been carryin' it wi' me ev'ry damn day. ❞

it was an intense moment, such a burst of love and comfort and a whole lot of pent up emotion and tension released in such a way that it didn't draw too much attention but still became palpable in the air. for santiago, for just a moment, they were alone together. the only two men on the planet with hearts that had fractured and finally become whole again. language could speak nothing for the longing his heart had for the one beating against the other mans ribcage. oh, lindsay, how i've missed you. his arms had felt so empty without him in them. yet, he held back from pressing lips to his neck, cheek, temple... he wanted to punctuate his love in action and not words.

they weren't there yet.... would they be, again?

"am not, 'm not going anywhere, shhhh," he could feel the panic in his voice and regretted asking the question. santiago needed to be certain, however. needed some things drawn out clear, especially when dealing with people like him that he knows could be the hardest people in the world to read. someone like lindsay who could stone face through just about anything until he was alone and away from anyone's eyes. he knew how much pain his love bottled inside and hid away from the world. knew it all too well.

then all at once they were face to face again and watery apologies were falling from lindsay's lips. santi's hands lifted from their place on the other man's shoulders and cupped his face, his thumbs brushing away the moisture there. "i know you are, i know. i can see it." in the body language and the deep chasms of his irises. with that he made the bold decision to close the distance between them again, as he'd done many times in the past and kissed him, hard. an expression of love that couldn't be conveyed any other way. of forgiveness, at it's lightest. there was still twinges of pain that would take time to heal but santiago did not hold grudges against those he loves. it was an impossible thing to do.

"i kept my distance but, media naranje, i could not move on without knowing you were okay." he whispered the words, still holding his face with his forehead nearly hovering next to lind's. "te amo tanto, my heart has ached for so long..." he shook his head and pressed another kiss to his forehead before taking a breath and a step back.

[lindsohalloran]

little girl, you are cursed by my ancestry there is nothing but darkness and agony i can not only see, but you stopped me from blinking

let me watch you as close as a memory let me hold you above all the misery let me open my eyes and be glad that i got here

[lindsohalloran]

@insainted asked: 🎨 my muse’s favorite color ( ft. @santiagodiazmunoz )

[lindsohalloran]

@insainted asked: 🏨 my muse’s town/country

[lindsohalloran]

rumor has it santiago has a bunch of kids now and no time for people with only eight fingers

❝ aye, sure. lucky fer me, it dinnae take all ten tae shut yer shite mouth fer ye, ye keep runnin' it off like tha'. ye dinnae ken a thing about santi. ❞ ( @santiagodiazmunoz )

[lindsohalloran]

Rumour has it that Maisie might end up with a sibling cause Sada's pregnant.

❝ d'ye ken what i think, is tha' the immunity is a lie and i dwyned awa' when i got bit by tha' wee feckin' bampot and now i'm clearly in hell, sufferin' fer my sins. ❞