endlessdrifter

[endlessdrifter]

So much had happened already that it felt like their new freedom was plastic, fake. He didn't blame her, indeed. Most days he felt the same. But Max had remained vigilant and alert. He was no tactical genius, but he was at least convinced that they could truly start over in that silly town lost in the forest.

"Oi, breathe," he called to her, forgetting about the coffee for a small moment when she tugged at his sleeve. "It's over now, aiight? We made it out, we're here, ya have me phone number and me address now. Ya know where I work.... Ya found me this time."

Alas, he understood what she was asking for, and he complied. He pulled her in and wrapped his arms around her for a small moment, hoping she didn't mind how the scent of bread lingered from working at the bakery all day.

"I can always pinch ya, though... If that helps."

Her cheeks reddened at his remark, a soft laugh escaping her as she breathed out—could he fault her for it? They had both fled together, only to find themselves apart for months. Charlotte remembered their plan in case they got separated, yet she hadn’t anticipated taking so long to see Max again.

“I-I know.” She rose and approached him, “Can you really blame me? It’s been months since I last saw you. There were moments I thought I had found you, only to awaken and realize I hadn’t.” Fear gripped her that this might be a dream, that she was still fleeing, constantly looking over her shoulder, trapped in an unending loneliness.

Her fingers ached to reach out to him; she longed for the embrace she had promised him when they escaped. Despite the illusion of ‘freedom,’ she couldn’t trust anyone but Max. While he occupied himself preparing her coffee, Charlotte felt compelled to softly tug at his sleeve, silently requesting a hug. Perhaps then, just perhaps, she could convince herself this was real—because in her dreams, he always seemed to vanish before she could hold him close.

[endlessdrifter]

Max was already preparing himself for the next line of nonsense that was bound to fly his way, not that he would accept that it was actually amusing in a certain way. Had he be having a better day, he might've even be playing along... But when she popped up again with a more normal comment, he was actually thankful.

"Ah, so ya just wanted to lower me guard and then steal my family's secret, huh?" he groaned, although he didn't truly mean any of it. If anything, she had laid the ground work for them to tease one another, apparently.

He leaned on the counter, studying her for a moment as he pretended to truly think it through. Not that said secrets existed, but if they did, he saw no harm in sharing them to the world.

"Oregano. Tiny bit, barely noticeable."

Hmmm.. maybe she’d tortured him long enough. Though she stopped not for his own sanity but because she didn’t want to read the newspaper headline about the manic and insane baker who they found mumbling in the back of the store, and in the picture he’d be hunched over a piece of bread that oddly resembled her face.. “You're right, forgive me," as soon as she said it the smile began to creep up again. No no, no more laughing, potential loose maniac. She quickly knitted her brows together, attempting to be a bit more serious. "I won't bug you anymore, if, you answer my question," she crinkled her nose, "How do you get the sourdough smelling so good?"

[endlessdrifter]

Just doing her job? Sounded like a lame excuse used by people who justified atrocities with duty. Or maybe that was just him, reliving his trauma in the most inappropriate of places, with the most innocent of people. Gadreel crowded him a bit more, but blocking the medical equipment with his huge body actually seemed to help Max focus back on the moment, or on him at the very least.

Emerald eyes remained alert, threatening even, but he showed no resistance when the angel led him away from the station. It wasn't until his back was turned to the nurse and they had walked several steps that he allowed himself to properly blink and clear his throat.

Dead god, he was a mess.

"Fuck that," he groaned, shoving hands in his pockets and putting some walls up as if to shield whatever was left of his dignity. "And what do ya want now? Are ya her guardian angel or some shite?"

@endlessdrifter continued from x.

"Easy there, young man. The nurse is doing only her job. She does not mean to harm you nor show you any ill intent." The angel promptly reminded him, his voice calm, soothing as it seemed to effortlessly graze against the back of his throat in a low and firmly precise manner.

He stepped closer, making sure to place himself between the nurse and Max like putting blinders on a horse in an attempt to ease his mind and coax it onto anything else.

"Come..." Gadreel tried to usher the man away from the situation entirely, gesturing his vessel's muscled arm off in the opposite direction, even taking a step as if ushering him along.

[endlessdrifter]

“Slow breaths. Nice and slow.”

PTSD memes - Accepting

He was breathing, was he not? He hadn't died yet. Not that he could, but still, there was air in his lungs. The one in danger of passing away was not Max, really. It was the volunteer at the blood donation stand who thought it was a good idea to come near Max with a needle and ask for blood.

Had Gadreel not been there, Max would've certainly hit that poor woman. The memory of the experiments still too fresh in his mind to appreciate anyone coming up close with surgical equipment.

"I'm fuckin' breathin', aiight?" he groaned in response, anger seeping through his words. Although it wasn't directed at the angel, really. "Fuckin' nurse- she can get blood off me dead body."

[endlessdrifter]

For each “⭐️” I get, I’ll write a headcanon about our muses.

[endlessdrifter]

Send my muse “👀 + a question” and they’ll have to answer with 100% honesty.

No deleting questions, either!

[endlessdrifter]

"Are you in there?"

PTSD memes - Accepting

He didn't want to be found, not really. Not ever. Some days were better than others, but he hated festivities with a passion. The fireworks were so easy to mistake by gun fire that it caught him by surprise.

And with the surprise came the memories. With the memories the bitterness. It was a vicious circle.

"Ya found me, congratulations," he groaned from his not so comfortable spot on the bath tub. He wasn't even using it, but the bathroom was the room in the house that best isolated noise. "Will ya-- close the bloody door?"

[endlessdrifter]

"I'm broken. I'm fucked in the head."

PTSD memes - Accepting

Oh, no. No, no, no. Whoever thought it was a good idea to confess something that vulnerable to Max to begin with? Could he truly be trusted with said information, especially with how messed up he was as well?

"Huh-- Not to be dismissive or anythin', but like--- join the club?" he offered, failing at sounding as supportive as he was trying to, but catching it up immediately.

"I mean-- Wait. I have words, I swear." He cleared his throat, actively trying not to be an asshole about it. "Aye, maybe ya're fucked in the head-- but that doesn't scare me."

[endlessdrifter]

Don't smack her. Prison's not worth it. Don't smack her. Prison's not worth it.

Max pinched his nose, using the feeling to anchor himself to reality. She was clearly committed to the bit and he was the unwilling victim, but if he had learned something from his time in the modern ages is that he was better off just playing along with the clients' acts.

"That is preposterous," he groaned, his accent thick in frustration. "I'm the best baker in this side of town. I don't overcook me bread. Which ya know, otherwise ya wouldn't be a regular... Bloody scones are just spoiled rotten."

Soren couldn't help but be amused at just how hard he was trying to keep himself from ripping her head off. She set her bag of other groceries on the counter with a small thud, narrowing her eyes and pretending to think as if she didn't always end up picking the sourdough. "What's that?" she leaned her ear towards the baked goods, nodding intently as if they were speaking to her in a minute voice only they could hear. "They said they don't wanna talk about it around you.. that you.. Keep them in the oven longer to torture them?"

[endlessdrifter]

@etherealxmuses gets a Max starter

There were a lot of things Max was used to in this life, none of them nice. But good news? That was something he certainly didn't know how to handle all that well. Ever since he escaped from Hydra, life had definitely been looking up, even when he kept looking over his shoulder to make sure nobody was following his trail.

But crossing paths with Charlotte again in that town swallowed by the forests of Washington was, by all means, the best news he didn't know how to process. Good things didn't just happen to him... And yet, he had taken her home with every intention of catching up.

And they did. For hours. So when he came back into the living room to find she was still awake, he couldn't help but tease her about it.

"Ya do realize I'm not just gonna disappear if ya sleep a little, right?" his irish accent colored the apartment as he turned his back on her to brew some coffee. It seemed their conversation was not yet over.

"I am so gonna be a zombie at the bakery tomorrow... How do you take your coffee?... For dead god's sake, I'm making you coffee... Damn."

[endlessdrifter]

Luke Mitchell

[endlessdrifter]

PTSD memes

I've done my best to be respectful but there are some classic scenarios in here which might be unrealistic. This is also based off my own c-ptsd. - J

"Hey, look at me. Look at me, it's not real."

"What did your therapist say? Can you use the phone camera trick?"

"I promise, there's nothing there. You're okay. You're safe."

"Take a deep breath. Look at me."

"Can you do your 5-4-3-2-1? Would that help?"

"Let me take your hand. See? I'm nice and solid."

"Are you - hey, you there? Can you see me? Oh, no..."

"They're not here. It's just us."

"Wake up. Wake up!"

"What are you... seeing?"

"Slow breaths. Nice and slow."

"Are you having a flashback?"

"Ow, ow, okay, you're hurting me, loosen your grip -"

"Why do you keep looking up at the ceiling?"

"... are you - are you scared of me?"

"I promise I'm not going to hurt you."

"You don't have to apologise to me."

"Are you in there?"

"Hold on, uh - I can help -"

"No, no! What are you doing here? Why are you here!?"

"I can't get out, can't get out -"

"You're not real, you're not real -"

"I can-can't br-brea-breathe-"

"I keep thinking they're going to come back."

"I don't want to go back there again!"

"I'm so scared."

"It's never going to be over, is it?"

"I'm broken. I'm fucked in the head."

"No, no, no no no no-"

"Get me out of here! Please!"

[endlessdrifter]

He had to bite his tongue for a second longer than what seemed normal, letting his exhausted emerald eyes study Soren. This was a client, he had to remind himself, before he said something that would come bite him in the ass later.

"... I'm sure the bread will survive," he manages, knowing well enough that his bread couldn't care less if he was in a sour mood. It'd be just as delicious.

"Are ya havin' the usual or will this turn into a conversation about the feelings of me bread?" he asked in defeat, irish accent thick as usual.

it seemed not everyone was happy to hear the birds chirping all morning today. still, even with his grumpy nature, Soren still managed a smile for him. One of them had to, right? "Yes, but," she knitted her brows, her face twisting between a smile and a frown, unsure if she wanted to tease him in this state, "Well, it's just that, you're making the bread sad. I can't eat it like that. Is that how this establishment treats its most loyal customers?"

[endlessdrifter]

Open to: m/f/nb everyone welcome Concept: your muse walks in for a treat and your favorite baker is not having a good day at all.

"Whatever do ya mean? I'm just peachy," Max groans, standing behind the counter with clear bags under his eyes and a little bit of a murderous aura about him.

"But ya're here for bread, not to listen to me complain about capitalism. What should I get for ya today?"

[endlessdrifter]

Open to: anyone Concept: Your muse is Max's friend/lover/friend with benefits. They were supposed to go to an event, but for whatever reason your muse has to cancel (motives up to you).

"Aiight, aiight, hold on," Max starts, irish accent thick as usually as amusement takes over his eyes. "Ya're tellin' me that I got off work early, cleaned up, got dressed all pretty and shite... And now we're not goin'?"

He leans on the wall, studying the situation for a moment.

"Could've told me before I ironed the shirt..."

[endlessdrifter]

Open to: anyone welcome. Hit me up if you'd like to discuss something pre-established Concept: Max is a mutant with enhanced healing. Your muse is aware of this fact. The real surprise isn't the feat in itself, but the fact that Max showed up to your muse's place after being mugged, asking for a spare shirt because he can't go to work with his white tee stained with his own blood.

"Aye, I got stabbed," Max confessed as an explaination as to why he was here, asking for a spare shirt. He knew showing up at the bakery with a bloodied tee wouldn't exactly help him look exactly normal. Nor the fact that he had healed in a matter of seconds and was walking around covered in his own blood as if it was nothing.

"I wouldn't have minded, but the blood makes such a mess..."

[endlessdrifter]

and now I'll probably work a few open starters for good measure.

should've learned the lesson and stay active instead of having to make an actual come back xD