#but I am a memory hoarder and I need somewhere to keep it all

[cassynite]

Uh. Just a really personal essay thing below the cut. I just needed to write and share this because it's been bouncing around in my head all day and I feel like if i don't i'm going to just explode or something!!

cw discussions of hoarding, death, illness, elder neglect

I am such an unsentimental person when it comes to keepsakes or mementos. I want to say part of it was as a reaction to my grandmother, who was a hoarder who put far too much emotional importance on physical objects. She would go on and on about some half-broken doll her grandmother had given to her, only for it to get lost in a room of trash. She took thousands of pictures, all the time, on disposable cameras that would never get taken to be developed, just lie to collect dust in a box somewhere.

Once, when we were attempting to clean out the garage full of nothing but 40-gallon bags stuffed with clothes that were moldy and hadn't seen the light of day in years, my grandmother had a breakdown, screaming and crying at us not to touch those things, that they were important.

I was sixteen and an utter asshole at the time. I'd told her, "Grandma they're just things. They're just objects."

And she told me: "Well things are all I have."

I had a very visceral, negative reaction to that. Mostly, it was hurt--did she not have me, the rest of our family? Did she not consider us more important than trash accumulated over years? I ultimately know it was more complicated than that, that my grandmother came from a very abusive and insecure household, and that hoarding was likely a coping mechanism. That she struggled a lot, but that she ultimately loved us all very, very much.

I mean, she didn't have to raise me. My parents were right there. When they told her that four kids was too much work and asked her to take over with my younger sister and I, she could have told them to deal with it, and she didn't. She told me she loved me constantly, that love was unconditional and she would always love me, and no matter our fights or my behavior she was always a support and I believed her when she told me those things.

But her hoarding was a cause of extreme stress my entire adolescence--her tendencies went to cats when I was about fourteen and that ended up being such a nightmare scenario, the kind you'd see in those awful news stories about hoarding houses, that I don't even want to touch on it more than to just say it happened, and it was bad for years. I couldn't see the value in anything she had, and therefore never cared enough to keep things of my own. I never cared about family heirlooms, didn't keep things after they broke and couldn't be fixed no matter where I got it from, and I didn't take pictures or care much about pictures that were taken. Souvenirs were pointless to me, and I struggle to remember any gift I've been given in my life.

In early 2016, long-term health issues including unmanaged diabetes, multiple strokes, and bouts of pneumonia finally left my grandmother incapable of taking care of herself, and when a fall caused some minor brain bleed they placed her in a care facility. It was her worst nightmare--she'd told us repeatedly growing up that if something happened like that to just let her die, that she did not want to waste away in a nursing home.

I only visited rarely. I was working on getting my bachelor's degree, I had just moved in with my partner, and the speech and memory issues caused by my grandmother's injury were profoundly upsetting to me; I often left visits crying. Both of my grandparents had been in hospitals and rehab centers multiple times before, and my grandmother constantly took me on visits to see church members who also were recovering from injuries, so I was very familiar with these places. The smell, the sights of people who might never recover from what put them there, and the dead-eyed stares of staff made me hate those care homes.

So I avoided visiting her, put it off. I would visit when she got better, I promised myself. And then in December of 2016, my grandmother caught pneumonia and died. I was there for part of the vigil when they took her off of life support, but had such a breakdown seeing her deterioration that I left early and did not stay with her when she passed. She'd had, I would learn later, multiple falls in the nursing facility she was placed at; that care home would close down a few years later due to investigations of neglect.

I cannot express how horrifying the entire ordeal was, or the shame I feel when thinking about this. If I had spent more time with my family, maybe I could have helped care for Grandma instead of her ending up in a care home. I could have helped manage her diet so she didn't have the drops in blood sugar that caused that first fall, the one that led to the initial brain damage. I could have looked more into the group homes when choosing which one to take her to, found the very present information regarding the one she was placed at and and pushed for one that wouldn't let her fall constantly, causing permanent brain damage and health deterioration. At the very, very least, I could have visited more, so that her last memories on this goddamned earth involved knowing that her favorite granddaughter gave a shit.

It's been years. My grandfather ended up also falling ill in 2018, multiple infections and bouts with sickness that landed him in a much better care home, where I visited more often. He was deeply self-reliant and chafed against the dependency but made friends and seemed to be alright there whenever I spoke to him. He was also vocally Very Done with living in general--he was nearly ninety--and told me multiple times that he liked seeing me but didn't need it, and to not worry about him. I think he knew I was trying to make up for something. Maybe he judged me for putting in the effort with him when I didn't with Grandma, who needed it so much more than he did.

When he passed in August of 2019, I had just started a new job and hadn't visited in a month. Somehow, his death was even worse, like I'd lost him and Grandma together all over again. The worst part for me, surprisingly, was months later, when my phone corrupted and erased every single picture I had. I didn't take very many, but I'd started to do more toward the end of my grandfather's death especially, and there were several pictures of both him and grandma that were lost forever. I was devastated.

I think perhaps my lack of sentimentality just came from the fact that I hadn't needed to be sentimental before. I could visit my grandparents at any time. My mother was dead but I'd barely known her; my father might as well have been dead for how much he cared to contact or visit us. I didn't have any strong connections that I wanted to be reminded of that i couldn't just renew at any point in time, and I took it for granted. The knowledge that I started to forget what shade of dark brown my grandmother's eyes were, or the old-time phrases my grandfather used to say all the time that I'd ingrained into my vernacular as a child, really hurt. It's like a thousand deaths, every time I realize that I have something less of them with me now.

This past Christmas, my eldest sister gifted all of us with flash drives. She had, in her spare time, scoured the internet and old photo albums for pictures of our family and had digitized everything she could find. She was apologetic about not buying something for us, but had thought we would appreciate it.

I only just started looking at those pictures today. I hadn't really had the strength before now. I don't really have the strength now, to be honest. I've been crying ever since I opened those pictures. Most are taken by my youngest sister and shows both of my grandparents during the last years of their lives; seeing pictures and videos of my grandmother after she sustained her brain damage hurts. But there are other pictures too, older ones, and it's stunning how much I'd really forgotten.

I could always tell when a picture was taken during a big event because my grandmother's hair would be permed. My grandfather was a classic "dad who didn't want the cat" kind of grandparent, and all of our animals adored him. My grandmother wore two different shoes to my little sister's high school graduation. My grandfather wore the same pair of brown pants for literal decades, to the point they were falling apart, because the company that used to make those pants no longer made the exact shade of brown he liked and he refused to wear any other kind.

I know what my grandmother sounded like again. I know, I remember, that she would always insist on saying "I love you" at least once a conversation. She always wanted to make sure we knew that.

I'm still not the most sentimental person. I couldn't really care less about souvenirs. But I take more pictures now, and keep the birthday cards with handwritten notes that my older sister sends me, because I feel conscious of the fact that the people in those pictures aren't always going to be there. I have my grandmother's wedding ring that I keep on a necklace, and I'm probably going to deal with a crying headache the rest of the day for looking at these pictures.

But it's worth it. It is.

[virdemption]

A-90 Headcanons Rewrite :3

I just wanted to rewrite all of my doors headcanons and thought I'd start with A-90 bc I am the one and only :3

He/Him - Trans Man :]

He looks like a knight. He even has a sword and shield and everything. But it's an act. He is really bad at using his arsenal and would rip off the armor in a moment's notice for attacking more up close.

His sort of "Species" of entity is that who can switch between functioning more like humans or acting more feral (re: getting on all fours, purring, etc.) Unfortunately he fucked up somewhere in childhood and doesn't have a proper balance between the two like most of his kind. He's very clumsy and it's partly why he only does 90 damage when "Humanlike".

Sometimes (Usually when very stressed or hungry, can be anything really) he will go through what he just calls "Reversion" in which he'll flip into his feral state and how he acts depends on the severity of the cause. (Sometimes he can still rationally think, sometimes you need keep an eye on him, other times he'll probably go nuts, etc.) and during this timeframe he tends to get memory issues and will be extremely wobbly when he's "normal" again. He calls being traditionally functional "Suppression".

He has retractable claws and blades yes exactly like the razor stp

His armor makes him heavier than any other entity but he's very underweight without it and almost one of the lightest. When he's not wearing his armor, he's most likely wearing some generic tank top and shorts lawl.

Hates noises. Primary reason he attacks is to JUST STOP THE NOISE. Especially the sounds of ringing phones.

Well, he's neutral-ish of a guy. His biggest reasons for aggression are his feral nature, annoyances, and fear that someone will hurt Curious Light. He does snap at people often though.

Found Curious Light roaming the rooms when she had first gotten lost and pretty much serves as her father figure. A-120 looks after CL when A-90 is busy. He eventually reunites her with her mom (GL).

Was the last of the rooms entities to show up in the hotel before their banishment, he went there in order to figure his life shit out. Obviously short lived cause El Goblino fucked everything up and banished them.

He does not like that red fucker. But do you wanna know who he does like!?!?!?!?

"Is it Seek-" yeah it's Seek <3. He loves them too much. They're both doomed by the narrative. Oops.

Struggles a lot to clear his head when stressed. Is also quite introverted and can't really communicate anger, he will start speaking in gibberish when aggravated. Guiding Light, Ambush, and A-120 are the only people who can translate it (Though A-120 can only translate if it's written down).

Collects skin conditions like pokemon cards sparkle emoji "dude can you take your lotions and stop having acne and eczema and sjs for five seconds" -GL

Hoarder but not to Ambush's degree. Collects things from intruders albeit pointless bc A-120's contracts can bring just about anything into the rooms lawl. Still nice for him. He carries a duffel bag full of goodies.

HUMAN FLESH HEART EYES EMOJI <3 <3 <3 He will tear up corpses and eat them right then and there if his head is feral enough. He usually leaves the bones for A-60 though.

Depending on his mood, his blood will turn red/yellow/green/etc. Yellow is the default but he's almost never in a good mood so he's usually the classic red. Hardly anyone has ever seen him green.

BLOOD STAINS EVERYTHING LITERALLY NOBODY CAN CLEAN IT D:

Eyes appear as just a dark void but his pupils will show up when he feels strong emotion. Shape and size depends on intensity.

[sleepyselkiesiren]

This is a little art dump of everything I made on my very first day of owning a drawing tablet, in order of creation, plus a bonus

In the first one, I opened up krita and instantly saw all the different kind of brushes and got super excited and carried away XD no thoughts, just fun experimentation

Second one is where the thoughts begin. I was still adjusting to the artwork happening in front of my face instead of under my hands, so I started off simple and silly. I tried to focus more on the Feel than anything else

By the third one I was getting antsy and wanted to get back to my usual quality of work, so I tried to sketch my Generic Girl Character tm. Immediately realised this was extremely heccin Difficult. I would not learn what a stabiliser was for another month or so. I also realised that the number of brushes was truly overwhelming, and now that I wasn’t limited by colored pencils I had no idea what kind of Quality I wanted my art to have

The only thing I remember about the fourth one was being frustrated that I could only draw a face, and whenever I tried to get to the body the lines just wouldn’t go where I wanted them to. It was physically impossible for my brain and hands to do so much as general arm line. I assume this is the one where I discovered the color wheel and unlocked my obsession with the bubble brush. Other than that... idk what was going on XD

For the fifth one I accidentally discovered layers and didn’t know what to do with that information. I also realised that the fill-in-tool was nothing like the MS paint version of my youth. We remain bitter enemies to this day. At this point I was super overwhelmed and frustrated, so I drew my little calm-down guy and his bee friend.

Piece number 6 is the culmination of all my learnings; brushes I liked, what face and hair I could draw, multiple options from the color wheel, and accepting I wasn’t at a skill level to draw bodies yet. The color wheel was too much Choice for me so I just threw on Whatever. It was last time I would ever try using the fill-in tool. I named this guy Jeffery. I don’t think that’s how you spell it XD

Number 7 was me trying to sort out how layers worked. It took me a weirdly long time to work out how to move layers around and which ones went on top of the other. My adhd brain still refused to focus on any tutorials, but I worked it out in the end.

The fish-like guy is titled “I don’t know what this is.” I have no memory of drawing this. I only know that I’d had the tablet for a while by that point. Send help.

I must’ve been a really fast learner, because I did these that same day and I’m still proud of them

[petri808]

Quarantine memories fic hoarding craze for @thenaluarchive

— thank you to @phoenix-before-the-flame for helping jump start this fic 💜

It was Natsu Dragneel’s absolute favorite time of the day. 1 pm for him, and 8 am for Lucy, his… well, right now they were just online friends separated by distance and priorities. But judging by how he talked about her to friends, you’d never know it. They’d met three years ago on Twitch through a random chat stream about an anime series, and he continued following Lucy on her writing streams. Three years ago, she was a sophomore in college while he was in his senior year. Lucy later moved on to a graduate program, but they stayed in touch, growing close. To Natsu, she wasn’t just some girl online but a real friend he cared very much about. His friends called Lucy his online girlfriend. Pfft. He wished he could call her that.

Roughly two thousand miles away, Lucy Heartfilia was hating life. Her curtains were drawn, and a blanket was pulled over her head to drown out the light. The air conditioner was down to 60 degrees Fahrenheit, working against the low-grade fever and pounding migraine born yesterday. Migraines… the bane of her otherwise healthy existence. It was her fault after all, the temptation of a chocolate dessert knowing full well it was one of her triggers brought on said migraine and all she could do was bear it.

Why?

“Stupid hoarders!” Lucy groaned to herself.

As if dealing with a pandemic wasn’t bad enough, people’s selfish reactions to it were worse. A government agency had claimed that acetaminophen products could help with the virus’s symptoms, so what did people do? Panic buying anything and everything they could find containing that drug! The problem for people like Lucy, is the one over the counter medication that helped with her migraines was Excedrine… an acetaminophen product! And she’d just. run. out.

Lucy’s phone rang and she knew exactly who it could be based on the time. So, she clicked the answer button without opening her eyes.

“Hey, Natsu,” she groaned out.

“Morning Lucy! Oh geez, you sound like a frog.”

“Thanks,” she retorted sarcastically. “I’ve got a migraine.”

“Ouch.” Natsu genuinely flinched. He rarely got headaches, but this wasn’t the first time he’d talked to Lucy when she was going through one, so he knew what she was going through. “The meds aren’t helping?”

Lucy sighed. “I ran out. And did you see the news about all the hoarding? Every store here is bought out. It… sucks.”

“I could check around here and send you any I find,” he offered.

“Aww, that’s sweet of you Natsu, but I don’t wanna trouble you.”

“Pfft. Nonsense. I’m sure you’d do the same for me.”

“Thanks, Natsu. I appreciate it.” Lucy smiled through the pain. There’s a good reason her feelings for the man had grown over the years. His sweet and caring, yet fun and goofy, positive personality was an easy drug to get hooked to.

“Anyway, I gotta get back to work.” Natsu whined. “Good morning again, stay hydrated, and I’ll check on you again when I’m finished for the day, okay Lucy? Get some rest.”

“Have a good day at work Natsu.”

“Will now, after hearing your voice. Talk to you later Luce.”

She giggled softly. “Bye, Natsu.”

Lucy shifted under her blanket as she clicked off the phone to lie on her back. His sexy voice did wonders for her mood despite the pain still ravaging it. Now all she had to do was drag herself out of bed to eat something and drink water. She never had an appetite when she got these migraines, but it was a necessary fuel to fight it. All Lucy had left were extra strength Tylenol, so she could only hope it would at least take the edge off until the migraine ran its course.

Like so many others, this pandemic had really taken a toll on Lucy’s psyche. It’s not as if she went out a lot before it took hold, but just the fact it made going out dangerous brought different emotions to the situation. School had moved online which sucked all its own, she missed casually hanging out with friends on campus, and simply longed for the freedom of leaving her apartment as she pleased. But she understood the precautions of a quarantine. Frankly, she agreed with the city’s efforts to keep them as safe as possible no matter how many grumbled about it. Did it make it easier? No. But it was a necessary evil.

They weren’t completely trapped, could shop for necessities, visit family or friends, just encouraged to limit such gatherings as a safety precaution. If you went out, wear a mask, and just don’t stand too close to other people. Well, unless Lucy knew the person, why would she want strangers in her personal bubble anyway? And the mask thing? Have you ever been out shopping, and someone just sneezes without covering their mouth? Yeah— seriously, would it kill people to use one?! Why were people so selfish during times like this? Not everyone, but too many. Just like with all the hoarding frenzies that swept through cities, it was frustrating and— “Ugh…” being in a pain-driven bad mood was sure bringing her down today.

But despite all the external frustrations, the feelings of isolation from being in a quarantine for months were probably the most mentally exhausting part. It was lonely being so far away from home during a pandemic. Lucy’s been in college for five years and while she’s made friends in the new city, she was starting to crave comfort instead of an empty apartment. Her life online was one of the few things that made her happy, like Natsu’s daily calls, and kept her sane.

Natsu… her face heated up every time she thought about the man. They didn’t have a lot of hobbies in common, but he was always so supportive and made her laugh like no other could. Where they lacked in commonality, was made up in ease of conversation. It hadn’t taken very long for their online chats to feel more like an old friend and less like a faceless stranger. Over the years they’d talked about meeting in person one day after she finished school. It also helped that he was from a city not too far from where she came from, so if she chose to move back it would be convenient. But she also loved the new city she called home. Oh well, Lucy sighed. It was a decision still a couple of years away to make.

The next morning, Lucy woke up to find her migraine had finally given up. She could still feel the little bastard hiding, simmering somewhere ready to strike, but if it stayed mellow, it was something she could tolerate. Throughout the day, Lucy wasted no time in catching up on the homework she couldn’t finish the day before and making sure to stay hydrated with food in her stomach.

Lucy’s phone rang around 2pm.

“Hi Natsu, how was work?”

“Same ole, same ole,” he chuckled. “And how are you? Still feeling, okay?”

“Yeah, it hasn’t come back.”

“That’s great!”

Lucy could hear a lot of background noise, so she asked about it. “Oh, you’re not home yet?”

“Nah, and the commuters are being extra noisy today,” he responded benignly. “Anyway, tonight I won’t have time to talk cause I got a project due for work I need to finish.”

“Oh, that’s okay. Yeah, I’m still catching up from yesterday too and Levy’s dropping by for dinner.”

They chat for a few minutes about their day as Natsu waited for transportation. Lucy knew he used the subway to and from work, but today it sounded a little different, noisier and she swore there were engines instead of the normal train sounds. Maybe it was static. Finally, Lucy caught the muffled words now boarding.

“Shucks, time for me to go,” Natsu cut through. “Sweet dreams Lucy! I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Good night, Natsu!”

Lucy spent the afternoon relaxing online, chatting with friends and gaming. Her friend Levy McGarden later dropped by with take-out food for dinner and the two women caught up on random topics while movies droned on the television. They were both in grad school, so during the semester there wasn’t a lot of time to hang out, but they made do. Lucy was also doing a paid internship at a local magazine 4 days out of the week as part of her master’s program. She really enjoyed working there under one of the senior editors. He made it a fun learning experience.

Life was almost perfect except for the background isolation of the pandemic. Lucy was glad she wasn’t one of the individuals affected by jobs cuts, but it still got under her skin to feel trapped in a way. It was nice with her friend over... ‘Maybe I should see if Levy wants to become roommates?’ She wondered as she drifted off to sleep. The apartment would sure feel a lot less empty.

A knock at the door roused Lucy from her sleep. She blinked and yawned, looking at the alarm clock and that said 9 am the next morning. ‘Natsu didn’t call,’ she thought how odd. Maybe he slept in after working late.

Lucy dragged herself out of bed, throwing on a robe to answer the front door. “Gimme a sec,” she called out as she neared it.

“UPS delivery, ma’am.” The male voice responded.

‘UPS?’ Lucy grew confused. She didn’t remember ordering anything through them, but maybe she’d forgotten?

She peaked out of the peep hole, but all she could see was the box being held up. Okay a little weird, but some of the delivery people did that to show they were legitimate service people. Lucy slowly opened the door but kept the chain lock on while peering through the gap. But what she saw next brought on instant tears.

“H-How?” Her voice stammered out as her fingers quickly undid the lock and opened the door wide.

There Natsu stood holding a small brown box, dressed in a uniform of sorts, with a mask hanging under his chin, and wearing a goofy grin.

Lucy snorted a laugh as her eyes crinkled in happiness. “Is that a Halloween costume?”

“Yeah,” his smile widened, and hand scratched his head. “Surprise delivery,” Natsu held out the box, “for Lucy Heartfilia.”

“What is it?” She asked as she took it from him.

“Oh, I um found you Excedrine.”

Lucy opened the box to find 4 bottles. “You certainly did,” she laughed. “But why’d you bring it yourself?”

“It was quicker than the mail and… I hoped…” Natsu’s mannerism grew sheepish and tentative, “it was about time we finally met in person?”

Her face softened with a smile. “It truly is.” Lucy gestured into the apartment. “Please, make yourself at home.”

[avengerscompound]

Small Gods: Lost Objects - 1

Lost Objects:  A Thor Fanfic

Lost Objects Masterlist | More Small Gods

Buy me a ☕  Character Pairing:  Thor x F!Reader

Rating:  E

Word Count:  1831

Warnings: Angst, PTSD, Grief (smut on series)

Synopsis: Thor has lost a lot in a very short period of time and he’s worried about losing himself too.  He goes to the one person who understands loss.

A/N: Reader is a minor god. 

Chapter 1

Thor was lost.

He had been for a while now, though it was hard to measure.  Partially because he had lived such a long, long time and most of it had gone by without much disrupting his enjoyment or general world view and then all at once it was just one thing after another and he couldn’t quite seem to catch his breath.

Perhaps it had begun to lose himself back when his father had first banished him to Midgard.  He had certainly felt lost for a while there, but usually, he looked back at that as the start of finding who he truly was.  Becoming worthy of Mjolnir and meeting Jane had been so significant, even when he had been forced to destroy the Bifrost and watched his brother fall to what he had thought was his death, Thor has still felt himself.

After that, it was one thing after another.  A barrage of pain and loss and he couldn’t keep up with it.  His mother, his brother, his relationship, his father, Mjolnir, his friends, his planet, his brother again, half of the universe, more of his friends.  Somewhere in all that loss and grief and guilt, he’d lost his direction and that core feeling of who he was, and he didn’t know what to do so he could stop feeling all this pain.

Then, in one single moment of clarity, he thought of you.

Midgard was not a world of gods.  Gods would visit, of course, Thor himself favored the small blue planet, but the line between science and magic was large, and rarely were gods born on the planet.

Yet sometimes the magic would seep through.  Maidardians liked to pray even when they didn’t know they were.  They would wish for certain things or give worship to them.  If enough did, then a god would be born.  They were minor deities and rarely held much power.  Yet they served their function and grew with the population's devotion.

None were prayed to quite as often as you.

You were not an easy person to track down.  Thor knew that he had to find you in the last place he looked or else it would be not at all.

So he started at the finish.  Going to the last conceivable place on the planet you might find a minor deity and announcing loudly that he would give up looking after trying the small cabin on the side of the hill.  Just as he put his hand on the door handle it swung open and he was greeted by you.

Along with the cable knit sweater that was three sizes too big, spotted with holes, and frayed at the hems, you wore a pair of jeans that were obviously someone’s favorite but based on the fit, that someone was not you.  You had a pair of mismatched socks on your feet, a single fingerless glove on your left hand, and a ring on every finger on your right, most of them the engagement variety.

You looked up at him and smiled.  “Thor,” you said warmly.  “Are you lost?”

He smiled, trying to put on the brave face he wore for everyone.  He was strong after all.  The strongest Avengers.  If he showed weakness, then he’d be someone who wasn’t Thor, the god of thunder.

“Yes,” he said.  “No.  That is… maybe.”

You stepped aside and he ducked his head under the door frame and entered your cottage.  It was impossibly large inside what had seemed like a tiny building.  It was cluttered in the sense that a hoarder who hadn’t left the house for fifty years except to bring more things in, is cluttered.  There were stacks of parcels that were addressed to other people, baskets full of socks that lacked a pair, toys, and pacifiers that looked sad and weathered, bowls sat on top of every flat surface full of jewelry in many shapes, sizes, and styles.

Thor wound his way through until he found a couch.  It had seen better days and he had to move a one-eyed teddy bear to take a seat.

“Can I get you a drink?  I have tea or coffee?  Not much else I’m afraid,” you offered.

“Coffee,” Thor said.  He wasn’t sure he really wanted it, but he was grateful for the opportunity to get his thoughts in order.

The sound of you puttering around in the kitchen was the only sound at all.  Thor thought of all the things he had lost and exactly why he had come here.  When you returned he still wasn’t quite sure what he was going to say.  You handed Thor a mug.  It was black with the silhouette of a penguin on it with the words ‘LINUX, open mind, open-source’ written on it.  You had a teacup, it was floral and had gold around the rim.

“The coffee is Kopi Luak,” you said as he took the mug from you.  “It was confiscated in New Zealand customs and ended up here.”

“Kopi Luak?”  Thor asked.

You shook your head and sat down beside him.  “The beans are passed through the stomach of an animal called a Civit before being harvested and roasted.  I can’t say I approve of the process, but I am limited to what passes through here,” you explained.  “Now, what is it you’ve lost?”

“My brother…”  Thor said, the word coming out quickly like it was determined to jump its place in his mental queue.

“Oh, Thor,” you said, putting your hand on his.  “I deal with lost things.  People?  They are above my jurisdiction.  The prayers for lost people are more for your realm than this one.”

Thor sagged and put his cup down.  He ran his hands through his hair the pain and frustration he felt almost overwhelming him.  “There’s been so much.  Too much.  My whole family.  My friends.  Asgard is gone.  I don’t know where to go or what to do.  I feel lost and I don’t know how to find my way back out.”

You took his hand.  His large palms dwarfed yours.  “Thor, I am a minor god,” you said.  “What you have been through is awful and if I could help I would, but I deal in socks and loose change.  Your identity is yours.  You still have it.  It’s here -“ you touched his forehead and moved your hand to his chest just above his heart.  “- and here.”

Tears pricked Thor’s eyes and he wiped them away in frustration. “I don’t want to feel this way anymore.”

“That I can understand too well,” you said.  You wrapped your arms around him and very gradually he let himself sag into your arms.  “You are very young,” you said quietly.  “It is a large burden to carry.  Can I give you some advice?  I can’t promise it will be good.”

“Please,” he said, his voice cracking with the desperation he felt.

“Grieve, Thor,” you said.  “It isn’t weak to love people.  It isn’t weak to feel pain at their loss.  Let yourself have your sorrow.  Feel it.  Let it out.  I am a god on a planet of mortals.  I have lost more than has ever come to me.  They were your parents and your brother.  Your friends.  Your home.  You loved them all and now they are gone.  That is terrible.  It’s terrible, Thor.  They didn’t deserve that and neither did you.  Grieve.  Feel sad.  Cry.  Wail.  Scream.  If you don’t experience your grief, you lose more of yourself than you can possibly know.”

“I am the strong one,” Thor said.  “I can’t show such weakness.”

“There is nothing weak about experiencing your emotions,” you said gently, your fingers tangling into his hair and massaging his scalp.  “Besides, who do you need to be strong for now.  It is just me here, everyone else is gone.”

He wrapped a large arm around your lap and he started to cry.  It started small and silent, his tears just running down his cheek as he pressed his face into your lap.  Soon he was crying in big wracking sobs.  He cried for his mother and his father.  He cried for Loki.  For Jane.  He cried for Heimdal and Fandral and Volstagg.  For Asgard, the home where he grew up and had so many happy memories.  He cried for the people he couldn’t save and for the ones he did that he let down when he didn’t have the strength to lead them.  He cried for dwarves on Nidavellir and for Mjolnir the weapon they had forged him and was like a friend in of itself.  He cried for Natasha and Tony.  And for the fact that one day he would lose all the rest too.

You held him, never once telling him to quiet.  You just let him cry in your arms, your fingers moving over his scalp and caressing his hair.

As the tears slowed and then stopped he felt a strange sense of relief.  He didn’t feel better, but lighter perhaps.  He sat up and wiped his eyes.  “Thank you.”

“You have nothing to thank me for,” you assured him.  “Come; there is something I have which might interest you.”

You got up and he followed after you.  You led him past more parcels and piles of letters.  They started to appear yellowed with age and as he wound through the room the artifacts got older too.  Barrels of spice and coins from countries that no longer existed.  Looms of silks that had been damaged by saltwater.  You stopped at a table.  It was remarkably bare except for a piece of velvet draped over a small pile in the middle.  You lifted the plush fabric and revealed a pile of broken metal and what was clearly the handle of Mjolnir.  He knew it better than he knew himself. The length that was too short due to Loki’s meddling.  The intricate scrollwork on the cap that held the leather strap he used to keep hold of it.  The dark wood with the silver swirling up its length.  It was his hammer, broken but his.

“Each time you prayed that it could be returned more of it came to me.  There is still some missing but if you want you can stay.  Pray for it at night and I think together we can repair it,” you explained.

“Are you sure you don’t mind?”  Thor asked as he ran his hand over Mjolnir’s handle.

“It would be an honor,” you said, putting your hand on his shoulder.  “It’s been a long time since I’ve had company and it’s never been from someone of your status.”

He turned and looked at you, a frown forming on his face as you smiled up at him.  “I am not a king.”

“I’m not sure that’s true,” you said.  “But if you believe it is, then you are one step closer to finding what you’ve lost and I guess I can help after all.”

// NEXT

[atlas-tries]

Shatter Me Chapter 3: Shatter Me

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Summary: Patton finds a painful memory and Janus has a vision. Will it be enough to thwart the outcomes that await?

Notes: Redundant, no? Not gonna lie, fam, it's about to get to the darkest point. Trigger warnings for character death.

“Patton, are you sure you aren’t a hoarder?” Virgil asked, pushing aside a mountain of plushies where he had been unfortunate enough to land. This was the first time the anxious side had been in Patton’s room since he moved to their part of the Mindscape (also the first time he had ever been to Patton’s room) and Patton was beside himself to have him here.

“Absolutely! I just like to keep a few sentimental things around to look at when I’m feeling down,” Patton replied. “But I guess it uh, wouldn’t hurt to clean up a little. Gotta make room for more memories, right? I actually have the energy to do it now!”

Virgil looked at Patton with a lopsided grin. “Wait, what? You, not having the energy to do something? How’d that happen?”

“Ah right, you weren’t here for uh … all of that. Let’s just say I was recovering from an injury I got several months ago,” Patton said, instantly noting the worried change in Virgil’s expression. “Hold on, it’s alright, I’m alright now, see?” He lifted his shirt to showcase the few tiny cracks that remained. “I’m almost completely healed. Logan even gave me his seal of approval!” He pulled out a little medallion with Logan’s bespectacled brain signet on it. “See?”

Virgil breathed out a visible sigh of relief. He shook a finger at Patton. “Awesome,” he said, his voice cracking a little at the end.

“Alright, so you said you were looking for …” Patton started.

“… this one angsty poem Thomas wrote in high school. I thought I’d uh, spice the ruminating up a little when Thomas heads to bed tonight,” Virgil replied. “No better way to fall asleep than thinking about everything that’s gone wrong or that will go wrong, am I right?”

Patton smiled. “Sure, kiddo, as long as they’re balanced with happier thoughts during the daytime! Let’s see, I think what you’re looking for is over here.” He ran toward his version of the staircase that was piled high with boxes and other larger memorabilia that wouldn’t fit on the bookshelf. He glanced through a few of them, perking up a little when he came to the box on the fourth stair. “I think this is it!” He grabbed the box and ran back to Virgil.

“Keep them as long as you need them,” Patton said with a smile. He handed it over to Virgil, who nearly doubled over from the weight of the things inside. Virgil choked out a thanks and quickly sank out.

“Well, that’s one box temporarily dealt with. Now, about the rest of this marvelous mountain of memories …” Patton, though he would never outrightly admit it, didn’t like moving things around very much. It filled him with dread just thinking about moving something somewhere he would inevitably forget about it. Maybe it would be better to start smaller? He looked around for somewhere less cluttered to start. Finally, his eyes landed on the overflowing box labeled New Memories. “That’ll do for now.” He took the box carefully upstairs to his bedroom and got to work sorting its contents.

In around half an hour, everything was categorized into neat little piles that could be easily transferred to other more fitting storage spaces. Patton began collecting everything from the Friends and Coworkers pile and carried them to his dresser. The top drawer was for everything related to Joan. Admittedly, this one was getting a little bloated from all the fun stuff they and Thomas had ever done together. Still, Patton managed to find space for the newer memories in the crevices that remained. The rest made their way into their respective drawers, packed in tightly with all the rest of them.

Patton closed the drawers, smiled, and put his hands on his hips. “Perfect!” he said. Now all that was left was to take the box back to his version of the living room. He picked the box up and startled when it hissed at him. Something was still in there. He peeked into the box at the thing that had just slid toward him, an upside-down picture frame from the looks of it. Steadying the box with one hand, he reached in and flipped it over.

The last memory he had of Thomas’s now ex-boyfriend stared up at him from the bottom of the box.

His hands trembled a little as he stared at this frighteningly still image. “Nope nope nope, not today,” he said, closing the box and walking as quickly as he could to put it back where it belonged. Despite ridding himself of the visual, this memory was still going to make itself heard in the only way it knew how. Patton clutched at his chest hard and the box crashed to the living room floor. “N-not again …”

He sat down on the stairs a moment to regain control of his breathing. Searing lines thrummed in time with his heartbeat, dulled but not forgotten. This was another reason why he never bothered to clean up: too much of a chance to reopen old wounds. Patton rose with a wince to get that recording of the Rainforest Rap. That song always helped cheer him up. He kept the song on repeat until he felt some semblance of normalcy again.

For the rest of the week, Patton lay awake during the nights, praying that the darkness would somehow take away the memories that hurt him so. It, as many spectral entities do, provided no such reprieve. Certainly not enough to quell the ache settling further into his core as the days passed. Taking liberties in his duties here and there made things far more manageable. Just yesterday, Patton suggested Thomas indulge in a half a pack of Oreos and he listened. The day before, he had come thiiiiiis close to getting an actual bouncy castle! And today, Patton had one little plan he thought everyone would jump for (but not in a bouncy castle).

If everything went according to Patton’s plan, they would spend the next 48 hours rewatching The Office in a blanket fort with Thomas’s closest friends. They could all use a break right about now, what with Roman steamrolling through coming up with new concepts, Logan pulling all-nighters researching for new videos, and Virgil making sure everyone was staying on time with Logan’s schedule. He couldn’t wait to see how everyone else liked this idea! He was already out the door and nearly to the stairs when he heard muffled shouting coming from the living room below.

“—not seriously thinking of going along with this latest plan, are you? I have far too much to plan if we’re to keep this project at its utmost quality!”

Patton stopped dead in his tracks at the top of the stairs.

“I know, Roman, I’m concerned about this, too. We’re woefully behind schedule as it is,” Logan added. “If we don’t do something about this, my carefully constructed calendar will collapse under the weight of his impulse decisions.”

“But how are we even supposed to bring that up to him? He’s been acting weird all week, I know,” Virgil bit, “but you know how Pat takes these things, L.” Patton bit his lip to keep from making noise as the cracks grew once more.

“The best way to do that is to do like you said earlier Virgil, rip it off like a metaphorical Bandaid. This isn’t the first time we’ve had to do this.”

So. Patton had gone overboard these past few days with his contributions.

How many other times had he put the other sides in this exact same situation? They were all supposed to be in this together. Weren’t they …?

There was only one way to fix this. Fixing his cardigan and his expression, Patton plodded heavily down the stairs to announce his arrival. “Hey kiddos! Oh, good, you’re all here together, that’ll save me a few trips back upstairs,” he said cheerily.

“Don’t tell us, Padre, you have another idea?” Roman asked. His smile looked so forced.

“Kinda! So I was just thinking that since we are so behind schedule, a 2 day binge-fest might not be the greatest idea I’ve come up with. So instead of that, how about we work on this next concept together tonight?”

Jaws all around the room dropped. “Wait, what? I thought …” said Virgil, looking to the others.

Roman picked up where Virgil left off, “Patton, I believe that’s the best idea you’ve had all week!” He stepped closer. “How shall we go about it? At the dumb boring regular table here, or at the Round Table in the Imagination to help stimulate all the best thoughts?”

“Hmm, that’s intriguing, Roman. It would certainly be easier than trying to keep track of all our thoughts on paper,” Logan added.

“Hey Logan, I guess you say it’s a …” Patton started.

Logan’s eyes widened. “No.”

“Oh, this’ll be good,” Virgil snickered.

“… well-Round-ed idea,” said Patton.

Virgil and Roman couldn’t help smiling watching this play out. Logan groaned. “I will ignore that this one time because you made a worthwhile effort to get us back on schedule, but I do hope that you’ll spend a little more time thinking about what words you want to arrange in a sentence. And make them less … pun-filled.”

“I’ll try not to have too much pun, but I can’t make any promises!” Patton said.

Logan said nothing further, opting instead to vacate the premises as quickly as possible. “I’ll uh, go with him and we’ll get everything set up in the Imagination,” said Roman, running after him.

“Well, I guess that just leaves you and me, kiddo! Whaddaya say we make some snacks for everyone? We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us today!”

Virgil nodded. “As long as I can spit on something meant for Roman,” he said.

“I’ll let you have the cookie batter bowl,” Patton replied.

“Deal.”

Between the two of them, Patton and Virgil were able to make somewhat quick work of a heaping plate of hot cookies and several plates of sandwiches for everyone to enjoy. Sure, they may have gotten more flour and other assorted foodstuffs on them than into the finished products on the counter, but it was the fun they had doing it that mattered. Both of them decided that it would be best to change out of their dirty clothes before carrying everything into the Imagination.

Patton sunk into his version of the kitchen, which was considerably more cluttered than the common area kitchen. He stepped over a few stray memories before making it into the clearer living room. That was when he noticed Deceit sitting on his couch worrying his gloved hands. Softly, Patton called out, “Dee?”

Deceit startled and turned quickly to see Patton. “Um,” he said, clearing his throat and brushing down the front of his cloak, “you certainly didn’t sneak up on me.”

“What brings you back to my neck of the ‘burbs?” asked Patton.

Deceit stood from the couch. “We’re just getting so well acquainted that I thought I’d stop by for tea— and to give a warning. I know they’ve been growing again.”

Patton smiled sadly. “I guess I can’t really hide this from you. But you should know, this time—”

“It’s not their fault, I’m well aware. But doesn’t this make it the best time to tell them? The pressure is off. You don’t even have to tell them in a direct way!” Deceit said, taking Patton’s hands in his own. His eyes were alight with worry. “You just need to tell them.”

“I know I need to, but … it’s so hard to do. I’d be hurting them, I know I would.”

Deceit looked down and sighed. He brought his gaze quickly back up to Patton’s, staring with an intensity that Patton had never seen from him before. “You need to tell them,” he whispered slowly. “I saw something on the horizon. Something bad. As much as it pains me to say it, I don’t want that vision to be about you.”

That was a bit startling. Patton knew it wouldn’t get that far, but … could it? “Okay,” he said. “I’ll tell them.” That earned him a split-second smile from Deceit.

“That’ll do, Patton. That’ll do. What in the world is on my gloves?” Deceit said, sinking out.

“Cookie dough!” Patton called after him. “And probably some mayo. Oh, he probably didn’t hear me. Now what was I doing again? Oh yeah, clothes, brainstorming, Imagination!” He quickly ran upstairs to the bathroom to get changed and emerged from his room less than a minute later and grabbed what food Virgil hadn’t. Maybe if he busied himself enough, he would be able to forget Deceit’s visit. He wouldn’t think about the panic behind his crumbling facade, or the thinly veiled pleas he made.

But that would all be a lie. Something had him deeply troubled, and when Deceit was the one giving out a warning in earnest, it bode better to listen. But how to go about it? Patton sighed. “Alright, Patton, let’s just focus on getting to the others right now,” he said to himself. He closed his eyes and thought about the others, and about castles, knights, and everything that made Roman happy.

When he opened them again, he was in the Imagination.

Or rather, he was in a field in the Imagination, right in front of Roman’s towering castle. It was a perfect amalgamation of Gothic architecture and pure Disney magic that made Patton’s nostalgia meter burst through the roof. He ran through the front gates with appropriate gusto and was thrilled to see the others there around the table already, quietly chatting amongst themselves. “Ah, Patton, we were starting to think you forgot how to get here again. Come, let us formally begin this brainstorming bash!” Roman said cheerily.

“That’s the spirit!” Patton squealed, trying to sound as normal as possible. He set down the cookie platter and took a seat in the high-backed chair with his new symbol on it.

“First things first, let’s make sure we’re all on the same page before we begin,” Logan said, summoning papers for all of them. “In order to maximize our output, Roman, Virgil, and I have decided to remove some of the thought filters from the castle for this session. This means that any particular thought, if it’s focused enough, will manifest in here for all of us to review. According to my own independent research, this should boost our productivity by 42% with a .03% margin of error.”

Patton’s eyes widened a little. He really didn’t want to interrupt their work, but this new system would definitely cause problems if he didn’t come clean now. So, Patton gathered every last bit of gumption that he had and shouted, “I have a confession to make!”

The others backed up a little, startled that Patton could be so loud, but quickly recomposed themselves. “Go ahead, Patton,” said Logan, straightening his tie.

Patton thanked him, doing his best to not squirm in his seat. He knew they wouldn’t react well, but maybe saying it now would keep thoughts about it from popping up later. “I uh, wanted to get this out of the way before we get down to business. But um … I think I might be breaking again.”

“Come again?” Virgil asked.

Patton slid the collar of his shirt down enough to reveal several deep fissures. “These things. They’re growing again,” he said. “Started earlier this week. I just didn’t want that popping up without warning and ruining our work. Anyways, um, what ideas are we working with here, Roman?”

“Wait, breaking? Like, breaking breaking? Oh God, Patton, are you dying? You’re dying, aren’t you? Oh God, no! What stops death?! Logan?!” Virgil cried frantically.

Patton quickly said, “Virgil, Virgil, breathe, I’m not dying. In for four seconds, there you go, hold it for seven seconds. You’re doing great. Just listen to the sound of my voice. Out for eight. Good job, keep it up.”

Logan got out a pen and notepad. “Again? And you say they started earlier this week? Do you remember which day it was?” he asked.

“The day I started cleaning up my room. Uh, what day was that again?” Patton said, still doing his best to softly coach Virgil back down to a calmer state.

“Padre … I thought there weren’t going to be any more secrets about this,” said Roman. The hurt look he gave to Patton about killed him where he sat.

“It wasn’t so much a secret as it was an ‘I-got-a-little-busy-and-kept-forgetting’ kind of thing. I never meant to keep it from you, any of you,” Patton replied. A tiny, glowing orb dripped from Patton’s chest. A thought. He pushed it down between his hand and the seat to trap it, knowing that it would unveil his lie. For good measure, he slung a leg over his hand.

“You were cleaning that day…” Logan mused. “I may have some theories that explain this phenomenon, though it is currently up to speculation. Allow me to elaborate. Patton, it seems that stressing yourself beyond your limits could potentially be the cause of this. You have certainly been going out of your way with your work this week. I believe we all recall the … bouncy castle idea. This could be leading to a lack of self-care needed to perform adequately.”

Patton nodded slowly with as real a smile as he could muster. “Yyyyyeah, that could be it,” he said, shoving down another treacherous thought as it popped out. It brought up memories of all the passing comments Logan made about his character.

“Uh, Pops? Whatcha … doin’ over there?” Virgil asked.

Patton stiffened. “Nothing, just, uh … Practicing a new kind of exercise?” Another one flitted out, pointing to being too overbearing with Virgil. “Hey, is that a dragon coming up to the castle?”

Everyone turned to look while Patton conjured a slingshot, flung that icky thought out the other window. and recaptured the one that had come out from beneath his leg.

“No, that’s a tapestry, Padre. It literally couldn’t hurt you if it wanted to,” Roman said. “Not that I would ever let it!”

Patton smiled. “You’re my hero, Roman,” he said.

Roman blushed a little to that. “Aw, Pat,” he gushed.

Another thought came up, a memory of a time Roman had taken him on one of his adventures. He had wanted to tend to a little wounded animal they came across and nearly got them killed because of it. Patton clapped his hand painfully over his heart to keep that one from surfacing. With a whimper and a slight grimace, he replied, “I mean it, Ro.”

Virgil was getting extremely antsy where he sat. “Okay, um … This is weird, right? Like, this just feels wrong.”

“Virgil has a point, you are behaving rather strangely, Patton,” said Logan. “Do you have something you’d like to add?”

With the focus being on what started this, another memory surfaced. The one that had started it again. Patton tried to bite that one as it meandered past. Curse these full hands! He missed by a mile, leaving it to float effortlessly to the center of the table.

“A thought?” Logan said. “Unconventional, but it’s an intriguing choice.”

It began to play. Patton was in his room, sorting through the new memories box. The last few were being tucked away. It skipped to him looking back in the box to see what was left. It showed him, holding the picture. Him, clutching his chest. Him, stumbling to the floor. As if on cue, the cracks thrummed in recognition. Thank goodness he already had a hand over them because it almost took his breath away. The memory evaporated, leaving the others to simply look with jaws slightly agape.

Patton could only look down at the table. These old wounds were reopening in the worst of ways, and now his closest friends would find out the truth. Logan finally broke the silence. “So, that’s how it happened.”

Patton nodded wordlessly.

“This was months ago,” Logan said.

“It was a busy time for me,” Virgil added. “Switching from everything Thomas did wrong to worrying that Thomas will never find love again got to be so exhausting.”

“I admit even I became a bit disheveled by his absence,” Logan said, looking down.

“I nearly ducked out over this. I can’t imagine what that must’ve been like for you, Patton,” said Roman.

Patton still couldn’t bring himself to look up. He knew there were pent up tears threatening to fall if he did. “It … it was hard … and seeing a reminder of it …” he whispered.

Logan sighed. “I believe your best course of action is clear,” he said. “You simply need to let the past be the past.”

“But … what about all of the good times we had with him? I don’t want to leave them behind,” Patton said softly.

“Patton, these memories are physically hurting you. I can’t understand why you would rather suffer endlessly instead of just letting one person go.”

You’re too sentimental to save yourself from dying.

Patton’s face contorted and a small whine escaped his throat. Those insidious cracks lengthened once more, each one feeling like a knife tracing its way through his skin.

Roman stood abruptly. “Now look what you’ve done, Quantum of Soulless!” Roman cried, motioning to Patton. Logan rose from his seat, trying to get a better look from across the table.

“Roman …” Patton lightly scolded. “Pl-please be nice.”

Roman huffed. “Sorry. What I mean is this situation needs a bit more delicacy than Logan’s robotic demeanor could ever hope to provide.” Roman walked over to Patton and put a hand gently on his arm. Logan was making his way over, too, notepad in hand. “Now Padre, you know how much I came to you when this was all fresh. We did our best to hold each other up, but even now, I still feel lost. I can’t tell you how much I yearn to have our beloved return, or how much I want to call him after all this time.”

Patton sniffled a little, putting his hand over Roman’s and leaning his head against his arm. “I know, I want him back too,” he said.

“I think we all do. But I think it might also be time to start boxing up some of those old memories. We can even help you start!” Roman said. Virgil shook his head. Logan rolled his eyes. “Okay, I can help you start.”

“But I don’t want to forget … I wouldn’t even know where, or how, to start. We had so many good memories together that I don’t want to lose,” Patton blubbered.

“I know it’s difficult, but we aren’t children anymore, Padre. I know the relationship ending was for the best and I’ve been striving every day to remain strong. I also know that you wouldn’t be leaving everything behind if you do the adult thing and let the ghosts of the past go.”

You’re too naive to understand what needs to be done.

Patton doubled over, groaning as the cracks split further down his limbs and up his neck. Bile burned at the back of his throat, and he could taste the coppery twang of essence. He felt another wary hand on him. “P-Pops?” came Virgil’s wavering voice. “I… Thomas was being too overbearing. That wasn’t your fault!”

YOU were being too overbearing. YOU were what drove him away.

Patton cried out in agony as his skin split down to his fingertips and over his face to the top of his head. Small chips of skin were beginning to fall away with tiny tinks as they hit the floor, displaying the bright blue beneath. He could feel the front of his shirt begin to dampen.

“I don’t get it! We’re trying to help, why isn’t this working?” Virgil cried. “Why are they getting worse?!”

Logan came up to Patton, attempting to lean him back with utmost care. “Perhaps just talking about the subject of his pain is what’s causing them to worsen,” he said. As soon as he looked at the frail fatherly side, his demeanor changed. “Virgil, get a first aid kit. Roman, help me lay him on the table. Now!”

The others, at first too stunned to move, burst into action as quickly as they could. Patton screamed as they repositioned him on the table, hyperventilating from the pain. “Hang in there, Padre, please hang in there!” came Roman’s muffled voice. Logan was reaching for the hem of his shirt. He mouthed something to him. Patton felt something glide across his skin from his navel to his neck. Wait, when did Logan get scissors? And where was his shirt? And why did the others look so horrified? Those questions seemed inconsequential to the truth staring down at Patton, demanding he tell it.

“It w-was my fault,” Patton croaked.

Logan started threading a needle. Virgil was carding his fingers through Patton’s hair anxiously. Roman looked at him with incredulous eyes. “What are you talking about?” asked Roman.

“Th-the breakup,” Patton replied. Warmth was trickling down over his ribcage and soaking his back. “A-and everything e-else.” Logan tried his best to stick the needle through solid skin, but it just chipped further. Patton coughed, a bit of blue making its way past his lips.

“Everything else? Patton, you’re not making sense,” Logan said, trying the same thing again with the same result.

Patton whimpered, “I-I know that I’m always … messing th-things up. I forget s-so much … I kn-know that you think I’m t-too sentimental t-to do my job. Th-that I’m too … naive t-to see the truth right in … front of me. That I’m s-so over … o-overbearing that I drove him away. If it w-weren’t for … all of you t-to rein me in … I-I’d make Thomas into a… w-worthless mass of a man.”

You are worthless.

“C-Compression. Let’s try compression,” Logan said.

“Pat … is this … is this what caused all of this?” Roman asked. His eyes shimmered.

“You can’t seriously think that,” Virgil said, his hands becoming shaky.

Patton cried as Logan pressed firmly in the center of his chest. More fragments broke free and with them, Logan’s hands went straight through into Patton’s chest. Patton nearly passed out. Logan quickly withdrew his hands.

“Ohhhh my God, oh my God, Logan, what did you do?!” shouted Virgil. “What do we do now?!”

Patton coughed violently, essence spluttering from his lips in a steady stream.

Logan could only stand there, frozen in horror, staring at his blue hands.

“Logan?!” Roman cried.

“I … I don’t know …” came Logan’s voice, barely above a whisper. Silent tears streamed down his cheeks.

“You can’t die on us, Patton, please, we need you!” Virgil sobbed.

Roman grasped Patton’s hand delicately. It began to shatter like porcelain barely held together. Despite the jagged edges, Roman still lifted it to his cheek, holding on like it was the only anchor in a violent sea. “Y-you’ll … all be … alright … without me … Just … p-promise me … y-you won’t … blame yourselves …” Patton gasped.

He couldn’t hold it together when bigger pieces of him began breaking away from the rest of his body. He couldn’t scream. He couldn’t hear.

He couldn’t see. But still, his mouth made the words.

“I… l-love… you.”

With a final shuddering breath, he was gone.

---

Janus knew that meddling with what his foresight told him never aided the outcome.

He knew this, but he tried anyway.

It wasn’t that he particularly liked Patton. He found him to be overly saccharine and ridiculously optimistic in the face of surefire doom, not to mention he stood by socks and sandals as a fashion choice. However, things always seemed to run smoother in the Mindscape with the fatherly side around. Someone had to be there to tend to the others and moderate their senseless bickering, he supposed. How would anyone get any sleep otherwise? And Patton wasn’t one to pass judgement when he was caught alone. Perhaps his near-blind acceptance was what endeared Janus to him in the first place.

Whatever the case, he didn’t want whatever was going to happen to go through like it wanted to. He could never determine much from these visions. Just … feelings. Notions. The occasional coherent thought. This most recent one should’ve been par for the course. Nothing could’ve prepared him for what came. He couldn’t breathe. He felt like he was being ripped apart. And there was nothing else around but the pain, searing a fiery blue, and those three intrepid words.

I love you.

A swan song if there ever was one. And now, standing here amongst the shadows outside Roman’s castle, he knew the swan had sung.

Taglist: @celeste-tyrrell @taxicabinmemphis @angeldiaries @somehow-i-got-an-account

[secretsfromwholecloth]

Deadfire, day 11.

I just noticed that the room with the flesh construct controller is labeled “Flesh Management”. Because of course we had to go for maximum creepy with everything here, right?

Giving the flesh construct controller a prostate massage is one of the highlights of the series.

Oh, hello, Giftwrapper. Here you go, Edér, an adorable spider friend.

“Maybe they are not so smelly after all.” Why thank you, Sissak, that’s one of the best compliments I’ve gotten this whole playthrough!

“You have seen what cannot be unseen!” Some of the shit that goes on in this place? Damn right I have.

I am deeply amused at Edér’s protective outburst at Anlaf sticking his arm down the screamy thing being followed by Fassina nonchalantly saying, “Better you than me.”

Maybe one day I’ll run a Watcher who uses Llengrath’s spell here rather than Tayn’s—I can think of one or two who should have if not for their player’s weakness—but this one’s Team Tayn all the way.

All right, the moment of truth: Is Retina going to hatch this time? At least now I know to reload if it doesn’t.

*sigh* Nope, reload time. Let me try something—maybe it’s going into the Scriptorium afterwards and getting sucked into Tayn and Llengrath’s argument that’s fucking things up?

You know, throughout this DLC in particular, Edér and Rekke have very similar reactions to most things, controlling for their differing experiences and speech patterns. Killing the Memory Hoarder is a striking exception, though—contrast Rekke’s “Why would god let this happen?” with Edér’s “Reminds me of a wedding I went to once.”

Xoti, I realize you want the big man to like you, but you don’t have to loudly agree with everything he says.

Anyway. Back to the Collections to finish mopping up and see if the little abomination actually hatches this time.

It didn’t hatch until I got back to the Temple of Revelations lobby, but it finally did! I’m so glad to not be deprived of tiny hugs this time.

I never took a proper look at the description of Whispers from the Depths before. “Sometimes, it tickles.”

“Now I have two friends, and I feel richer than ever.” Oh no, more Bekarna feelings.

The History of Eora series contains some creepy information from the beginning, but it takes a turn for the far, far creepier when it starts covering the future.

For reasons I can’t really go into here, Volume XVI: The End of the Gods makes me smile and eyebrow a little. ““Who’s there?” the voice of nothing asked, and it was answered by no one.”

Well, Fyonlecg’s hinting that other civilizations did something similar to Engwith, or worked with them beyond the ones we know of, is certainly quite a sequel hook.

I think I’ll put the body back to sleep this time. I like the ending it gets, and it seems a reasonable thing to do.

Well, I was going to put it back to sleep, but apparently I killed it instead? I suppose that’ll have to do.

It’s very sweet how friendly and optimistic Tayn still is even if you kill the body. One day I’ll see if that still holds if you went Team Llengrath all the way and killed the prisoners in the Collections.

Tayn, Bekarna, go on, give each other a hug. You both need it.

It’s a thing people do when they’re carrying a lot of pain around and haven’t been supported in dealing with it that they get really mad when someone else looks like upstaging them, whether with their own pain or with their achievements. Tayn’s jealous outburst, and Bekarna having to talk him down by appealing to his ego before he’s willing to support her, is...yeah, I super get it. But I hope they can stay friends now that they’ve gotten that out of the way.

If someone’s going in cold, I can definitely see them finding out that Magran doesn’t want the three shards put together, doing it to spite her because of all the problems she’s caused throughout the series (you’re not the boss of me, fire mom!), and realizing too late that they played into Woedica’s hands instead.

Anyway. Without a last faction quest to do, I think it’s Ukaizo time. My regular endgame party is Edér, Xoti, Tekēhu, and Rekke, and there’s nothing going on in this playthrough that would make me want to change that up.

So I didn’t have to fight any of the factions in the channel, but on the other hand, oh shit, Guardian. I was really not expecting to meet this thing—I freed Scyorielaphas like I usually do, and he normally takes care of it. Well, let’s take advantage and explore his dialogue tree.

“Where would you even stab something like that?” Well, Edér, I suppose you, Rekke, and Anlaf can figure that out on the fly.

Well, that wasn’t bad at all, but I’m glad I had Story mode on to fight the Guardian for the first time.

Oh, babies. I wish I could hug all of you, but I’ll settle for claiming my Rekke hug. (And if any of you think the hug isn’t the main reason he’s part of my standard Ukaizo party, you don’t know me very well.)

Tekēhu atop Ondra’s Spire. You know the bit I’m talking about. Which is the main reason he’s part of my standard Ukaizo party.

(To round out the rest of it for the newbies, Edér is simply undroppable, and I figure Xoti will want to talk to her god. If I have to start dropping people because of faction alliances or romances or whatever, Xoti goes first, then Rekke, but it does make me sad.)

Looks like my adventures here won’t be completely rival-free; here’s the hazanui come to bother me one last time. I’m glad it’s her, I would’ve been sad to make poor Tekēhu fight his queen again or to have to turn on Aeldys after building such a good working relationship. Or even to have to fight Castol. It’s Castol if the VTC comes after you, right?

I’m a little sad that Karū didn’t bring Atsura with her, I would’ve loved to give him a good stabbing.

Tekēhu landed the killing blow on the hazanui. Good work, fishboy, I hope you enjoyed that.

“All but three hold gargantuan skeletons”—we’ve seen Abydon’s body, we just dealt with Wael’s, I guess the third one is meant to be Galawain’s hidden somewhere on Kazuwari? Erūke said something about the huge skeleton in the part of the Beyond linked to the statue being Galawain’s, but it wasn’t made particularly clear that the remains of his body in the Here were nearby. It does make sense, though.

Oh, Waidwen. Quick, come get a spirit hug while the camera’s back is turned.

I love that the sidekicks have Grand Promenade conversations now, but I wish they could’ve gotten chats with Eothas as well. I imagine Rekke’s would’ve been quite intriguing.

Making my usual last request of Eothas, a haven for the lost souls, since I don’t have reason to do much else.

Ha, I thought so. The narrator pronounces “Ofecchia” as /oˈfε.ki.ə/, about what I’d expect, so Wakoyo’s /ɑ.fə.ˈtʃi.nə/ is clearly a mispronunciation in-universe. My theory that he’s doing it deliberately because it’s a Vailian name and fuck the Vailians still stands.

Yeah, I don’t love the epilogue for the solo ending. But it’s nice to have had the experience this once.

Other than the Gullet becoming a second home for the Príncipi, I’ve gotten most of my usual endings. Including the Dawnstars collectively taking up sickles and lanterns and becoming Harvesters, while Xoti lays hers aside to become what a proper Dawnstar was before this. Clearly a memo got missed somewhere.

Come on, Hafjórn, I told you to leave that stupid iceberg. This “squat in the temple and become reclusive and fanatical about keeping everyone else out” business doesn’t look like leaving to me.

Welp, time for me to take a bow and then find something else to occupy my days with. Whew, that was fun.

[thirstygirlclub]

Someplace Quiet - Juice x Male Reader

Just a cute request from an anon for male reader monday. enjoy! sorry it took forever to come out.

also lets talk about how sad this gif is? my heart!

Your last day in Queens was bittersweet. You had a last night out with your friends and regretted it the next morning but that was always how you could tell it was a good one. The friends you had made over the years in the NYPD were some you knew you would keep forever and would miss very much but it was time to move on; there was nothing for you in this city anymore. 

The day came for you to finally make your dream come true. You had been saving for years to get enough money to open your record/music shop. You used to have a boyfriend that laughed at your vinyl record collection; calling you a hoarder and always tried to get you to update to something more modern, “Come on!” he used to say, “Just get a CD player!” but you were stubborn. There was just something about them that you loved, maybe you had good memories relating to your grandparents playing them when you were a child... or maybe you were just that guy.

Ideally, you had wanted to set up shop in New York but the rent was way to expensive and you wanted a fresh start, in a new state... someplace quiet and warm. You just wanted a new life. So you chose a tiny town in California, Charming. It sounded like somewhere quiet and full of old people that would buy records and the rent was so much more affordable than anywhere else you had looked at. It was decided. The property was in the middle of town sandwiched between a cafe and a cigar store with a small apartment upstairs. It was exactly what you were looking for. 

News of the New York detective had spread around town quickly and soon enough the Sons of Anarchy had got wind of it. There was a feeling of unease and suspicion was apparent; they didn’t understand why a cop would want to move to Charming purely to open some kind of music store. 

A plan had been formulated. Their informants would scope the place out and see what the cop was like before they made their presence known to him. Clay had sent Unser to do “cop talk” but so far hadn’t made any progress with finding out about the new Charming resident. 

“He just kept saying he wanted a new start,” Unser told Clay and Jax after his visit, “and that’s all I could get out of him.”

It was decided that they would take a personal visit to “welcome” him to the town and maybe threaten him into telling them the real reason that he was there. Cops don’t just open up record shops for no reason.

You had only been in town for a few days, each day spent working on building shelving units and painting the walls until late at night, when you got visits from the locals. Everyone was so friendly and nice. When they found out you used to be a police officer they were always so surprised and understanding.

Then when you had officially opened up you finally got a visit from the guys you had been waiting for. The local biker gang. You knew that as soon as they had gotten wind of an ex-cop in their town they’d come to sniff around. There was nothing to be nervous about though because you weren’t there to enforce the law or arrest them; you were just getting your life together.

When the bell jingled, you looked up from where you were organizing the Dolly Parton records and smiled at the new faces. They were looking at you suspiciously.

“Hey fellas,” You greeted with a light-hearted wave, “how are you doing?”

They murmured a collective greeting and stood looking at you for a while before they dispersed, looking around your store; picking up records at random. There was two men left, an older man with grey hair and the other one looked closer to your age with blonde hair.

“What’s your deal?” The man with grey hair said, looping his thumbs into the pockets of his jeans.

“My deal?” You chuckled, “I opened up a music shop. Kids love vintage and retro music right now. I’ve always wanted to open a store like this.”

You moved passed them to behind the counter where you kept a gun and your coffee cup.

“Vintage?!” Another man asked incredulously, he had a Scottish accent, “I used to listen to these when I were a kid!”

“Says more about you than is does about me, Pal.” You replied, raising your eyebrows and sipping your coffee.

Some of the other men laughed at your jibe, the Scottish man joined in and carried on flipping through the “world music” section. Seemingly more at ease with you now the two men chuckled and leant against the other side of the counter.

“You mean am I undercover or whatever?” You asked them, then nodded when they did, “You can relax. I handed in my badge and gun weeks ago. I’m not a detective anymore.”

Before they could say anything in reply the sound of another motorcycle rumbled in the quiet Saturday air. And when you looked out of the window you felt your heart sink. You had immediately recognised the man on the back when he took his helmet off. Juan Carlos Ortiz. Your ex. He jogged over to the door and started talking as soon as it was open.

“Hey,” he breathed, “sorry Clay. Got caught up in the-” 

Then he looked at you with wide eyes and froze. You mirrored his expression and the other men in the room looked between you. Juan stepped fully into the store with his face both sad and angry and pointing at you.

“What are you doing here? Did you follow me?” He asked, voice cracking slightly.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you laughed humorlessly, “I’m not here for you.”

“Then why-”

“Because I wanted a fresh start.”

The other guys kept looking between you in confusion but apparently knowing better than to interrupt two arguing New Yorkers. Something that you had noticed, and that Juan had always liked, was that your civilian personality would drop and you’d start acting like the hood-rat you really were; like you were when you first met him. You moved out from behind your counter to face him.

Both of you were talking over each other, talking fast and gesturing wildly and getting closer until you were almost nose to nose. Suddenly you were ripped away from your ex by the blonde man and practically thrown against your counter.

“You know each other?” He asked, keeping his hand on your chest so you wouldn’t move but pointing at Juan with his other one.

“Yeah we know each other,” You spat, “don’t we Juan? Went to school together, arrested him a couple or ten times... liked being in handcuffs if I remember.”

Juan’s jaw set and he shook his head as he stepped closer but ran into the man’s other hand. The blonde man gripped onto Juan’s shirt and shook him slightly. 

“Why are you here?” The grey haired man asked low and dangerously, suspicious now that he knew you and Juan had obvious history.

“’Cause I was fed up of goin’ to funerals.” You said and pushed the blonde man’s hand away from you, “Five of my buddies died in one month, Man. Five funerals, five grieving families... kids without dad’s... I was sick of my friends dying.”

Juan looked like he softened when he saw the tears threatening to fall down your cheeks but you scrubbed your eyes roughly and sniffed. You turned away from them and slowly made your way back around to your stool behind the counter; creating a barrier between you and the men who were now looking at you with sympathy.

“Get out,” you breathed and looked at Juan, “just... just get out of my store.”

"No, (Y/N)-”

“Out.”

“You said-”

“You were the one that left, Juan. Not me. You just left with a sorry on a fucking post-it note on my fridge and that was it. What am I supposed to do? Huh? Kiss and make up when you left like that?”

“It wasn’t a post-it note.”

You fixed him with a hard glare and he stepped back and away from his friends, back out the door and on his motorcycle with a last glance over his shoulder. You put your face in your hands and then ran your fingers through your hair in frustration. After a few seconds your attention was brought to the Scottish man who had put a small stack of records in front of you with his wallet out. He was looking slightly awkward.

“Oh- Sorry Pal,” you said when you noticed him before starting to ring up his purchases, “that’s... $25. Gonna give you a discount because of... that.” You gestured vaguely to the door.

“That’s fine,” he nodded.

You slid the records into a paper bag and handed them to him in exchange for the money then they left. As soon as they had, you flipped the sign over to say closed; you were exhausted after that. You hadn’t expected to see Juan again, especially not in a tiny Californian town like Charming but you had always known that when you did see him again it would have been explosive. But then you thought that maybe he had moved here for the same reason that you did.

It was like all of your energy had left you as you made your way into the back room and up the stairs to your little apartment and just slouched into bed but then not sleeping.

Days went by, quiet and warm just like you wanted, but there  was always a tense feeling in your chest whenever you heard motorcycles coming down the street and you couldn’t help glancing through the large windows every time. Juan had gotten more handsome over the years he had left you and when he rode his motorcycle you could almost feel your mouth water. You also couldn’t miss the way his head would turn slightly when he drove passed either and it was like you could feel that he was looking at you.

Then, one afternoon when you were eating your sandwich and clicking through your emails to check what orders you needed to dispatch, the bell for the door rung and you looked up to greet the customer but your polite smile fell when you saw who it was.

“Look,” Juan reasoned, raising his hands almost as if in surrender, “before you kick me out again can I just talk to you?”

With a sigh and a skeptical bite of your sandwich you nodded. He stepped in fully and approached the counter before resting his hands on it. He had taken to wearing rings, you noticed.

“I’m sorry for the way I ended things,” he mumbled, now fiddling with the small stack of sticky notes you kept on the counter, “I got... scared. With your job and... everything, you know?”

He finally looked back up to you shyly, dark eyes searching your face for any sign that you were going to kick off again but finding none. He had actually forgotten how cute you were when you were eating.

“And the guys I was running with couldn’t know about us because, I mean, you know... right?”

“You could have just said that,” you told him softly and put your sandwich down, “instead of just leaving me in the middle of the night. You could have broken up with me any other way than that.”

“I know-”

“You hurt me, Juan.”

“I’m sorry.”

You shook your head looked away from him.

“Sorry about your friends. That sucks.”

You couldn’t help laughing lightly. Only Juan would talk about your friends dying like you had lost your keys but you knew he didn’t mean it in a flippant way like it sounded; he was just bad in awkward situations. When you looked back to him, he was smiling at you in the way he used too when he made you laugh; he liked making you laugh.

“Your buddies know about us?” You asked and pushed the wax paper that held the other half of your sandwich which he happily took.

“I broke it to ‘em,” Juan said around the food, “they were surprised but-” he shrugged, “-they didn’t care that much. Apparently they were kinda expecting it.”

“You are kinda gay.”

“Says you.” He snorted.

And just like that the tension was gone. He wandered around your little store, straightening out a few knick knacks on the shelves and rearranged a few things so they were in alphabetical order.

“The guys want you to come to a party,” he said after a while, “at the clubhouse.”

You tensed up. The friends he had kept in Queens weren’t the best of people and he always seemed to have a nose for trouble. From what you had heard from around town that didn’t look like that had changed too much.

“Am I gonna get beat up for being a cop? I know what your friends are like, Juan.”

“They were the old friends,” his tone was defensive and his eyebrows furrowed, “these guys are different, ok? They like you... I think. They think you’re funny.”

You pressed your lips into a hard line. You had learnt long ago to place your trust in people carefully but found yourself agreeing anyway. They had seemed nice before you had started mouthing off to Juan and even then they hadn’t been violent towards you. You really didn’t know anyone even slightly close to your age in town, Wayne Unser being your only drinking buddy but you didn’t want to talk about cop stuff all the time, so you agreed somewhat hesitantly.

It turned out that parties were the same wherever you were or whoever you were with. The Sons of Anarchy guys were fascinated by the fact that parties with your cop buddies were just as rowdy, if not rowdier, than theirs.

“How many cops did coke?” Tig was asking you, leaning in close as if you would be telling him a huge secret.

“Like... maybe four that I knew of,” You laughed and sipped your beer, “most of us smoked weed though. Gets stressful being a cop, you know?”

“Strippers?”

“All the fucking time.”

He sat back and nodded like you had impressed him and you laughed again.

“Even though you’re, you know... gay.”

“Bi, actually. Just gonna throw that out there.”

There was a collective noise of realisation because they had been wondering why you had been checking out the crow eaters while you sat with them. You didn’t want to tell them too much about yours and Juan’s sex life because it wasn’t your place but there had been a girl that you had often “shared” as she liked to call it even though you were together. You loved each other during your relationship but sometimes you wanted something different.

“Makes sense. And you and Juice were... in a relationship or just fucking or...”

You looked down and tapped your beer bottle on the table with a small sigh. You thought you may as well tell them how you had felt.

“He was the love of my life,” You said quietly with a shrug and still not looking any of them, “and it crushed me when he left. It was never just fucking with Juan. Not even at the start.”

The subject of your conversation came stumbling through the crowd of people and over to your table before flopping into the seat beside you. He looked at you through hazy, happy eyes and you knew he had been smoking too. It felt, just briefly, like old times; his head was on your shoulder while he looked at you with that dopey smile and his arm was around your waist. You weren’t over him. You would never be over him.

“I think you need to get to bed, Babe,” You laughed, the pet name just slipping out before you could stop it, “you’re only gonna fall asleep out here.”

“Only if you take me,” he rasped and you knew that if you took him you wouldn’t be able to keep your hands off of each other.

“You mind helping?” You asked Chibs, “Been out of the force for a while so I’m not as strong as I was.”

The Scotsman laughed and stood, drunk himself by now, and looped Juan’s arm around his shoulder to help him stand up while you took the other one. You worked together to get him through to the rooms that were at the back of their clubhouse. You threw him onto the bed and put his feet up on the mattress. You pulled his shoes off and fought with him to slip his kutte off of his shoulders with the help of Chibs.

“Fuck sake, Juan,” You laughed and finally pulled it off, “stop being stupid and go to sleep.”

He didn’t even look at you again, just pulled a pillow down from the top and cuddled it tightly with a smile on his face. Dope always made him sleepy as fuck. Chibs patted you on the shoulder and you walked back into the bar with him before calling yourself a cab to take you back into the middle of town.

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

As time went by and you and Juan got closer and closer. It was almost like old times but with the added bonus of his friends becoming like your friends. Happy and Juan would often go over to your apartment to play video games when you were working then you could join them when you closed up and your apartment had never been so clean with them both visiting. They would just stroll into the store while you were serving someone and head around the back before you could hear them going upstairs. The best thing about those two going over was that your apartment had never been cleaner even after they ate and had beer. Juan was only messy when he was drunk.

Things only ever got tense if you were alone together so you tried to avoid it as much as possible. It only happened when Happy had gone home and Juan wanted to stick around for longer; or at a party when Chibs would conveniently be missing when you had to put Juan into bed; or that time Kozik just happened to get lost on his way to the gym.

The more you thought about it the more you realised that it seemed like they were making a conscious effort to make you spend more time together; just the two of you. You would catch them whispering sometimes but they would stop the minute you came into earshot.

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

“Where do you want this shit?!” Jax called from the doorway.

You had managed to convince some of the guys to help you on delivery day. The added bribe of free beer and food definitely helped, of course. Jax, Tig and Juan were unloading the van of boxes of various items while you and Bobby looked over the invoices and checked everything was there.

“Just put it upstairs in the back room. Door’s open,” You told them, gesturing vaguely but not lifting your eyes from the invoice.

There was a shuffling of boots on wooden floor and then on the stairs as they heaved the heavy boxes up. You were just supervising the last few boxes coming out of the van when you heard Tig shouting you from upstairs.Making sure Jax and Bobby were alright finishing up, you dusted your hands off and jogged up the stairs into your apartment and through to the spare room.

“What’s up?” You asked and Tig waved you in.

“Come and look at this. I think something’s smashed,” he said and pointed to an open box the Juan was already peering curiously into.

“Seriously? What is it? A record player or- Hey!”

The second you were in arms reach, Tig had pushed you to the other side of the room before running through the open door and slamming it shut.

“Oh no!” He said sarcastically and you heard the key turning in the lock, “What’s happening? I can’t stop it.”

“Tig!” You shouted and banged the door with your fist with Juan shouting to be let out behind you, “What the fuck?!”

“It’s doing it on its own. Think your apartment’s haunted Man.” Tig laughed.

There was more laughter and you realised you had been set up. Jax and Bobby’s voices came from the other side also.

“You ain’t coming out until you fuck and make up,” Jax said, “or decide there’s nothing going on.”

“We’re sick of the soppy, awkward bullshit.” Bobby agreed, 

Then there were three sets of footsteps leaving. When you looked through the keyhole you saw the light of the lounge; the bastards had taken the key with them. You huffed and pulled your phone out of your back pocket to call... someone when Juan smacked it out of your hand; making it skitter across the room and hit one of the many cardboard boxes. You looked up at him, angry and about to ask him what he was doing, when you noticed how intensely he was looking at you.

“They’re right. We need to talk,” he said finally.

“Yeah. Sure. Maybe after your shithead friends let us out of here.”

“Whenever I wanna talk to you about us you always leave. Why?”

That fucking face and those puppy dog eyes killed you, just like they had all those years ago. At a loss for words, you shook your head and looked away from him. You didn’t know what to tell him. That you still loved him and being alone with him hurt too much? That you still hated him for leaving and looking at him made you angry? Instead, you just shrugged and walked over to the window. All three men were sat on their motorcycles below, smoking and talking.

As you were about to open it to shout down to them Juan’s words cut through you and made you pause.

“You really hate me that much? You’d rather jump out of a window than be alone with me?”

“Never,” You hissed at him, whirling around to finally meet his eyes with yours, “I never hated you, Juan, not until you left. I fucking loved you. And you just... left.”

“I apologised!”

You shook your head and folded your arms before closing your eyelids over the tears that were stinging your eyes. He said he was sorry but it was too little and too late. He apologised years after he left.

“You were too late,” You told him finally.

His eyes searched your face. You were older, sure and more hardened than you had been when he left but you were the same old (Y/N) that he had left behind. You were still the man he loved more than he had ever loved anyone before or since. He never wanted to leave you. It wasn’t you he needed to escape.

“I wanna try again.”

“It’s always what you want, isn’t it Juan?” You leaned back against the window ledge with your eyes still fixed on his face, “You want to leave, you want to be friends, you want to try again. What about me?”

Now it was his turn to look sheepish and stare down at the floor, rubbing the back of his neck. He knew you were right. You were both silent. Thinking. Pining.

“You want it too,” Juan said finally, “I know you do. I know you. We’ve been friends forever. Remember the first day of middle school?”

You couldn’t help smiling at the memory. It was years ago but you remembered it clearer than almost anything else. He had shuffled up to your table at lunch with his hands buried into his pockets and looking sheepish, the same way he was looking at you now, and complimented your Metallica shirt and when you looked up you saw he was wearing the same one. You were instantly best friends; inseparable and then you fell in love slowly over the years until the end of high school and the thought of not seeing each other everyday pained the both of you. Even when you went to train to be a police officer and he started running with less than desirable people you stayed together, moved in together, planned a future. But then it ended.

“Yeah. I remember,” was all you said, tearing up slightly at the thought of how things used to be and how much they had changed.

“I want it to be like that again.”

“Your friends-”

“Aren’t like the other ones. They’re better. They care and... they accept me- us. Ok? They don’t give a shit about any of that.”

“-are in a violent gang,” You continued, annoyed that he had interrupted you, “I want a quiet life from now on, Juan. I just wanted to be someplace quiet where I could go through my day without worrying about who’s gonna die next. That’s not gonna happen if my boyfriend’s part of an MC, is it?”

The pain in his eyes almost physically hurt your heart but you hoped that he understood what you meant. You didn’t realise that you had moved away from the window; closer enough for him to touch your cheek, your hair and then to the back of your neck. The first time since he had seen you again since you always moved away when he tried anything that was more than helping you drunkenly home. You missed it.

“No one’s dying,” he said almost in a whisper, looking earnestly into your eyes and shaking his head, “I promise. I won’t get you involved in anything you don’t want to be. I love you.”

And that was all it took for you to grab him and kiss him. It was just like it used to be, exactly the same as the first kiss you had shared and the last one before he left. It wasn’t until you heard the door being unlocked and then opened that you came us for air. Tig, Jax and Bobby stood in the doorway looking at you smugly. All you did was glance at them over your shoulder, smirking, and then catching Juan’s lips with yours again then pushed him back against the wall. You heard the door shutting again and the footsteps retreating and then engines starting. Their work was done. Juan smiled into the kiss and you couldn’t help the disbelieving laugh that escaped.

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

Juan kept his promise. You were kept in the dark about everything unless it was absolutely necessary. You only ever knew the bare minimum of the stuff Juan was caught up in. He helped you run your shop when he had days off and moved himself into the apartment with you.

Your days were exactly what you dreamed of; they were quiet, other than the occasional sound of motorcycles of course, and full of warm sunshine and you were happier than you had been in a long time. You even caught yourself thinking about the future again and even planning it with him. One day you would get your own house. It would have a big garage for his motorcycle and a big living room for all of your records. There would be a home gym and a large garden for the dogs you were going to get. 

Then, his ideas changed and he said that he wouldn’t mind moving his gym stuff into the garage when you got a kid. The backyard would be big enough for a swingset and slide.

But that was all in the future and you just wanted to be happy in the present. And you were.

[thiswreckageivebecome]

As Long As It Takes (“The End.” -Part 25) (Sebastian Stan x reader)

Description: “I’ll wait for as long as it takes, as long as I get you at the end" You meet Sebastian Stan on the street in New York. What starts off as a fan encounter stretches to an unexpected coffee date and before long you’re caught up in a whirlwind and left with an internal struggle of what to choose.

Word Count: 4108

Warnings: Language.

Authors Note: As noted in the title, this is the final part to this story. Thank you for sticking with me through all of this. It has meant more than you’ll ever know. ALSO, in the process of moving my computer screen was destroyed so I’m trying to post all of this via the mobile app and we all know what a bitch that can be. Therefore, I apologize for the formatting issues that are found here. If it’s too annoying, you can find the story on Wattpad and AO3.

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The following eight months seemed to rush by, yet move as slowly as slime simultaneously. You worked on getting your things and your life, in many ways, packed up and ready to move into this new chapter of your life.

Sebastian had to assure you multiple times a week that everything would be okay. You knew it in your heart but starting over somewhere new brought you anxiety some days, not to mention that packing to move was the worst experience of your life. When Sebastian had free time, he came down to assist in packing. The majority of the time not much packing was done, but instead laying in bed binging television and just enjoying each other's company. There were some instances, however, when Sebastian did help. The two of you went through your things, things you had retained in your possession all the way back into middle and high school.

"I have hoarding tendencies if you couldn't tell by now," you told him one time after the two of you had spent the last three hours looking through one tub of letters and pictures from way back when. The memories had brought back happy tears to you and much laughter for both of you.

"I love you regardless and I will officially put into my vows that I'll never submit you for that hoarders show."

"Ha-ha," you said the words out stocatto-like, drenched in sarcasm. Soon enough, September was ending and Green Day was calling your name. You had just shipped the last few pieces of furniture to Sebastian's apartment, it still felt weird to say our apartment, when a honking horn was directed at you. You smiled when you saw your friends, Beth and Caroline driving up.  As you hopped in, Beth addressed you first, "ready to go drop some dollar bills!!!" You couldn't help but roll your eyes.

"Please, please, don't tell me you're actually taking me to a strip club for my bachelorette."

"You'll just have to wait and see," Caroline peeped in. The three of you headed to the airport to board your awaiting plane. When you landed, your friend Talley was waiting for you at the gate. You embraced as you hadn't seen each other in a year or so. You all headed out and to your awaiting vehicle which Sebastian has lined up for you. The limo took you to the hotel where you met Olivia who had flown in from LA to be a part of your wedding party. The five of you decided to nap before heading out for the evening. Sebastian knew you were off limits until the wedding Sunday but you still planned to facetime.

"Hey, babe," Sebastian practically hollered at you once the call connected. You had to rip your headphones out of your ears to avoid hearing damage. "Oh, shit, I'm sorry," he attempted to apologize, not thinking about the headphone not being back in your ears yet. You got the headphones positioned back in your ears and smiled at the screen while talking small.

"You're feeling good, huh?" You chuckled lightly. It was obvious the boys had already gotten started. Seb's eyes were glassy and he had that dorky, albeit very tipsy, smile you loved so much plastered on his face.

"Yeah! We're about to head back out. These dudes, I swear, (y/n), I love them so much." His face quickly sobered. "Not as much as I love you, of course!" His face lightened again.

You busted out laughing as quietly as you could so not to wake anyone already napping.

"Thanks for that. Make sure you tell every one I said hello." The next thing you knew your ears were hurting again before you could remove the headphones.

"GUYS! HEY GUYS!! (Y/n) SAYS HELLO!!" You just barely heard a chorus of "Hey, (y/n)!" in response.

"Babe, you're going to end up marrying a deaf woman if you keep it up."

"Shit. I'm sorry...again."

"It's okay. Well look, I'll let you guys go so you ca-"

"(Y/n), Chris wants to talk to you. Here he is." You heard the phone drop to the floor and the pickup amidst of "Damn, Sebastian. Hey, man. Why don't you go sit down for a minute. I'll bring you the phone when I'm done talking to (y/n) so you can say goodbye." You heard Seb agree before you heard Chris' voice.

"Hey, (y/n), how are you?"

"Oh, I'm good. Not quite as good as y'all are, though, it seems."

"Not as good as Sebastian and some of the other guys, you mean. I'm good. I've only had a beer or two thus far. Someone's gotta keep an eye on these fellas."

"Honestly, Chris, why am I not surprised?"

"At what exactly?"

"That you're taking it easy so that you can keep an eye out."

"Yeah, well. It seemed like the thing to do."

"Well, I appreciate it, Chris. I mean. It's still early and if they're already that tipsy, there's no telling how crazy the night is going to get." You paused, mind swirling as an unsettling thought crept in. Before you could stop yourself you said it aloud. "Sebastian must be getting really nervous about getting married."

"Hey, hold on just a second." You heard a door open and shut and a few more seconds of little sound.

"I wanted to step out where it's a little quieter so we can chat without distractions. Why do you say that? That Sebastian is getting nervous?"

"Just forget it. I honestly didn't mean to. It just appeared in my mind and transitioned to my mouth."

"Well, it clearly bothers you so I think I shouldn't forget it until we talk about it or you talk about it with someone. I would put Sebastian on the phone but honestly, I don't know how much good it would be with his alcohol-filled headspace right now."

"Chris, I really don't think I want to talk about it," you replied even quieter than before.

"You may not want to, but I really think you need to."

"Look, the thought literally just came out of nowhere because of him being so wasted so early. It just seems like a lot of alcohol very early in the evening. I know sometimes he tends to drown out his concerns with alcohol, not always, but sometimes. God, I make him sound like an alcoholic. He's not, Chris, and that's not how I meant it."

"I know, (y/n), I know."

"Maybe I'm the one that's nervous about getting married."

"No, I don't think you are. I feel like you've never been more sure of anything." His response couldn't help but make you giggle.

"You're right, actually."

"I thought so."

"For what it's worth, I think Sebastian feels the same way. I know I've told you before but I've never seen him this happy in my years of knowing him. I think he just is happy to be back together with his buddies he hasn't seen in a while and they were wanting to drink so he joined can.” He paused. "Man, I make him sound like a peer pressured teen." He started laughing and you joined him.

"You really did to be honest. Awww, teenage Seb. I wish I had known him then."

"Has Georgeta shown you the photo albums yet?"

"We've made it through his second year. That's it, though." He guffawed at this info.

"Well, the good news is, after Sunday, you'll have the rest of your lives to look through them."

"It'll probably take that long too," you giggled. A moment passed. "Thanks for talking with me about the irrational fear that creeped in for a moment. Everyone here is napping so I'd have no one else to talk to about it."

"Of course, (y/n), you're one of my best friends. That means we're here for each other. If you need to chat at anytime all you have to do is pick up the phone. You know that, right?"

"Yeah, I suppose I do, despite that I never really think to do so, honestly. That goes both ways. You know that, don't you?"

"I do. Oh God, I hope Sebastian doesn't hear because you realize we just both said 'I do''s, don't you?"

"Oh hell, we did didn't we?"

"Yeah, but I'll keep it on the down low." You laughed.

"Thanks, Chris. I was so worried you were going to show up and try to move in with me," you said sarcastically. "Granted, I'm unsure where you'd move into since I currently an homeless." You could practically hear his eyes rolling in his head.

"You're not homeless, dramatic."

"Well, technically I am still in transition. I'm just saying."

"In transition my ass. All of your shit is here and unpacked."

"No, it's not."

"The stuff you have in your suitcase doesn't count."

"No, but the majority of my stuff is still in boxes spread throughout Sebastian's apartment." He took a moment before answering.

"(Y/n), it's not, I swear to you. I have yet to see a box and I've been here all afternoon." You began to think and wonder because you had literally FaceTimed Seb before the girls picked you up and the only things you had shipped were furniture pieces so all boxes had already made it up there. In fact, Sebastian had tripped over a box of your things while you had been on the call.

"I don't understand." How in the world would he have gotten rid of all of the boxes.

"Hold on a sec." You heard rusting on Chris' end of the line. "Oh shit," you heard him say quietly and you could almost see him looking down in frustration. "(Y/n), I'm so sorry. I think I just ruined a surprise."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"I think Sebastian unpacked everything for you and had already put it around the apartment. I bet he wanted you to feel right at home and wanted to surprise you by having everything unpacked when you guys got back. He's already separated his closet and one side is all of your clothes. Shit, (y/n), I'm so sorry."

Your eyes began to tear up, touched by how thoughtful and time consuming this gesture had to have been. He must have only had a few boxes left when you had FaceTimed.

"Oh, Chris. It's okay." You sniffled.

"Oh, God, please don't cry. I feel like shit already."

"No!! No, it's not that. I'm not upset. I'm just touched by his gesture."

"Oh, thank God. I was worried for a minute there."

"Well, look, I need to get off of here and take a nap. Thank you for keeping an eye on him, all of them, tonight. I really appreciate it, Chris. You have no idea how much I do. I know we're not supposed to see each other before Sunday but will you please let me know if anything happens and I need to be there? Or if you need backup because I feel like it's gonna get pretty rowdy."

"Well, you may be right about that, but I can handle it."

"Chris. You have Seb, Mackie, Chase, and Chu. Just those alone are enough to cause concern. Let alone the other four.” Chris busted out laughing in response.

"That is very true. Okay, I'll call if I need backup, I promise."

"Thank you. Also, don't take this the wrong way because I love all of them, but for God's sake don't let Seb promise anyone another spot on the groomsmen team. Please promise me that."

"I got you, (y/n). I'll keep them in line and out of the groomsmen line," he said chuckling.

"Thank you, Chris. Seriously, all joking aside, thank you. I forever owe you for all of this."

"Don't mention it."

"Don't mention what?" You teased.

"Oh okay, smartass. Let me go tell Mackie you added him to the wedding party."

"Shit. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." You both began to laugh again.

"Alright, well I'll let you go so you can nap and I can check on the boys. It's awful quiet out there."

"Yeah, you better go, then. I’ll talk to you later and thanks again."

"Anytime, see ya."

You quickly fell asleep. The next thing you knew, you were being awoken by Caroline and Beth jumping up and down on your bed.

"Damn, you guys." You tried to remain serious but couldn't stop yourself from grinning.

"Let's party!!!" They dragged you out of bed and quickly into an almost endless night of fun. After brunch you all finally headed back to the hotel to rest. Vegging out with plenty of laughs, catching up, and chick flicks were all in order on the night before you married the man of your dreams. Sunday came and the wedding went off without a hitch, surprisingly. You all danced the evening away before Sebastian and you headed out for your two-week honeymoon on a 2am flight.

Your honeymoon was spent traveling through Italy, Romania, and the Philippines. Before you both knew it, it was time to return to your home in NY. Sebastian still had a few weeks off of work so you two spent practically every moment together. Once he was down in Atlanta, you decided that you'd begin a job hunt, looking for something part-time. It worked out that Sasha happened to need some extra help around the shop so you stepped in. Since Sasha knew the inner-workings of you and Sebastian's relationship, the job at the shop gave you something to do and some income while he was away yet the freedom to visit him when it was convenient for the both of you. About a year and a half after you were married, you surprised Sebastian on set in Greece.

"Babe!!!" He exclaimed entering his trailer, running to you, picking you up, and spinning you.

"Sebastian," you squeezed his neck, "oh, I've missed you...so fucking much." You kissed him as he released you back to the floor.

"Oh, that goes both ways," he quietly replied after your lips parted. You both smiled softly but only for a moment. "So, babe! What are you doing here? Why didn't you tell me you were coming?"

"Ahm, Sebastian, babe. It's called a surprise," you responded sarcastically.

"Oh, thanks for the info. I had no clue." He rolled his eyes back at you.

"I just missed you!"

"Well, I'm so fucking psyched you're here. How long are you here for or is that a surprise too?" Now it was your turn to roll your eyes.

"No, that's not a surprise. I'm only here a couple of days. I have to be back to work on Monday." Seb's face dropped a little bit. "Sure I can't call Sasha and work something out?"

"Don't call her. She doesn't know I'm here."

"What?" His eyes grew in size. "You didn't tell Sasha something? Since when?"

"Oh, hush!"

"I'm serious!! You told her about that one night that I had to go to the doctor the next day after what we did. It was like you couldn't wait to laugh at me behind my back. Actually I take that back, you laughed in my face. It was like you couldn't wait to have other people laugh with you." You attempted not to bust out laughing in his face once again. "Go ahead, laugh. I can tell you want to. Your face is about to turn purple from you holding it in." You complied and had to bend over as you couldn't stop laughing. He took your arm to keep you from tumbling over. Once you caught your breath again, you leaned back up, thanking him for the laugh and for steadying you.

"Okay, so a little bird told me you get off around seven tonight?"

"Who've you been talking to?"

"A little bird. I just said that."

"Well, you're right so you must have been talking to someone important or at the least, correct," he laughed.

"So dinner tonight?"

"Of course. Then a little dessert?" He winked seductively. "Actually, how about a lot of dessert? Maybe a couple of dessert trips?" He waggled his eyebrows at you. You slapped his chest.

"Stop, Seb. I get it, okay."

"I mean, it's been a month."

"Seb, I get it!" He pulled you by the hips to him, your face flushing.

"Okay, I'll stop...talking about it. But is it a possibility?"

"Dessert is a possibility."

"Wait. Just to be clear...dessert or," his voice dropped to a gruff tone, "dessert?"

"It'll be a surprise." He smiled, reading your mind. No surprise would be had that night. The next morning, however, Sebastian had a big, slightly prankish, surprise waiting for him. He had left you asleep in the hotel suite and headed to work. He stepped up to his trailer on set to go in and get ready, or so he thought. When he opened the door, about 30 pink plastic bodies slid out of the trailer. He was shocked but then he realized what the pink plastic bodies were. He couldn't see anything but plastic bodies inside his trailer.

"Surprise!!!" You shouted behind him about 10 feet off. He spun around quickly, jaw dropped in shock.

"Wait. What??" He said as a ponderous smile began to spread across his face and his eyes ignited with joy. "Are you saying???"

You simply nodded with a painful cheeky grin. He ran to you, picking you up into a bear hug lifting you off the ground in the process.

"We're going to be parents!!!" He shouted for anyone in earshot to hear. Little did he know most everyone on set already knew as you had roped them into helping you with the surprise. Everyone came out of the woodwork, or rather, from behind trailers, props, and inside the building, clapping and cheering, passing on their congratulations.

Later that evening after Sebastian got off of work, he rushed back to the hotel but when he walked in you were asleep. He fixed himself some breakfast for dinner. As he turned around to plate the food, he saw you standing next to the island.

"Shit. Did I wake you up? I'm so sorry."

"Sebastian, it's okay. I didn't mean to fall asleep, it just happened. I wanted to be awake when you got back."

"Are you hungry?? I'll fix some food real quick...for both of you." You smiled and walked leisurely to him, putting your arms around his back and interlocking your fingers behind him.

"I think we're fine for now. We ate a lot earlier. Thank you, though. We both appreciate it."

Sebastian lowered himself to one knee and placed his hand on your stomach despite that no one could really tell you were pregnant yet.

"I can't believe you're here, little one," he said caressing your stomach. You ran your fingers through his hair as he continued to speak softly to the baby and sneaking butterfly kisses here and there.

"You're going to make a great dad, you know."

"You're going to make an even better mom."

"We shall see. I have said for about seven years now that the only way I'd have kids was if they were yours. I couldn't deprive the world of little Sebastians running around."

"I can't wait to meet her."

"You want a girl," you asked incredulously. He stood up to his full height and pulled you close.

"Yeah, I want the world to have a little you running around." You shook your head and chuckled lightly into his chest.

"I love you, Sebastian." After a moment, his hands moving to your arms and leaning you back quickly he exclaimed,

"Wait! So you're telling me, you knew you were pregnant...and we did ....what we did last night!?" You burst out laughing.

"Seb, you can have se-" his hand flew over your mouth stopping your sentence short.

"Shhh!! She doesn't need to know about," he whispered and then softened his whisper even more to finish, " s-e-x yet." You couldn't help but giggle at how silly he was being and he removed his hand.

"Seb. Babe. Stop." You continued laughing. "You're being ridiculous."

"How long have you known?"

"A couple of weeks."

"So...you mean the last time we...before last night, of course."

"A month and a day ago, yes." You grinned.

"I just can't believe this. I'm as happy as I've ever been."

"Me too, babe. Me too."

You went back home. After another couple of months, Seb was home and on hiatus from work for the following two years. In the meantime, he didn't miss a moment of your pregnancy, the child, Sophia Faye Stan coming into this world, or her first year of life. After Sophia had passed the age of three, Sebastian and you began trying again and it wasn't long before soon you were pregnant again. This time you got the little Sebastian you had been hoping for. Mihail Stan was born in May two months to the day before his sister's fourth birthday. Sebastian continued to work but it was less frequent typically only working a couple of months a year and limiting PR so that he could spend time with you and the kids. Your little family purchased two homes, both near enough to either side of the family so that the kids could know their grandparents better. Your family spent three-fourths of the year in NY as it had become your home since moving and the remainder of the time in NC with trips down in between visits. After Mihail had gotten to the age of two it worked out that a new child came into the family but by adoption this time. Rosamie Sampaguita Stan came into your lives on December 22nd. Adopted from an orphanage in the Philippines, Rosamie was dropped off at the orphanage and no one had been able to track down her parents for the past year of her life. She brought so much joy and a feeling of wholeness to your little family.

By the time the kids got to high school, Sebastian decided to limit his work even more. He stuck to jobs that would be local and didn't require travel. You continued your photography business you started after Rosamie turned six. Sophia pursued acting, like her father, but studied at Syracuse. Mihail grew up loving animals and became a veterinarian, moving to North Carolina to attend vet school at NC State. He graduated with honors and moved to Boone to open his own practice. Rosamie remained close to you. She loved to dance and after studying dance at Juilliard, she opened up her own studio downtown, purchasing a home just a few blocks from the quaint two bedroom home you and Seb downsized to after she graduated college.

The remainder of your days were spent with joy and love. You welcomed the sons-in law and daughter-in-law and adored the grandchildren you were blessed with. It was a beautiful 45 years of wedded bliss.

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I can't believe it's finally over. A part of me has died as I have enjoyed writing this story so much. Thank you to all of those who read and enjoyed. I'm eternally grateful for your kind words and eyes. I want to quote "Chuck Shurley/a prophet/ God" in Supernatural to finish everything out:

"Endings are hard. Any chapped-ass monkey with a keyboard can poop out a beginning but endings are impossible. You try to tie up every loose end, but you never can. The fans are always gonna bitch. There's always going to be holes. And since it's the ending, it's all supposed to add up to something. I'm telling you they're a raging pain in the ass...So what's it all add up to? It's hard to say...No doubt, endings are hard. But then again, nothing ever really ends, does it?"

@pari0924 @yesixoxo @a-d-v-e-n-t-u-r-e-s @verymuchso-youknow@moniquefitzgerald@chmereaustin@rayonship07@buckyband@wydari@parisispretty@mylexlife@ivoryfoxfigliadeifiori@pepperspraymeiwillpeppersprayyou @crownie-sr@sebstan01@awinterloveuniverse@linksforlaylor@layoutmellet@theliarone@rebekastan98@discophony@inthenameofrock@glitterintheairblog@millie-saurus-rex@celinejfong@camerica96@emilyinbuffalo@seargantbcky@sebbysebbastan@iamwarrenspeace@jeelicious78@valentinachr@badassbaker  @sebbystanlover-vk@mummastace @ssweet-empowerment @void-imaginations @ilovebeingjoyful @superwholockian5ever @mashed-fandom-imagines @the-nonsenseblog

[planetsam]

Lilith and Randall after she gets her memories back the first time

“Lil?”

“Go away!”

Randall frowns at the door. He’s an RA and he’s used to people telling him to go away, but it’s usually guys and half the time it’s because they’re jerking off. Lilith has been violently opposed to people taking care of her since the day they met. The last time she had a cold and he brought her tea is something they do not talk about. Like that’s not a normal thing to do for someone whose sick. They both know he hasn’t moved from the door and she practically rips it off its hinges when she opens it. She’s breathing hard even though it’s been at least five minutes since something went flying out the window. He knows he’s not supposed to mention the wetness on her cheeks. She challenges him for a moment before turning back inside.

“I’m alive. You can go,” she snaps.

Randall takes in the sight of the damage. Order members die violently and often. And kids don’t usually bring furniture to their dorms anyway. Her having been in the Order though, it does explain why she picked what she did. How her room swings between the spartan bareness of necessity and the tendencies of a hoarder. When Hamish had jokingly asked if everything fit in her backpack and she had told him to fuck off, Randall hadn’t known how to look past the anger. She hadn’t said no. Lilith keeps her back to him and looks out the window. He knows better now than to have come up here with a set plan of how things were going to go. Lilith isn’t one for the beaten path. She hasn’t been for as long as he’s known her. She snorts out a bitter laugh and turns back around to him. She’s also not a coward.

“Ask it,” she says.

“Are you okay?”

“You are such an idiot!” She shouts at him, “of course I’m not okay! That’s not what I meant! Ask me about the Order!”

He frowns. He may have been an idiot about the whole ‘are you okay’ thing but she can’t honestly think that it matters to him. She does though, he can see that from the look on her face. She turns away before she rubs at her cheeks and swears. She doesn’t even try to throw things. Under all the defensiveness, he knows she’s one of the strongest people he’s ever met. Seeing something affect her so much makes his insides twist with a strange urge to destroy whatever that is. But the rest of him refuses to be thrown out of her room like this.

“I don’t care that you were in the Order,” he says. She scoffs, “you never talk about home. I figured it wasn’t a good situation. But that’s always been a part of who you are.”

“Not a good situation and the fucking Order are different,” she snaps.

“Not to me,” he says. She rolls her eyes and mutters something that sounds like ‘idiot’, “Seriously. I knew Jack was in the Order and it didn’t stop me from helping him. And he’s still in it!”

“You’re both idiots,” she tells him though it comes out slightly less furious.

“Yeah, but we’re idiots on your side,” he says.

She looks away and then looks back at him. Then she swats him on the arm again.

“Hey! I’m injured remember?!”

“Stop smiling at me!” She says, “every time I look at you you’re always smiling.”

“Because I like hanging out with you. Is that so hard to believe?” He can feel his face getting hotter by the second. He hates seeing her in pain but dear god this is not a conversation he’s ready to have, “I don’t even know I’m doing it.”

“How do you not know?” She demands rolling her eyes.

“Are you aware of every time you touch me?” He shoots back.

Her cheeks go bright red and he feels his stomach go somewhere around his ankles. He’s aware of it, he just doesn’t make it into a thing. Apparently so is she. They have an unspoken agreement to never talk about this. She definitely finds it to be a cliche. Just because they are a boy and a girl who get naked around each other and might have a certain level of attraction does not mean anything has to happen.

“That’s not the point,” she says, “this is stupid. i was in the Order!” She makes a noise, “i messed that up.”

“But you’re a great Knight!” He protests, “maybe you messed it up because this is where you belong. Like Jack,” she curls her lip, “Don’t you guys believe in fate? Destiny?”

“Do you?” She challenges.

“I think you both belong here,” he says without a moment of doubt, “I know you think I’m an idiot. That doesn’t change how I feel. Just accept it.”

Lilith is quiet for a moment and then takes a calculated step forward. Then another. Then she fists his sweatshirt and pulls him down to her level.

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

“You know i’m right,” he says.

“I know you’re an idiot,” she shoots back and shoves him. The pain is surprisingly bright and wet. When she yanks him back he hisses and she pulls the neck of his shirt aside. “You’re bleeding,” she says.

“Probably the magic from the sigil,” he says, dislodging her hand so he can pull off his sweatshirt. He looks at her. “I can patch this up.”

She grabs his wrist and pulls him into the kitchen. He forfeits a dishtowel to staunch the bleeding as she grabs things. Fortunately the freshest herbs make the best cocktails and she gets to work. He wants to tell her that she doesn’t need to do it, but he’s kind of fascinated watching her work. She spends the least amount of time in the kitchen. And always comes up with an excuse for getting out of it. Now he watches her work from memory, grinding and chopping things before adding them to a pot.

“Hey, so, do you think this is why you hate cooking?” He asks. She stops and braces her hands, “those initiates who got the powder always hate where it happened for one reason or another.”

“It’s the mind protecting itself,” she says, “rewriting things,” her jaw tightens, “I loved making potions,” she says, “chemistry was my favorite subject.”

“You’re an english major,” he say slowly.

Her fist clenches and he slides the nearest piece of pottery for her to throw before she cracks the island.

“I didn’t come here to study english! Business and chemistry. I was going to help people!” She smacks her hands down, “one mistake and it’s all gone,” she turns to the pot and curses, shutting off the flame, “shit. I have to—“ she shakes her head, “I did something wrong.”

“Screw those assholes,” he snaps, getting up from the stool, “it’s not gone. Not by a long shot,” she looks at him, “you just have to try again. What herbs do you need?”

“Randall,” she says.

“No, tell me,” he says, “Listen you may not know but I am a great lab partner,” he says, “I measure perfectly,” risking further bodily harm, he touches the back of her hand, “let me help, Lil.”

She looks at him finally and shakes her head.

“You’re hurt,” his stomach twists in disappointment, “Next time,” she says and he might feel better. Just a bit. She gathers everything and redoes it. He watches her work. Lilith isn’t someone who does things effortlessly. There’s care in her work. He watches her as she moves about. It’s rare that he gets to more than out of the corner of his eye. He realizes thats creepy, even as a thought and looks away, returning to looking out of the corner of his eye. She tips some into a mug and comes back over, “you ready?”

“Born ready,” he says.

“Lean over the sink.”

He does, trying to get as low as possible. She meets his gaze and he smiles encouragingly. She rolls her eyes and tips the contents over his shoulder. He braces for pain but instead it bubbles like peroxide, the skin goes pleasantly cool. Lilith peers over his shoulder. This close, the crown of her head is practically in his nose. When she looks up, she’s so close. His smile falters because it’s really hard to be in this position, but the fact that she’s on his shoulder instead of Hamish makes it not that bad. Not that bad and very hard in a very different area.

“It worked,” she says.

“Good job,” he tries for encouraging but his voice is a lot more strangled than he wishes it was, “wanna be lab partners?”

“What?” That gets her to jump back.

“Yeah,” he says, “if you were thinking about it.”

She’s honest to god flustered and fuck if he doesn’t find it hot. She collects herself.

“Lets survive this first. Talk about that later.”

Later, before they get her back, when he doesn’t know if they will, Hamish finds him sitting outside her door. Randall thinks Hamish is being ridiculous when he calls himself an old man, but he gets it when Hamish lowers himself next to him and doesn’t tell him everything’s fine.

“I think—“ he doesn’t have the right words for this. “What if she doesn’t come back?”

“You can’t think like that,” Hamish says.

“But what if she doesn’t?” He presses, something splitting in his chest. He never told her and he thought that was right. Protecting them somehow. But now all he can feel is the howl Greybeard wants to let out, “if she dies—“

“You will go on,” Hamish says firmly, “it’s the only choice.”

“Does it ever stop?” He asks finally.

“No,” Hamish says, “but you learn to carry it, the same way you learned to carry the hide.”

Randall doesn’t think he will ever learn to feel the ache in his chest as anything but a black hole. He doesn’t know how Hamish had carried it for eight years. The thought of her hide coming back, of someone else scratching their name into the chest makes him feel physically sick. Hamish gives him a tired, sad smile and clasps his shoulder.

“It will be okay,” he says.

“I don’t want it to be okay,” Randall confesses, looking at him.

“I know,” the older wolf says, “I know.”

Much much later, a girl with the sourest, most guarded expression he’s ever seen drops across from him at peer tutoring.

“Are you Lilith Bathroy?” He asks.

“No i’m the other Lilith,” she says sarcastically.

He grins. He swears she almost smiles back but Randall isn’t the guy who tells girls to smile. Even though he bets hers is great.

“There’s like five Randalls here,” he explains, “there might be another Lilith.”

“Just me,” she says pulling out a notebook.

“Okay,” he smiles, “so what’s tripping you up?”

She looks like she’s not sure if she can trust him. He finds he’d really like her to. Her eyes drag from his face to the scar that peaks out of his collar and back to his face. He’s had it for as long as he can remember. He’s not self conscious about it. He never tries to hide it.

“It gives me a headache,” she says finally.

“Like a mental block?” He says and her brows knit together. She nods, “no worries. We can get through it. Show me where you’re at.”

She turns the textbook so he can see and together they bend over it as he does his best not to be distracted by the smell of her shampoo.

Randall’s definitely not that guy.

[alicedoessurveys]

VERY long survey

Where have you lived throughout your life? 

Birmingham UK

Do you find your job rewarding? 

N/A

What kind of cake did you have for your last birthday? 

chocolate

To you, which is better: English muffins or bagels? 

I enjoy both, but bagels.

Do you paint your nails? 

yes. although they're not painted at the moment because ive been cleaning the house so much the past couple days and its stripped my varnish off

What’s the last website you signed up for? 

a dating thing

Do you check your email everyday? 

yes, I cant stand having the little red number above the mail app 

Have you created any pages on Facebook?

yes but I dont have them anymore

Is there a subject that you absolutely suck at? 

every subject, but especially maths and science 

What’s your favourite song by Dave Matthews Band? 

I dont know any 

Are there people you have absolutely nothing in common with, but still enjoy talking to? 

I dot particularly enjoy talking to anyone :’)

Have you ever wandered around drunk with your friend? 

yes, we wondered around through the middle of Birmingham at 4am 

Are you good at holding back your laughter if needed? 

haha nope

Have you ever been so unfortunate to suffer from a hangover?

yes

Have you ever had a panic attack? 

many, I had to drop out of college because of them 

Are you deathly allergic to anything? 

nope

Have you ever had a mouse in your house? 

nope

Do you know anyone who DOESN’T have an ex? 

myself 

Is anyone you know really religious? 

my family

Are your eyebrows naturally thick? 

yes

Has speaking in front of people ever made you sick? 

not physically sick, but definitely felt it. the worst experience Ive had with speaking was in college when I had to give a speech then teach a 10 minute class. my throat totally dried up and I literally couldnt speak. everyone just stared at me and I was trying so hard not to cry. longest 10 minutes of my life and as soon as it finished I legged it out the room and burst into tears. 

What was the last movie that made you teary-eyed? 

Mary Poppins Returns almost got me but the last film to actually make me cry was Coco. That shit had me SOBBING!

Have you had two friends that absolutely hated each other? 

yes 

Has a laptop ever burned your legs? 

not really, I put a cushion on my lap normally

Do you know anyone who has a scar through their eyebrow?

no

Who was the last person to flip you off? 

probably rhys, as a joke

Anyone’s birthday coming up soon? 

my dad turns 50 next week

Would you ever wear fake eyelashes? 

I have done a few times but they annoy me

Are you good at following directions? 

no no no I get confused very easily

Do you have someone that you can just act a fool with and not care? 

yes rhys 

From where you’re sitting, can you touch a wall? 

if I reach behind me 

When at a restaurant, do you put your napkin on your lap? 

occasionally, it depends where I am and what im eating 

Do you prefer electric or manual pencil sharpeners? 

manual 

Are your biceps at all noticeable? 

they used to be before they went into hiding under a layer of fat 

Have you ever seen a walrus? 

nope

When it comes to dropping food, do you believe in the 10 second rule? 

no, I believe in the ‘what food is it’ and ‘how dirty is the floor’ rules

If given the opportunity, would you ride on a camel? 

yes. I was supposed to have gone on a camel ride in Tunisia ages ago but I was ill so we didn't get to go 

Do you believe that cellphones actually do cause cancer?

they could be. the number of people getting cancer has gone up a lot since everyone has mobile phones 

When people you know cry, does it make you feel like crying too? 

depends who it is 

Do you tend to jump to conclusions? 

yes. Im an anxious person so im constantly overthinking and I also find people really hard to read and can get

Are you good at remembering your friends’ birthdays? 

yes my brain cant remember important things but when it comes to dates its like a sponge 

Is there something you need to do, that you’re trying to avoid doing? 

getting a job

Ever pop someone else’s pimple? 

ew no

How long does it take you to fall asleep? 

about 15 minutes depending on how tired I am 

Do you crack your neck often?

no that freaks me out 

Did you have a weird dream last night? 

not that I can remember, I have been having a lot of weird dreams this week because im ill

Who do you sometimes compare yourself to? 

everyone. especially when im at the theatre, im constantly watching other people and wishing I could act like they can or look like them or have their style 

Are you more worried about doing things right, or doing the right things? 

both

In what way are you your own worst enemy? 

every way, I dont look after myself at all 

What activities make you lose track of time? 

sims

When you help someone do you ever think, “What’s in it for me?” 

not really 

Who do you tell your secrets to? 

these surveys 

Who do you live with? 

my parents and our foster kids 

When did/will you graduate? 

I didn't 

When are you moving next? 

I have no idea. probably never 

When is the last time you took a vitamin? 

this morning, im fighting a cold 

Why are you stressed? 

im not too bad right now tbh

Do you need to return anyone’s phone call? 

nope

Where do you keep your birth certificate? 

no clue, my mom has it somewhere 

How many books are in your room?

a lot. I have quite a few on display and a whole bunch hidden away in my closet because theres no space for them anywhere else. I'll include some photos of the books in my room;

(the book on my bedside table in the second picture is actually a lamp that lights up when you open it)

Have you ever been IN a wedding? 

nope

What was the last thing you laughed out loud at?

probably my mom 

Do you have a nickname? Why? 

my family call my bongy or Ali bong, I dont know why.. (my name is Alice)

Have you ever had a bad concert experience? 

nope

When was the last time someone told you that you were beautiful/good-looking? Do people often tell you this? 

my mom tells me almost every day but Im like youre my mom of course you would say that 

Are you missing someone of the opposite sex atm? 

no

Want someone back in your life? 

meh

Are you currently sad about anything? 

actually nope

Are you wearing anything shiny? 

my pj top has glittery silver letters on

How important is a sense of humor in a significant other? 

very, I fall very easily for people who make me laugh

How many followers do you have on Twitter? 

198 (@alicethenerd if ya wanna follow 😉)

Do you sleep with the door open or closed? 

closed. I aint about letting those murderers and monsters just waltz straight in easy peasy 

Have you ever been to the beach? 

yes every summer since I was a kid 

Can you handle blood? 

nope

Do you pay your bills or do your parents?

I pay my own bills. no way my dad would be up for paying my bills, he already digs at me constantly about the fact that I live rent free even though I look after the foster kids and tidy the house more than he does

What’s your best friend’s middle name? 

Connor

Has any place hired you underage for a job? 

not officially

Have you ever barely passed a grade/year in school? 

yes

Have you ever carried a concealed weapon? 

no

Have you ever tried to sell something overpriced to someone? 

no

Do you plan to become very wealthy some day? 

I hope to become wealthy enough to not worry about having enough money to put fuel in my car anymore and to be able to pay back my parents and grandad for everything they've done for me 

Do you remember your first time going to the movies? 

no, but my earliest cinema memory was going to watch Monsters Inc with my dad when it was first released 

Does eating breakfast make you sick? 

if I try to eat before a certain time yes

Are you dying to say something to someone right this minute?

not dying to nope

Book series you enjoyed reading recently? 

im reading eve of man atm which apparently is going to be a series

Do you enjoy lying in the grass during the summer, and just existing? 

I prefer lying on a blanket, I dont like the feel of grass and I dont like the bugs crawling around 

Do you have a passport? If so, how many stamps do you have in it? 

yes, it doesn't have many stamps in because I lost the one that did have lots in and I havent been away much since getting the new one 

Are there any keys on your keyboard that have letters fading away? 

nope

Do any of your close friends have children? 

no

What do you plan on having for dinner?

we already had dinner, we had chippy

Do you like Chinese food, or do you find it disgusting? 

I only really like one meal 

Have the police ever come knocking on your door looking for someone? 

actually yes, literally a few weeks ago

Know anybody who works in a tattoo parlor? 

yes, my second cousin 

Have you ever played flashlight tag?

ive never heard of it

Could you call yourself a movie buff?

not really, im a huge movie fan but theres still a lot I need to see 

Have you ever had a piercing get infected?

never had a piercing 

Do you check your fire alarms when you’re supposed to? 

dad does it

Are you a shorts wearing kind of person? 

nope nope nope, my legs are not suitable for public viewing :’)

Is your grandparents’ house obsessively tidy?

not really no. my nan and grandpa’s house is always neat but not obsessively neat. my grandads house is full of clutter because my nan was a hoarder 

About how much can you bench press? 

I dont know, I havent lifted in years 

Have you ever had your phone die on you in the middle of a conversation? 

yes

Is anybody in your family a carpenter? 

no

Are you avoiding someone? 

yes

Do you call your boyfriend “Monkey”? 

I dont have a boyfriend but if I did I doubt id call him monkey

What’s your favorite primary color? 

yellow #hufflepuffpride

What were you for Halloween? 

nothing, I didn't dress up 

Do you have any clothes from Walmart? 

nope, we dont have Walmart here

When did you get a Facebook? 

about 10 years ago 

What color are your eyes? 

green/hazel

What motivates you? 

happiness

Can you walk in heels? 

nope

When was the last time someone asked you your age? 

the other day, my own mother forgot how old I was

Do you keep a journal? 

not really

Have you ever tried a weird flavor of vodka? 

never had vodka

Do you wear a ring on your finger? 

occasionally

What are you doing? 

watching ‘the greatest dancer’ and wondering if this survey is ever going to end 

What’s the last kind of soup you ate?

tomato 

Do you currently have a sunburn?

no. its winter

Who did you last text? 

my sister

Who’d you last call? About what? 

my mom, to ask her to come downstairs and let the dogs out because the baby was asleep on me and there was no way I was going to risk waking her up

Are you currently frustrated with someone? 

yes

Do you drink water or soda more often? 

water

Do you straighten your hair?

yes

When did you last talk to your brother or sister? 

today

What is your least favorite vegetable? 

all of them

Outside of family, name 3 people that make you smile/laugh often. 

Rhys, Addison, Jacob

In school, what subjects did you achieve your highest grades in? 

IT

Was there a subject that you enjoyed, but weren’t too good at? 

I didn't really enjoy any subjects at school

When was the last time something didn’t go to plan? What happened? 

today. I had planned to deep clean the bathroom but I went super dizzy and had to give up half way through cleaning 

Do you have any children? If not, at what age do you think you’ll feel ready to be a parent? 

I dont but I am seriously considering adopting one of our foster babies atm. I want to adopt anyway, theres no way I could be pregnant 

When was the last time you bought a new item of clothing?Describe it. 

I honestly cant remember, im due a shopping trip

Was your last Facebook friend request from a male or female?

female

Do you have an item of clothing that makes you feel especially beautiful? Describe it. 

not really no

Think of the last person that betrayed you. If they said they were sorry, would you forgive them? 

I would cautiously forgive him but I would also make sure he knew that how he treated me was not okay and that he really upset me and this would be his last chance. but tbh I think hes done with me so 🤷🏻‍♀️

Nastiest thing you’ve ever done? 

I dont know, I dont like being nasty

Have you ever been in a lighthouse? 

nope

What colour is your shower? 

I think its silver, ive ever actually noticed

Where do you order your pizza from?

dominos

When is the last time you had a serious talk with someone?

few days ago 

Do you find that you have a certain meal you eat every time you go to certain restaurants? 

yes, im a creature of habit

What colour is your bike?

silver & purple

What word can you not stand to hear people say? 

the c word, I cant even type it

What room of your house are you in? 

living room 

What is the temperature in your city right now? 

9°c

When did you last use a post-it-note?

last week in the script for the show im currently working on 

Would you ever want to own your own restaurant? 

yes

Do you have a fan in your bedroom? 

no I dont like them, they make too much noise 

Who is the last person that you took a picture with? 

one of our foster kids 

When is the last time you were stuck in a fairly long traffic jam?

the weekend before christmas 

Do you have certain friends that you hug every time you see them? 

not many

When was your most recent trip to an aquarium? 

almost two years ago 

What do you like in your salads and what dressing do you prefer? 

I dont like salads

If it has one, do you ever use the notepad function in your phone? 

all the time, Im constantly writing lists or reminders to myself 

How good would you say your memory is?

long term good, short term bad

About how many times during the night do you wake up from your sleep? 

a few times

Are there any air fresheners in your house? What kinds? 

multiple, we have plugs in and sprays and those automatic ones that go off every 15 minutes 

What’s one thing you’re glad you’ve done recently?

done my laundry :’) im on my last pair of pants!

Have you ever done something sexual that you regret? 

no

Do you like to sit in the sun and tan when it’s hot out? 

not really, I dont like being too hot

Ever had a person who was obsessed with you so much that it scared you? 

no

Can you drive, and if you can, do you like it? 

yes, I love driving most of the time 

Have you ever said anything to the last person you kissed that you regret? 

no

Do you like french fries?

yes

Have you ever eaten so much you puked?

not since I was a kid 

Do you care about what others think of your physical appearance? 

annoyingly yes

Would you rather go to Greece or France?

greece

[bweetext]

Hoarding Problems

I’m one of those people who actually likes certain kinds of reality shows, mostly because the psychology involved is so interesting. For example, I’ve been watching some of those shows about people who hoard items, to the point that their houses are nearly inaccessible due to boxes of junk or garbage laying around.

As I was watching these shows, I started seeing myself in some of those people. At first, I couldn’t figure out why. I don’t hoard items. For many years my homes were... temporary, shall we say. My life moved with me more than 10 times, a couple of times across the US and once across the Canadian border. I ended up having to leave a lot of my material possessions behind due to the fact that I had to pay to ship boxes of stuff to myself to get my things after I flew to my new home, so I only packed the stuff I thought I couldn’t live without. 

Why, then, were those poor souls affected by hoarding obsessions so familiar to me? 

I realized, finally, that I am, in fact, a hoarder. I don’t hoard objects, though. I hoard my worries, unhappy memories and anxieties like precious treasures, holding them within me and letting them pile up and become overwhelming. Nobody can see what I’m hoarding. Even I mostly can’t see all of it, with the time I spend distracting myself so I can’t think about those hurts. My hoard spills out in bits and pieces when a kind friend asks me how I’m doing, and it takes effort to shut the door so they don’t see too much of all the pain I’m hiding behind that door. I can’t ever spill too much, or else I can’t stop it, and it’s too much for anyone to hear. It’s too much for me to think about, most of the time.

When I stop and think about each single issue, and realize how many lead into other problems and other worries, I begin to shut down. I block it all out, shoving those thoughts into more boxes that go on top of the already-too-high pile. My dad calling me fat and lazy. The day I was told I wasn’t good enough to be in show choir. My teeth are horrible; I need to see a dentist and I’m terrified. The everyday fears that come with my emetophobia and being unable to enjoy most media because always, ALWAYS there is someone in whatever show, movie or game I’m trying to distract myself with that does something to trigger my phobia.

And it goes on.

And on.

Until I break down into a sobbing mess, and all I can think is “Why? Why am I alive if it’s only to continue causing suffering for myself and others? Why can’t I just die...”

Eventually my mind quiets. I fall asleep. I wake up. And before those thoughts can drag me deep again, I dive into distraction, ignoring it all yet again, and at the same time completely isolating myself. More people near means more people to hurt on accident. It’s easier to be alone than to willingly walk into a situation that I know will fill more mental boxes with pain that I have to find a way to set precariously upon the rest.

I know life doesn’t have to be this way. I know a lot of my suffering is self-inflicted. And oddly enough, I know, now, after watching those hoarding shows, what I have to do to finally dig myself out.

In a house full of unneeded clutter, the best way to start is to make yourself a path through the mess, do a bit of mental prioritizing for where to start, then begin. Whittle down the pile little by little, piece by piece. It doesn’t matter how much progress is made in what amount of time, as long as you continue working and taking care of each item you come across. Just making an effort is the biggest hurdle, but time passes as you work, until eventually you can look back and see how much progress you’ve made.

But even before all that, you have to open your eyes and realize how much you’re drowning in your own clutter. And I think that’s what I’ve never been able to do. I’ve spent so long closing myself off to those thoughts and worries, ignoring them, letting them pile around me, that it has become a normal part of my day to repeatedly feel pangs of hurt or guilt and push them away before they can start to affect me more than that.

I can’t keep shutting my eyes and ignoring it all. I have to finally look at the clutter as a whole, prioritize, and start making an effort to solve each problem as the opportunity arises. I’m scared of how much emotional energy this could take, and what I may discover when I start picking everything apart. But I know it will be worth it when I can look back and see how much progress I’ve made. 

We all have to start somewhere, and I guess that messy corner over there looks as good as any. ♥

[hangonimevolving]

The Move.

So, I left off at the point of our Rapid, 2-week Moving Blitz where I was positively swimming in color-coded, numbered cardboard boxes of our worldly possessions. By day 5 or 6 of packing stuff up, the house and I were looking fairly rough....

And it only got more serious...

Somehow over the course of the week, I found that I was sporting some new accessories: the Sharpie Marker necklace and the packing tape bracelet. I was a veritable hoarder of both markers and tape, since I was doing the majority of the boxing up and labeling.

Finally, moving day was upon us! We spent a LOT of time talking with the kids, preparing them for this day, describing the way that things would go, the sights and sounds they'd be experiencing, etc. but I suppose nothing can really prepare a kid for the wonder and amazement, and also the emotions, of the experience of moving out of the only house you really remember. The day of, the kids seemed totally awestruck and impressed with the movers' huge trucks, fancy bubble-wrapping contraptions, and their general strength and efficiency. The only pictures I even have of the day are actually from the kids' iPads, and a few from Dr. Spouse - I was positively FRANTIC this day with last-minute packing and arrangements, but my kids were phenomenal at chronicling the events of the day by photographing with their iPads. I'm so glad they did.

It was surreal watching our house of the last six years get emptied out so quickly of all its contents, leaving behind only vast, empty rooms filled with dust bunnies and memories. I think all of us by default went into compartmentalizing mode on this day, focusing on the bajillions of tasks at hand, rather than the emotions that we all obviously had going on. Obviously, since that day, we've all had our different feelings and moments. But yeah. Moving day is always kind of its own weird animal.

Within a few short hours, the trucks were loaded, and we were off to Drop-off Site #1: our new house backyard, where our patio table and chairs, and my copious heavy planters and potted plants were delivered by our awesome team of movers. Then it was off to Drop-off Site #2: our home for now, the apartment.

I won't lie. I had prepared as much as I thought I could for the prospect of living temporarily in a much smaller home. I'd put a TON of things in storage, and put careful thought into what we'd bring to the apartment in order to be comfortable and have all we needed, while not overcrowding and cluttering the space and making us all feel suffocated with "stuff." I feel like I thought, and thought, and overthought this issue. But despite that - on moving day, I was feeling panicked that perhaps I hadn't quite done enough. And that perhaps, we would indeed be drowning in stuff. It was daunting to see the precious square footage overrun by all our crap. To fast-forward a bit, and I'll have pics of this soon - the unpacking process for the apartment happened VERY quickly, by necessity: we literally couldn't live there for more than a day with so many boxes and bags lying around.

For the kids and me, Drop-Off #2 was our final destination of that day; we said thank you and goodbye to our amazing movers, and then I set to getting the kids comfortable, having some dinner delivered etc. while Dr. Spouse plodded onward with the movers to Drop-Off Site #3: the storage unit.

We as a family had scoped out a highly-rated, climate-controlled local storage unit a few days beforehand....

...and on Moving Day, the unitS (yes, plural) quickly changed from cavernous, corrugated tin boxes into jam-packed, filled-up tanks of our family's junk. I had a picture of it, somewhere... but I can't find it right now. And honestly, you're probably better off.

Anyway. So.

This leaves us, sweaty, exhausted, and overwhelmed in every sense of the word, on the evening of February 20, 2021. After 11 straight days of packing from about 7:30 am to 2:30 am every single day, sorting out the mountains of logistics of movers, storage, apartment rentals, real estate transaction details, homeschooling where we could, and generally going through all the feelings on the spectrum of human emotion - we were all knackered. I surprised myself and the entire family by announcing, around 5 pm, that maybe it would be in our best interest to check into a motel that night and get some good sleep in a calm, settled environment, before tackling the next day. We still had a ton of work to do before we would say our absolute and final goodbye to our old house; the hustle and bustle of moving day meant that we'd left the house behind empty, but full of dust bunnies, leaves and dirt that had been tracked through the house. We had HOURS of cleaning ahead of us. Then, there were a few spackled spots on the walls that needed another coat of paint, I had left back a few small things in my gardening cabinet in the yard, and generally - I wanted us to have a last moment together, as a family, in that house - to honor our time there and say goodbye to it once and for all. It was going to be a big day, in and of itself,

So Dr. Spouse, surprised and only too happy at my suggestion of the motel, got on his phone and located a reasonably-priced motel in our old neighborhood within minutes. We decided to keep Pixel at our old house, locked in her old room with her litterbox, food and water for just one more night; she was already totally discombobulated and freaked out by all the noise and activity of the movers taking away all the furniture that day (we'd kept her enclosed in the bathroom in her room the entire day so that she wouldn't escape). The last thing we wanted to do was to subject her to not one, but two changes of environment within 24 hours - because clearly, the next day we'd be moving her into the apartment with us. So we kissed her goodbye for the evening, and wearily made our way to dinner, and then to a hotel.

To be continued.... again.

[allheartnobrainandnoplans]

Warframe personalities from how I see them, by my first glance at them.

Heads up, this is a long post. Enjoy~!

Ash: Aloof mofo with a stabbing habit. could rob you of all your money in texas hold ‘em. Too much damn side eye. Kills everyone is the room, then breaks for coffee like nothing happened. Ninja who steals the last slice of cake from the fridge.

Atlas: would kick your ass then be your best bro. is dead inside? somewhat likely but can’t tell anymore. makes shitty jokes. I get he’s a one punch man stone golem, but c’mon, the guy gives pretty good hugs.

Banshee: Resting bitch face, but is sound sensitive so she has a reason. Most likely up to god knows what hours listening to music enjoying synethesia sensations. Knows a thing or two about where to find the best obscure books. Caring protective friend.

Chroma: Moody guy who just wants some fucking peace and quiet. Hoards things like trophies from kills, bet this guy has so many hunting trophies? ffs, his ult is a dragon pelt, might as well be a dragon! Really good at pissing off people without even trying.

Ember: Sassy friend wants all the tea. Best booty to boot. You see that guy over there? He’s on fire. She fucking murdered him with sick comebacks. Don’t get me wrong though, she might like her bacon crispy but she’s a pretty loyal friend. Probably would come get your ass for a revive with intent to raze the fucking field with wildfire.

Equinox: Calm balanced friend??? Has two sides she shows to different people, everyone who talks to her might find something different about her. Likes keeping a lot of houseplants in her room in the dojo. Courteous and polite and gives the best backhanded compliments under a pleasant facade.

Excalibur: Average Joe. Good at a lot but not the best, really doesn't give his best. Very athletic. rushes through missions impatiently. Might play too many hack’n’slash games in his spare time.

Frost: Stoic, quiet, probably has some thought going on at all times. Reads a lot of mythology from before the orokin era. Procrastinates and stalls for his buddies while holding down the fort. solid person to talk to if you need someone to listen.

Hydroid: The guy has enough mentions about tentacle porn, it’s safe to say he’s hoarding a hentai stash somewhere. or people assume. just a guy who loves the water, could talk for days about fish and where to find all the best seafood restaurants. has had enough people mentioning pirates around him. has a good, hearty laugh.

Inaros: Tired, always fucking tired. Sleep? I’ll sleep when I’m dead. if you can kill me, that is. Mmm. nom. Corpus tastes metallic. Grineer tastes like really bad slimy chicken. I’m not sharing what infested taste like. Shields? What the heck is that? Appreciates old architecture and hoards ayatan statues.

Ivara: Sneaky sneaky~ I got an arrow for just about any job. Just because i am a cyclops doesn’t mean i don’t have depth perception, dumbass. Carefree happy lady, fun to talk to. Makes lots of banter with teammates on missions.

Limbo: Trolls might love this guy, why doesn't he have a fedora helmet yet? I’ve not seen enough Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure to know what those references mean. He’s a real gentleman, very inquisitive. He’s a scientist? Aw, cool. Prolly spacing out while carousing through the rift, thinking about his next project.

Loki: The Cheeseframe is what people call him. Knows where all the loot is, all the time. Giggling and pulling pranks 24/7. Can do shit effortlessly and stares at his team wondering why the fuck the had to trigger the damn alarm in a mission. Also, hammerhead shark. This guys likes playing card games too.

Mag: In a state of calm and panic at the same time. Doesn’t show much though. Magnetic personality? Could crush your heart in a minute. Has a good taste in interior design, rather good at art deco/ industrial. Has some walls to get through before befriending her, but melts like a marshmellow when ya do.

Mesa: 360 no scope!!! It’s high noon! okay, now that’s out of the way, let’s keep going. Keeps an orderly schedule, off doing solo missions all the time. Loves a good movie, could talk about her favorite film for hours. Deserts are dry? So is her humor. Would shoot you without even thinking.

Mirage: You thought Loki’s pranks were bad? At least her enemies get these night mare shows and not you. This chick loves horror films, special effects make up and disco. Pretty good at good at lighting up the room and your smile. She really just wants a good time, okay?

Nekros: Sick mofo who tells dead baby jokes. Has some interesting kinks. Rarely eats, if ever. Would look you dead in the eye and try to tell you bad puns seriously as possible. Has seen the dead walk again, thinks they’re best buddies. good guy to go to a graveyard with.

Nezha: Srsly good looking.. guy? girl? oh idc he can be genderfluid and i’d still think he’s attractive. Got serious hula skills. Never takes himself seriously and just loves going for long missions. Knows a thing or two about culture, rather classy guy but can be a bit childish. Never really grew up, but you don’t notice that behind the charm.

Nidus: This is the I-don’t-give-a damn guy. He wrecks everything he touches, spreads space aids, yet his personality is far from cancer. Very good with animals. A bit messy. Too many damn things talking in his head from the infested and ignores them like a champ. They bend to his will.

Nova: A Good Egg, if slightly cracked. Giggles at the mention of inane words. Everything explodes!!! ADHD in a frame. Good natured wholesome friend who loves everyone. Bad habit of breaking appliances and electronics. Geiger counters near her start playing Imagine Dragon’s Radioactive?

Nyx: Look at this frame. You took a good warframe and gave it anxiety, sheesh. Shy, kinda hard to deal with hearing everyone’s thoughts sometimes. ain’t got time for your drama. Loves talking about current events, but not much of a gossip out of respect for others. giant personal space bubble, do not touch!

Oberon: Royal pain in the ass, but a lovable doofus so you kinda just let it go. Very protective dad friend, complete with dad jokes. Probably would like to finish your sandwich if you’re not gonna eat it. Would open his home to you if you needed a couch to surf on.

Octavia: This girl loves all music, could help you find just the mix you were looking for. Got sick dance moves too. Might have been in band. Would happily binge watch any tv show with you and discuss everything about it. You don’t know what so charming about her, but you really like her so you always accept her invites. Had a bad habit of fidgeting.

Rhino: This guy could bench press a grineer ship in one hand and corpus ship in the other. you don’t move out of his way, he runs you over, simple as that. gym rat, for sure. somewhat impatient. watches way too many superhero blockbusters and devours the comics. Mows down the entire enemy wave just get your sorry bleeding ass back up and fighting again.

Saryn: Oh, good lotus, this chick has got good looks and a deadly touch. Cunning girl could outsmart anyone. Low key annoyed in general. Would back stab you without a thought, given a reason. Knows a lot about cooking. I mean, if you’re going to poison someone or at least know how to work in the biolab you should probably know how this type of chemistry works. dodges responsibility a lot tho.

Titania: flighty as fuck, gets startled easily. graceful; she has good fashion sense. you have no idea where she came from in the room. fairy tales are definitely her thing, but happy endings really aren't true with that state of things right now in the solar system. too many butterflies, but is fine with it since they help her stay calm. Actually really good at flying archwings, I think?

Trinity: First one to rush into the fight, last one to leave until everyone is okay. Is the Mom friend. Likes to be helpful. Rather much a bitch to those she hates. She may have an open heart, but don’t walk all over this girl. Cross her once, shame on you. Cross her twice, she leaves you for dead on eris, end of story.

Valkyr: Look, she’s been through some shit, has ptsd, the very least you can do is give her a cat plushie and your support, okay? Gets angry easily and has meltdowns. She’s not a pushover. She knows what’s best, she can endure. semi serious, jokes fly over her head. it may take a bit for her to like you. literally a cat frame, you don’t know love until you've been loved by a cat.

Vauban: Forget Limbo being a troll. This is THE trollframe. Went to college for engineering, came back out a smart ass. Don’t loan money to him, he prolly won’t pay ya back. Pretty good drinking buddy tho. Reads a shit ton of shakespear to know what that sense of humor really is. Shit poster, meme hoarder extrordinaire. you can have a grenade! And you can have a grenade! YOU ALL CAN HAVE GRENADES!

Volt: Impeccable taste mixed with sharp commentary. Why does he have a helmet that’s a boob? maybe he has a high schooler’s sense of humor? would be honest with you and tell you straight up what needs to be done. This guy likes expensive suits. Has a tendency to be impulsive.

Wukong: Has loads of stories to tell. Good memory. Can comeback from just about any setback. determined and will happily grind with you in missions for hours. Also pretty damn stubborn and doesn’t listen well to others, kinda has to speak first.

Zephyr: Life’s a breeze here, right? Kinda goes with whatever and has a hard time deciding on things. Kinda clumsy too. Crashes raids and blows away the enemy. Usually minds her own business with her head in the clouds.

[buffy-the-assbutt-slayer]

HELLO EVERYONE I NEED TO RANT IN THE VOID

So I live with my boyfriend and his parents most of the time. I also have moderate OCD (diagnosed by my previous psychologist). So for me, everything has to be neat and tidy and put away at the end of the night with nothing hanging over the edge of the surface it's sitting on. I know that obviously that's not gonna happen all the time perfectly so I'm usually pretty good at focusing my mind elsewhere until I'm distracted. But holy shit recently my boyfriend's mom has been so fucking horrendous with being tidy and like, a million other things too. So I need to rant about all the bullshit that makes me want to resort to violence. (and yes my boyfriend and I have tried talking to her calmly to try and change her behavior hundreds of times but instead of actually listening to us she just goes "oh well I am the way I am. At least I'm a good mom" and ends the conversation). So without further adieu, here's a list of all the fucking things that drive me insane about Parker's mom. (there's a lot of classic Baby Boomer™️ behavior in here too which is fucking wonderful).

- clearly no one ever fucking taught her to clean up after herself because she leaves dishes and half done baking and projects all over the fucking house

- she never pushes her chair in when she's done at any table or at the kitchen island

- she wears fucking shoes in the house like it's the United States of No Manners (she was born in Iowa tho so that's probably the fuckin reason)

- she thinks dishwashers work like they do in the commercials and you can throw a whole plate of spaghetti in and it'll come out sparkling

- and because she thinks this she never uses the dishwasher and proceeds to handwash everything but never put it away when it's dry so there's CONSTANTLY like 7 dishes and a drying rack and 4 towels on the counter

- she's fucking obsessed with covering every surface of the house in fabric. There's always 6 placemats on the island that don't match and aren't centered or the right way up or anything they're all just piled on top of each other. The couch always has 6 blankets on it because her fucking dog "like to burrow" even though every time we put the ONE blanket that's Pepsi's favorite to burrow in on the ottoman, folded nicely, Cindy just moves it to the fucking couch and unfolds it so it's an ugly fucking mess. There's at least 4 dish towels on the oven handle at all times.

- Before we donated a bunch of towels to the SPCA THERE WERE OVER 40 TOWELS IN THIS FUCKING HOUSE because she uses a towel once and then washes it.

- I know what you're thinking, "what's the big deal if she likes to have a blankets on the couch with her?" The answer is, she thinks she's the only person in the house who uses the living room so she leaves it an ugly fucking mess 24/7 instead of CLEANING UP AFTER HERSELF

- Since the shower in the master bathroom has bad water pressure, she uses the shower in our bathroom. Fine, no problem. Except, there are 14 FUCKING BOTTLES OF BATHROOM PRODUCT IN THERE AND ONLY 5 OF THEM BELONG TO MY BOYFRIEND AND I. SHE HAS 5 FUCKING BOTTLES OF SHAMPOO/CONDITIONER IN HERE AND THERE'S NO FUCKING SURFACE AREA TO PUT OUR STUFF

- She fucking thinks canned goods that expired a year ago are totally fine but will throw out Chinese food from 2 days ago because it's "bad"

- SHE HAS THE CHURCH PAYING HER RENT BECAUSE HER AND HER HUSBAND CAN'T AFFORD IT ON JUST THEIR PENSIONS ALONE BUT CONSTANTLY WASTES SO MUCH FUCKING MONEY AND FOOD AND RANDOM SHIT FOR MY BOYFRIEND AND I EVEN THOUGH WE ASK HER NOT TO EVERY SINGLE TIME.

- She claims she's not a hoarder but she has 37 jackets, 45 mugs, and when we were going through the 40+ towels before to donate the shitty ones no one likes to the SPCA she kept grabbing them out of the donate pile to smuggle into her bathroom

- She is the fucking reason for global warming at this point because she leaves every light on in the house and when she leaves, she leaves the lights, and the TV, and the stereo on for her fucking Daschunds. She also leaves the shitty old radio in her bathroom on 24/7 even though she only spends 8 hours a day in her room and literally all that time is sleeping.

- She has no fucking clue what recycling or compost is. Everything is garbage to her. The garbage bag in her bathroom (that's right. Garbage bag. She hangs the good IKEA bags we use for bottle depot recycling from the doorknob in her bathroom instead of using a fucking garbage can) at one point had a towel (that was perfectly fine there was literally no reason to throw it out), a water bottle, practically a book's worth of paper and cardboard, and random shit like a fucking lightbulb in it

- She thinks that if an employee at a store makes a mistake ONCE then they're a "fucking idiot" and the whole store is full of people who (to not use slanderous terms) aren't mentally capable of putting their shoes on. And holy shit if that employee isn't white then it's nonstop racism for an hour

- My boyfriend and I had to yell at her for being racist at the post office because she called the previous employee who accidentally printed her moneygram check upside down a "fucking idiot ch*nk". Instead of listening to us and going "huh racism is wrong" she just laughed like it was a fucking joke.

- anytime you try and talk to her she just interrupts you after literally 3 words in your sentence to go "Oh! Yep! Uh huh! I know exactly what you mean!" incredibly obnoxiously.

- if you say something to her and she doesn't hear what you said, instead of just saying "pardon?" or anything at all she just ignores you and says "yeah" like she's dismissing a child talking about their imaginary friend

- She threw out one of the fucking coils for the stovetop because she takes them out to clean them every day and didn't plug it back in properly so it wasn't heating up. It didn't work literally once because it wasn't connected to the stove properly and she just fucking chucked it in the garbage can.

- She constantly accepts food donations from the church (which are all fucking cheap disgusting Compliments brand food). So much so, that we have wasted a whole fucking room on the main floor so they can store all the shit that doesn't fit in the pantry. AND THE WORST PART IS SHE DOESN'T FUCKING EAT ANY OF IT. IT JUST GOES BAD. AND THEN SHE SPENDS MONEY BUYING THE NAME BRAND VERSION OF THAT FOOD TO EAT.

- SHE LEAVES THE FUCKING BACK DOOR OPEN YEAR ROUND WITH NO SCREEN DOOR OR ANYTHING SO ALL THE HEAT GOES OUT THE DOOR AND THE FUCKING FURNACE IS JUST RUNNING CONSTANTLY WASTING MONEY AND ENERGY AND KILLING THE PLANET IN THE WINTER. AND IN THE SUMMER, LITERALLY HUNDREDS OF BUGS FLY INTO THE HOUSE.

- any time we have tried to help her be more organized or help her keep track of her things because she has a fucking atrocious memory, she just completely ignores our help and continues to do things her way. BUT HER WAY DOESN'T WORK. IT'S FUCKING LAZY AND UGLY AND MESSY AND SHE LOSES HER SHIT ALL THE TIME

- SHE FUCKING WASHES THE FLOORS WITH BLEACH WHICH IS FUCKING INCREDIBLY UNNECESSARY EVERY FUCKING WEEK BUT HAS NOT CLEANED OUT A SINGLE CUPBOARD IN 9 YEARS AND LEAVES GARBAGE AND FUCKING AWFUL MESSES ALL OVER THE HOUSE

- every single thing you could think of that would be in this house in a bottle has at least 3 other bottles somewhere completely fucking random and every single one of them is open and half used. There are (AND I'M NOT EVEN JOKING) 12 FUCKING BOTTLES OF BLEACH IN THE HOUSE THAT ARE OPEN AND USED IN VARIOUS AMOUNTS.

- EVERY. SINGLE. TIME. Parker has tried to help her life by getting her something to replace an old way of doing things (like a digital cooking timer, or a spray bottle of Shout for laundry stains instead of scrubbing the fucking shirt with a bar of soap). She immediately hates it and doesn't even try to listen or learn and immediately shouts "I hate technology!"

- LITERALLY EVERY SINGLE TIME PARKER AND I HAVE TRIED TO DECLUTTER THE HOUSE SHE TELLS US TO KEEP SO MUCH RANDOM SHIT BECAUSE SHE'S "gonna use it" even though she hasn't seen the thing we're getting rid of in over 5 years. Or because it's "expensive" and they bought it when they were rich. JUST BECAUSE IT WAS EXPENSIVE AND FANCY 12 YEARS AGO DOESN'T MEAN ANYONE GIVES A SINGLE FUCK ABOUT IT NOW. AND THEN 6 MONTHS LATER WHEN WE ORGANIZE A SYSTEM IN A CLOSET OR CABINET WITH ALL THE SHIT SHE TOLD US TO KEEP 6 MONTHS AGO SHE RIFLES THROUGH IT AND GOES "oh no. I never said to keep this. You can get rid of all this."

There's a MILLION more reasons but I am so stressed right now I can't even fucking think straight. So yeah, have a rant. I don't blame you if you didn't read this.

[elliottorrin]

Tracking my memories.

I didn’t really become a fan of clean laundry until I went into foster care. Probably because that was the first time in a long time I knew what smoke free, clean, non-pet-smelling laundry was like. And then I was obsessed. At that point I was out of my parents smoke cloud as they smoked a pack a day nearly, if not more depending on the current stress level. And my first week or so in care was like withdrawing from smoking as if I had been myself. Plenty of anxiety/panic attacks happened that were the feeling of an intense craving for something I didn’t think about being regularly in my body. But laundry has these other weird ties for me.

Somewhere during elementary school and through middle school my parents, who I’ll just call Parent 1 and Parent 2, started interacting with my sibling and I more as house help and less as their kids. Maybe they saw it as tough love. If so, it was the hardest fucking love and it didn’t feel warm or fuzzy. By at least 4th grade, things in my house went south. My parents fought enough and didn’t really show affection to each other but they also seemed to withdrawal that from me and my sibling. I walked on glass wondering which one I would upset and in turn felt like I would disappoint. This has now created a continuous desire to please others and fear of ever disappointing elders, especially ones that partially fill in a parental role for me, unofficially. Our house also turned into Parent 1’s pit of anxiety aka, a hoarder home. It’s started slowly but before I knew it, it was normal for everything to be dirty. It’s hard right now to describe that to people because it became so normal I don’t know how to tell you it was really bad. Parent 2 didn’t really step in and stop it. There was a period closer to going into care that myself, my sibling and parent 2 cleaned up the entire upstairs. Only for Parent 1 to like how clean upstairs was - our safe haven of upstairs away from them - only to turn it into their new area of focus. Spending almost every hour of the day upstairs on their computer, keeping every piece of paper they ever received. Not neatly, all over, in a way you couldn’t tell what might be important and what was trash. If you tried to throw something away that had been walked over daily, parents 1 would snap. How could you think that was trash? It may be needed. As you might imagine this created a stress in my life of not knowing if I might need things later and fear of getting in trouble for getting rid of someone else’s things. That’s a work in progress but not at all close to what parent 1 lived their life as.

So amidst this developing hoarder home, Parent 1 started to become more and more dehumanizing. My sibling and I prepared all the meals. The kitchen was a nightmare but due to the upstairs being unkempt we were the ones expected to warm up (always frozen or fridge) meals. Nothing fresh. Then the oven broke so everything had to be broiled leaving many meals under cooked and us in trouble as teens having not cooked dinner right.

Now the hardest memory for me is the basement. Possibly the root of many fears and trauma. I hate basements to this day. It was a basement that was half in the ground but had enough out of the ground that there were basement windows at about eye level or a little lower. These were quickly sealed off so outsiders couldn’t see the disaster that was that basement. We had like 20 something cats in that house and their litter boxes were underneath the staircase that went from upstairs to basement but those quickly filled and the cats started going everywhere. It was also my sibling and I’s job to clean the litter boxes or cat messes in general. Another area that has impacted my hatred for cat accidents as an adult… So this basement included boxes and boxes of things that came with us when we moved from Louisiana to Wyoming years before that. A wash and dryer. Cat boxes. An endless sea of clothes from every family member. Some furniture buried underneath all of this and like a freezer and fridge that were rarely ever used.

That basement was a place I slept more nights than I can count, and not by choice. There was furniture but not uncovered or a bed for us to actually sleep on. Most of the piles of clothing had been soiled by cats. The cleanest and most uncovered surface was the washer and dryer. Imagine two kids sleeping on those. A square front load and top load washing and dryer.

While parent 2 avoided parental duties by working long hours out of the house as much as possible, my sibling and I were left to fend for ourselves with parent 1. Parent 1 wore black socks. Only black socks. And had a shit ton of them yet managed to lose them constantly. And when they were lost it was our (me and my sibling) job to find them since we did everyone’s laundry. Because of this parent 1 would snap for unknown reasons and tell us we needed to go downstairs and find all their black socks and we could not come upstairs until we found them all. The first time this happened I probably naively thought “okay, we’ll just find them, they’ll calm down, and then we can go to bed.” This generally always happened at night close to when we should be headed to bed and on more than one occasion this happened on school nights. My elementary attendance record was shit for all the late nights I was stuck in that basement.

If my sibling and I looked for an hour or two, going through as much of the clothing piles as we could, and told parent 1 we couldn’t find them, this only upset them more and meant an extended stay in basement hell. So, we got smart and just tried to pass time sitting on the washer and dryer, sneaking something to do down with us. This plan could only work so long until parent 1 was still not getting their socks (or whatever other clothing went missing) and we were in more trouble. Well, we would attempt to sleep in the basement because we would have school the next day, we were tired and honestly the trauma response we had was probably total exhaustion. Two small kids can’t really fit on to square laundry machines well, let alone comfortably. But we made it work as best we could.

One night though parent 1 realized it had been seriously quiet. Too quiet. It was a school night. Parent 2 wasn’t at home (to my memory). So they came down stairs and woke us by screaming at us for falling asleep. They also only used the downstairs restroom which was the wall right next to the washer and dryer so they started banging on the wall to get us up and then told us we needed to start reciting the ABC’s over and over, loudly enough for them to hear that we were awake and looking for their socks. I’m not really sure how long that went on for but it was definitely one of the last times I really cried because of what was happening. It turned out that crying really wasn’t gonna help find the socks or stop what was happening. At some point we eventually went to bed and if we did go to school it was probably because school became the safe place outside of my home. Plenty of times though from parents 1 own treatment we would ask to stay home because we were tired or didn’t feel good, and they would let us stay home.

I didn’t really see my parents as safety or nurturing any more (surprise, surprise). I didn’t want a hug any more or for them to tell me it was okay. I wanted to learn this was all just one big misunderstanding where I had been adopted and somewhere out there my real parents were looking for me. They would stand up for me, care for me and any touch from them would be one of familial love. Anything to take my mind off the reality of what was really happening. Foster care was whatever. There were shitty moments but the bigger trauma in my life was pre-foster care. And I am so glad I made it out.