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tylerh2004 · 1 year ago

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Tyler Hannaford - Waiting in Hope - CRWT Proj

Writing Prompt: Waiting for the doors to open

Quick Description: The following is a story created for my University creative writing project that follows the story of a man and his journal entries as they are split up into 3 different moments in time. It is the same man throughout and follows his thoughts and feelings as he experiences the various things happening in his life.

June 9th, 2025

Hello. My name is Asher. Asher Moon. I am writing this as a documentation of my thoughts and what I have been through for my wife, Lara Moon, in the chance she finds this. Lara, if you are reading this that means you either found me at the library and I gave it to you, or you made it and found me dead. As of writing this, it’s been two days since it began. What everyone is calling “the beginning of the end of the world”. I don’t know what it has been like around the world, but from what I hear it's a similar story all around. Eternal Diamond, the world's biggest corporation, experimented with a new type of nuclear power that went wrong. Causing the world to be covered in this thick toxic gas, that kills anyone who inhales it for too long. Only just a minute of the stuff is enough for the strongest adult to drop dead. The only way we’ve found to survive it so far is by using gas masks with these strong filters which usually was only used within a government capacity. However, though the gas masks are strong, they only last about a week before the filters need replacing. People have already begun fighting each other for any filters that they can get their hands on. Along with food, water, any medicinal products, and any batteries or chargers of any sort. It’s been getting crazy. Barbaric even. I’ve had to fight off someone already. I’ve never done that before and it spooked me. I hope I didn’t hurt him too badly. Couldn’t really tell after I ran away. Anyways, I have just arrived at the town you told me to go to over the phone. I’ve been trying to contact you since then but I think something has happened to the satellites. A terrorist group or something took control of them. They're not letting anyone use them now unless you strike a deal with them first. So I won't be able to contact you through any cellular service or wifi. I’m glad we at least had that last call before the takeover happened. I was really worried for you when this all started to happen and you were still outside of the continent for your business trip. It was nice to know you were ok for now at least. I made it to where you wanted me to wait for you by the way. The library within the small town up in the mountains called “Hope” where we both grew up and met each other. Crazy to think that stage of our lives happened 10 years ago. Feels like this place has barely changed as I walk around. I even found the old home you used to live in. I took a photo of it with a camera I found lying around in the nearby gas station and attached it into to this journal. Maybe it’ll give you a little boost when you get here and can see it in person. For now, I’m camping out in the library as you instructed me to so it can be a safe rendezvous point for us. Can't believe that we used to work here during our later teenage years. It’s practically untouched from then. I’m not sure what else to write honestly. Things have just been crazy lately. Like the world as I knew has been completely changed. I hope things have been going better for you than they have for me. When this all began and after I had first contacted you about what was going on, I then tried to find my family to make sure they were safe. I found them all dead and looted on the side of the street where they lived. Carelessly tossed into a ditch. Turns out there was only a limited number of gas masks to go around. They weren’t lucky enough. If only I got to them sooner. Maybe they’d still be here. Anyway, I’d better get some sleep. I’ve set up a few cushions from chairs to craft a makeshift mattress and I’ve placed it next to the main door of the library. That way, when you come, I’ll be right there. I love you Lara. See you soon.

(photo of Lara's old house that Asher took)

(photo of the library as Asher arrived)

August 7th, 2025

It’s been 2 months since this all began. My life has become a systematically put-together way of living adapted for this new world of today. Every morning, I wake up and immediately turn to see if the door is opened and have so far always been disappointed with the results. I then, if it's nearing the end of the week, go to quickly change out the filter within my gas mask. We were lucky with this town you know. Turns out within the back of the Walmart that’s here, there was a huge amount of filters, gas masks and other hazmat equipment. Even found some old ridiculous training videos I’ll watch for fun sometimes. I don’t know why the people who lived here all abandoned this place before I even got here. I found some maskless bodies lying around. Maybe they just couldn’t find it. Maybe they just didn’t know what was wrong with the air until it was too late. Or maybe someone did it to them on purpose. I don’t know. Not sure if I want to know. I gave them a proper burial after that discovery anyway. Hopefully, they're in a better place than this. Anyways, after making sure my mask filter is alright for now, then I’ll grab some dehydrated fruits for breakfast from that very Walmart. I’m trying to go through those, vitamins, canned foods, and I’ve been stuffing baked goods into ziplocks and freezers to try and keep them safe for consumption for as long as possible. They may not taste good but no use complaining when I got an entire Walmart for myself. Not many people are fortunate like me to have something like that. Then finally, I’ll go on a radio I found to check to see if you have sent out a distress signal. I spend hours. Sitting there. Flipping through the channels. Every time. Nothing. It’s soul-crushing every day to turn off the radio for the night and head to bed. Some nights I won’t even go to bed. Cause what if you send a signal when I’m asleep? Then I wouldn’t be able to hear it. I just hope you're ok. It’s been 2 months since we last called and I’ve waited here for you ever since you told me to wait at this exact place for you. Honestly, your decision for our rendezvous point to be a library was a pretty smart move. I haven’t encountered any raiders yet. Cause who would think to raid a library up in a small town within the mountains? Though it has gotten pretty lonely up here. Haven’t seen a human face since I settled in this place. An alive one at least. Those eyes of the corpses I found here that I wrote about earlier. They reminded me of my family. I keep thinking about them. What they must have gone through in their last moments. Calling out to everyone as they slowly suffocated in the toxic air. Did the surrounding people try to comfort them in their final moments knowing nothing could be done? Or did they continue to walk facing away from them, pretending like their lives meant nothing to them? This question haunts me whenever I dwell on it. Instead, I’ve been listening to that song we danced to on our high school prom night. “Sunsetz” by Cigarettes After Sex. It helps remind me what I’m enduring this all for. You. I hope one day I’ll wake up and see that door open, with you standing in front of me. That’ll make it all worth it. I love you. I hope you know that Lara.

youtube

June 7th, 2045

Lara. I’m scared. It’s been 20 years. 20 fucking years. What if you’re already dead? Am I enduring this hell for nothing? Waiting for a saviour who doesn’t exist. Constantly being tormented by the memories of when everything was ok. As I am writing this, I’m now in the back of the library. There is a gun. Right next to me. I can’t tell you how many nights I’ve come home from the radio setup and stuck it into the roof of my mouth. Different factions of Raiders have begun to find this town and have started to come every couple of days or so in small groups of 2 or 3 at a time. They haven’t found the library and they never will. It’s too hidden and elevated from the rest of the town for them to discover it. Only reason someone would come here is if they already knew this place existed. But that doesn’t mean I don’t encounter them in the lower parts of town. I end up having to kill them all one by one. Using the guns and hunting knives I’ve found around town. I can’t even remember how many I’ve killed by now. Dozens? Hundreds? I do remember one thing though. They’re lifeless eyes once I’m done with them. They matched my family’s eyes that day. What have I done. what have i done. Food supplies have also been running low. I currently have only been surviving through the thousands of cans of dog food within the Walmart. However, I feel as though I am a rabid animal whenever I eat it. Not that there are any anymore. They all went extinct from the toxic air only a couple of months after this all started. I barely even remember what a dog looks like anymore The only thing that is keeping me going is the picture I have of you. Even though it has started to fade, it’s the only thing I have that gives me some semblance of the concept of peace. I don’t know what I am supposed to do anymore. Would you want me to continue trusting you? Even after all these years? That you would hold onto your promise of meeting me here? Or. Would you want me to give up. Accept the possibility that you’re dead. And finally, grant myself the swift end I’ve fantasized about all these years. I just wish I could talk to you one last time for that answer. That’s all I want. I spend almost every night staring at that main door. Not even sleeping. Just staring. Hoping. Is there a limit to hope? Have I reached mine? I’ll probably just end up staring at the door again tonight. And continue the cycle of doubt tomorrow. A part of me just won’t let me end this cycle and I don’t know why or how long it will last. All I know is that I love you. Though so much of me might have changed since the beginning of all of this I can say for certain the one thing about me that hasn’t is my love for you. The idea of you is the only thing keeping me going for now.

did i just hear the door open

(The last line is quickly scribbled at the bottom of the page away from the rest of the previous entry. There are no more following entries in the journal after this one.)

(the last line written in Asher's Journal)

(a faded image of Lara)

#Youtube

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aussieearplugs · 2 years ago

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Earplugs for musicians block out background noise and make sounds louder.

As a singer, do you find that loud noises often take away from your performances? This can be a problem if you are a light sleeper who can't stand the sound of snoring. Earplugs for musicians and earplugs for snoring might solve your issues. These custom-made earplugs are great for artists and anyone else who needs to block out noise but still hear clearly. Here, we'll go deep into the wonders of musician earplugs to find out what they are good for. Just get comfortable and let's start reading!

Different kinds of earplugs for musicians

There are a lot of different styles and materials of earplugs for musicians, so they can fit a lot of different tastes and performance settings. As just one example, some earplugs reduce sound across the entire audible range in the same way, while others are tuned to reduce only higher-frequency sounds.

Musicians like the universal-fit earplug because it can be shaped to fit almost any size and shape of ear canal. Most of the time, these are made of silicone or foam, which are soft and sturdy enough to be used over and over again before being thrown away.

Custom-made earplugs are another choice, as they are made to fit the shape of the wearer's ears. They cost more than regular plugs, but they are easier to use and sound better.

Musicians who prefer wireless methods can use electronic earplugs with volume controls. The fact that these plugs can connect to Bluetooth and have batteries that can be charged is a nice bonus. Drummers and singers, for example, can get earplugs that block out loud noises without changing the quality of the sound they make.

When a musician chooses earplugs, they should think about their preferences, their income, where they play, and other things. When it comes to buying hearing protection, musicians can make better decisions if they know what options are available and what benefits each one has.

Why do musicians wear earplugs?

Earplugs for musicians are made to block out noise without changing the quality of the original signal. Unlike generic foam earplugs, which drown out all sounds evenly, musician earplugs reduce certain frequencies while keeping the overall balance and clarity of music or speech.

Acoustic filters are things like diaphragms, mesh screens, and chambers. They can be used together to block out loud noises while letting quieter sounds pass through without being blocked. With this improvement in sound quality, musicians can hear themselves and their friends better when they play live or in the studio.

Some earplugs made for artists have filter inserts that can be taken out and replaced with different filter strengths. This makes them useful in a wide range of situations and musical styles. Many designs also have wires that can be taken off or carrying bags that can be taken with you.

Earplugs are a must-have for musicians because they protect their ears and help them play better. They let bands play at safe settings without lowering the quality of the sound or making it hard for members to talk to each other.

The pros and cons of earplugs for musicians

Made just for players, earplugs block out noise without changing the sound. Like any other object, there are good and bad things about them.

Earplugs made for artists can cut down on background noise without hurting the quality of the sound. Because of this, they are great for people who want to listen to loud music without risking hearing loss. Also, most earplugs made for artists are made of soft materials that are still comfortable even after being worn for a long time. They fit well in the ear canal and don't stick out, so they won't get in your hair or get in the way of your glasses.

The price tag could be a problem, though. Most of the time, artist plugs cost more than regular foam earplugs that you throw away after one use. Custom fitting services from an expert are an extra cost.

They might not protect construction workers in noisy environments as well as industrial-grade earmuffs or earplugs would. If you are often exposed to loud noises at work or in your free time, you may need more safety measures.

On the other hand, a good set of artists' earplugs might be all you need to protect your hearing at live shows without missing out on any of the fun.

How Musicians Can Choose the Right Ear Muffs

It can be hard to find the right pair of musician's earplugs that protect your hearing without lowering the quality of the sound. Here are some things to keep in mind when looking for earplugs:

Find out how much noise you want or need to block out first. players often need 15 to 25 decibels to protect their hearing while still being able to hear themselves and their fellow players.

Next, think about how easy it is and how much it is. Look for soft earplugs that you can shape to fit your ears. If you want the most relaxing experience possible, you should look into customized options.

Think about the songs you like to work to or sing along with. Some filters that make some frequencies easier to hear than others are favorites of artists.

Think about your budget and how long the item will last. Even if there is a cheaper option, musicians would be smart to spend money on good earplugs to avoid lasting hearing loss.

By having these things in mind, you'll be well on your way to finding the best earplugs for musicians to block out snoring.

Conclusion

A good pair of musician's earplugs is a good investment for any music fan or singer who cares about their hearing and wants to enjoy live music without hurting it. Different kinds and styles each have their own pros and cons.

To choose the best earplugs for artists, think about what you need, what you like, and how much money you have. Talk to an expert if you want the best fit and protection for your hearing aids.

Remember that hearing loss is lifelong and can have a big impact on your life. Don't wait any longer to get good earplugs for your instrument; do it now.

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randomness-is-queen · 1 year ago

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I completely agree here. Whilst I love an au where he was adopted by them (or someone else) the emphasis is on AU, Alternate Universe. This simply didn’t what happened in canon.

Honestly, his struggle of not really having any adults that made him feel loved and cared for and safe when he was young and on into his teenage years is one that, whilst sad, feels almost necessary. Not for the character, don’t get me wrong, but it just fits so well in the story. It’s one of the things that really reminds you that yes, this is a separate story and not a rehash of the first one after all the lo’ak/tsireya beats and the RDA’s “let’s destroy something beloved and sacred and necessary to get material goods” (love those too, but you can’t deny it’s an echo of the past).

To deny this character’s struggle feels like denying the real people who’ve experienced the same thing (without the blue aliens I hope, otherwise please see a doctor). His blue stripes are what get to me the most I think, that and the early scenes of him. Norm, I don’t care that you yelled after him to take a spare exopack, he looks to be around six, chase after him and give him one you idiot, do you really expect a six year old to be able to regulate that? Better yet, give some batteries/exopacks/whatever is needed to keep the filter running to Jake an neytiri, you know this human child who can’t breathe Pandoran air is going to be spending far too much time there, as children are wont to do with little to no guidance, so just make sure the kid has supplies around the place so he can breathe, honestly.

Anyway, after that long rant… please don’t try and erase Spider’s struggles, they are personal to a lot of people. And erasing them isn’t actually ‘sticking to cannon’ as you seem to think. If you want to make an au where he didn’t struggle, sure whatever, go ahead, but it’s not what happened in the canon storyline.

confession: look, on the one hand, I like Spider, I do. He’s an interesting character and I agree that the hate he gets in some corners of the fandom is absolutely ridiculous. He’s not a backstabber or villainous or a flip-flopper or whatever other bullcrap, he’s an orphan kid in an alien world trying to find somewhere to belong, the hate is silly.

but.

I’m growing equally tired of seeing posts with an attitude of trying to guilt-trip people for not viewing him as a member of the Sully family. Canonically, he simply isn’t (sorry, but the movie directly, explicitly stating “he wasn’t part of our family” outweighs concept art with an “unofficial adoption” songcord bead).

The Sully family is very personally meaningful to me right now, so naturally I want to focus my energy on them. Spider is of course a close friend of the family, so sometimes he will be included just like Norm or other characters are sometimes included, but I’m not going to go out of my way to shove him in every single time…and quite frankly, the more I see folks acting like it’s somehow problematic to not consider Spider a member of the Sully family (which again canonically he isn’t), the less I want to do stuff that includes him :/

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saksukei · 3 years ago

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joshua bad boy au

masterlist

joshua hong, was actually shrouded in mystery,,,, no one knew anything about him except that he was obviously a bad boy,, so everyone just stayed of his way,,, well almost everyone

he became friends with yoon jeonghan and seungcheol,, two biker heads who everyone drooled over,, they were scary,, with their leather jackets,, silver chains,, bruised knuckles,,, it's safe to say,, everyone wanted to either be them or be with them

you were a regular kid,, just trying to get through highschool and not make any enemies,,, your parents had already told you you needed to work on not decking people in the face,,, otherwise they’d change your school

so you had to give in

joshua had seen you in school plenty of times,, he was in your English class,,, but that's all it was,,,

imagine his surprise when he sees you at his dad’s mechanics shop with a ’67 Chevy Impala,, oh boy

“uh– where is mr hong?” you ask joshua,,, “he said I could drop my car today.”

“dad isn't here,, there was some emergency,, but I can check the car for you,” joshua replied.

“right, yeah, that'd be great.”

the two of you walked to the car,,, it was awkward to say the least,, you had never known it was actually Joshua's dad's shop,,, mr hong who was super sweet,,, on the other hand,, joshua’s reputation said otherwise,,,

“the engine has been making a lot of noise with smoke coming from the exhaust–”

“yeah, it needs an oil change,” Joshua answered,,, he had already propped the hood of the car open,, “it’ll be done by tuesday.”

TUESDAY??? THAT WAS 4 DAYS AWAY

“can I get it earlier, please?” you ask,, you actually needed the car to pick up your sister from the airport,, and both your parents were busy,,,

“look, this stuff takes time, alright?” Joshua replied. “plus I don't have any extra help and dad isn't here either.”

“um can't seungcheol or jeonghan help you?”

“hah as if I'd ever let those two in my workshop.”

“alright– then I'll help,,” you say. “look– I really really need the car to be fixed.”

joshua stops at stares at your face,,, “you will help me?” he snickered. “do you even know anything about cars?”

“excuse me?” you hiss. “how can you judge me without–”

“if you knew anything about cars, you'd know you needed an oil change beforehand,” joshua interrupted.

you sigh, “fair enough but I can just be a helping hand!” you tell him. “i’ll just help out with giving tools and all of that jazz.”

“no,” joshua refused.

“please,” you pleaded.

seeing the look on your face,, joshua groaned. “fine but, don't ask me stupid questions or breathe within a radius of me.”

“THANK YOU”

and so joshua told you to show up tomorrow morning to the shop,,, and you did,,, only to find joshua sleeping on the couch,,, covered in oil stains,,, it seemed like he slept in the shop only,,,

instead of waking him,, you thought you'd prop the hood of the car open,,, seeing all the car parts,,, you had spent last night reading up on car parts and basically what each of them did,,

“okay so– that's the battery, the radiator and what the hell is this?” you muttered, confused.

“that’s the air filter,” you heard a voice behind you.

turning around,,, only to see joshua yawning,,, his hair all messy,,, his cheeks pink,,, he looked adorable– wait what?

“you really did your homework huh?” joshua asked,, stretching,, his white shirt riding up and showing his cute belly button,,

he was so adorable OMG WHAT A BABE

“yeah well I figured it wouldn't help you if I was an idiot so,,”

joshua chuckled in reply,,,

and that's how you spent the whole day with him,,, fixing cars,, he was surprisingly a decent person with a shit ton of patience,,,

like when you handed him a spanner instead of a screwdriver,,, or when you stuck the wrong wires together,, he didn't get angry,, he just told you to do it again

and that's how the day ended,, there was still some cleaning of your car left,, so you bid Joshua goodbye and went home,,

the next day,, you figured that since joshua’s dad was gone and you hadn't seen his mom or anyone to take care of him,, he probably wasn't eating that well,, so you made pancakes for him and you,,

putting them in a box,,, you headed to his shop,, it was already open and he was awake,, yawning,, as he looked into the bonnet,,

“hey you're up early,” you commented,,

“yeah,, a customer just came in with his car and he said if I get it done by today he’ll pay me extra,” he explained.

“okay seems fair but–” you held up the box of pancakes, “have breakfast,,, i made pancakes.”

joshua stops for a second,, you made him breakfast?? no one had ever done that,, his dad was always too busy,, his mom, ever since the divorce, lived in another state where her new job was,, he had to do everything himself,,

it wasn't bad,, it just reminded him he was alone,, which is why seungcheol and jeonghan would take him out for dinner,, or his dad would sometimes cook to give him a homey feeling [even if it was burnt, it was the effort that counted]

“joshua–?” you say,, snapping him out of his thoughts,,

“y-yeah,, I'll be right there,” he says. you take out the forks and the small bottle of maple syrup you packed,, as you sit on the table in the corner of the shop,,

the two of you eat in silence,

“i fixed your car by the way,” he tells you.

“really?” you ask and he nods. “oh my god thank you so much!” you say as you take another bite. “you’re a life saver joshua.”

“no problem.”

“but as a thanks, I want to help you fix other cars too. You held up all your other orders for me, so it's the least I can do.”

joshua smiles,,,, he doesn't know what it is,, maybe he just feels at home with you or maybe it's the fact that you just make him feel things he’s never felt before,, his heart feels warm,,

“you know– instead of helping me with cars, maybe, you could go out on a date with me,” he says, his cheeks red. “if you'd want to of course.”

“how about both?”

joshua grins, “oh hell yes.”

#seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen headcanons #joshua hong x reader #joshua hong imagines #seventeen x reader

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whumpster-fire · 4 years ago

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His Dark Materials Thoughts: Daemons and Disability / Neurodivergence

More stupid His Dark Materials thoughts and headcanons because I still can’t get over this series.

I’m really curious how various disabilities would interact with having a daemon. I’d guess that for a lot of conditions the daemon could basically fill the role of a service animal, especially if the person had the condition from childhood so they could settle in a form that was capable of helping - e.g. daemons assuming forms with strong senses of smell to check for allergens. And this would probably be true for some neurological conditions where there’s something physically messed up in your brain.

However, I think for neurodivergency, it’s different: if the human is neurodivergent their daemon is neurodivergent as well. And while a human and daemon are “one being,” daemons still have their own personalities and emotional needs.

Using autism as an example because I’m autistic and can speculate based on my own experiences:

Autistic people are usually very close to their daemons, even by the standards of the setting, because while anyone’s daemon inherently understands them better than other people do, the gap is much, much wider for ND people. Real talk, I think I was drawn to this series and the concept of daemons so strongly because the idea of a companion I could fully trust and interact with without the constant fear of breaking some unknown and unspoken rule and who fully empathized with me was something I wanted soooo badly.

A lot more sensory information is “transmitted” between human and daemon than most people notice because the brain tends to filter it out. Autistic people’s brains aren’t as good at filtering out “junk” sensory info though, and this includes what comes through over the bond between them. You can’t actually see through your daemon’s eyes but autistic people tend to feel shared sensations more intensely and pick up on things like smells and textures that a neurotypical brain would tune out (and this works in both directions). This makes autistic people more vulnerable to sensory overload than in our world.

Sometimes only one of the pair is verbal, or at least verbal with others / much more comfortable talking to others. If it’s the human, people tend to not notice because “daemons should be seen and not heard” is kind of the norm in the setting but if the daemon is speaking for the pair most of the time it’s seen as weird. Some autistic people may also be more comfortable talking to other people’s daemons than to the humans, which isn’t technically part of the taboo but it’s pretty frowned upon.

For both tactile-seeking and tactile-defensive people, the daemon’s settled form is often determined by the need for physical affection - either because as they grow into teenagers it becomes less socially acceptable to touch other people as much as they need to, or because the only touch that feels safe for the pair is with each other. A settled form doesn’t always follow the human’s preference, but is always a form the daemon is comfortable with and likes. Daemons settling in forms their human actively hates is rare, and usually means there was already serious conflict between them with the human refusing to accept their nature - i.e. sailors’ daemons usually take seabird forms or mammals like otters or minks that can stray away from the water, settling in a dolphin form was noteworthy for a reason because it’s such a drastic act, and IMO that was probably caused by the human trying to abandon the sea entirely and fighting with his own daemon about it until she was like “Let’s see you take us away from the sea now!”

But anyway: daemons don’t just settle in forms based on symbolism or social convention if it’s going to make both them and their humans miserable and/or mess up their relationship IMO, and usually they show a preference for forms similar to their settled one in the years leading up to settling (e.g. Pantalaimon clearly liked his stoat/ferret and wildcat forms and mostly took other ones for reasons of practicality and convenience, and I said this in another post but I think he became a pine marten because it was the closest he could get to combining the two). If a pre-adolescent human and daemon are super cuddly with each other and that touch is really important to them, the daemon will probably settle in a form that’s compatible with that. It’s rare for autistic daemons to settle as something as small as a mouse where they could only be carefully pet with one or two fingers, for example, and they usually take mammalian or sometimes avian forms.

Brushing a daemon’s fur, and other techniques such as joint compression that are hard for a person to perform on their own body, can help both of the pair calm down and cope with sensory issues.

Unfortunately, given how fucked up the culture in Lyra’s world is, I shudder to imagine how they treat neurodivergent people. I can totally imagine people treating this closeness as the cause of autism and not a symptom, and treating it as a child “being socially impaired because they only interact with their daemon / let their daemon do too much for them and never learn to socialize with other people.” Aside from attempting to cure autism with Intercision, there are probably a bunch of horrible, abusive treatments passed off as “therapy,” like forcing children to do therapy sessions with their daemon trapped on the other side of an opaque, soundproof wall (doesn’t interfere with their bond if it’s within the separation limit, but keeps them from seeing / hearing / touching each other), caging the daemon, muzzling them to keep them from speaking for their human, or even not letting them sleep in the same room.

Another common problem is parents / educators treating an autistic person’s daemon like a service animal and offloading their responsibilities on them. Just expecting them to handle something like a meltdown or panic attack by themselves because “You’re part of them, you understand them!” and ignoring that the daemon also has fears and anxieties and sensory issues.

Expectation: Your autistic child’s daemon understands them better than you ever could and will be able to quickly and discretely calm them down from a meltdown / sensory overload without you needing to get involved and actually do your job as a parent.

Reality: You have two autistic children who share a soul and feel each other’s emotions and pain, and one of them likely has at least one sense that’s way more sensitive than a human’s. They can certainly be a source of comfort and support to each other, and can pick up on each other’s warning signs and remind each other to use coping strategies / get out of stressful situations and not try to “push through,” but this is a skill that takes time and maturity to learn, and it only works before the pair are completely overwhelmed. As stated above autistic people feel sensations and emotions from their daemon extra-intensely, and vice versa. A full-on meltdown or panic attack is such an overpowering flood of negative emotions that, combined with the stress of whatever caused the meltdown in the first place, usually just overwhelms both partners, especially in children. The best you can hope for is whichever one holds it together a bit longer is able to help their partner into a safe place and ask someone for help. Even if the daemon (or human) doesn’t have a meltdown their emotional battery will still be absolutely drained for probably the rest of the day.

#His Dark Materials fandom #daemons #silly headcanons #autism #not whump

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princeleyjeans · 3 years ago

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Support-a-hoe: Squishmallow sales & Wishlists!

You can tell my balls are big right now and no doubt tomorrow it'll be anons a-go-go cussing me out for daring to make this but similar to previous posts, this is a reminder there are STILL Squishmallows for sale despite shipping off a good few via the birthday weekend (A huge thank you to those who bought the imported Squishs and just purchased from us overall) and after some safety checks, I've learned you can link amazon wishlists without fear of people turning up at your window demanding blood for those stickers they bought you--- SO! I'm doing a perma post thing for anyone who needs directions to our ebay shop AND my amazon wishlist in case you wanna donate directly instead of buying a lil soft toy and dealing with Ebay taking a percentage. Am I famous enough to even think about trying this? No. Will I ever be? NO. Am I here trying anyways? YES! But, overall people like my work sometimes and for those who wanna support me, heres how, it doesn't even have to be me, you can grab the girls something nice like more food for their stockpile since pugs with medical needs...yeah, you can imagine the stress of finding anywhere that stocks food safe for one prone to bladder stones. Or some toys since Lil goes through hers like nobodies business (Especally the soft squeakies which she loves to rip the hearts out of...defo my pug, ain't she), outfits, etc. --- And before anyone comes by with that "WHY GET DOGS IF YOU CAN'T AFFORD FOOD AND SHIT FOR THEM 'Grumble grumble' " That ain't the case, at all, its simply a fact that I have friends and followers who like my work and at times, wanna support me for my contributions (Small as they may be) and so I'm being productive as a pug parent, if someone's cool to grab a few cans for Lil or Chubster May, why say no so people online don't call you entitled and grabby? Yay autism for removing that filter lol. --- So yeah, you don't HAVE to support me, but you CAN if you WANT to, even if its more sending the girls something and you hate my ass but love theirs, I don't care, long as they're looked after, fuck me. (But if anyone wants to, I've got the neon pink ps5 controller on my list and Beck keeps telling me I don't need 3 despite constantly rotating each so it evens the battery use. So if you wanna remove her ability to moan at me << Wink Wonk >> ) eBay, as usual, is: rebeccahn879 And Amazon Wishlist is: https://www.amazon.co.uk/hz/wishlist/ls/2AZKEOGJMVKDY?ref_=wl_share Still got a good amount of Squishes left and if you see anything you like from my personal collection via my Insta, just DM me with an offer and we can talk about it. Okay byeeeeeeeeee

#Support me #Squishmallows #ebay #Amazon #proceeds #donate #im a hoe yes

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maybedefinitely404 · 4 years ago

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Day 17: Royality

@tsshipmonth2020 (does this still count so late?)

What’s that? Ly creating content? Unbelievable. (I have writer’s block, leave me alooone /j)

Thanks to @marshymoop for suggestions and encouragment when making this bad boy! Love ya <3

Day 17 - Everyone has heterochromia, one eye is your natural color the other is your soulmate’s natural color. Once you meet all eyes return to natural color.

Content warnings: food/drink mention, alcohol, mentions of hangover, vampires, referring to drinking blood as “eating”, non-explicit blood drinking, being chased.

Word count: 6.9k

THE CITY OF DEWMORE WELCOMES YOU

Patton tapped his fingers on the steering wheel excitedly, nearly vibrating as he passed the weathered sign. Beyond it, beckoning him forward, stood a forest more densely packed and darker than he’d ever had the pleasure of exploring, the achingly tall pine trees swaying minutely in the breeze, their tips barely visible through the blanket of fog. Just imagining what could be held within those depths made his leg bounce; forgotten, moss-drenched stone paths, broken stumps of fallen trees that hadn’t made a sound upon impact, patches of mushrooms scattered in the shadows, and whispering creeks. It was the perfect way to spend his spring break, and one his photography teacher had wholeheartedly encouraged him to take. If he hadn’t had so many midterms to mark, Patton was almost sure the man would have tried to join him.

Almost an anxious tic at this point, he ran his free hand over the photography bag in his passenger seat, as if to make sure it hadn’t disappeared in the three minutes since he’d last checked. The thing was his prized possession, given to him by the very same photography professor at his university. It had been the elder’s own, before he got his newest camera, and gifted the whole set to his favorite (but don’t tell the others) students. It was full of perfectly kept lenses and two miniature tripods, extra batteries and memory cards, speedlights, and most importantly, the camera tucked safely into the biggest pouch. It was more expensive than Patton would ever have dreamt to buy, so it was truly a gift he’d never forget. Now it was up to him to finally take some shots worthy of the thing.

The forests continued to grow denser and thicker until, in almost a shocking snap, they disappeared to reveal a quaint city that he hadn’t quite expected. The first few buildings he passed looked like they may have stood there for hundreds of years, weather worn and faded. Their signs were either scratched to nothingness or blaringly new, shining metal names standing out against an ancient backdrop. He was looking for a motel, figuring there had to be one, even in a town of less than two thousand people. His backup plan was to just sleep in his car. He’d brought his sleeping back and extra blankets, so it wasn’t a huge concern, but he’d still prefer a bed. But whenever he’d tried finding anything online, he’d come up blank.

A fog still covered the town, and though it created an air of calm and mystery that Patton was itching to capture, he also knew the area was surrounded by towering mountains that he also desired so badly. To his right, the buildings stopped abruptly, revealing a grey beach, all rocks and no sand, criss crossed with logs, opening to a dark lake. The other side wasn’t visible through the mist.

The further he drove, he realized the buildings weren’t improving in their modernity, just giving way to more and more old infrastructure. One stood out, a grocery store, it’s lights piercing through the evening dim. Patton didn’t get a look inside before he passed, once again surrounded antique houses and shops, a post office to his left, and a tavern just across from that. A sign above the door read “Vacancy” in peeling white letters, and that was all the enticing Patton needed to pull his car into the gravel parking lot in front of the building. There was only one other vehicle there, a matte red pickup truck that he parked next to, and what appeared to only be three more parking spots. From the high placed windows, a soft orange light bled, and a round of raucous laughter filtered through the cracked open door. Patton smiled. The photographer inside him was going to have a field day here.

He stepped up the concrete steps and ruffled his hair with one hand so it covered his eye, heaving a sigh in hopes to calm his nervous butterflies, and pulled the door open.

All at once, the chatter inside died, and Patton internally shrank as every face in the tavern turned to look at the newcomer. There was a moment of tense silence as he tried his best for a smile and met the gaze of the men scrutinizing him, drinks forgotten on high wooden tables, jubilance halted. Patton waited with baited breath, for someone to do something, why were they all just staring, when a voice spoke from behind the bar.

“Don’t worry about them, sweetheart. We don’t get a lot of new people around here.”

And the lull was broken as suddenly as it started, the men now ignoring him in favor of joking over mugs of fizzing ale. Patton swallowed thickly and turned to the voice, shoving his quivering hands into his pockets and shaking his head again to assure the curls were safely covering his eye. As usual.

The man standing before him, leaning on the bar with an easy smile, was almost enough to take Patton’s breath away. If he were a religious man, he’d go so far as to call him heavenly. Eyes as dark as the depths of the surrounding forests, auburn hair pushed back from his face in what he could only think to describe as an intentional bedhead. His skin was too flawless, teeth just a couple shades too white, everything perfect in a way that was almost…

Patton couldn’t put his finger on it.

“What can I get you, newbie?”

“Uhm-” Patton took a cleansing breath and sat at one of the barstools, all of them empty seeing as the crowd seemed more drawn to the tables in the center of the room, “I don’t come to bars that often. I don’t know.”

The bartender hummed, pushing up his already rolled up white sleeves and giving Patton a once over, almost investigating him. “You drink?”

“I… I guess.”

“Been on the road for a while, tired?”

“Do I look that exhausted?” Patton breathed a laugh, suddenly aching to pop his spine. He’d been driving since before dawn for the past three days, barely hunkering down for a decent sleep before he was off again. He’d been really excited to get here, plus he didn’t want to waste more of his meager break driving.

“I got just what you need, darling.” With a wink, the bartender straightened up and pulled down a series of bottles, cracking his knuckles with flourish before measuring them into a silver canister. “So what brings you to Dewmore?”

“I’m a photographer,” Patton said, “Or, a photography student. Down in Florida.”

The man whistled as he shoveled ice cubes into the mix, “Long drive for some pictures.”

“I’m… dedicated,” Patton laughed, scratching at his neck nervously. “My prof recommended it, said it might be a nice place to spend my break.”

“I assume you’re looking for a place to stay then, as well?” He plopped a cap on the canister and began to shake it above his shoulder, grinning widely, “These guys are always just like, ‘Gimme a beer’ this, ‘Gimme a beer’ that. It’s great to actually make fun drinks again.” With hands flying too fast for Patton to process, he grabbed a glass, popped the lid of the shaker, and poured the deep orange drink, tossing on a green sprig and sliding the drink over. “Enjoy.”

Patton took a cautious sip of the drink and had to fight not to sigh, the refreshing taste a welcome relief after three days of gas station Gatorade and hotel sink water. He could barely taste any alcohol, more focused on the ice cold sweet tartness at the back of his tongue. The bartender looked pleased, huffing a satisfied laugh and beginning to put away his bottles. He was taking another sip, satisfied with the backdrop of joyous chatter and clinking glasses, when he remembered why he’d come in.

“Yes, I am. Uhm, looking for a place to stay, that is.”

The bartender looked at him over his shoulder, “We haven’t had visitors in… a while, at least. You’ve pretty much got your pick of the rooms.”

“Do you have anything facing the water?” He took another sip, the photo possibilities already flowing through his mind. One through the window, just far back enough to catch the flow of the curtains and the chipped wood of the window ledge, a monochromatic lakeshore in the bottom third, a barely visible mountain looming ahead…

“Sure thing, sweetheart. Let me just finish this up, and I’ll get you on the ledger.”

“Patton.” He downed the rest of the drink and rested his elbow on the counter, chin in his palm, an easy smile playing on his lips.

“Hm?”

“My name’s Patton.”

“I’m Roman.” Tossing the towel over his shoulder, Roman gave him another wink before disappearing into the back room, coming back moments later with a thick black book. He was already thumbing through the pages, finally landing on the one he wanted, and spun a pen between his fingers.

“What’s your last name, sweetheart?”

Patton spelled it out for him, and was surprised when the man clapped the book shut after the final letter. “That’s all you need?”

“Yup.”

“No… ID, or anything?” It was at that moment when it occurred to Patton that, although he was legal, his baby face often prompted bouncers and servers back home to ask for identification. Roman hadn’t even blinked before serving him.

“Got anything to hide?”

“Uhm… no, I-”

“Good enough for me. It’s not like we’re a high traffic tourist spot. I don’t think we’ve had anyone take a room in, like, two years, and who knows how many before that. Frankly, I wouldn’t care if you were on the run for murder. Don’t kill me, and we’re solid.”

Patton blanched, unable to tell if the man was being sarcastic. Finally his expression cracked into a smirk and he brandished a key towards Patton, dangling it by the ring. “I’m messing with you. I mean, don’t kill me, that’s legit. Here you go, cutie. Let me know if you need anything.”

With that, he sashayed away with a tray of beers (when on Earth had he filled those?), and the men whooped loudly, startling Patton.

“Easy, boys,” Roman purred, beginning to round the tables, and Patton hopped off the bar stool to get his things from his car. He couldn’t wait to pass out in bed with the knowledge that he could sleep in however late he wanted.

-0-0-0-

But apparently sleep didn’t have the same ideas as him, because even after he was in comfortable clothes and tucked into the covers, he continued to toss and turn. Maybe it was the concept of being alone in a strange town, or the full moon shining through the thin curtains, or just plain excitement, but he suddenly felt wider awake then he had since he started this trip.

There was a soft rattling somewhere across the room and, with begrudging acceptance that he wasn’t going to sleep any time soon, fumbled his glasses on to search for the offending sound. With a grumble, he threw off the blankets and padded across the room to the window and tossed back the curtains, giving the moon a scalding glare for shining so darn brightly. It was the window, fitted loosely in its frame, being shook by the gentle wind that was causing the noise. Patton gave it an experimental tug, followed by a more forceful yank, and found it didn’t budge down at all. Instead, it continued to rattle mockingly, in what sounded almost like whispered giggles as he crossed his arms across his chest.

Fine. He turned his attention to the scenic view before him, letting out a minute shudder as a small gust of wind blew through his thin pajama shirt. Moonlit waves crashed against the rocky shore, tossing up silver spray against the dark backdrop of the forest. Patton took a breath, feeling an overwhelming sense of peace just staring at the silent town, the stone spires rising above the forest-

Wait, what?

Patton blinked sharply a couple times, leaning forward until his nose bumped the window and squinting through the glass. Those… things... definitely looked like manmade objects- the shape made it impossible for them to be natural- but you’d think he’d remember something that looked like a castle directly outside his window. In fact, he’d spent a significant amount of time upon first entering the room just admiring the view, and a castle one hundred percent would have been on his radar. Oh, if the thing was abandoned, imagine the photo opportunities, and even if it wasn’t he could totally just get some of the outside-

Yeah, there was no way he was sleeping now.

Before he’d even processed what he was doing, he’d slipped out of his pajamas and hurriedly pulled on the outfit he’d laid out on the desk chair, because there was no way he was digging through his suitcase to scrounge out more clothes. He threw a beige sweater over his white shirt, however, remembering the chill the night had brought and, after he’d adequate tucked them into his slacks, he threw his camera bag over his shoulder and trotted down the stairs.

Unsurprisingly, the first floor tavern was empty of all customers, overhead lights traded for softer electric lamps on the walls and the illuminated sign above the bar, where Roman was wiping down the counter, seemingly unbothered by the late hour.

“Can’t sleep, sweetheart?” The bartender called out without turning around, tossing his rag across the counter and into a full soapy bucket behind the bar.

“Uh, yeah, something like that,” Patton responded, shaking his bangs so they covered his eye. “I think I’m just too excited to start getting shots.”

“Mmm, you and me both.” He waggled his eyebrows and pulled a bottle of what looked like whiskey off the shelf. “What’s your poison?”

Patton snorted but shook his head, patting his camera bag, “I want to go out, and it’s probably not smart to drink before going out in a strange town at night.”

Roman shrugged before pouring himself a shot and downing it in one smooth motion.

“You’re allowed to drink on the job?”

The bartender hummed, replacing the bottle and locking the cabinet presumably for the night, “Once my tavern is empty, I consider myself off the clock. And I’m my own boss, so I hereby give myself the night off. I have a coffee machine in the back room, one of those Keurigs, if you want something fancy. Hasn’t been used in ages, but I’m sure if you wanted something, I-”

“No, it’s okay. Really.” Patton ducked his head and messed with his shirt, making sure the white collar stood above the neck of his sweater. He made his way over to the bar and took the same stool as before, leaning on the counter as Roman dumped out the dirty cleaning water into the sink. The clock above the bar, barely illuminated enough to see, revealed it was just after midnight. “Are there any old structures, like churches or anything, in the forest?”

Roman tilted his head, giving Patton a look over his shoulder he couldn’t quite understand.

“There’s nothing there besides wolves and ticks, sweetheart,” he said slowly with an almost condescending smile, “Why? Hoping the little town in the middle of nowhere has a mystery?” He rinsed out the bucket and placed it in the cabinet under the sink.

Patton shrugged, scratching at his temple, “I saw something outside of my window.”

“Like a tree?” The rag was rinsed as well and draped over the faucet.

“No, definitely not.” He tried not to feel too offended that Roman was clearly teasing him, but he was certain what he’d seen hadn’t been a tree. They were too tall, too angular, and too symmetrically placed for that.

“Pattycake, I grew up hunting with my dad and partying in those woods, and I would know if something were there.”

“Are you sure?” Patton implored, “There’s definitely something man made, could it be, like, an old castle, or something?”

There was a moment of silence between the two as Roman continued to look at Patton like he was crazy, the barest hints of an impish grin tugging at his lips, before he sucked in a sharp breath; as if he realized something.

On a dime, Roman’s expression contorted into one of anger, eyes alight with fury as he leaned into Patton’s space. As he spoke, his voice almost reverberated, like a choir speaking in unison.

“There is nothing in those woods, Patton. Understand? Don’t go wandering into places you don’t belong, or you won’t like what you find.”

Patton reared back from the forceful words, hand coming up subconsciously to readjust the hair on his face. Roman leaned just a tad closer, growling out a warning, “Got it, sweetheart?” The electric lamps on the walls, once creating such a homey, soft environment, suddenly flickered and Patton flinched, whipping around to face the large room as it seemed to strobe under the malfunctioning lights. Goosebumps spread across his arms as the flashing grew faster and his hand clamped over the back of his neck when a shiver raced up his spine.

“What’s going on? Why are-”

And then the lights went out completely, an eerie quiet settling over the tavern. Roman was silent. Was he even still in the room? Could he have left so quickly? The only sound in the empty room were Patton’s shaky breaths, in through the nose and out through the mouth, as he fought down a scream. He wasn’t a fan of the dark.

A single street light barely shone through the window, too dim to even light up the tables near the glass, and Patton turned to focus on it. In through the nose, out through the mouth. In… out… in… out-

A silhouette appeared in the window.

The lights were back to their original gleam before he could even open his mouth to scream, filling the room with a dull hum as if nothing had even happened. Blinking rapidly, Patton took a calming breath (it’s just old lights, it’s just old lights, relax) and swiveled back in his chair to find that Roman was smiling at him innocently, cleaning out a glass with a rag.

“Everything alright, sweetheart?”

“Didn’t you see that?” Patton asked incredulously.

“See what?” The bartender placed the glass into the last space in a row of them, giving Patton that same condescending grin as before.

Patton sighed and lifted his glasses to rub his eyes tiredly, shaking his head. “I think travelling for so long has me seeing things.” Careful as ever, in the same fashion he’d so masterfully perfected in elementary school, he shook his head to cover his eye- his stupid, left, ‘soulmate’ eye- before removing his hands and letting his glasses fall back into place.

Other kids won’t like it, sweetie. I don’t think the teachers will either.

I know you can’t help it, my love. If I could take this burden from you, I would. But this is yours to handle until… well, you know.

I don’t know why, Patton. You’ll find them someday. And then you’ll understand.

“Why do you do your hair like that?”

“Hmm?” Patton blinked.

Roman smirked, leaning casually on the counter in front of Patton, “Covering half of your face like that. You shouldn’t, you know. You’re a stunner.” With that, he reached forward, intent on moving that hair out of his face.

No.

“NO!” Patton yelled, stumbling off the barstool just as Roman’s hand made contact with his face. He ducked his head, roughly scraping his hair back in place with shaking hands, but the damage was done. A single cute guy compliments him and he forgets the habit he’s built up for years? How could he be so stupid-

“Everything alright? I’m sorry for scaring you, sweetheart.”

Was it possible he hadn’t seen it? Maybe Patton had moved fast enough, maybe the bartender had been too surprised to get a good look, maybe everything was fine. Roman didn’t seem horrified, or at all perturbed. Instead, he just looked… worried.

Either way, after that reaction, Patton was aching to be left alone to stew in his embarrassment. His rented room held nothing for him that he wanted, and sleep felt farther than ever, so his only choice was outside. The promises of a maybe-crumbling ancient building, illuminated by a full moon, were far more tempting than anything inside had to offer.

“Actually,” Patton said nervously, “A coffee would be great.”

Roman squinted at him, biting on the inside of his cheek before huffing a breathy laugh through his nose. “Alright, darling. Give me just a second to dust off the Keurig.”

The moment he disappeared behind the door to the backroom, Patton tightened his hold on the camera bag and sprinted from the tavern, into the grips of the cool night.

-0-0-0-

What would he say when he got back to the tavern? Would Roman make him leave the inn? Had he crossed a line he hadn’t known existed; would he have to cut his trip early because he couldn’t help his curiosity? Was bothering the only innkeeper in town really the smartest decision to make?

All wonderful questions that Patton wished he’d considered before running.

But if he did have to leave, and if this was his last night in this delightful and equally terrifying little town, he was going to make the most of it. At least, that’s what he’d thought he would do as he’d left the few city lights behind and treading deeper into the forest. He had a flashlight with him, thank goodness, so he wasn’t completely screwed, and he’d already gotten a few great shots. He stayed in the areas that the full moon could still shine through the trees, and some of the clouds had rolled away, so he was having the time of his life working with silhouettes against the star filled sky (thanks to the little to no light pollution Dewmore offered).

The more prominent thought in his mind, however, were the spires steadily growing closer above the treeline. He couldn’t understand what Roman had been talking about. How could anyone living in this town not see whatever he was walking towards?

(Admittedly, curiosity was also a huge reason he was chasing something he’d been warned to avoid. He’d never been that great at impulse control.)

It had to be nearly two in the morning when he came to an incline; a steep path constructed entirely of rocks fist-sized and larger. At the top, Patton could just barely see what looked to be the back of the castle, and he bounced slightly on his toes in excitement. He couldn’t tell from this distance the state it was in, or if it was possible anyone still lived there, but dang it if he wasn’t going to give it a go before he left. He’d walked all this way, after all.

The first few steps up the hill were the loudest thing he’d heard since he’d started his midnight adventure, and he cringed as they dropped away under his feet, knocking against each other as they fell to the ground.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

Patton spun around, his flashlight slipping out of his hands. It rolled down between the rocks, casting split second light beams in every direction as it bounced towards the source of the voice, and stopped dead in the middle between the two of them. It settled on an indent created by Patton’s steps, aimed at the newcomer. Patton breathed a sigh of relief.

“Roman, goodness gracious! You scared the bejesus out of me,” Patton laid a hand on his chest and let out a huge gust of air. Roman didn’t move, and for the first time he noticed the absolute glare the bartender was giving him. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Uhm… sorry about the… leaving. Thing. Are you mad?”

“You shouldn’t be here.”

Well, apparently they weren’t going to talk about it. “Oh- I’m sorry, is this private property? I didn’t see any signs, I’m- Wait, but look, Roman! See, that’s what I was talking-”

“You. Shouldn’t. Be. Here.”

Patton blinked at the harshness in his words, taken aback. How was this the same easy going bartender that he’d met earlier tonight? Whatever was beyond this hill, though, Roman obviously wasn’t going to allow Patton to see. Maybe it was dangerous, or something? Either way, he couldn’t deny his disappointment. “Yeah. I’m sorry, I’ll leave-”

“How did you get here?”

“I… um, walked?”

“No!” Roman hissed, finally stepping forward and plucking up the flashlight from the ground, “You shouldn’t be able to see the castle, or go near it, how the hell did you get here?!”

Before he could answer, the other man froze, whipping around as if he’d heard a noise from his left. And then Patton blinked, and Roman was in front of him, pulling him back down to solid ground. He dragged him by the arm to a fallen tree that was propped up against its own splintered stump, leaving it angled just a few feet off the ground.

“How did you- You were just over there, how-”

“Get down!”

“What?”

“Get. Down!” Roman shoved his shoulders and Patton had no choice but to collapse, blending into a pile of ferns beneath the bend of the tree. “Take off the backpack, put it in front of you. It blends in better than you do.” He yanked off the dark green camera bag as he spoke, situating it in front of Patton. “Don’t move, don’t make a sound, don’t fucking breathe, Patton, I swear.” The flashlight flicked off and thumped to the ground as Roman walked away, leaving him standing in the pale moonlight. Patton debated reaching for the flashlight, but that would mean exposing himself from the foliage he was tucked in and under, and Roman had seemed really scared.

There was a rustle in the underbrush in front of Roman, and the photographer shoved his fist into his mouth before he could gasp.

“Roman, it’s so nice to see you back home. It’s been far too long.”

“It’s been hardly a month, mother.”

The woman that emerged from the tree’s shadows wore a black cloak, nearly blending into the forest around her as the fabric swirled hypnotically by her ankles with each step. Silver embroidery made up the tight bodice and strung together the corset front, meeting at the bottom in an intricate knot and trailing almost down to the earth in two strands. How her intricate updo had stayed intact through a walk in the forest, Patton couldn’t understand.

However, if this was Roman’s mother, he did understand where he got his looks. The only word that came to his mind was ethereal; all smooth pale skin, those same impossibly dark eyes, red lips curved in a constant, easy smile. She was beautiful, but she was terrifying, and Patton backed up more into his fern hiding spot.

She lifted her flared sleeves towards Roman as she stepped into the moonlit opening and he pulled her hands towards himself, kissing both of her cheeks before releasing her.

“A month is too long, darling,” She purred, letting the back of her hand trail down his cheek. “I don’t understand why you find it necessary to stay amongst those humans when you could be with your family.”

“Because I want more than just… lounging, and talking with my brothers. Do you have to bring this up every time I visit?” Despite his slightly aggravated tone, he leaned into her touch.

“When you’re older, you’ll look back at these choices with embarrassment and resentment.”

“Maybe.”

“I just don’t want you to blame me when you do.”

“I could never, I promise.”

She sighed heavily, “They miss you, Roman. We all do.”

“Which is why I’m here, mom. You act as if I’ve been gone a millenia.”

“Worrying is what a mother does best,” She smiled fondly, tapping his cheek with her finger, “You’re home, darling. Drop the glamor? It must be tiring keeping it up constantly.”

There was a moment of hesitation, where Patton couldn’t help but tense up along with the man in front of him. Then the air shifted, like it had been holding a breath it could finally let out, and though there was nothing different that Patton could see from Roman’s back, a certain jolt of fear hit him out of nowhere.

“There’s my boy.” The woman drew him in for a proper hug, one hand reaching around his back to rest on his head. She pressed a kiss to his hair when he wrapped his arms around her in turn. Suddenly her nose wrinkled and she pulled away, holding his shoulders at arm’s length. “Dearest, you smell like humans again.”

Roman chuckled, but there was a new quiver in his voice. “The only flaw in being surrounded by them so often. Let me change, and I’ll come meet you for dinner.”

She didn’t move, eyes narrowing as she watched his face. “No… it’s not you.”

“What? What else could it possibly-”

“There’s a human here.” Her voice was utterly calm, but she pushed Roman behind her resolutely. “There must be.”

“What?!”

A low growl filled the air, and it took Patton a few moments to realize the sound was originating from her. She stepped past Roman, her dress flowing soundlessly along with her as she glared into the woods around them.

Her eyes flashed red.

Once again, Patton shoved his fist into his mouth to hide a scream. That same alien jolt of fear returned as she moved closer to him, seemingly zeroing in on his location.

“Mother, come now. You’re being silly. Humans can't even come near here, remember? You made sure of that yourself!”

Patton tore his eyes away from the advancing woman and his breath caught in his throat. Roman had followed his mother, trying to placate her gently with a hand on her arm, and in doing so, had turned towards Patton’s hiding spot.

When Patton opened his eyes shortly after being born, he was taken away from his mother, despite his parent’s strong objections and his wails. He was returned hours later, much to their relief. On his birth certificate, his right eye was labeled blue. His left eye, the side usually taken by the natural color of his soulmate’s, was labeled ‘Defective’.

When he was set to start school at six years old, his mother sat him down on his bed and taught him how to properly cover his left eye with his hair. They’d grown it out enough to do so. Patton had asked why it was necessary, and subsequently learned the truth that not all people were as accepting and loving as his parents.

When he was ten, he returned home from school crying. He dropped into his mother’s arms and she held him until his sobs turned to sniffles, until he could explain between sharp breaths that a bully at school had revealed Patton’s eye while trying to force him into a fight, and… well, his classmates hadn’t taken it well. Those who weren’t downright afraid of him, refused to eat or sit with him anymore. But it wasn’t fair. He couldn’t help it!

His eye was labeled ‘Defective’, because never before had the doctor’s seen a child born with a red eye. Not the pale color that came with pinkeye, or an allergic reaction, but the iris itself was such a bold, blood red color that it had left the team scrambling for any record of such an incident. They were left with more questions than answers. But the world had yet to understand how soulmates worked in the first place, so they chalked it up to another universal mystery.

Every day for as long as he could remember, Patton had stared into a mirror first thing in the morning, greeted with calm, airy blue on one side, and fiery, almost electric red on the other.

So it was jarring to see such a sight, yet reversed, on another person. But as Roman tugged again on his mother’s arm, there was no denying it; the man’s own color was a gleaming ruby, and the other was Patton’s very own blue.

“Mother, look,” Roman blurted out, scooping up the discarded flashlight from the forest floor, “This is a human tool. I’m sure this is what you’re smelling.”

She ripped the device from his hand, shaking it in his face, “That is still far too close to home, Roman! Humans have been here, and I guarantee they are still nearby.”

“And you don’t know how many there are, Mom!” Roman insisted, taking her hands. “It doesn’t matter how they got here, or why they did,” A slow grin spread across his face, highlighting a pair of glinting fangs, “Why don’t you gather the family, and we can find them together? I can’t even remember the last time I really ate.”

The woman was satiated by this answer, though she still cast the forest cautious looks. “Stay put, Roman. We’ll be back shortly.” Her nose wrinkled again. “Along with a change of clothes for you.”

And then she was gone, the only remaining trace being the tiny cloud of dust she’d left behind. Roman was calm for a moment, making sure she was really gone, before his demeanor dropped. The cocky smirk was gone, and he no longer held the confidence he’d had, either as a bartender or in the presence of his mother.

“We don’t have a lot of time, c’mon! Let’s go!” He crouched before the log, extending his hand to Patton.

“What the hell are you?!” Patton shrieked. Interesting, that those were the first words from his jumble of thoughts that came out.

“Oh, come on, do you really need to ask? I’m pretty sure you already know!”

And yeah, Patton was pretty sure he knew. He wasn’t an idiot. He’d had a teen Twilight phase, so of course the obvious answer was there. It just… it wasn’t possible. His brain was scrambling for any kind of other solution, anything that made sense, but it all kept circling to the same answer.

The cute bartender at the inn was a vampire.

…

Okay then.

Next problem.

“I… yeah. I think I got it.”

“Good! Now let’s go!” Roman grabbed Patton’s hand and yanked, effectively pulling him from his hiding place and nearly tearing the arm from it’s socket. Patton stumbled from the sudden movement and tripped on his camera bag, yelping as he crashed into Roman’s chest.

The vampire’s hands instantly wrapped around his waist, steadying him as he found his footing.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m all good, I just-”

Roman was much taller than he’d thought; that was the initial thought that came to mind as he looked up at the man holding him. The second was, well, the fact that his jaw had dropped open upon seeing Patton’s eyes, and for the first time since they’d met, the guy was completely speechless.

Patton felt his left eye began to tingle as they shifted into its own natural color. He ignored it.

“You really didn’t see it? At the bar?” Patton whispered.

“No, you moved too fast,” Roman murmured, bringing a hand up to Patton’s cheek. “You… you’re my-”

He must have sensed something, or heard something that was too quiet for Patton’s ears, because his head whipped towards the castle.

“We need to go. Now.” Roman intertwined their fingers and pulled him into a run towards the town.

“Wait, no! My bag!” He tugged hard to try and get his hand free, but he was truly no match for Roman.

“Not important right now, sweetheart!”

Without the aid of his flashlight, and enveloped by the darkness of the forest, Patton was totally blind, relying only on Roman’s grip to keep him from falling. Branches hit his face and roots reached up to trip him, but every time he stumbled, the hand tightened and pulled him back upright.

A howl cut through the air.

“What now, werewolves?!” Patton shrieked.

“Don’t be ridiculous, werewolves aren’t real!” Roman scoffed, “They’re normal wolves! What, you think just because we’re vampires, we’re unable to have pets?”

“Is this really a conversation we should be having at this exact moment?!” Patton shot back.

“You’re right, you’re right, okay.”

The howls were growing closer, and it was clear by Roman’s increased pace that this wasn’t about to be a friendly reunion.

“Can we outrun them?!”

“I take it you’ve never met a wolf!”

Patton looked up at him desperately, already struggling to keep up the conversation and keep up with Roman.

“I thought vampires had… like, super speed!”

“I wouldn’t be able to go for long, especially carrying you. Jump!”

Patton leapt blindly, feeling the side of a fallen log scrape the toes of his shoes. The landing was rough, sparks of pain shooting up his legs, but he was quickly pulled back upright.

“I don’t have the energy! I haven’t eaten in months!”

There were more yowls, definitely closer this time, followed by the sound of multiple animals fighting, barely louder than a voice shouting (presumably) at the racket. Whether it was the wolves having a spat, or a prey animal that had gotten in the way of the hunt, Patton didn’t know. It drew out a small whimper from him either way.

He didn’t want to be next.

“Do you trust me?” Roman suddenly gasped, holding his hand firmer.

“What?!”

“Do. You. Trust. Me?!”

Patton didn’t exactly think he had a choice right now. His feet were aching, his lungs were burning, and he wasn’t sure he could run another minute without his legs giving out. “I- Yeah! Sure!”

“Good enough,” Roman grunted bitterly, screeching to a halt, and using his grip on the other’s arm to stop him too. Before Patton could even bring himself to complain, or scream at him, or just incoherently yell, the vampire was drawing him to his chest, puppeting his arms so they were around his shoulders.

“Hold on.”

Obediently, Patton tightened the grip. “Why-”

And then there was a sharp pain in his neck, and his eyes widened. The sting almost immediately morphed into a pleasant warmth, the distant howling being replaced by a faint humming, the buzzing of his own mind calming, becoming numb until the only thought in his head was Roman, Roman, Roman-

He could feel Roman’s hand on his head, not restricting it, but cupping the back of it so he could lean against him as he stared up at the night sky, the full moon, and the slow blurring of the tops of the pine trees. His other arm was wrapped around his waist tightly, holding him up, and Patton was beyond grateful for the support as his legs began to turn to jelly. The last thing Patton felt was the vampire scooping up his legs and his head being cradled against the soft material of Roman’s shirt.

Then everything went dark.

-0-0-0-

Patton woke up slowly, squinting against the harsh sunlight streaming through his window. He dropped an arm across his eyes lazily, letting out a low groan at his pounding headache. There were voices downstairs in the tavern, and what sounded like dishes clanging, and he wondered if somehow this place was also a restaurant. How on earth could anybody run an establishment like that? It’s like the place never slept-

A wave of nausea pooled in his gut due to the speed of which he sat up but that wasn’t important, not right now. He flung his blankets back and… oh. He was dressed in his pajamas. Last he could remember, in the woods, running with Roman, he’d been in day clothes, in the sweater and shirt that was now draped on a chair across the room. His camera bag was... on the desk. His shoes were by the door, dirt free.

He raised his finger tips to his neck, expecting to feel a raised scab, or scar, any sign that he’d been bitten. There was nothing.

He swung his legs over the sides of the beds and immediately shut his eyes, fighting off an explosion of dizziness induced sparks that shot across his vision. It sure felt as if he’d lost some blood. As much as he didn’t want to believe he had a hangover from one drink, that could also be an explanation. He’d always been a bit of a lightweight.

A dream. Was it all just… a dream?

A feeling of disappointment washed over him and he sighed, running his hands up through his hair. Something soft snagged on his fingers and he carefully detangled it from the curls, pulling it out curiously. He blinked at the fern leaf between his finger tips. That definitely hadn’t happened between his car, the tavern, or the room... So-

He sucked in a breath sharply as his eyes locked with the mirror’s reflection in front of him, every thought coming to a halt.

Because staring back, for the first time ever, were two perfectly blue eyes.

I have a bunch of world building ideas that weren’t included in this fic, shoot me an ask if you have any lore questions!

General taglist:

@max-is-tired

@private-snippers

@joylessnightsky

#lywrites #tsshipmonth2020 #royality #roman sanders #patton sanders #vampire au #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides au #sanderssides #sanderssidesfanfiction

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toosicktoocare · 4 years ago

Text

i’m experimenting with a multi-chapter fic because it’s been a while since i’ve written one, and i wanted to share the first chapter with you all!

It can also be found on AO3 here!

it’s called “one for the birds” and it’s a BatFam multi-chapter.

“Dick?”

Dick’s mid pull up, the wooden rafter rough against his palms. He glances to see one of the new ones, Jenny, standing hesitant in the doorway, her eyes cast downward and one foot scuffing the dusty floor.

He lets go of the rafter, dropping to the floor with practiced ease. “What’s up, Jenny? Everything okay?” He keeps his tone light, inviting, as he does with all the new kids.

When Jenny looks up, her matted, brown hair hangs forward in her face, half hiding her wide, trembling eyes. Dick studies the fear silently, his jaw clenching, as he waits for Jenny to gather up the courage to say what she needs to say. He’s learned far too quickly that if he pushes anyone here to speak before they’re ready, they’ll lash out via flying fists or running away. After five punches to the jaw and three near death runaway scenarios, he worked on building trust with each person that stumbles upon his shelter.

“Some man is here to see you.”

Shit. Dick rakes his fingers through his sweat-soaked hair to hide the slight tremors jolting through his hands. Could be the cops, he thinks. Though, he’s made it very clear to everyone that he’s only able to maintain this warehouse as a shelter with the promise to GCPD that everyone will behave. There’s too much crime in Gotham as it is, one cop had said to him, so if he keeps his kids in line, the cops will turn a blind eye to the trespassing.

Maybe not the cops, then. Unless there’s been trouble with one of his kids. But then, he would have heard about it by now. Word of mouth travels fast amongst his crew. He mentally picks through today’s schedule, running brief analyses over each person on today’s food crew. He currently has a handful of troublemakers, a rowdy group of pre-teens taking their anger of their current life situation out on each other. But, he’s been keeping their daily duties separate to avoid conflict, so—

“Yo, Nightwing!”

The budding fear diminishes the second Dick hears the rough, familiar voice accompanied by steady footsteps that deliberately avoid each creak in the stairs. He smiles at Jenny and nods to the door. “Thanks, Jenny. I’ll take it from here.”

The second Jenny turns, she bumps into Roy, who steadies her with a hand clapping down to her shoulder.

“Why thank you, sweet messenger.”

Dick cocks a brow as Roy steps around Jenny and enters the room, arms as wide as the smile stretching across his mouth.

“Code names again, Roy? Really?”

Roy crosses the room and slaps a hand across Dick’s mouth, and Dick has to swallow back the annoyed urge to lick his palm.

“No speaking of Roy Harper here, Dickie. Only Arsenal when I cross through this threshold.”

Dick swats Roy’s hand away, tilting his head. “Arsenal? That’s new.”

“Yeah, well, I decided to stop rolling with Speedy. Sounded too drug-like, if you ask me.”

Nodding, Dick side steps around Roy and jumps up until his hands are latching onto the low-hanging rafter above him. He ignores the unsettling creaking against his weight as he pulls himself up until his chin’s tapping the top of the rafter.

“Well, Arsenal,” Dick starts, dragging out the new code name, trying to gather a feeling of it on his tongue. “What brings you here?”

“Well, first of all, you are looking at the new mid-day stocker at Queen’s Market and Café.”

“Shit, you got the job?” Dick drops down after his tenth pull-up and arches his back into a stretch before moving downward to work through a set of push-ups.

“Yep, Oliver said he sees real potential in me. He said I’m a good last piece to his arsenal.”

Dick pauses, laughing lowly under his breath. “Of stockers and baristas?”

“Yeah, he’s kind of a weird dude, but he gave me an advance so I could get an apartment.”

“Have you told him about…” Dick doesn’t finish; he doesn’t need to. The dark flash that pulls across Roy’s face says enough.

“He knows I’ve been in between homes, but that’s it.”

Dick can fill in the gaps easily. He’s been in this warehouse since he was 12, after fleeing from his first foster family. Roy joined him not long after, and together, the two built this place up, swaying reputation and all. He finishes his tenth push-up and slowly gets to his feet, a sigh slipping past his lips.

“I’m not embarrassed by it, Dick. It is what it is. I just… Oliver sees so much in me. I don’t want—”

“You don’t want him to judge based on this,” Dick finishes for him, gesturing around the two. The room, one everyone’s dubbed as “Leader’s Lair” for years now, has a sleeping bag in one corner and a box in another. There’s a pile of worn-out books beside the sleeping bag, and a beat-up, battery-powered lamp off to the side. It’s bare boned, but it’s been home for Dick for years.

“I get it, Roy, and I’m happy for you.”

“I can still help,” Roy starts, quick tone mismatched from the determination lighting his eyes, “so you aren’t out busting your ass every night for minimum wage to feed everyone. I can give you money—”

“It’s fine,” Dick interrupts, and he means it. More than just offering a place for people in need, Dick wants to push everyone to better themselves, to thrive off independence, and Roy did just that. He doesn’t want anyone to feel like they owe him or this place anything. “I mean, I’m not saying that if we cross paths, I’m not going to insist you treat me to lunch,” he jokes, jabbing Roy with his elbow. “But that money is yours, Roy. We’ll get along just fine.”

There’s conflict in Roy’s eyes, the fire dimmed, and Dick’s already prepared to counter-argue anything that comes out of Roy’s mouth, and he knows Roy knows this; the two have been butting heads for years, but Dick’s wit always gives him the upper hand.

“Fine, but the next ten burgers are on me.”

Smiling, Dick claps a hand to Roy’s shoulder. It’s only been a few weeks since Roy left to pester Oliver Queen daily regarding the “Help Wanted” sign outside his shop, and he’s genuinely glad to see him.

“What else?” Dick asks finally. “You said ‘first of all,’ so what else?”

Roy’s smile drops instantly, and Dick matches his frown, his own brows furrowing.

“There’s this kid,” Roy starts as he begins pacing the small length of the room. “He’s been hanging around Oliver’s place for about a week now. He’s doesn’t beg for money or anything, he just… watches the store. All day.”

Crossing his arms, Dick waits patiently. He’s heard this type of scenario multiple times before, but Roy’s demeanor is telling him that there’s a catch. Then again, Dick’s grown to learn that there’s always a catch.

“So, I finally approached him. Went through the whole spiel: asked him if he was lost, had a home, needed a place to stay, yadda, yadda.”

“And?”

“He told me to fuck off.”

“Look, Roy, I don’t—”

“Look, man, I know, okay? Frankly, the kid’s a prick, but I’ve just got this feeling—he just… he’s been through some shit, man. I can just tell. And weirdly enough, I don’t think he’s casing Oliver’s place. I just think he’s tired, and he needs help.”

“I don’t force people to come here.” Dick replies flatly, and Roy nods quickly.

“I know. I just… You’ve got a way with people, Dick. You know I’m shit at talking to people, but you? You could help him.”

“I can only help people who want to be helped.”

“He does. Just trust me on this?”

Dick moves to the small, cracked window, shuddering slightly at the chilly breeze that filters in through the splintering gaps. It’s nearing the end of October now, so he should probably work on re-covering gaps in windows to keep the warmth in now that it’s getting a lot colder.

There are numerous uncertainties flicking through his mind, the top one being that he’s bringing someone dangerous into the warehouse. He has too many kids to keep safe, with the youngest being only 7. He’s accepted long ago that he can’t physically save everyone and that some people just aren’t going to work in the warehouse. Still, among the sea of uncertainties currently attempting to drown his brain, there’s one small, nagging bubble of air that he can’t help but cling to.

Dick’s been there before. After watching his parents die, he shut down, and he’s spewed his fair share of curses at adults trying to “help,” not understanding at the time why he couldn’t just shut himself away to properly grieve. He didn’t have anyone to help him; he worked through his shit on his own, until Roy came along. So maybe…

“Name?” He sighs, turning from the window.

“What?”

“You said you talked to him. Did you manage to get his name?”

“Oh, definitely not. After he told me to fuck off, I stayed, and he very calmly threatened to slit my throat in my sleep.”

Dick swallows thickly around a pull of instant regret. “There are multiple kids that hang around Oliver’s. How will I know who he is?”

“Easy,” Roy starts. “He’s always got this red hood pulled up and over his head.”

#batfam #batfamily #dc #fanfic #modern au #dick grayson #roy harper #nightwing #arsenal #jason todd #red hood

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poison--ivory · 4 years ago

Text

Get Back Up Chapter 2

Warning: Injuries

Fast moving blurs of greenery past by the window, leaving Anthony to be at peace nearly this whole train ride. He's only been on here for a day and so far it's been fine, but now he had another six hours, which felt even longer than the whole day trip. He knew he should have brought something to entertain himself, he did grab his phone before leaving, but he wanted to save his battery life and he was pretty sure Val could track his calls. Well, before he removed the implanted tracking chip every stripper had installed when hired. He had his gal pal help remove the chip, which she did with no questions asked. To be honest he was still terrified that Valentino could find him even without the tracker. He couldn't back down now, he needed to stay strong. That's why you ran away in the first place and why you borrowed some cash from ya gal pal. You made it this far, no backing down.

Snapped out of his stupor, a sharp yell caught his ears. Piercing his eardrums, startling him for a second before finding the source of the ear damage causer.

A mother across from him was tending to a baby who seemed to be having a screeching match with them self was the source that interrupted his train of thought. He didn't mind considering he heard worse when he was in his family's business. The scream of final breath is terrifying compared to this lullaby of wails. Tears stream down her reddened cheeks, tiny fist balled up and her legs kicked out. Anthony chalked it up to her being hungry or needing a diaper change, but he already saw her leaving the bathroom to change her, and still more cries and whimpers came forth. He really didn't mind the screaming, but that did not mean others didn't loath the noise. He witness two men and a teen girl try to argue with the mom, not making the situation any better with all the goddamn yelling. Fuckers even wanted to get her kicked off the train at the next station.

Right before he even could stand up to defend her, a middle aged man sitting in front of him stood up. He had sleek black hair with strands of grey and he sported an aftershave. The bags underneath his eyes proved he needed sleep and bad, mainly those bloodshot eyes needed rest. With a gruff voice grunted out a response, "Can you people shut the hell up, your making this trip effing longer with all your babbling. Crying more louder than the actual baby." The two men had a glaring match with the guy before returning to their seats. The girl still wanted to argue, but was snatched by her embarrassed friend sitting next to her. The man sat back down with a huff complaining under his breath that he needed a drink and smoke. This guy sounds like fun and I will emit, he's a little handsome. Although it is tempting to flirt with that sweet piece of ass, he still needs to stay on the down low. Just in case any of Val's friends were anywhere near him.

Everything settled down soon enough, everyone minding their own business now and our quiet journey to Louisiana back on track.

Anthony decided that sleeping was the best time consumer, chiefly with his sore body that was taking its sweet time healing. He felt like vomiting, and the motion of the train didn't really help with the nausea. Paired with the flame that rose in his chest felt unbearable. Groaning he gazed out the window into the orange and blue sky. The purple mixing in beautifully complementing the blue tone and splashing in with the orange, so nicely. This was enough to keep his mind away from the pain spreading throughout his body.

With his mind at ease, he fell in the darkness of his subconscious thought.

_____________________

Jostled awake by the sudden force of the train skidding to a stop, startled him enough that his heart was still rushing with adrenaline. People were already single filing out the doors, with the exception of the mother and that black hair man. He's helping the lady out with her bags, while she carried her baby carrier. Before he knew it he was the only one in the car booth, rushing to gather his suitcase and tripping on the way out he managed to make it safely outside without any trouble. Well besides the bruises and the fractured pinkie he noticed when getting out that cab a day ago. He set it right and splintered it without any difficulty. His chest felt like it's on fire and his leg flared up again when he moved it. C'mon now , Toni you made it this far. You can bear through the pain a little bit more. (y/n) will take care of ya, you just need to bear the pain. You got this. He mustered up the strength to carry on and passed the passengers.

The trip to her house is fucking far, and to add on to that she does live in bum fuck nowhere. A loud rumble came from the dark sky and he felt a prickle on his face. Fucking rain. I could hail a taxi, still have a thousand left I grabbed from the apartment. Full on buckets of water hit the ground, covering his body under a minute.

limping off the platform and into traffic of bodies of people hustling into different shops and corner stores. Lights illuminated the night like lightning bugs. The smell of seafood and the scent of breads made his mouth water.

The city bustling with energy that kind of made Anthony feel contempt with his life in a long time. The cars cruising down the street reminded him some southerners still had old cars fashioned back in the 1940's. Not all, but he saw the occasional cruiser and nearly yelled when he saw a yellow cab and by that he yelled out loud. Shocked when the cab did see him, but didn't question and shot himself in the taxi.

"Take me to this address, will ya?" He handed the scrap paper to the guy, who nodded and placed the address in.

A string of coughing fits caused his throat to get scratchy and sore. Cursing to himself that he better not have caught a cold. Clutching his sides to ease some pain he felt by compressing his waist. The cabbie asked if he was alright, and he answered he's just dandy.

It didn't take long to navigate through traffic and into more urban areas. While the cab driver was in his own world listening to the radio, Anthony couldn't stop thinking about how he was going to just walk up to her house and convince her to let him stay. He started to rehearse his lines in his head without sounding, so desperate. If he was being completely honest with himself he never called her and ignored some texts she sent. He was not a great friend when it came to (y/n), with all the kindness she gave in return he gave back sarcasm and annoyed looks. But, she never hated him,I hope, you had to have done something awful for her to hate you. Not saying she doesn't dislike certain people that rub her the wrong way.

Groaning and clasping his hands around his leg. It went completely stiff, he couldn't feel his entire right leg give out. Fucking perfect. Blowing air through his clenched teeth, tried to bare through the itchy, tingly feeling running through his calf and thigh. Should have gone to the hospital before coming here, just didn't want to take risks.

I'm coming, (y/n).

_________________________

Humming to yourself you tended to the dirty laundry that the kids wore the other day. They thought it was a great idea to play in the muddy brook, out in the woods. They both came through the back door soaked head to toe with brown water and thick mud. Scarlett and Sage had to take three baths for the dirt to scrub off. Leaving the corner tub a muddy and crusty disaster. Al at the time had the day off, which he spent with our son, Liam. He's a quiet kid, and I mean the most silent four year old you could ever meet. Which is ironic considering you married the loudest man on earth. You could be in the basement and still hear Alastor speaking to some of his friends. He hates it when you bring his voice in question or he twists it around to point out your too soft spoken way of talking.

Loading the last batch of clothes in the dryer, you slightly sped walk down the hallway and turned into the kitchen. On instinct headed straight for the coffee machine. Grasping the coffee grounds and filters to place them in their rightful order, before filling up the water tank. Pressing the on switch and strutting away to the fridge to gather eggs, bacon and bread from the top cupboard. Which you nearly died trying to reach for.

Peering out the window, the morning sky is still dark from the oncoming rainstorm. The backyard nearly flooded with puddles on puddles of water, The kids aren't stepping foot outside today. Sighing you knew if they stayed inside your gonna have to clean extra hard, those two are very animated. They'll never run out of energy, you could fuel a city with all that kinetic energy.

A soft thump came from the ceiling above and you guess that Liam fell out of bed. . . again. He's been doing that for a week now. Nothing a doctor visit told us that he was just having really physical dreams. The disorder called REM Behavior Disorder, causes people to rapidly move in their sleep, ranging from person to person. In our case Liam hallucinates, sleepwalks and talks out loud distinctly clear. Dr. Romero prescribed him small amounts of melatonin and if the medication wasn't working he could up it. You really hope it wouldn't come to giving you four year old too much medication. A long creaky noise filled the silence followed by small thumps of feet hitting hard wood. You hear your child sliding down the carpet padded stairway and dragging his feet through the living room and into the kitchen. Your little Liam blankly stared up at you, rubbing the sand out his eye. "Mommy, can't sleep.", trailing over to you and draping his arms around your knee.

"Come here, baby." Picking him up was easy, regarding that he was born pretty early, six months to be exact. " Do you wanna sleep on the couch?" He nodded slowly gazing over at the sofa.

"Can I have milk, please?"

"Of course you can, warm or cold?" He answered warm in a small voice. Then slowly sauntered across the hall into the living room, leaving your field of vision soon after.

Setting the pot down on the stove top and pouring the milk in carefully. Turning the heat up to medium before walking off to prep for breakfast.

Al usually likes his breakfast salty with bitter, black coffee. When you first started going out you noticed his taste very quickly. He hated sweets and anything that didn't meet his standards in culinary. Which he spent most of his time in the kitchen teaching you his method. This was passed down to your twins. They hated anything remotely sweet, you learned to drive around the troubling situation by making less sweet cakes with whipped cream and fruit. They love that sour taste of blueberries the most.

Liam's more like you who like sweets, but not over the top with the sugar. He loves eggs, but has a thing where he trades his bacon for sausage. He told you that he likes the texture of soft meat better than tough and breakable meat. You were quite surprised with his change of vocabulary, since he's just four and you still hear him talk with a certain baby tone.

Shaking your head, you glanced out the window again while the bacon sizzled on a low flame. A yellow cab pulled up to the house and dropped off a tall, lanky hooded figure, who walked, well staggered their way up to the path to the door. Who could that be? Husk was supposed to come by tomorrow, maybe he arrived in Louisiana earlier than expected.

But he would have texted right?

Pulled from your thoughts a few sharp hits to wood knocked you in functioning mode. Hesitantly stepping across the kitchen, and peering down the hall. You stared anxiously toward the thick wooden door that protected you and your family from the outside intrusions. Approaching the door with caution, you played out events in your mind of outcomes that could happen. Standing in front of the door, another round of sharp knocks frightened you and given rise to a series of fluttering heartbeats.

Taking in a quick breath and slowly released it. Grasping the door knob, unlocking the all four locks before leisurely swinging it open to face a tall man.

The drenched frame of a tall, lean man propped up outside the entry way of your house, placed an eerie sensation down the curve of your back. He seemed to be clutching his sides in such a constricting grasp, harsh coughs drew up small amounts of blood splattered on his chest. Groaning the guy began to saunter forward, losing his footing he suddenly, started to fall onward towards you. Barely catching the heavy set male's body weight you endeavor the pressure and drove your tiny body under the male.

Petite fingers latched onto the thin male and crept him over to rest upon the cushioning coach. Gazing down at the poor man face you gasped in bewilderment. Even with his face bloody and bruised you could still make out the who was laying on your couch.

"Anthony! What the hell happened to you?"

Another coughing fit hit him hard before sputtering out a response, "Got m-myself into some real serious s-shit." He tried to manage a smile, but ended up coughing up more small splatters of blood. His gaze wandered over to the other side of the couch. "Where'd ya g-get the kid from."

"We should worry more about the guy coughing up blood, than me having kids." Fun fact about your life you've experienced so many illnesses and deaths in your family that you felt like you could diagnose his illness. "Are you having any chest or throat pain?"

Gagging Anthony responded, "B-been having both f-or awhile n-now with muscle p-pain and n-nausea. F-fucking. . . headaches too." Your father had the same symptoms when you still lived in his house.

"I think you have pneumonia, Anthony. I-t's treatable if we take you to a hospital tight n-"

"No! no, to anything that c-could lead that j-jackass finding me."

"What did you get yourself into, Tony?" Pinching the bridge of your nose and slightly furrowed your brow. If he didn't want medical treatment, then I guess I'll mend him back to health. He is my friend, that did kind of ghost you. But, that doesn't matter right now, I need to save a life today. "Let's move you into the guest room. Not that far of a walk, just down the hall, c'mon now."

Heaving his dead weight up you persevered to the kitchen hall and took a left down the well decorated hall. Pictures of Al and the kids with wild game and the occasional picture of you here or there. Two of the photos consist of you holding newborns. You never did take the time to situate yourself in the photos or you just forgot while in the moment.

The floorboards creaked with each steady step you take. Some splats of blood dribbled down his chin and landed on the floor. You made a mental note to scrub the floors with bleach later on today. Leaning Anthony on the wall for a quick second to open the guest room door. Pulling him back into an embrace and hauled him into the room setting him down on the bed to rest. You left the room to gather clean bandages, ointment, tylenol and hot pot of tea. By the time you left to retrieve the tea Anthony wrapped his body in so many blankets he could get his fingers on.

"Are you that cold?" Considering turning up the heat in the house you were about to leave, but a hand snatched your wrist back.

"Wait, don't leave." You could see the isolated look in his eyes. Veering around you gazed down at the pale man.

"What is it, Tony?" A quizzical look on your face. "You can talk to me you know that, right?"

He shrugged, "Can we just talk, like about your life." He waved his hand off to the side. "Like the kid in the other room."

"Oh, my son Liam. He just turned four."

"Yeah, but who got ya knocked up." You handed him the tea cup and he carefully grabbed it.

"My husband and I have three children and we've been married for ten years." Smirking at his agape facial expression.

"M-married and not one, but three kids. Wait when did you get married!"

"I did invite you through text and letter. Did your address change?"

He opened his mouth to come up with any excuse, but sighed running his fingers through his hair. "Don't be pissed, but I did. . . well. . . ghosted you." Hearing that did make you feel beyond ignored, but keeping in touch with friends is hard and you tried your best to shove down deep in your jar of insecurity. "And I don't really check my mail anymore to be honest."

Taking a deep breath and letting it out you really tried not to get mad at him, but didn't trust your voice in this particular moment.

Anthony opened his mouth, but was cut off, by an amused tone in voice.

"Was I not invited to this magnificent show, darling~."

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greenninjagal-blog · 5 years ago

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The Rumor Mill Game (pt2)

You guys asked, and I have no self control at all. Have some more Intrulogical, now with Plot(tm). If you missed part one you can find it [here!]

Summary: If he thought himself a king of the office, then Logan was honored to be the guillotine. [aka When his coworker, Remus, decides to play a game, Logan is going to make sure he regrets it. Even if its the last thing he does.]

Words: 3506

Quick taglist: @chelsvans @faithfulcat111 @felicianoromano @holliberries @jemthebookworm @killerfangirl3 @silverflame-wc @stricken-with-clairvoyancy @thenaiads @treasureofpriam @midnightmagi @shadowjag @residentanchor

Read on Ao3 || My General Writing Masterlist

When Logan had first put on the ring, he hadn’t expected it to end like this.

But that was mostly his own folly: Logan should have realized that based on his (lack of) knowledge concerning the behaviors of Remus Prince, his imagined plan of action would be....upended. After all, he had barely known the man beyond the occasional sight of him in the break room where he teetered on the edge of the counter sitting much like a king as his subjects bowed before him.

Logan was of the sound impression that absolutely everyone who had been hired for his company was of the particularly stupid brand. Often times he had imagined his boss had sat down in the interviews and hired the first person who walked in and smiled, because clearly Beatrice from Accounting did not know what she was doing and her inability to use Excel spreadsheets had led him to far too many late nights correcting her work.

It was one such night that had lead to this...this ludicrous situation: Logan had been in his office all day practically tearing his hair out over his coworkers inability to count (what did you do with the decimal point, Kyle? Where did this five come from? Why are you all so inept?) and his coffee had gone cold, and he should have been leaving an hour ago, but these pages had been due two weeks ago and Logan hated leaving things unfinished.

He had a headache brewing from staring at his screen for so long. He peeled off his glasses and rubbed his eyes until they watered before glancing at the clock in the bottom of his screen. After a quick and efficiently ruthless curse towards Janet for being so late to turn in any of her sheets, he scooted back in his chair and had left to refill in coffee mug.

The office floor had been deserted for the most part. Logan should have been grateful, because that meant less possible nonsense to distract him from his work.

But unfortunately, he was quite familiar with Jen’s hair in a loose-but-still-formal bun and Quin’s scarf that they wore like a talisman to ward off bad omens. They clutched it the second they noticed Logan approaching the two of them, as if he had been coming to deliver an upsetting diagnosis and not to use the coffee machine they were standing in front of.

And because Logan was absolutely not in the mood to talk to either of them, Jen had caught sight of him and puffed her cheeks in anger, like some sort of puffer fish. She tuned to face him fully with her arms on her hips and gave him some equivalent to a “death glare”, as Logan assumed people would call it.

“What are you doing here?” She asked.

“I work here,” Logan said, perhaps a little snappish, “Now, might I get to the coffee machine?”

She had huffed, tapped her foot thrice, and then shuffled to the side just enough that Logan could get to the coffee machine.

Thankfully, just enough was still technically enough. He placed his mug beside the coffee maker and checked the cartridge for leftover used grinds because-- once again-- all of his coworkers were extremely disappointing when it came to using their brains.

Jen huffed again and she was close enough that absolutely all of Logan’s internal alarms started ringing. He snapped the cartridge --thankfully clean, Logan ideally wondered if maybe it was possible they were learning. Oh wouldn’t that be a miracle?-- closed and debated giving up on the coffee all together. But he could still see grid patterns when he closed his eyes, so he dug out his preferred coffee brand and set up the maker.

Quin opened their mouth and closed it again several times. It was clear from the way they shifted on their feet and and looked anywhere but at Jen or him that they were uncomfortable. Logan found himself praying to gods that he didn’t believe in that they would hold off until he had his coffee and was safely back in his office.

“I see Remus cleaned your mug.” Quin mumbled softly because the gods that Logan didn’t believe in don’t exist and he was on this planet purely to suffer.

But they had made a semi-valid point. Remus had cleaned his cup just as Logan had requested--just as was basic human politeness when using something of someone else’s possession, regardless of the fact that Remus Prince had not asked permission to use it in the first place. Logan felt his nose twitch in irritation at the memory of the other day.

“Yes,” Logan said between his gritted teeth. Had the coffee machine always been this slow? Or perhaps it was showing its age by taking longer to make his miserable coffee. He was sure that he could move some funds around to get them a new machine by Thursday if he could just make it back to his office--

“That’s all you have to say?” Jen sniped, “Just “Yes”? Unbelievable!”

“If you have an issue,” Logan said to her, “Please keep it to yourself.”

She slammed a hand on the counter, “I cannot believe you! Perfect Logan Ackroyd! You’re just like all the rest of them!”

“Curious how this sounds very much like you are not keeping your issue to yourself,” Logan commented.

“Jen--” Quin said, but she acted much like puddle of gasoline after a match dropped on it.

She got red in the face and her neat eyebrows smashed together as she stared down him with a snarl that most certainly did not belong in the workplace. She stamped her foot like some sort of child-- honestly? Logan shouldn’t have been surprised seeing how he had been able to hear the meltdown that happened after her messy breakup with Kyle. It had been so loud that Remus had even had the gall to look moderately shocked when everything had gone down.

“Where do you guys get off on taking advantage of your significant other’s trust in you?” Jen growled, “Is it fun for you? Do you not care about our feelings? Maybe we weren’t so far off when we said you were a robot, Mr. Ackroyd! You’re cold and cruel and I hope that when your affair comes to light--”

“Jennifer,” Logan hissed, “choose your next words extremely carefully, because I have spent eleven hours going over spreadsheets that have been done wrong and am not in the mood to listen to you prattle about lost love. In case you have forgotten, I very much have control over your sector and it will only take three emails to have you demoted and-or removed from this company.”

Jen’s mouth snapped shut.

Logan thought that was the first merciful thing that had happened all day. He picked up his coffee, holding it tightly in his hand despite the heat radiating off it and headed out of the breakroom.

He stopped at the door, as the dregs of the conversation spun through his brain. “Did you imply that I was having an affair?”

Quin was wringing their hands and Jen was clawing her nails into the counter. Still, they nodded.

“Who told you that?”

And really, Logan should have expected the answer. Of course it was Remus Prince, the advertising privateer who had turned the entire company into some sort of drama circus with his half truths and his lack of a mouth filter.

The Robot Extravaganza had stolen the peace and quiet of Logan’s work atmosphere and driven him up the figurative walls. That week alone had eight times more people rapping on his door frame than he had had in the entire year previously. And of course that ridiculous white board they had put up in the far wall as if Logan was incapable of reading and comprehending words. It was unprofessional and childish and Logan had barely gotten any work done when he had been constantly interrupted with mundane questions of “Logan do you need to eat?”, “Logan how do you shower without rusting?”, “Logan do you have batteries or do you plug yourself in at night?”, “Logan!”, “Logan!”, “Logan!”.

Not to mention the way that Remus had laughed the entire time as if he found the idea of Logan being harassed particularly amusing. And Logan hated that laugh. It was terrible and awful and grating, and it made Logan want to tear out his hair because it sounded so much like---

“Is that so,” Logan said absently to Jen and Quin. “Remus Prince told you I was having an affair.”

He shifted to hold his mug with both hands, his eyes slipping over to that counter where Remus had been sitting before, with that same mug between his legs daring suggestive thoughts. How many times had Logan seen him sitting there looking like he could control the whole world with a few crass comments?

It was a game to him, wasn’t it? A game that Remus loved to play because he always won.

And who better to fix that than Logan who had been craving for revenge like it was a figurative itch under his very skin?

“Ah, well then,” Logan said and then because he was very much not the type to let people misinterpret him, he added, “I hadn’t realized my husband’s antics would upset you so much, Jen. I apologize on his behalf.”

That got their attentions real quick. Quin’s neck cracked with the force of which they turned their head to look him in the eye. Jen blinked several times as if she was having trouble processing things.

“Husband?” Jen repeats, as if she hadn’t heard the term before.

Logan straightened his back, “I’ll repeat myself slower since this seems to be overwhelming for your small brain. Remus Prince and I are married.”

“You’re a real asshole!” She covered her mouth and then fluttered her hands in a bootless waste of motions. “You’re serious? Wait of course you are! How could I forget, necktie! Oh my god, you’re serious. You and Remus?”

Logan took a sip of his coffee. “I have spreadsheets to amend.”

“Wait wait wait! I want details! Logan get back, here!” Jen screeched after him.

Logan wondered vaguely if this was the reason why Remus spread these rumors so often: the short zappy thrill that had ignited his neurons was much more effective than his coffee could ever hope to be. And Jen had believed him without a hesitance-- which truly was revealing of her hot headed nature. It was, dare he say, exciting. He hadn’t felt this way since his college lab days when he had tackled the creation of experiments with unbridled vigour.

Just how much was she willing to accept just because Logan had been the one to tell her? Just how wild of an accusation could Logan offer up before she wisened up? How quickly would this get back to Remus?

Logan itched to set up an experiment to test it all out. After all he would only get one chance to do this: most certainly when Remus gathered wind of how Logan had turned his false information back on him, Remus would come clean and admit that they had never even seen each other.

It would ruin both of their reputations. Remus as someone who spread truths, and Logan as someone who could be believed in every instance.

But Remus would still choose it over allowing anyone in the work area to think they were married. Logan knew this easily, obviously, irrefutably. They were strangers, not even acquaintances.

“Janet! Janet!” Jen screeched surprisingly loud for someone of her stature. “Janet did you know that Remus and Logan are married?”

Logan hadn’t realized Janet was still there at all, but at the accusation she flung backwards from her cubical in her rolling office chair and nearly crashed into Logan on just feet from his private office door.

“Run that by me again!” She demanded, “Remus and Logan?”

Logan opened his door and let himself in but before he could close it, Janet wedged her foot in the way.

“No way! Remus doesn’t wear a ring!”

“Allergic to metals,” Logan listed off the top of his head.

“You don’t wear a ring, either!” Janet said grabbing at his hand and nearly causing him to spill his coffee.

And well….

Quin, Jen, and Janet were all standing at his door, ready to believe whatever he said. He could have just said he was also allergic to metals too, but there was dubious gleam in Janet’s eyes, because yes, this is the sole thing she seemed to be knowledgeable about.

If Janet didn’t believe him now, then Jen would get even more upset at him than before and that would ruin the surprise for Remus tomorrow. A half baked revenge wouldn’t be nearly as good as the one he was expecting.

So he needed a ring.

His eyes slipped over his shoulder to the dinner jacket slumped on the chair in the corner of the room, crumpled and abandoned and gathering dust with the filing cabinet and the box of records that Logan had arranged his first week on the job.

He needed a ring.

And really it was just for one night.

He could pretend.

So Logan swallowed the sudden unexpected lump in his throat and tracked the three steps to the chair to dig the silver band from the pocket. He tried to remember how long it had been there, how long he had tried shoving it from his mind, and pretending like it and the jacket and that night had never existed.

It had been a reminder for so long now: like a flashing sign in the night had warned him that a relationship would never be worth that again, that romantic pursuits were frivolous and fleeting and meaningless.

Regardless, it felt like putting on one of his favorite ties, like slipping into his shoes that were broken in perfectly, like it was made for him.

(It hadn’t been and wasn’t that the most ridiculous part of the story?)

It was only for one night, so he let Jen and Janet and Quin ogle over it and answered their questions efficiently. He tore into Remus’s reputation as subtly as he could, making Quin flee the room and Janet fan her face and Jen cackle. He made up a story about a summer wedding, about a honeymoon he thought was just ridiculous, about late night activities he could never imagine doing with anyone.

And when they left, Logan had stared at the band engraved so delicately for another ten minutes.

“A robot,” Logan said to himself.

Is that what he had thought, too?

Logan shook his head to clear his mind. He tossed the ring in his pencil cup and gathered his bag and car keys.

If he allowed himself to ignore the lapse in reality, he could even pretend like using the ring in this fashion was the same as saying “Fuck you” to the man he had almost married a year ago.

It was just one night, and an hour or so tomorrow morning after all.

Logan arrived the next day earlier than normal, which was an unexpected surprise. He got to flick on the lights and watch the floor illuminate itself. His shoes made a lovely type of clack on the tiling.

It used to feel lonely, being this early to work, but Logan found himself distracted by the anticipation of the days promised events.

He finished correcting Janet's spreadsheets and sent them off for proper filing, reorganized his desk, slipped on his ring, and managed to get his coffee brewed before most of the office had come alive.

"Holy shit," he heard Kyle whisper to Max, "Is Logan smiling?"

Curious. It seemed that he was. Logan settled himself against the wall of the break room, Remus’s preferred cup in hand, where he had an excellent view of the cubical where Remus came up with his schemes. Jen, Janet, and Beatrice were already huddling around the entrance, much like a committee of domesticated vultures preparing for a feast.

By the time that Remus showed up to the office, running three minutes late, Logan was nearly giddy. Perhaps he could understand why Remus did what he did, if this was the sort of feeling that he experienced every time he opened his mouth.

Logan had seen many beautiful things in his lifetime; one of his hobbies was visiting art museums, art galleries, movie premieres and the likes while on his mandatory three weeks of time off from work. Still nothing could quite capture the glee that was invoked directly into Logan when Remus’s eyes had widened and his jaw dropped and his face flushed with embarrassment when Quinn squeaked at the sight of him.

Remus Prince looked like a work of art when the world dumped him on the floor and left him too shocked to speak.

If he thought himself a king of the office, then Logan was honored to be the guillotine.

Except.

“Logie!” Remus whined, throwing his arms up, “I thought we agreed to keep it a secret!”

Logan’s smile vaporized, almost instantly, “Wait--”

“You Mischievous Mathematician, You!” Remus giggled crossing the area far quicker than a person should be able to cross that distance. Logan blinked and suddenly Remus was right in front of him, a foot, half a foot, a handful of inches. And his voice only seemed to get louder, bolder, more excited with every step. Logan had a hypothesis that all twenty eight of the workers on the floor were watching them with baited breath.

“Well I’m happy!” Remus said loudly for Kyle and Jen and Janet and Beatrice and, and, and-- “I’ve missed getting lunch together! Let’s go to the sandwich shop down the street!”

“Absolutely not--”

“Or we could do that Thai restaurant that’s your favorite!” Remus said, which tripped Logan up because Remus had noticed he preferred Thai? Logan couldn’t even remember the last time he had Thai! How could Remus have possibly known he liked Thai?

“I’ll pay!” Remus said when Logan hadn’t responded quick enough to turn down the lunch proposal. “Oh this is going to be so much fun, Lolo!”

And Remus came in far too close, closer than anyone has been to him in a year. His eyes were brown with flecks of green dark enough to seem like a swamp at Twilight. They gleamed as he fluttered his lashes at Logan and his mouth curls into a pointed smile.

“Let’s play,” Remus said so softly that Logan himself could barely hear it. And then he pulled back, and stepped away with Logan’s coffee in his hands. He took a long sip and licked his lip afterwards. “Mmm! Just how I like it Lo! You’re so good to me!”

Logan knew for a fact that Remus did not like black coffee. He’d seen the numbers that went into buying creamer for the break room.

Just what did Remus think he was doing? Playing along with Logan’s rumor reversal? Encouraging it?

Remus smiled at him. “Lunch it is!” He said and waved Logan goodbye with his fingers.

Of course Logan could out him right there, right then. All he had to say was that it was a lie and that he and Remus were in no way married and he had no intentions of having lunch together. But for some reason the words seemed to be figuratively jammed in his throat, leaving him with nothing more than splutterings to vocalize his frustration.

Fine. Logan inhaled through his nose, curled his lip, and twisted his watch on his left hand to center his thoughts. Remus would like to play a game?

Fine. Logan could play a game with him.

“Aren’t you forgetting something, dearest?” Logan said before Remus could get too far away.

He could see the way Remus’s eyes light up at the nickname, the twitch of his mustache where he was struggling not to laugh too boldly. “Am I?”

“I did make you coffee. Do you not tip your barista?”

“Ah,” Remus swirled the mug, “And how does my “barista” like his tips then?”

When Logan had put on the ring, he had not expected to end up with Remus’s lips on his.

And yet.

Remus kissed like he was dying and wanted to make every second last, like he was living for the moment, like he had nothing left too lose. Logan thought it was ridiculous that he tasted like pickles this early in the morning.

“I think you’ll find I won’t fold that easily, Specs,” Remus breathed when he pulled back.

Logan replied, “May the best man win.”

And then he took his coffee back out of Remus’s hands and headed back to his office with that ring firmly on his hand. It appeared that he would need it for just a bit longer.

Part Three

#intrulogical #sanders sides #logan sanders #remus sanders #Far too many OCs gross #Rumor Mill Au #Revenge getting #rumors #well fake marriage #sympathetic remus

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capricores · 4 years ago

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Hey, just wandering, have you figured out what love is? Has there a moment in your life where you've been like I love this person? Just figuring out what love is but it's confusing

ahhh you’re asking a very soft cheesy pisces rising scorpio this 💀 idk how to word this without making my own cap venus gag but to me love is just... comfortable? and it’s everywhere!! love is something i feel like we all experience in both small and big ways. to me love is my friends remembering small details about me. love is my best friend bringing me food when i don’t feel well. love is my younger brother trusting me with his secrets and worries and asking me for advice rather than anyone else. love is my boyfriend asking if i got home safe from work. love is people giving part of their pay to charities just so other people can live a little bit better, not for recognition. love is everything and everywhere!!!!!!! if you meant romantic love, for me.. i’ve only experienced that twice, and it’s very intense/strong. it’s kind of just something i know, it’s not rly a specific moment but a collection of moments that make me realize, if that makes any sense...? it’s this immense comfort with another person. a person where i can actually be myself without anxiety, worries of being too intense, without filtering (which is something i never do..so if i can be like that around someone it’s how i know). it’s the wanting to be around them all the time, but still being my own person. it’s them enhancing me and making me better, and vice versa. it’s wanting to grow and have a future with them. wanting to know every little thing about them and what they love and who they love. it’s them being able to calm me down when no one else can. it’s being able to talk to them/be around them 24/7 without needing a break (also a super rare thing for me and my terrible social battery lol). it’s missing them as soon as they leave. it’s wanting to help them and give them everything i have no matter what. it’s an aching, but not painful, feeling in my heart that i can’t ever really stop thinking about 🚶🏻‍♀️

#you caught me at a very soft moment omfg #this libra venus + mercury and scorpio sun transit byeeee #anonymous #question

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williston-force-portable-ac · 4 years ago

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Does Williston Force Work?

Williston Force is a product you won’t regret buying. You may have heard a lot about portable ACs and how they usually disappoint, but the Williston Force Portable AC is different. It delivers on everything it promises to do — it cools the air, filters dust, and works as a humidifier.

But surely such a device like the Williston Force Portable AC would be difficult to operate, right? Actually, not at all! That’s perhaps the best part — everyone can use the Williston Force air cooler by just following a few simple steps. Even my grandma, who is on bad terms with most technology, finds this device quite intuitive.

In just three easy steps, you can enjoy the cool air too. All you have to do is pour water into the top of the unit and then add a replaceable water curtain. Once you close the device, it’ll be ready to go! Turn the Williston Force Portable AC on, and you’ll feel the difference in just a few seconds.

Sounds incredible? You could get a second opinion — just read one of the many Williston Force reviews out there. I’ve scoured the Internet in search of a negative one, yet I couldn’t find anything. So if you ask me, that’s a good enough reason to get this fantastic cooler today!

Williston Force Benefits

· Noiseless Air Cooler. Unlike large ACs, Williston Force is so silent that it’s easy to forget it’s running. There is no humming, buzzing, or whirring, or at least, nothing too noticeable. Users can put it on the desk while they work, the coffee table while they relax with a book, or even their nightstand as they sleep. This air cooler is a perfect summer companion.

· Humidifier and Dust Filter. Summer air can be quite dry and hard on the skin and the eyes — but Williston Force cooler is here to change that. It has a built-in humidifier that adds moisture to the air and makes it more breathable.

On top of that, its powerful dust filters remove the particles that are likely to cause allergies. So, Williston Force isn’t only a must-have for those who can’t bear the heat — it’s equally beneficial to allergy sufferers.

· A Sleek Design. The design may not be a crucial aspect of an air cooler, but Williston Force doesn’t neglect it. This is a modern, sleek device that won’t look out of place in any home. What’s more, its smooth white surface and the transparent water tank can add a futuristic feel to an otherwise plain room.

The Williston Force Portable AC water tank is perhaps the most interesting part of the device. It’s not only mesmerizing to watch the water move in it, but the tank can also provide mood lighting. When turned on, it emits a pleasant white glow in the dark that isn’t too harsh on the eyes.

· Cooling Mist. For those particularly scorching summers, cold air alone might not be enough. That’s why the Williston Force air cooler comes with a unique feature — cooling mist.

The mist is made of tiny drops of moisture that disperse through the cool air, bringing the temperature down quickly. It’s also great for the skin — after using the Williston Force Portable AC for a while, consumers will notice that it looks healthier and more youthful.

· Easy to Maintain. As Williston Force reviews claim, the product requires very little maintenance. It’s enough to wipe it down when the surface gets dusty and clean the fans once in a while. All of that can take less than 20 minutes, which is convenient for people who don’t have much time to spare.

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Williston Force Facts and Specs

· Easy to use and maintain

· No chemicals — it uses only water to cool the air

· No excess noise

· Can be used as a fan or as a cordless air cooler

· 3 fan speeds

· A transparent water tank that’s easy to refill

· Water curtain suggested changing every 6–8 months

· A dust filter and humidifier

· Sleek and compact design

· White colour

· USB powered

· Cordless thanks to its rechargeable battery

Williston Force Pros and Cons

I know I’ve praised this product a lot, but the last thing I want is for this to sound like one of those biased Williston Force reviews. So here is a list of both pros and cons to help you make a more informed decision about your purchase.

Pros

· Portable and cordless. No more fixed ACs and bulky fans! This light and portable air cooler can go with you everywhere, even to your office. And you won’t have to fight a tangle of cords and cables either — just let Williston Force run on batteries. They last quite long!

· Three fan speeds. Sometimes, you want to feel a cool breeze on your neck, while other times, you prefer a powerful blast. Obviously, a single fan speed isn’t enough — so Williston Force has three of them. You can easily switch between them at any time and find the one that suits you best!

· Cooling mist. Some days are so hot that even cool air isn’t enough! That’s why this air conditioner comes with a special setting — it sprays cold moisture. Just sit by the cooling unit, and you’ll soon feel its soothing effect on your face.

· Transparent water tank. The air conditioner uses water to cool you, so naturally, you have to add it when there is none. And how do you know if there is enough water? Well, in the case of Williston Force, it’s simple! The water tank is transparent and illuminated, so you’ll always be aware of the water level. On top of that, it looks quite sleek!

· No noise. The last thing you want is a device loudly humming by your ear while you’re trying to read or work. Williston Force is rather silent — so silent, in fact, that you’ll barely notice it’s there!

· Easy to maintain. This air cooler barely needs any maintenance — you should only replace the water curtain every six to eight months. In the meantime, you could wipe it down once in a while and clean its fans to ensure it continues to work properly.

Cons

· Limited availability. This air cooler isn’t always in stock, so it’s best to get your hands on it quickly.

· Available only online. The best and only way to buy Williston Force is to visit the official website. You can’t find it in physical stores, which may be a problem for some people.

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What are the Williston Force reviews saying?

Most Williston Force reviews agree that the benefits of this product far outweigh the few negatives. It’s a small, portable cooler that fulfills its purpose quickly and without using any dangerous chemicals. It’s not only safe for people and animals, but also for the environment — which isn’t always the case with regular ACs.

Ultimately, the product is well worth its price, and it’s unlikely to disappoint. However, if it does, the company offers a fantastic return policy. If the customer doesn’t like the product or experiences issues with it, they can return it within 30 days after purchase for a full refund. In essence, there really is no risk involved with buying Williston Force.

Final Verdict

You probably have only one question left — is this product worth the money? And my answer to that is a loud and clear yes. All of the Williston Force reviews agree that this air conditioner is a summer must-have — a device that both cools and purifies the cool air.

But if you end up disliking it for any reason, don’t worry. You’ll get a full refund if you return the device within 30 days. Sounds like a fantastic deal to me!

http://www.healthywellclub.com/williston-force-portable-ac/

https://kit.co/WillistonForcePortaac/williston-force-reviews-portable-ac-scam-of-the-summer

#Williston Force Portable AC

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marmolady · 4 years ago

Text

The New Taylor: Part 1

READ PART 2 HERE

Book/Series: Endless Summer

Main Pairings: Estela x MC

Summary: (Endless Ending). Saving the world takes a lot out of a person. For Taylor, growing into her new self beyond La Huerta can only happen as fast as her exhausted body will allow her....

Word Count: 5541

Tagging: @saivilo, @edgydepressedchoicesthot, @sceptilemasterr, @greengroove

______

The light of the rising sun filtered through the thin curtains of Estela’s childhood bedroom, gently rousing Taylor from her slumber. She grumbled softly, nuzzling deeper into the pillow, and snuggling into her wife’s chest and belly. Somehow, she could just never get enough sleep. It was as if her body’s batteries were still relearning the art of recharging, some three?-- four now, weeks after Vaanu’s energy departed her. In exchange for looking forward to a lifetime of waking up in Estela’s arms, a little tiredness was a small price to pay.Some days, though, it felt like an insurmountable hurdle.

Full lips brushed Taylor’s cheek and jaw, whispers of kisses. How could she not smile? Her eyes opened to that beautiful, scarred face. “Mm… morning, babe.”

Estela beamed. It was hard not to when she had her arms around a miracle. Back home with her tio, the promise of a happy future was tangible, a hope that she could just about believe in.

“Good morning, hermosa.” She nibbled the lobe of Taylor’s ear. “Did you sleep better?”

Taylor yawned noisily, and took her time stretching out her body, enjoying the press of her back against her lover.

“Better, yeah.”

Nightmares had been an ongoing problem for Taylor for about as long as she could remember. Every now and then she’d have stretches where she couldn’t even seem to close her eyes without being bombarded. Images of her friends’ deaths… dying in a thousand different ways. The worst, though, the worst by far, was a memory of her own; Estela’s eyes going dull as she took a last, rattling breath, Taylor cradling her in blood-soaked arms. It haunted her in sleep; the feel of blood on her hands so horrifyingly real, usually waking her with a violent shiver up her spine.

“Mmmm…” she turned to press a kiss to Estela’s lips. “I’ll take every good night of sleep I can get. You sleep okay?”

Estela’s face was soft with affection. Her own nights’ sleep had been badly impacted by the traumatic period of Taylor’s recovery from Vaanu’s leaving her. After seeing the love of her life stop breathing again and again… letting go of the fear wasn’t something that came easy, and it made for restless nights.

“I think I made it the whole night. We might just be through the worst of it. I guess you’re not gonna die on me in the middle of the night after all.”

“Like I keep saying; you are stuck with me, Estela Montoya. No way you’re shaking me now.”

With a happy squirm, Estela squeezed Taylor from behind. “Nope-- you’re all mine.” She placed a big smooch on her wife’s rosy cheek. “Come on; I can smell breakfast cooking!”

________________________

Several weeks in, San Trobida remained a brand new world for Taylor. It was to some relief when it quickly became apparent that she didn’t especially stand out and draw attention. She slowly got to grips with her place in a world beyond La Huerta, and no one seemed to pay her much notice. Estela had told her, with a laugh, that San Trobidans were not an especially chatty people, and that this shouldn’t come as a surprise. One might expect a polite smile of greeting, but the general population were about as likely to strike up small talk as Estela was-- which was to say, not very.

Initially, Estela had been stuck to Taylor as if by glue, letting her presence be a safety net as her wife grappled with her identity in what was an often overwhelming environment. And it hadn’t just been for Taylor’s benefit. Reunited with her uncle in a post-war San Trobida, her beloved partner by her side, it seemed inevitable to Estela that the other shoe had to drop at some point. Life wasn’t this easy. It just wasn’t. Every other time she’d believed that the struggle was over, she’d been hit with another wallop to the gut. Trusting in ‘happily ever after’ wasn’t something she could turn on like a switch.

But everything hadn’t gone crashing down in flames. Nicolas had welcomed Taylor-- and Jake, for that matter-- enthusiastically into the family. Even for the short years she’d been away, Estela found a San Trobida flourishing without the choke-hold of oppression that she’d always expected to be there. Jake had hit the ground running, having already interviewed for positions with two local airlines to charter tourists-- the thought of tourists coming to San Trobida was staggering in itself. Estela had offered her services to do odd jobs for old acquaintances; something she’d done many years before, when her mother had still been around to prevent her from getting involved in the war. The vast majority of her uncle’s friends had been connected to the rebellion in some way or another, and standoffish as most were, they welcomed her earnest insistence on being useful. Everything around her spoke of recovery, and Estela found herself beginning to believe that she and Taylor were on their way too.

Taylor often accompanied her wife on these errands, taking every opportunity to soak up the essence of San Trobidan life, to make it a part of herself. She was met predominantly with wary looks and grunts, and soon worked out that it wasn’t worth taking such reactions to heart. Today, though, she was striking out on her own. If she was going to come into her own as a ‘new Taylor’, the fully-realised human being that even Vaanu themselves could not have imagined of her, she had to give herself a chance to grow.

“You have the bus timetables on your phone, right?” Estela asked, taking a moment to give her wife’s fingers a squeeze. “It’s still probably best if you don’t go into the city on your own, but you pretty much know your way to the closer towns anyway. And you can call me…”

“...at any time.” Taylor returned the squeeze. “Always.”

Estela blushed. “Yeah… that. Just, be careful. If you’re feeling tired, call. I can drop everything in a moment, but I need you to be safe.”

Whether Taylor’s batteries ever properly recharged these days, was something debatable. Even the simplest activities would knock the stuffing out of her. Walks along the beach were kept short. Afternoon naps were now something of a fact of life. Sex was slow and gentle. It was damn near driving Taylor crazy, and all she could do was tell herself that it would get better, that her lack of energy was a tiny price for the miracle of her continued presence on earth.

She took Estela’s face in her hands and kissed her sweetly. “I’ll be careful, okay? I know my limits.”

The bus ride up into the hills east of Estela’s home was a scenic one, and a trip that Taylor had now taken a couple of times during her solo explorations, as well as once, of course, with Estela. Passing agricultural plantations-- cassava, banana and sugar cane, she’d been told-- the surrounding vegetation became denser as the road carried on to the next town. Taylor hopped off at the next stop; if she was feeling up to it, there wouldn’t be too much of a trek back down the hill to the bay off which the Montoya house stood. With that in mind, she kept her ambling around town to a slow pace, and coffee in hand, soon took to the walking trails through the surrounding forest.

Almost certainly as a result of feeling so at home in the wilderness of La Huerta, it was in nature that Taylor felt she was at her best-- it had always been on hikes through the jungle or along the coast that she could really get lost in thought and ponder the big questions. Now, though, her body just couldn’t seem to keep up with her mental needs. When she sat down upon the forest floor for a breather-- surely after not even a quarter of an hour of walking-- her legs were like jelly.

Goddammit.

Frustrated, Taylor distracted herself by taking a picture of an odd flower. She’d been collecting snaps of just about anything in nature she came across that stood out as different to what she was used to on La Huerta. If Estela or Nicolas couldn’t identify it, she’d hit their old handbook of San Trobidan botany. It was a small hobby to keep her occupied; at least she could keep on learning even if she was usually too tired to do a lot physically. She’d also taken up knitting-- though she had a way to go before she’d really got the hang of it. Besides poring over books and keeping up a barrage of questions about life here, there was not a whole lot else for her to do. She’d had a couple of driving lessons, but like everything else, they had to be kept short. She’d usually go along with Estela when she was running errands, but if she wasn’t painfully aware of how weak and vulnerable she presently was, getting a good view of her wife’s vigour and strength did nothing to make her feel any better. Of course, there wasn’t a hint of judgement-- but Taylor was so often left feeling useless and unattractive. Estela had fallen for an energetic woman who had taken life by the horns, and right now, it felt like that woman didn’t exist.

She took her time to recover; sending a couple of pictures to Diego who’d been getting an almost blow-by-blow account of her new life in San Trobida, and doing a few easy stretches. Estela was convinced that working on core strength was the best way forward for Taylor’s rehabilitation; once her body was stronger, then they’d work on cardio and stamina.

Limbered up, Taylor walked back to the bus stop. Dearly as she’d wanted to make the trek home, something that just a couple of months ago would have been a piece of cake, she was not fool enough to think it might happen today. Getting off the bus a couple of stops before home was the compromise she’d have to live with for the time being. She plugged in her earphones and watched the world go by-- listening to a soundtrack she’d inherited as a mish-mash of her friends’ tastes. When she hopped off the bus, that beat kept her putting one foot in front of the other, a steady rhythm. From the footpath by the road up the hill, she could already see an easy route home; the sparkling sea providing a beautiful backdrop that she’d never have fully appreciated through a window. She could feel her body flagging with every step, but it was worth it.

You got this, Taylor. All downhill from here.

As Taylor turned the last corner toward home, her legs shaking, a small figure skittered out across the road and towards the beach. A small sickly-looking dog. Strays were not uncommon near the towns and beaches; Estela had said there used to be many more around the place, that with the war over there was more scope for focus on animal welfare. The fact that this one looked like a strong gust of wind could finish it off spurred her.

Well, I guess I can make a slight detour.

She hastily tucked away her earphones and crossed the street, whistling. Most of the dogs that showed up were seasoned beggars with no qualms about approaching humans. Chances were, this little one would come running. Huffing and puffing her way slowly to the beachside village, she found the dog trundling along the behind the now-closed bar. On a longer look, Taylor noticed that its forelegs were oddly bent, facing in opposite directions as it loped, and the scruffiness that had caught her eye was down to great patches of hair loss that accentuated a thin frame.

Poor little fella…. She gave a low whistle and crouched. “Hey, l’il guy… uh, girl actually. Hey, l’il girl. You must be hungry….”

The dog looked around, eyes wary, as Taylor wobbled precariously. It gave a small but gruff bark, and moved further away. Taylor huffed; if the animal didn’t clearly need a vet, she’d have left it be. After her walk down from the bus stop, her head was spinning and she wasn’t sure how much longer she’d be able to keep putting one foot in front of the other. Maybe… maybe she should just come back for the tiny dog later. Then, as Taylor made to get up, she stumbled and fell.

Fuck.

Suddenly, it seemed pretty clear that the mangy little dog was not the one in most immediate physical peril. Taylor gave a weak yell and kicked out the dirt. To her alarm, her vision blurred horribly, and she went from ‘a little bit weak’ to ‘I could faint right here’ dizzy in frightening speed.

Okay, head between your legs. Deep breaths… deep….

The world swam. Taylor could just about make out the dog barking in the distance… then all went black.

_____________________

Taylor woke slowly, her head aching. The room around her seemed to spin, and it took several long moments before she recognised it as Estela’s bedroom. Propped up at the head of the bed, she’d clearly been brought home by someone after…. Crap, what happened?

“There is water for you on the bedside table,” came the sharp voice of Nicolas Montoya.

“W-what happened? I fainted? I think I… fainted.”

“Thankfully you were found by someone who recognised you as a guest of mine. Now, sit up slowly and take small sips of water. Estelita will be home soon-- I would much prefer she is not coming home to her idiot wife looking like death warmed up.”

Her lips dry, Taylor swallowed, still trying to catch her brain up with whatever had just happened. She’d been chasing after a stray dog, and then…. God, Estela was gonna freak. She mumbled a ‘thank you’ for the water, for the apparent rescue, and tried to hold off from shuddering at the bitter disappointment in her uncle-in-law’s voice. He was pissed. A strong part of Taylor was indignant; she wasn’t a fool, but this was new.

“Drink.”

There was no arguing with that tone. Taylor took a sip, then another. She tried to think. She’d been out walking and… her body had just given out on her. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t known she was exhausted, but….

“It happened so fast. I was on my way home, and I was tired, and then I just… crashed. Where’s Estela--? Does she know I’m okay--?”

“I didn’t take you for a dumbass--”

Anger flared in Taylor’s gut. That was not fair. “Hey-- I passed out. I’m not stupid, I just--”

“No? You are ill, wandering around defenseless… by your own choice, no? Knowing that your wife would drop everything to get you home when you are clearly incapacitated. I give you some credit; I assume you know this is not the safest corner of the world? It seems like you are a maldito idiota to me!”

Taylor could feel her whole body trembling uncontrollably. “You can try, but you’re not gonna make me feel any worse than I already do. I made a bad call, and I’m paying for it. I don’t expect you to trust me; but I learned a fucking hard lesson today.”

Nicolas turned away, seething.

“If I thought it was a risk, I wouldn’t have done it. I would never put Estela through that kind of worry. Not again.”

“Well, we are fortunate indeed it wasn’t she who found you collapsed in the dirt.” Nicolas’ eyes flashed as he looked back over his shoulder at Taylor. “Do you have any idea--”

A creaking signaled the front door swinging open. There was a pounding of frantic footsteps on hardwood floor and then….

“Taylor!”

Estela rushed in, falling to her knees beside the bed where Taylor was propped up.

“’Stel…” Taylor’s eyes welled as both relief and shame washed over her all at once. I’m so sorry.

“¡Dios! Me asustaste hasta la muerte! What were you thinking? It’s okay, just… just let me look at you….”

The tone of panic and the tears rolling down Estela’s cheeks made Taylor’s heart sink down to her toes. This was the last thing she’d wanted.

Nicolas scowled. “Well, she’s in safe hands now. Estelita, I will be in the office if you need anything.”

“Thanks, Tio.” Estela did not turn as her uncle walked away; she had eyes only for Taylor. Tentatively, she climbed up onto the bed, settling down gently beside her wife.

“I really thought I had more stamina than tha--”

“Shh.” Estela put a finger to Taylor’s lips. “Let me check you over.”

Too exhausted to struggle, Taylor leaned back against the head of the bed, letting Estela inspect her for any signs of physical distress. She remained quiet, feeling the tension that hung between them, tension that shouldn’t be there.

Finally, Estela sighed, her dark eyes forlorn. “Looks like no harm done. You got lucky. But you can’t just push your luck like that. I can’t believe you’d just--”

“It was an honest mistake. Part of being human, or at least that’s what I’m told.”

“It was a stupid mistake!”

It was as though an icy bucket of water had been dropped on Taylor’s head. Estela wasn’t just hurt, she was… angry?

“Hey! I have been lectured enough by your uncle, and I am not gonna take it from you. I know you’re scared, but this is new to me. I’m still working out my limits.”

Estela winced, immediately looking ashamed for snapping. She curled up her knees to her chest and stared straight ahead. For a long while, she sat that way, unmoving.

Taylor watched her wife with concern. Where was she? Reliving the long nights in the Elyys’tel medical centre, a hair’s breadth from losing her partner forever? Or was she even further away; remembering the shattering impact of loss and fearing it touching again?

“Taylor,” Estela said hoarsely, “I can’t… I won’t lose you.”

“No. You won’t.”

“So, don’t do that to me again.That was irresponsible and dumb, and that… that wasn’t fair.”

Hurt, Taylor tried hard not to pout. She wasn’t doing this on purpose; surely Estela knew that?

“We both know that you can’t look me in the eye and tell me that you’ve never overestimated what you were capable of. I made a mistake, okay?”

Estela’s nostrils flared. It was difficult to argue with that. Sometime in the future, when he’d cooled off, her tio would no doubt laugh at the thought of her having a taste of all the worry she put him through. “Look, it might seem peaceful here, but beneath the surface, things are still broken. This is not a place that’s forgiving of stupid mistakes. If anything happened to you now, I-- I think it would kill me.”

“I know, ‘Stel. And I was being careful. I thought I was being careful enough…”

As she looked into Taylor’s face, Estela’s expression gradually softened. This sucked. It really sucked. But that wasn’t down to Taylor. She was scared too. Gently, Estela reached out a hand and stroked her wife’s cheek. “You’re safe now. That’s what matters.”

Pressing a tender kiss to Estela’s wrist, Taylor felt herself relax. They were okay. Both kind of freaked out, but they were freaked out together.

“It’s like I don’t know my own body anymore. I feel absolutely useless; I can’t even trust myself, not after what just happened. It’s… kinda shit. ”

Estela huffed knowingly, and stroked Taylor’s hair. “It’s a lot shit. I’m sorry for taking it out on you. The last thing you need is to be stressing out ‘cause I’m being an asshole.”

“You? Never. You’ve had to be scared for so long; you’d have to be a robot if you kept it together all the time.”

“Hmm. Well, if I’ve gotta let off steam, that’s what a punching bag is for. I don’t wanna hurt you. Not ever.” Estela stroked her calloused fingers through Taylor’s hair. It helped to calm the both of them.“Did Tio really chew you out? If he thinks he can lecture you--”

Taylor laughed dryly. “Nothing I can’t handle. It… kinda sucks that he thinks I’m a complete idiot, but I’ll work on that.”

The hurt, though, could not be hidden.

“Carińa, you have nothing to prove. When Tio gets protective he can be… well, pretty damn unpleasant.” Estela sighed softly. “When I found out Mom was dead, it… it’s hard to explain how bad it was. I was unreachable. And obviously it took a long, long time for me to even be close to the person I was before. I think when he found you like that, he must have had a moment when he thought it was happening again. It doesn’t excuse him being an ass to you, but you should know it’s not your fault. You’re not what’s wrong here. Jesus, you’re the opposite of what’s wrong. Okay?”

Taylor found her wife’s hand and squeezed. “I know.” For a little while, she was quiet, just taking comfort in Estela… her being there, her touch. That love was a privilege. “Your tio just… absolutely loves you to pieces. Like you’re his everything. For him to feel as though he’d lost you; it must have been something like torture.”

Her eyes closed, Estela breathed deeply against Taylor’s head, soothed by the scent of her hair. She’d let go of the guilt, but profound sadness lingered. The years since her mother’s death had been little but immeasurable pain for Nicolas, making even the triumphant rebellion hollow.

“I could never thank him enough. No matter what, he supported me, he had my back. Even when I was stuck on a mission that would take away the last person he loved.” She found herself enveloped in a hug, Taylor gently bringing her to her chest and cradling her head there. “I love him. More than I can say. More than I think I’ll ever work out how to show him. But I think… he knows. We’ve been through too much for him not to. I know I fought it; I didn’t wanna risk you even if it meant the world… but he gets to heal now. With me.” Estela looked up, pink dusting her cheeks as she looked into Taylor’s shimmering blue eyes. “You did that. And there’s nothing that anyone could ever give to compare to that. You’re my hero.”

Taylor found herself sniffing, faced with shining sincerity. She didn’t feel like a hero, but for as long as Estela needed her to be that person, she’d try to live up to it. “You’re mine.”

“So, mi querida, it’s gonna be okay.” Estela pulled herself up, so that Taylor could lean on her in turn. “How are you feeling?”

“Actually, not so bad. Like, I desperately needed rest, but at least I seem to be able to bounce back pretty well.”

Estela sighed thoughtfully. The ordeal had been a fright, but it looked like no harm had been done. “You should tell Michelle what happened. She’ll want to know.”

It was hard for Taylor not to groan at the thought of causing even more worry, but she nodded her agreement. Ever since Vaanu left her, she’d been nothing but a burden.

“Actually, what did happen? Tio said you were passed out on the beach-- I thought you were going up into the hills.”

“I did. And I was all pumped up to trek back down from the town--,” Catching a horrified look, Taylor couldn’t help but chuckle. “--cool your jets; you know I’m not that stubborn. I realised pretty quickly that my ambitions were way too high. So, I got off the bus a little ways before our stop, and I walked it. I did it. I mean, it knocked the stuffing out of me, but I did it.”

“...And then, something possessed you to take a stroll along the beach?”

Taylor felt her cheeks flush. Okay, this was the part where I get a little foolish. “There was this little stray dog. Tiny thing, and it looked so sickly. Apparently, the bleeding heart in me jumped out, and then I was on a mission. I think the thought of actually helping someone, and not just being this weak, lost little person just… just sparked something in me. Pretty sure the adrenaline just from that got me to the beach, because when I stopped moving, the fatigue hit me like a train.”

A little smile came to Estela’s face, and it made Taylor blush all the more.

“I know, I know, apparently I’ve got myself a hero complex. Maybe a little bit stupid, but my heart’s in the right place?”

Estela just laughed and held her wife even tighter. “How am I meant to argue with that? One pig-headed crusader to another; it’s not the worst thing you can be. I love you, Taylor.”

Taylor closed her eyes, breathing in the familiarity, the comfort, that came of having Estela so near. Her whole world, her everything. All that she had to give in return was so… small. Helpless and small.

“Hey…,” Estela said gently. “It is going to be okay. I know you’re all right physically, but… you’re sad.”

“I thought I was getting better. I don’t want to be a damsel in distress for the rest of my life. It’s not as if I even know who I am now, but that ain’t it.”

Estela tenderly kissed Taylor’s brow, her own furrowed with concern. “You are getting better. I know it doesn’t feel like it, but from where you came from, this now is amazing. You’re stronger even than just last week. However long it takes, I’ll be there with you. You know, ready to give you a fireman-carry to safety.”

“I guess there’s gotta be some perks to being a damsel in distress. I can’t deny it; that would be kinda hot.”

“Kinda?”

“A lot. A lot hot. I’m sorry, have you seen your arms?”

To Taylor’s relief, the atmosphere had shifted; Estela waggled her eyebrows and giggled, eliciting a weak but grateful smile.

“You’ll be back to kicking ass in no time. If it helps, we can focus more on your physical training-- at least once you’ve recovered from this little, uh, episode. But, um, that little dog you found….”

“If we can find it, I really want to help. Maybe there’s the selfish aspect of me wanting to feel capable of being at least a little bit helpful to someone, but I want to get it fixed up. It-- I think it was a girl-- looked pretty bad.”

“I always wanted to bring home strays when I was little; Tio Nicolas thought he had enough responsibility with a kid around the place, so that was never gonna happen. I’m sure he won’t mind another guest, now. Or at least, he wouldn’t say no. Do you want to get a dog, mi amor?”

“It hadn’t actually crossed my mind what we’d do with her once we brought her home and got her healthy, but… yeah. I think I’d like to have a dog.” Despite all her worries, all her fears, all her shame, Taylor couldn’t stop the small smile that lit her features. If she could somehow claw her way back to a semblance of her old self, what lay ahead looked amazing. “Look at us, ‘Stel; already growing our family.”

A giddy grin plastered across Estela’s face served to sweep Taylor back up into her own insecurities; those voiced and those yet hidden. This was supposed to be their happy ending; after everything her lover had been through, it was all Taylor wanted to make it happen. But now… was she even enough?

This might be as good as it gets. Can you really expect her to be there to catch you when you just can’t stop falling?

Estela stood up and stretched, but gave Taylor a look when she made to follow suit.“We’re not going anywhere until you’re properly rested. I’ll make you some lunch. But then, we’ll see if we can help out your little friend. What do you think?”

Taylor frowned.

What do I think?

I think… I’m scared I’m going to hold you back, when you’re capable of so much.

I’m scared your uncle’s only ever gonna see me as another burden for you to carry.

I’m scared you’re gonna wake up one day and realise I’m not the same person you fell in love with.

She swallowed hard. There was so much love in Estela’s dark eyes, and it was shining there just for her.

I won’t stop fighting to be what you deserve. We’re so close to happy ever after, and I won’t let you down now.

“I think I’ll be up to that. We’ve got saving the world under our belt; rescuing a stray dog is gonna be a cakewalk. Let’s do this.”

#endless summer #playchoices #estela x mc #estela montoya

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