#recently shes been in my head and today i had time and good grief. She

[shorthaltsjester]

Vex'ahlia de Rolo || On Goodness, Self, and Longing

“Kith & Kin” - Marieke Nijkamp // “con la frente marchita” - Dante Émile // “Campaign 1, Episode 63: The Echo Tree” - Matthew Mercer // “White Oleander” - Janet Fitch // “Campaign 1, Episode 64:  The Frigid Doom” - Liam O’Brien & Taliesin Jaffe // “Pig” - Hieu Minh Nguyen // “Campaign 1, Episode 63: The Echo Tree” - Laura Bailey & Liam O’Brien // “Recollections of my Nonexistence” - Rebecca Solnit // “The Archer” - Taylor Swift // “Campaign 1, Episode 65: The Streets of Ank’Harel” - Laura Bailey & Liam O’Brien // “So We Must Meet Apart” - Jennifer S. Cheng // “Campaign 1, Episode 72: The Elephant in the Room” - Laura Bailey & Liam O’Brien // “Shocker” - Taylor Steele // “Campaign 1, Episode 104: Elysium” - Sam Riegel // “Tell the Wolves I’m Home” - Carol Rifka Brunt // “4-Sided Dive Episode 9: That’s Just Right” - Laura Bailey and Taliesin Jaffe // “Infinite Jest” - David Foster Wallace

[on-my-vigilante-sht]

Sorry to Meet You

Carlisle Cullen x Reader

Summary: The moral dilemma of the patriarch of the Cullen clan finally meeting his mate after 350 years. 

Warnings: Angst, death, blood, accident, surgery, not beta’d, turning, grief

Word Count: 5.8k (sorry, I got a little carried away and I’m getting used to writing one shots again)

Masterlist

I rounded the corner within the halls of my father’s hospital, heading towards his oh so familiar office. I  had spent a good portion of my childhood playing in the office halls of the hospital so as to not get in the way of an emergency. Every take your child to work day, every early dismissal, random day off from school, and every weekend he had to work and couldn’t find someone to watch me, he brought me here up until I was about 12.

Now I was in college, studying biology as a pre-med student at Johns Hopkins University. But today I was returning to Forks for my summer vacation in between my freshman and sophomore year. He was supposed to pick me up from the airport tomorrow but I had wanted to surprise him at work so I left a day early.

Reaching the door to his office, I entered. Embarrassingly, I had been so eager I hadn’t even checked if he was busy. As the door swung open I was met with the golden hair and eyes of the most gorgeous man I had ever seen. Given his youth I assumed he was a student or a resident but one look at his badge told me he was an attending.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” my father’s voice broke me from my trance.

“Hi!” I smiled at my father, ripping myself from the mystery man’s enchanting gaze. “I wanted to surprise you,” I explained, returning his hug. “I was so excited I didn’t even consider that you were busy. Sorry,” I apologized to both men.

“Don’t be,” the blond said in an almost melodic voice. “Trust me I understand the importance of family.”

“Yeah Dr. Cullen’s kids are here all the time,” my father laughed.

‘This guy has kids?’ I thought. ‘Plural? He looks no older than 25.’

Seemingly reading the confusion on my face he explained. “Adopted kids. My sister and I were foster kids so we always agreed we’d adopt as many as possible. So far we’ve adopted five teenagers, hoping to give them a new shot at life.”

“Wow,” was all I said, unsure of how to react. ‘Well this guy was definitely out,’ I noted to myself. ‘Not only is he your father’s colleague, he had five teenagers.’ “Well I should let you get back to it,” I said shyly, already backing out of my father’s office, embarrassed. “I’ll be at the house and we’ll get dinner after?” I suggested to my father.

“Sounds good. See you later sweetie,” he called after me.

~

Carlisle tried his hardest to focus on Dr. L/N’s words but he couldn’t, he was so focused on his colleague’s daughter. When she entered the office he had sucked in a breath he didn’t need. He had heard that some mate connections hit you like a brick but he hadn’t seen it with anyone except presumably between Rosalie and Emmett when she demanded he save him.

So as soon as he was done with his meeting he hopped into his Mercedes and headed towards Dr. L/N’s house. Once he reached it he found no cars in the driveway or any indication that there had been a car there recently, only wet footprints leading up to the porch and inside the door, presumably from Y/N getting out of a cab.

Continuing past the house he parked about half a mile away before running back to the house, a feat that only took him a couple seconds.

Taking a page from Edward’s book he began creeping along the side of the house, trying to spot Y/N through a window. But when he couldn’t find her he was forced to climb up some trees until he found her in what was presumably her bedroom, unpacking a suitcase full of clothes.

He watched, admiring the girl as she sorted through the clothes, tossing some in the laundry bin and others in piles to be sorted in the closet. He realized that he could watch her all day, admiring the quirks of her expression as she reacted to different situations. He hadn’t understood the other Cullens’ obsessions with each other until now.

He continued to watch for hours. His eyes sometimes drifting to the delicate curves of her body but always scolding himself for thinking of her like that given that she didn’t even really know him. But a small part of his mind whispered that she’d be his one day.

He only left when he heard her father’s car approaching, swearing to come back to learn more about her so he could strike up a conversation about her favorite things the next time they “accidentally” ran into each other.

~

The next time I visited the hospital wasn’t just to visit my father, it was because I had managed to slip in a puddle, earning myself a gash on the forehead.

I was sat in the waiting room going on two hours with a blood soaked rag pressed to my forehead. I truly didn’t mind waiting seeing as I knew there were far more injured people getting treated. But as I continued to wait I started to get more and more light headed. I began to make my way to the desk in hopes they could give me some answers when I got a head rush, stumbling into a very cold, hard chest.

“Y/N?” I heard the melodic voice again. This time dripping with concern. “What happened?”

“Oh nothing,” I dismissed, reluctantly pulling away from the grasp he had on my arms. “Just slipped in a puddle and my head kind of ate it,” I chuckled.

“How long have you been here?” he asked, more concern ebbing into his voice.

“I don’t know about two hours?” I shrugged, trying to not make a big deal of it. “Please don’t tell my dad, he’ll just get all concerned and angry and wonder why I wasn’t immediately treated.”

Inside, Carlisle was already feeling all those things I just described. “Well you shouldn’t have to sit there for two hours, bleeding out of your head. You should’ve been brought for a CT. C’mon, can’t have Dr. L/N’s daughter bleeding out in the waiting room.”

I smiled shyly as I felt his strong, cold hand be gently placed on my lower back as he guided me towards an exam room.

~

All throughout the exam Carlisle had to hold his breath. He has excellent control, it’s what many believe to be his special ability and it allows him to do what he loves but Y/N’s blood? The faintest smell alone made venom flood his mouth. And the blood soaked rag along with the fact that he had to bandage up her forehead didn’t help.

“Okay, that should do it,” he smiled, thankfully pulling back from his mate as he finished taping a bandage onto her head. “You’ll have to keep it bandaged for a couple days but your father should be able to help with that. And you most likely won’t scar.”

She breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks Dr. Cullen. I owe you one.”

He shook his head, breathing a laugh as he looked down at the girl’s chart. “Please, I’m happy to do it. And you can call me Carlisle.”

“Carlisle,” she repeated, nearly melting the vampire right there, “that’s an interesting name, never heard it.”

“Well my parents were a bit old fashioned,” he explained. “So your father tells me you finished your first year at Johns Hopkins? That’s very impressive.”

He admired her blush as she looked down at the ground. “Thanks. I think I was the only one of my graduating class to go out of state.”

“Yeah, I’ve figured out Forks is a very small town. Not many people leave,” he chuckled. “Do you know what you want to study?”

“Um I’ve always kind of wanted to be a surgeon. I know it’s the most difficult specialty but I enjoy the precision of it,” she shrugged.

Carlisle felt a sense of disappointment at the news that his mate wanted to be a surgeon. Being a doctor was hard enough as a vampire but having to literally cut people open? Even he didn’t think he’d be able to focus surrounded by so much blood. He was already dreading having to tell her that she couldn’t be a surgeon after she turned, not at least for decades while she learned control. He was suddenly snapped from his fantasies realizing that this human barely knew him and practically everything he knew about her came from his lurking outside her windows.

Dragging himself out of his thoughts which had no doubt created a long, awkward pause he spoke again. “Yes, well if you made it to Johns Hopkins then I’m sure you can do it.”

“Thanks Doc- Carlisle,” Y/N corrected before standing up off the table and heading for the door.

As she exited, taking most of her intoxicating scent with her, Carlisle sucked in a breath he didn’t need. As much as he hated watching his mate leave he needed a break from her blood. No one had tempted him the way Y/N L/N had, even when he was a starving newborn. And he realized that he would have to figure out a way to get close to her and get her to love him before he even told her about the mate bond. A difficult feat considering her father’s place as his colleague.

~

When Carlisle got home that evening he immediately went to his room, tipping off the family that something was different.

As he collapsed backwards onto his sofa he let his mind wander to his mate. He could picture her face so clearly, and more frighteningly he could still imagine the smell of her blood with eerie accuracy. He imagined all his future endeavors to keep her safe as a human. He’d watch over her, always be within reach to step in when she needed. He pictured their love story. It’d be slow and start with glances and fleeting touches until he invited her out to dinner once she became more comfortable with him. He’d kiss her goodnight on the porch and then make sure she got into the safety of her home before leaving. Their relationship would develop from there with more dates, with Y/N’s father’s approval of course. And when she uttered the words ‘I love you,’ he’d tell her about him and his species because he knew he had earned her love. And as much as he didn’t want to damn her to a life of hiding and being a monster, he couldn’t help but imagine her turning. He’d gently bite into the soft flesh of her throat, injecting his venom into her veins, cementing her as his forever. But the thought of hurting her and turning her into a monster made him hesitate.

As Carlisle continued to immerse himself in his fantasies, his sister entered. “Carlisle?” Esme called softly. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he agreed, sitting up. He wasn’t sure whether or not to tell his family that he had met him mate, considering they were already dealing with the human mate to Edward, Bella, who they had just moved back to Forks for. Of course no secrets stayed secrets for long thanks to Edward and Alice’s gifts. Edward could be counted on for discretion but Alice’s overeager nature wouldn’t allow that. He was surprised that Alice hadn’t already planned a party but maybe she hadn’t seen his mate in her visions yet. He had also wanted to keep her his own little secret for a while but clearly that wouldn’t be happening so he relented. “I- uh met my true mate.”

Esme’s eyes widened as she gasped. Of course living in a house full of vampires everyone heard and immediately began rushing in.

“You met your mate!” Alice practically screamed, nearly knocking over Esme.

“What’s she like?” Emmett asked with a grin. “Or he?” he added hesitantly.

“It’s a she,” Carlisle confirmed. “It’s very new. She doesn’t even really know anything about me and everything I know about her comes from lurking outside her window,” he groaned in embarrassment.

“Well that worked with Bella,” Jasper laughed.

Edward shot his brother a glare before looking back at his adoptive father. “Just find an excuse to be around her, ask her on a date.”

“That’s the thing, she’s 19-”

“You’re physically 23,” Alice cut in.

“Her father is my coworker,” he elaborated. “Besides they think I’m 31 at the hospital. And she just finished her first year pre-med.”

“So you’ll see her around the hospital!” Alice insisted, still trying to convince her adoptive father that everything would be fine. “Suggest that she comes to the hospital more to observe or do an internship! Then you can get to know her and ask her on a date.”

“That’s not actually the worst plan,” Edward admitted.

Carlisle thought for a second. That could actually work, he’d just have to figure out how to bring it up to her and her father naturally.

“So what’s she like?” Rosalie asked suddenly.

If vampires could blush Carlisle would be bright red. “Well um she has H/L, (hair length) H/T, (type) H/C (color) hair. She actually looks a lot like her father, Dr. L/N. She goes to Johns Hopkins. Look can everyone just go back to what they were doing?”

“But we want to meet her,” Alice practically whined.

In his frustration with everything Carlisle blurted out, “You may not even get to meet her.”

That dampened the mood. “What?” Esme asked softly.

“Nothing is decided yet but she’s human. We’re already dealing with Bella, the Volturi are already keeping their eyes on us, and I don’t want to doom her to this life if I don’t have to.”

“But this is your mate,” Alice insisted. “You’ve been alone for 350 years!”

“He has a point,” Rosalie cut in. “We can’t afford to have another human know about us especially with the Volturi sniffing around us. And we shouldn’t be turning people unless they’re actively dying.”

“But she’s his true mate!” Alice maintained, practically stamping her foot on the ground. “He can’t just turn his back on her.”

“Look nothing is decided,” Carlisle tried to calm Alice down. “I have to be back at work in a few hours and I need to hunt so if you’d all please let me be.”

Everyone shuffled out of the room reluctantly except for Edward. “It will break your heart to let that girl go.”

Carlisle paused. He knew that, the idea of letting her go live her life and potentially fall in love with someone else broke his heart. “I know,” he admitted. “But the thought of having to hurt her and make her like this hurts just as much.”

“So love her for the duration of her mortal life.”

“Just to watch her age, live in pain, and die? I couldn’t handle that.”

“But you’re doing it for her,” Edward pointed out.

“But if I’m doing it for her shouldn’t I just let her go live a normal life?”

Edward shrugged. “I don’t know the right answer here just that no matter what you choose it’ll kill you in some way. That’s the unfortunate truth about loving a human.”

~

A few weeks went by and Y/N became a routine part of Carlisle’s day. He’d usually see her at the hospital, working as a secretary. (A job she acquired even without Carlisle’s suggestion.) Because of that he had gained a reputation for hanging around the nurses station, flirting with Y/N. Not only did he learn about her through actually talking to her, he would make frequent trips to her house to watch her through the windows, even occasionally going into her room, which he felt wrong about but being surrounded by her scent dismissed any doubt from his mind.

“Y/N,” he greeted like he did every morning, bringing her a coffee.

“You must be spending a fortune on coffee,” she commented, taking the cup. She had protested several times, insisting that she pay him back but he refused every time so she just began to accept it.

“It’s nothing,” he dismissed. “But if it was it’d be worth it,” he flirted, earning a blush from the girl. Carlisle had learned a lot about flirting in these few weeks. At first it was a bit clumsy but he picked it up fairly easily with a little coaching from Rosalie and Emmett.

“Yeah well you won’t have to spend like $4.50 everyday for much longer, one of my professors is starting a research project a month before the semester begins and he invited me as a fellow,” she explained, a glimmer of disappointment behind her bright, casual expression.

If Carlisle’s heart wasn’t already frozen it would’ve stopped beating. He tried his best to hide his shock and disappointment. “Oh, well congratulations. Getting invited to stuff like this is really good for med school applications.”

“Yeah, and I like being here but it was too good of an opportunity to pass up, y’know? Plus it’ll be nice to see the sun again,” she awkwardly laughed, sensing the doctor’s unease.

“Yeah, um well I have to go get some labs. Congratulations, I’ll see you around,” he rushed out with a forced smile. He didn’t stay long enough to hear her response, rushing out of the room as fast as possible without being suspicious.

He couldn’t think straight. He of course had thought about her just leaving but now that it was actually happening, as well as happening sooner than expected, he didn’t know how to deal with it.

~

Carlisle had no clue what to do when it came to his mate leaving. He couldn’t stop her, that wasn’t fair to Y/N, so instead he kept his distance. Which was easy considering that he could smell her from a mile away. Until one day at the hospital when the scent of her blood was particularly strong.

“19 year old female, car crash. Resuscitated once in the field, three times en route,” the panicked voice of the paramedic echoed through Carlisle’s sensitive ears. He rushed into the ER, spotting her through the window of the trauma room. He mostly recognized her through her scent but would know that H/T, H/C hair and S/T skin through purple and blue bruises from a million miles away. But the next words from her attending doctor only confirmed the worst. “Page Dr. L/N, it’s Y/N!”

It felt like Carlisle had been sucker punched in the gut. It took everything in him not to stagger back and let out a dry sob right there in the ER. When her heart monitor flatlined he wanted to slaughter every person in that room in his grief. It was ridiculous, 350 years of self control would be gone just because of a girl. But not just any girl, his girl.

When they finally got Y/N’s heartbeat back they wheeled her up to surgery, just as Dr. L/N entered the ER. “Where’s Y/N? Where’s my daughter?” he demanded, trying to launch himself at the ER desk.

“D/N, D/N,” Carlisle tried to calm the distraught father. He had to physically hold the man back with vampire strength. Fortunately the ER was too chaotic for anyone to notice. “They took her up to surgery, she’ll be fine.”

“Surgery? Oh god,” the man began to cry. “But that’s my baby, she’s all I have.” With those words Carlisle began to feel guilty. Just a few weeks ago a part of him had been so ready to basically just kidnap this poor man’s daughter and completely shatter his world without a thought. “Oh god, surgery here is a death sentence.”

Carlisle began to protest before really thinking about it. Forks Hospital was small, their surgical staff consisted of two surgeons and whatever nurses that had completed the surgical nurse program. No one came her for surgery, they all went to Port Angeles and their non-emergent traumas went there too. The only people who came here were on the brink of death and unfortunately the two surgeons here weren’t exactly outstanding in their field. They were good enough but nothing remarkable and they usually lost their patients due to the circumstances.

~

Carlisle tried to carry on his day as if the love of his life wasn’t dying in a surgical suite right now. But the ordinarily smooth, confident doctor was distracted and constantly messing up. Until finally his shift was over and he went up to his mate’s room. He had orchestrated the nurses’ charts so she’d be placed in a secluded room should Carlisle need to intervene to prolong her life.

When he entered the room he was met with the most heartbreaking sight. Y/N was laid on the bed, an intubation tube sticking out of her throat. Her entire face was black and blue, some bones in her face looked like they had been broken. She hardly looked recognizable. On the only chair in the room sat her father looking like a worried mess. “Oh, hey Carlisle,” Dr. L/N said dejectedly.

“I’m so sorry, D/N.”

The man shrugged. “She’s tough. She managed to claw her way out of this place. She’ll survive this.”

“I hope so,” Carlisle agreed, staring longingly at his mate.

He didn’t want to arouse too much suspicion from Y/N’s father so he reluctantly went home to change and hunt.

After his quick hunt he re-entered his home finding Alice. “Carlisle, I’m so sorry,” she said softly. He wasn’t sure what to say to that but fortunately he didn’t have to come up with anything because she spoke again. “But you have to stay with her at the hospital if you want any shot at survival.” By now Edward had joined them.

“What?” Carlisle asked.

“She won’t survive this. You’re a doctor, you have to know that. So you’ll have to change her.”

Carlisle would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought of the scenario where Y/N was severely injured and he needed to change her. He looked up at his oldest son. “There’s nothing wrong about saving her life if she’s already dying.”

Not wanting to waste another second Carlisle sped off. He almost ran to the hospital but realized at the last second he should take the car. So he floored it, doing 150mph practically the whole way there. And finally parking in the back so he’d be able to bring her home unseen.

When he got to the hospital his ears were bombarded with thousands of sounds, something he was now used to, but because of his experience he was able to tune into his mate’s heart monitor while he got his plan ready.

Heading to the morgue he found a body that was a similar build and coloring to Y/N. Carlisle was by no means squeamish but it felt weird to break her bones and watch bruises form over her skin until her face was unrecognizable. He then scraped up as many ashes as possible to make it look like someone had cremated her so no one would go looking for her body. Setting the body aside he headed back upstairs finding Dr. L/N slumped over in a chair.

Carlisle hesitantly shook the older man awake. “Hey,” he said softly, willing the man to take his suggestion. “You should go home and rest. Get changed. I’ll watch over her.” The man hesitated, still staring at his fragile daughter. “She'll be fine, I’ll call you if anything happens.”

He reluctantly agreed before heading out, making Carlisle promise to call him even if her heart rate changed by two points.

Carlisle sat for a while, waiting for the hospital to calm down a bit before enacting his plan. First he went to the nurses station while no one was there, turning off the monitors that connected to his mate’s room. He then went back downstairs, using his hearing and sense of smell to bring the body up without being detected. Finally it was time to turn his mate. He stood over her bedside, observing her mortality for the final time. Through the black and blue of her face he admired her beauty, reminiscing the unique, flawed beauty of mortals.

This would be the most difficult transformation of his life. He was more nervous than when he had turned his sister who was his first turn. Y/N’s blood smelled so sweet he wasn’t sure he’d be able to pull away. He took a deep breath through his mouth before lowering his head to her throat, biting quickly. It took everything in him to pull away. He had never killed a human but he had tasted blood when he turned them and Y/N’s was like nothing he had ever tasted before. He knew he had to hold on long enough for the venom to inject into her bloodstream which made it even harder to pull away but he did it.

When he pulled back he could see blood seeping from her puncture wounds telling him he didn’t kill her. He quickly began disconnecting her from the machines before the venom could wreak havoc on her system. He then swapped her body for the one from the morgue, connecting the machines once again. Running down to the car he placed her unconscious figure in the backseat before going upstairs to reconnect the nurses station, alerting them that Y/N L/N was dying.

But by the time they reached her room with a crash cart Carlisle was already escaping with his prize in the back seat.

~

It took three agonizing days for Y/N’s transformation. Carlisle spent every moment he could at her side. He had to go to the hospital in order to not arouse suspicion where he unfortunately had to deal with her grieving father. He had called him on the way home to tell that he had gone to the bathroom and when he got back she was coding. But it didn’t seem to make anything easier for Dr. L/N as the man tried to tackle Carlisle when he walked into work. Fortunately for his secret a nurse stopped him. “You left her!” he screamed. “I lost my baby. I didn’t get to say goodbye because of you!”

At first Carlisle had been elated to finally have his mate (among other conflicting feelings) but now he was confronting the grief he had created. He realized that even if she was going to die anyway, if he hadn’t intervened her father would’ve gotten to say his final goodbye.

Meanwhile at home Y/N was laid on the soft couch in his room. She had spent the first two days sleeping fairly peacefully to the point that Carlisle was afraid he had killed her but her slowing heartbeat was assurance that she was okay. The third day was the hardest, he learned from Jasper that he could feel her pain. He was at work when the pain started and Alice had called him since she would be awake soon and Carlisle had wanted to be the one with her when she woke up.

Carlisle had been sitting by her side for a few hours, admiring her now clear skin, pure from all the bruises and broken bones she had received. In his own cold, stone hand, he now felt the same in her hand, all the warmth having been drained from it now as he played with her fingers adoringly.

~

Even before I opened my eyes I could hear so clearly. I could hear the rustle of clothing, the sound of skin rubbing skin as I realized a cold hand was playing with my fingers. As I became more aware I realized that my throat felt so dry it felt like it was burning.

Peeling my eyes open I was met with what seemed like the brightest object in the universe. I was half convinced I was staring directly into the sun except I could heat the hum of electric lighting.

“Is it too bright?” a voice— Carlisle’s voice asked.

Turning my head I met his warm, golden expression. When I nodded in agreement he ran towards the switch faster than I had ever seen anything move. Weird, but maybe I was just really groggy, but strangely I didn’t feel groggy, I felt more alive than I ever had.

Carlisle’s face reappeared in my field of vision, I could now more clearly see the flawlessness of his skin and the flecks of gold in his irises. Unbeknownst to me he was was also now observing the smoothness of my skin and the deep red hue of my eyes. Something about him felt safe and warm, like I never wanted to leave his side again. “Carlisle?” was all I could think of to say.

His adoring smile widened when I said his name. “Hey, Y/N. How are you feeling?”

“Good…” I answered hesitantly. I felt better than I ever had but his question made me think I shouldn’t feel good.

“That’s good. The transformation can be rougher for some people,” he explained, pulling away slightly to allow me room to sit up.

As I pushed myself up I moved so fast the couch slid to the side. My eyes widened, realizing what happened. “What’s going on? What transformation?”

He took my hands in his, now kneeling on the ground in front of me. “This is going to be strange and you won’t believe me but bear with me, okay?” he asked, looking up at me. One look in his eyes and I was melting so I just nodded, allowing him to explain. “I’m… a vampire. And I made you one too.” Laughs began to wrack my body, this had to be a joke. But one look at the grave sincerity on his face told me he wasn’t joking. “It’s true. It’s why when you sat up the couch moved. Why you’re probably really overwhelmed with all the sound, smells, lights, and feelings. Vampires are the most dangerous predators. We have better senses, are faster, and stronger than anything else.” Seeing my lost expression he rushed out the next words. “I know it’s a lot and I’m sorry I did this to you.”

“Why did you do this to me?”

“How much do you remember?”

“The last thing I remember is driv-” I suddenly realized what must’ve happened. “I was in an accident wasn’t I?”

Carlisle nodded his head regretfully. “You weren’t going to make it. That’s why I turned you. I didn’t want to do it. I was going to let you live your life as a human whether that be with me or with someone else but I couldn’t just let you die.”

“So what? You just turn every dying patient in the hospital?” I asked, trying to wrap my head around his words.

He shook his head no. “You’re the first I’ve turned in nearly 70 years. I couldn’t let you die because… well you see-” Carlisle was struggling with the best word choice to keep from scaring his mate off. “We’re mates… I knew the instant I saw you. Humans can’t feel it as strongly and it’s rare to meet your true mate but that’s what we are.” I didn’t know how to react, I didn’t even know exactly what I was feeling. “You don’t have to stay, you certainly don’t have to accept our bond but I thought you should know about it. Before you got hurt I was planning to hopefully be worthy of your love the old-fashioned way but given the circumstances…”

Before I could say anything the door swung open, revealing three more vampires. One had blonde curls, another with a brunette, short pixie, and the third had caramel hair and had a strong resemblance to Carlisle. “Hi, I’m Alice!” the bubbly brunette introduced.

“Um, girls-” Carlisle attempted to dismiss them so as to not overwhelm his mate.

“She’s probably thirsty,” the blonde insisted. Everyone looked over at me expectantly. Remembering the burning in my throat I nodded. Alice approached, opening a cup allowing the most appetizing scent to permeate through the air. I took it eagerly, frowning when I looked into the cup to find a thick, red liquid. Blood.

“It takes a bit of getting used to,” the caramel-haired one empathized.

“Trust me, you’ll like it,” Alice encouraged.

I gingerly brought it to my lips. The more I could smell it the thirstier I got so I downed the drink. The second the blood touched my lips I couldn’t get enough as I began to down the drink. Once it was all gone Carlisle gently brought the cup from my hands. “C’mon, you should meet the others,” he said, gently taking my hand in his. He led me out of his room, the three women following us into what looked like a very modern living room where there were three men waiting for us. “Y/N, these are my adoptive kids,” Carlisle explained as the blonde and Alice went to stand with their… brothers? “That’s Alice and Jasper, Emmett and Rosalie,” he pointed out the couples, “Edward, and my sister, Esme.”

~

The Cullen clan welcomed Y/N with open arms, including Bella when she eventually met the new vampire. It took a day or two of warming up but soon enough Carlisle and Y/N began to behave just like other mates. They were constantly together, and the rest of the Cullen clan were happy to finally see Carlisle so happy with his mate after 350 years.

Masterlist

[ynisreal]

wires (2) - michael afton x reader

author´s note: helloo! i updated this on ao3 and forgot to post here :/ so here it is :D summary: You and Michael have the opportunity to get to know each other better. Michael couldn't be happier. (~6k words)

Chapter Two

It was during the night of that same day that you realized you'd forgotten your company radio in the control room, the result of being jolted awake. You flinch as you remember the shame you felt, after all, it was your first day and you had been caught sleeping by the night security guard. In fact, because of your startlement, you weren't yet conscious enough to question why he was hiding in the shadows; it was only when you left the establishment that you thought:

Why was he in the shadows?

It scared you, still afraid of your sister's stories, everything was very strange: your interviewer's lies and this faceless night security guard. Anyway, he had the opportunity to take you by surprise in a vulnerable state, when you were asleep, yet he did nothing. Michael did nothing. That was his name. Shit, you really wanted to see his face. His intimidating presence still wandering through your mind, leaving you with slightly flushed skin and wobbly legs.

You arrived home to find your sister recently home from school. You quickly start making dinner for the two of you, listening to her enthusiastically recount the day she had at school, and answering all the curious questions she was asking about the "haunted place" you currently worked at. You allow a chuckle to escape your lips, still amused by the idea of your sister gossiping with her friends about horror stories involving you. "It was fine," you reply, "Fine in the sense that there were no ghosts or any robots trying to steal my soul," you continue, smiling at her as you serve her plate alongside your own.

And it really was all right as far as it was possible, nothing you wouldn't expect, after all, it's a tedious job. Apart from the man in the shadows and Noah, nothing really struck you. That was good, you weren't working there for fun or looking for adventures, you need the money and you need stability for once in your life. You and your sister need that. Especially her, it's hard to live like this, that's the reason you were working so you could pay for her college. She deserved a happy ending.

With these thoughts in mind, you watch your little sister help clear the table and wash the dishes, smiling a little at how eager she is to help you all the time. You carry her in your arms to her bed, giving her several affectionate kisses on her chubby cheeks, laughing fondly when she lets out little giggles happy with the affection. You sing softly, holding her in your arms, lulling her to sleep on your lap, feeling the little sighs and groans she lets out in her deep sleep. You don't move from your position, wanting the moment to last a little longer, the feeling of peace was flooding your head, knowing that tomorrow you'll have food on the table, she'll have a school to go to and you'll have a job to attend to. Things were finding their footing again. You both deserved that. Because of this feeling and today's tiredness, you didn't even realize that your eyes were closed, letting your head fall on your sister's forehead, the two of you sleeping cuddled up in her baby bed, a little too tight for your comfort.

Your bedroom alarm goes off so loudly that it wakes you up even though you're in another room. You quickly get ready, taking the shower you had failed to take yesterday, hurriedly putting on your clothes, then opening the door to the neighbor who has come to take care of your sister. You thank her again, smiling in gratitude at the elderly woman who had generously offered her help in your new job, looking after your sister while you were away. She had lost her husband a few years ago, so having the company of a child nearby helped her through her grief, by distracting it with childish games and conversations. Children really can help give you purpose.

When you get to the elevator at Fazbear Sister Location, you manage to fix your hair in the wide mirror on the wall, feeling a little uneasy at the many posters staring back at you. It's like being watched. You hold the keys in your hand, ready to open the doors when you get out of the elevator. The loud sound of the doors once again startles you, making you angry at yourself for being so easily impressed. But, really, the sound was quite loud for this time in the morning. You scan the main hall, finding it completely clean again, meaning that the night security guard must have cleaned up once more last night. Caring, you remark. You know that cleaning wasn't in your contract, and probably not in his, and yet he took the initiative to organize the surroundings. That caught your eye in a positive way.

A note lying on one of the many tables in the large hall caught your eye. Your forgotten radio was there with a note on the side. You carefully picked it up and smiled at the shaky, careless handwriting as you read:

You forgot this.

-Mike

You smiled at the nickname. Michael. Mike. You truly must have given the other worker a bad impression, sleeping on the job and forgetting an essential part of your work here. The thought made you hesitate, guilt showing on your face. Seeking to make amends with your coworker, you reach for the pen in your pocket and begin writing on the same piece of paper, underneath the note the younger man left.

Sorry again. I'll be more careful today. Good work tonight :)

-Y/n

What you didn't expect was that these notes would become a regular occurrence between the two of you. That was a bit surprising, because on the very day you said you were going to be more careful, you ended up forgetting your security badge. So, the next day, you arrived in the main hall with another ticket on the same table, next to your forgotten credential. You flinch in embarrassment.

"I'll be more careful," Y/n said.

-Mike

In the other corner of the paper was a (very accurate) drawing of you leaving the establishment and dropping your badge on the floor. The strokes were well done, which you couldn't believe, given the poor quality of his writing. The words were all in sticks and shaky, while the drawing was delicate and shaded, as if he had spent more than a few minutes doing it. He must have been bored at work, wanting to make fun of your carelessness in forgetting various items at the office, even though you said you'd pay more attention. The thought made you laugh, you couldn't have made a worse impression, but you were glad that he seemed to have taken the situation into a comedic range. You didn't have a long interaction the night you met him in the shadows of the corridor, but you could see from the papers you were exchanging that he had a sense of humor and from the cleanliness of the place, he was very attentive.

You take another piece of paper from the control room and start drawing. Okay, your drawing wasn't as good as Michael's. In fact, it was nowhere near as good as Michael's drawing. You drew a lanky stick figure, with what was supposed to be a security guard's hat on its head and its hair, but it turned out to be a loaf of bread on a head with strands of black spaghetti. You hope he understands that it was a drawing of you with a smile and your thumb up making an "okay" with your hand.

Sorry again.

-Y/n

You write, topping off your hideous drawing. Michael couldn't hold back the loud laughter that rang through the corridors and the main hall when he saw your attempt at a drawing on the other note you left. You were fun and a bit clumsy, constantly forgetting important items for your work in the establishment. He could hear the conversations you had with Alice, always being polite and considerate to the poor woman. Michael found himself coming out of hiding more and more to watch you work, it was a bit dangerous and not at all clever, but he couldn't ignore the desire that was growing to know you better. You spent a few hours of your working day, when there was no company employee for you to look after, cleaning the floors and polishing the tables. You had brought some cleaning materials from home, making it your job to help him keep the place clean and smelling good. Michael appreciated that about you, the way you paid attention to his care and decided not to get in the way, but to actually help. You didn't have that obligation, nor did he in fact, but it was the place he spent every hour of every day, so the least he could do to make that gloomy place seem a little more comfortable was to clean it up. And you decided to do something about it.

You didn't notice his presence, he assumed it was because of the thousands of responsibilities in your head. You had a sister to look after, and Michael understood what it was like to feel responsible for another life, flooding your own head with someone else's needs. You start to live not for yourself, but for the other person. That's why Michael didn't judge you or think negatively of you for always forgetting items or not noticing his presence lurking in the shadows. He thought it was great, in fact, managing to communicate with you through notes, picking up on your little giggles when you saw his drawings or your concentration when you mopped the floor and watched the monitors. You were clumsy but hard-working, wanting to do your job to the best of your ability, and that didn't go unnoticed by Michael.

At the end of the day, Michael was still watching you. Your day at work had gone smoothly, favorably, with no company employees coming in to disturb your peace. Alice might be a nice girl and help you pass the time with casual conversations, but her boss was unbearable and stressful, instantly making you rigid with hatred and irritation. Without the presence of the two of them, you can better focus on organizing the establishment, not that it needed much arranging, but you could finish organizing the dozens of metal parts in the Parts & Service room. Strangely enough, walking past the Funtime Auditorium made you feel a little down, sad to find yet another empty stage, where once there were concerts and children having a wild time, today it's just an empty stage to dust off and tables to organize.

The stories your sister had told you involved these same animatronics killing children or kidnapping them, which was really scary. But there were no confirmed deaths or bodies found in the establishments, and hey, you spend all your days here, looking at the same monitors and the same rooms, if there was a secret room or hidden bodies, you'd know. Would you? With that thought, you hesitate, almost dropping the product in your hand. The tables in the Funtime Auditorium were almost all shiny, and with 30 minutes left of your workday, you didn't know if you'd have time to finish polishing all the tables. You sigh in exhaustion, the weakness in your arms becoming noticeable from all the manual labor you've done today, but that doesn't stop you from continuing your activity.

Michael is back in the shadows, his purplish skin merging with the darkness in such a way that he's almost impossible to see - not that you'd look for him, so lost in concentration on your own activities. He was in the auditorium with you, a safe distance between the two, but to already be in the same room with you was an audacity. Mike was getting more and more bold when it came to you, gradually reducing the distance between the two of you, surely observing the limits of your inattention, hiding in the corridors when you were in the control room or choosing the back of the rooms when you were spending your time organizing the animatronics' chambers. However, there was only one place he didn't follow you. The Circus Gallery. Michael can still remember all the feelings that went through his body when he saw Elizabeth for the first time in a long time. In fact, not Elizabeth, but Circus Baby.

They talked, the animatronic would speak to him and he would respond, something that was unimaginable to him nor Henry at the time when he was still alive and working in the same position as you. Hope flooded his body back then at knowing he could get in touch with his sister, but as Michael now knows, his life is submerged in injustice. That's why, today, he finds himself the way he is. With a hood hiding his face, a mask covering his mouth and only leaving the eye area visible, hoodie and pants over his entire body, hiding and watching you from afar. Michael sometimes allowed himself to imagine what it would be like if you had arrived at the establishment a little earlier, perhaps he could have had a coherent conversation with you, not exchanging notes full of drawings and short sentences, or he could even have taken you out to dinner after work, where you would certainly have told him all about your family and your sister, making him forget a little about the dysfunctionality of his own family.

A loud noise wakes him from his trance, the sound of something metallic hitting the floor. His eyes immediately went to the stage, ready for the possible reality that the horde of animatronics that had attacked him was back. For the next few seconds, he closed his fist in defense, knowing that, due to the lack of weapons in his possession, if Ennard had returned, Michael would have to protect you with just his own bare hands. And call him crazy, sometimes he missed fighting, it would be a splash of normality in the mess his life had become. But fortunately, no animatronic or threat appeared in the room, only your whine was heard. Michael returned his eyes to your figure, and you held open the door of Parts & Service with a frustrated look on your face.

"I don't fucking believe it!" You blurt out, irritation present in your voice. In your lack of attention when clearing the tables, you ended up opening the door with an unnecessary amount of force, which caused the wood to collide with one of the shelves, knocking it down as well as all the pieces you had organized. You had 15 minutes to go, but you didn't want to leave this mess for Michael to find. If you left this mess here, he would have to clean it up in the middle of the night. Night shifts are naturally tiring, and would you force him to clean up the mess you've made? No.

Michael's eyes follow your figure as you enter Parts & Service, he knows you'll try to sort out the mess as quickly as possible before his shift starts. He thinks it's sweet of you to care about his comfort, but he knows how heavy these shelves are for you, the metal being strong enough to hold the remaining parts of the animatronics. With your lack of strength and assuming that you will rush the process to get everything done before your workday is over, Michael comes to the conclusion: you will definitely hurt yourself. Not that he doubts your ability, but he knows how heavy these shelves are and, given your carelessness during your work shift, combined with your hurry, something is bound to go wrong. He doesn't want to see you get hurt, knowing that he couldn't take you to a hospital or call for help, so he would have to listen to your grunts of pain and see your body on the floor helpless until Henry arrived. That thought alone makes Michael's body respond negatively, the image messing up all the thinking he was doing. Apart from that, a selfish part of Michael doesn't want you not to be here for the next few days, assuming you'd have to miss a couple of days of work to recover. Or worse, you would come to work and stress your body even more.

With these ideas running through his head, he unconsciously begins to take the steps to reach the room where you were. The scene he finds proves all the theories that were forming in his head: you, holding the shelf with both hands, fighting against the force of gravity so that it doesn't fall on you. Michael immediately joins you, helping you put the rack upright again, which, frankly, wasn't that hard, given that he was the one who put them up and fixed the whole place up before you even worked here. He ignores the sound that escapes your lips in surprise, concentrating on getting the shelf upright and away from your body, to avoid you being harmed.

With Michael's help, surprising you with how quickly he had arrived, you manage to get the stand on its feet very easily. Too effortlessly, which fascinated you. You wipe the dust off your hands and watch the security guard in front of you do the same. Without saying a word, you roll up your sleeve, looking at your wristwatch indicating the end of your shift and the beginning of his. He had arrived quickly at the building, and frankly, it's a good thing he did; you didn't realize how much strength it took to lift that rack until it was too late.

"Thank you," you say, a little breathless from the effort you were making. Now you can see him more clearly, without the darkness of the corridor he was in when you first met. Michael was indeed pretty tall, wearing the same hoodie and jacket he wore that day, but you still couldn't see the man's face properly, his mouth and nose covered by a mask, leaving only the areas of his eyes visible. You didn't know if it was tiredness blurring your vision or the lack of illumination in the room, but his skin had a purple tone and his eyes were practically black. Were you that tired?

"You didn't have to fix that, I could have done it in my shift," he replied, turning his back to you and starting to pick up the pieces that had fallen. This gives you an almost perfect view of his back, broad and attractive, the movements of his arms making the muscles shape the stretched fabric of his jacket. You blush a little, still surprised by the man's abrupt arrival and his proximity.

"No, I made the mess, I'll clean it up," you say, "First rule you teach any child in kindergarten," the joking tone clear in your voice. He laughs, and gosh, he laughs, a little chuckle so attractive it makes you want to hear it forever. You bend down to start picking up the seemingly animatronic Ballora's arms, wanting to put them back where they were before. Michael continues to wrap the threads that have fallen off before seeing you bend down to pick up the heavy arms of the old animatronic.

"No, no, let me get that," he says quickly, setting aside the wires, and bending down beside you to grab the pieces from your arms, knowing that they would be too heavy for you to put on the shelf. You catch a glimpse of the man's hands, which are bandaged, leaving only his fingers, which also have a visible purple tinge. You must be seeing things.

"What about me? What do I do?" You let your arms fall by your sides, a little embarrassed that you had made a mess and he was organizing all the things for you. The sight you had was wonderful though, letting the night security guard do all the manual labor on your behalf, seeing this extremely tall and fit man holding heavy pieces for you.

"Sit there and look pretty," you can't see his smile, but you can hear the mocking tone in his voice, already imagining the playful grin that must be on his face. Even with the lack of lighting in the room, you manage to decipher where he's pointing, a chair left next to the intact shelf, away from the pieces that had fallen. You huff a little loudly, wanting to make it obvious that you were frustrated with your lack of cooperation, sitting down and returning to your task of admiring the man in front of you working.

Michael continues to pick up the forgotten pieces of the old animatronics and put them back on the shelves they were on before. After being stuck in the same rooms for so long, his memory was able to retain even the smallest details of how things were organized. He genuinely thinks that one day he'll be able to draw the whole establishment down to the minutest of details. Michael's back seemed to burn under your stare, he had noticed that your eyes hadn't left his figure since he started helping you collect the pieces. Very smooth, Y/n.

"You can draw really well," you break the silence, taking him by surprise. The drawing he had left on the note really surprised you, despite seeing you once, he managed to trace your body in a very recognizable way on paper. Your failure to do the same comes to mind for both of you, in the form of a lanky stick figure with a loaf of bread on its head, which was actually supposed to be a hat.

"You too," Michael says in a serious and convincing tone, leaving what looked like a few pieces of the endo-skeletons on the last shelf. "The noodle hair was a creative touch under the bread," he continues, now with his arm resting on the shelf, leaning over to rest his body against it. His convincing tone being easily identified by you as sarcasm.

"It was supposed to be a hat on top of my head," you smile, accepting defeat at your lack of talent in the art field. Michael lets out another laugh, which takes you by surprise, causing small giggles to escape from your own lips, glad to have been able to hear him laugh once again. "At least I accepted defeat and tried to draw myself, if I had tried to draw you, it would have been much worse."

"That's something I would like to see," Michael continued, smile invisible to you. Man, how he had missed laughing or smiling, Henry was good company, but with the various events that still cursed his mind, humor or comedy were not a strong trait in the older man's personality. You were young like Michael, still full of life and concrete dreams in your mind, and as much as you had taken on a great responsibility, which was looking after your younger sister, Michael could see traces of youth in your face, fighting to make themselves apparent in the surroundings where life had forced you to become a mature woman prematurely.

"I'll try my best," you say, a smile still present on your tired face. Michael was fun to talk to, distracting you from the fatigue that still weighed on your shoulders. "Have you started working here recently? You seem to know the place pretty well," you ask, looking at how he had re-organized the pieces, quickly putting them back where they were before they fell.

"No, I worked here for a while before you started," Michael lies easily, given that he had already practiced this lie with Henry several times before you even dreamed of asking him that question. "I worked both shifts," which wasn't entirely a lie, he really was here for both shifts, but it's not as if he had much of a choice.

You flinch, once again feeling that sensation you always felt when someone lied to you. Many years of listening to your mother's lies must have strengthened your intuition, but you didn't know why Michael was lying or hiding. You wouldn't ask, nor would you have the luxury of judging what he was doing, you weren't naive to the world you both lived in, he must have his reasons. He wasn't dangerous, given that the acceptance process for this job involved a lot of questions and documents, so if he had anything suspicious to hide, he probably wouldn't be accepted for this job, even more so for working two shifts.

"It must have been boring," you reply, "but you had the privilege of not being able to meet Noah," you add, a defeated sigh escaping your lips as you remember the insufferable architect who constantly ruined your mood at work hours. Michael did indeed know him, but you had no idea, so you believed him when he asked you who he was.

"He's one of the architects who is redesigning the facility for a new attraction," you repeated what Henry had already told Michael, but he didn't care, listening to you talk was something he was discovering he loved doing. "He's extremely rude and clueless, treating Alice, who is the other architect, in a derogatory way, acting as if everyone should cater to his every need and not minding their welfare".

Michael senses the annoyance in your voice as you talk about Noah, and frankly, he understands your frustration, from what he hears from the corridors to his hideout, the man's voice is extremely obnoxious in every way. "Sounds like every human who has too much power in his hands," Michael replied, returning to his task of wrapping the wires.

"No, I've worked in several places that had considerate bosses and, well, had the minimum of human dignity," you respond, still frustrated by Noah's behavior. This architect managed to fail at all the social skills possible.

"Why did you come to work here then?" Michael asks carefully, not knowing if it was a sensitive topic for you, he didn't want to possibly overstep any boundaries and lose the chance to continue talking to you. It was the first time in ages that he had managed to have a sincere conversation with someone other than Henry, and once again, that milestone had been achieved by your company. And, yet one more time, he was extremely grateful that it had been you, a beautiful, charismatic and attentive woman, how could it be better?

"Well, I don't have one of the best resumes, so there was always someone who was better trained than me or better prepared. In addition to my age, in jobs that involve constant contact with other workers, sometimes they would try to take advantage of my - how did they say it? My youthful disposition," you wince as you remember how much you were overworked in other positions because you were younger than the other employees. Michael hesitates too, annoyed that you had to deal with these situations, he always got to work in the businesses built by his father and Henry, so he knew he had the privilege of avoiding the possible charges he would have on his criminal record for beating up some scumbag bosses.

"I need the job, I have a greedy little sister at home to feed," you continue, too tired to realize that perhaps you were sharing too much information about your personal life to your co-worker.

"Hm, what's her name? Michael asks, curious to know more about you and your family. He missed his siblings and the family they could have been, even if he never experienced that opportunity. If he had the chance, he would be in your shoes, running away with his two siblings in his arms and living an eternal life of manual labor in order to provide a better future for them. Elizabeth and Evan would have gone to college, had dinner every night with Michael, spent Christmases just the three of them, until they each found a partner and Christmases expanded to three families with other kids running around the house. Perhaps in this dream, Michael would have called you on a date, telling you about the dysfunctionality of caring for two children alone.

"Cassie," you smile, remembering your little sister, who is probably now talking to the neighbor until her ears drop. She was always chatty, expressing herself confidently and stubbornly. “I can't complain about her, she always helped me in whatever she could,” you complete, the sincere smile on your face being noticed by Michael. The dead man's heart warmed, he could see the adoration you carried for your sister, it was lovely to watch. You must be a great big sister, Cassie was really lucky to have you, Michael notes.

”You should be an inspiration to her then", Michael compliments you sincerely, finally putting the last piece of metal on the shelf, everything arranged as it was before. Your smile expands humbly, your insecure mind not accepting the compliment of the attractive man in front of you.

“I don't know, sometimes I feel like she takes care of me, instead of me taking care of her,” you reply, raising your eyes, which you hadn't even realized were on the floor, to face Michael. He returned to rest his body on the shelf, his figure inclined, and yet, his face was turned towards you. You couldn't see his features, but you could feel his smile in the sound of his voice.

“All the older siblings feel this way, don't worry, I'm sure you must be doing a great job,” Michael says, confident in his statement. You were caring, hardworking and polite, he was sure Cassie must notice all these qualities of yours, unlike him, who was violent and angry, and he was sure Evan noticed that. "I speak from experience, you are a good example for Cassie," he concludes, a sad tone in his speech. You notice the change of emotion in the man's voice, a heavy intonation that almost made the room where you were darker than it really was.

“I'm sure your siblings are very lucky to have a brother like you, " you try to comfort, although your speech was not as confident as his. You didn't want to hear his voice sound like that again, sounding like all of his life had been sucked out of him, words so quiet and charged with regret. ”After all, you are careful with your surroundings, eager to help me even if I haven't done anything for you, and to top that, your impeccable cleaning skills, " you try to joke, and fortunately, it seems to work, as a low laugh fills the room with life again. You feel so relieved that you don't fail to smile too.

You roll up your sleeve, oblivious to the several minutes you spent talking to Michael. The number 7 and two zeros scream on the screen of your wristwatch, realizing that you had already finished your shift and were disturbing the work of the night security guard in front of you. You get up quickly, which takes Michael by surprise, thinking you had seen something you shouldn´t. Before Michael could explain the millions of reasons created in his own head as to why his skin was purple and his eyes so black they could mask themselves in the shadows of the hood, you say:

"Shit, I'm sorry, I didn't know I was disturbing your work- fuck, I'm leaving now, don't worry about me,” the words getting mixed up as you talked, showing your nervousness at having spent the first hour of the night's shift with him. Michael finds your awkward and nervous manner comical as you left the room, practically running from him to grab your backpack and leave him alone for his office hours. He doesn't fail to follow you, walking the same dark corridors behind your hurried, clumsy figure, only stopping to lean against the entrance of the control room to watch you.

He keeps watching as you quickly grab all your materials and practically toss them into your open backpack, making the conscious decision not to tell you that you were once again forgetting your radio on the table in the main hall. You were such a cute sight for Michael, babbling various excuses as you frantically packed up your items. He did not regret the risk he took in approaching you today, knowing more and more of the pieces that completed you, and even then, the hunger for more did not seem to subside. He was totally attracted to you, the way you talk, how you comforted him today, how you also noticed his efforts and, not least, your appearance. The illumination at Parts & Service wasn't the best, but he managed to see your face more clearly today, your smile, your eyes that were lost in his working figure, your small hands and how the uniform did a good job of grabbing every curve of your body. Michael had always known injustice, but the feeling was stronger now. How fate managed to deliver someone so perfect into his hands and he just couldn't feel what it would really be like to have you as his.

You run past him, shouting a nervous goodbye, wanting to get out of there as soon as possible to let him work. Your footsteps could be heard through the corridors and into the main hall, opening and closing the main doors with rapidity. Michael smiles, pulling his bandaged hand up over his mask, feeling his cheeks tingle. If he still had blood running through his veins, he'd be blushing. He couldn't stop you from leaving so frantically like that, finding the whole situation too adorable to be stopped. His legs begin to make their way to the main hall, picking up the radio you forgot again on one of the tables. He reaches for the pen and paper in his pocket, writing another small note for you.

I'm starting to think it's on purpose.

-Mike

[running2reanimation]

Anniversary

Grief is love with nowhere to go.

King was awake in the dark, a very large part of his life, it seemed, was him lying awake in the dark. There was something that clenched his heart until it ached this morning, something he couldn’t shake as he laid in bed.

It was both shocking and perfectly understandable. Previous years he had been too… busy to try and process it.

He’d hadn’t even gotten out of bed yet and the weight of the day was too much.

Purple would understand if he didn’t get around to making breakfast. He knew what today was. King didn’t know how, he hadn’t told Purple the date.

He was torn between wanting to wallow in his grief, just let himself hurt and let his heart bleed tears on the pillows. And the familiar drive to ignore it, to keep moving forward, to treat the day like any other.

He got up, heading to the kitchen to start making coffee before pulling up short. He was going to go to the corner store for coffee. He was sure if Aqua was at work she might like the company… she had lost him too, after all.

He packed up a little bag of the pumpkin chocolate chip cookies he’d made the other day and set out into the dark.

It was a quiet walk, the sky not even bright enough to trigger the morning birdsong yet. He stared down the road to the cemetery… maybe today he could find the strength to visit.

But first coffee and Aqua.

He swung the door open and he could tell the difference between her usual greeting and today’s and he wondered if he was as obvious as she was.

“I wasn’t sure if I’d see you this morning, y’know with everything…”

King couldn’t get his his words to come out, so he just held out the bag of cookies which she gladly took.

“Ooh, pumpkin chocolate chip, not my favourite but pretty dang close,” Aqua smiled, turning away to start the coffee machine, “The usual, I assume?”

“Mm,” King nodded an affirmative and Aqua got to work. While the coffee brewed, they simply sat in silence, normally they shared a little gossip about recent happenings, but it seemed wrong to do the usual today.

Today was not just any day after all.

She handed him the hot coffee, and he took it to the coffee station to fill the cup with too much sugar.

Coming out here was a mistake. He wasn’t being very good company for Aqua at all. He hadn’t even said a word to her. He’d probably only reminded her her of what they’d both lost.

“Have a… nice day, Mr. King.”

The coffee burned his tongue and throat as he walked back out, he couldn’t even taste the sugar in it.

—

By the time Purple was up, King had long since finished his coffee. King had even made breakfast, just some fruit salad and toast.

“Oh thanks,” Purple sat down to eat, watching King as the older stick laid draped across the table, clearly in his own mind, “You can go back to bed if you want, y’know.”

“I might,” King conceded, raising himself from his seat and slouching his way back to his bedroom.

—

He woke, the roaring of the vortex echoing in his mind. He clung to the blankets as if they were his son’s hand, the sobs tearing their way out of his chest, leaving him breathless.

It had been a long time now since he’d had a nightmare that intense, but it was to be expected today.

He lurched out of bed, trudging to the dining room. There was a note on the table:

“Hey Baba, I went out for a bit, there’s tomato soup in the pot on the stove and a grilled cheese sandwich in the toaster oven. I’ll be back in time for supper, don’t make anything, I’ll pick something up on the way home.”

King warmed up the lunch Purple had left him, sore heart full of love for the boy. Purple was too good to him.

—

After eating and doing the dishes he left Purple a note of his own: “Gone to the cemetery.”

—

It was a warm walk, in the afternoon summer sun, but King didn’t mind. He’d take this over the stifling heat of the Nether.

He stepped into the cemetery and realized he hadn’t been here since the service. But he knew his way easily, since Gold and his mother’s graves were side by side.

And Gold’s grave was covered in flowers, mostly marigolds like the ones King had brought, but among them was one sunflower. Aqua must’ve dropped that off after her shift.

“Look at how many people miss you, Gold. Could you even imagine getting this many flowers? Where would I put them all if I had to take them home?” King allowed himself a watery laugh as he set down his own offering.

“Thank you for… for having been here. For bringing your sunshine into my life. I miss your smile, even if I can still see it in my pictures. I miss your ability to find the good in anything.”

“I hope you knew how much I loved you, how much I still love you and how proud of you I was. You were… you were a good kid.”

It was too hard to keep talking, his eyes were burning and his face was wet. He laid his hand on the headstone and tried to breath through the lump in his throat.

And as much as this hurt, it was better than the anger he’d known previously.

As tempting as it was to stay here surrounded by the memories of others, to drown in the flower petals and grief, he had someone back home waiting for him.

Living.

[athemarina]

writeblr intro!! finally!!

hello lovely people of the tumblr writing community <3 i'm marina (she/her) and i've had this blog for about a month now but so far Life and all its Obligations prevented me from making a proper intro post - here it finally is now, for everyone who'd like to get to know me and my projects a bit!

me as a person

i'm marina but you can also call me any nick name version of that and also any and all terms of endearment (can you tell i'm a libra). i'm 27, from austria, and speak german and english (pretty well), french (badly) and know how to order bread in korean (essential skill)

my interests include: philosophy, linguistics, horses, music, musicals, the city of paris, and also formula 1. yes i know this is random what can i say

i'm a full-time student and part-time capitalism worker-bee so depending on my schedule i might disappear for a bit, but i intend to always come back here to get inspired and get some work done! which leads me to...

me as a writer

i love coming up with new ideas and projects!! getting started is so much fun!! finishing things on the other hand!! is so hard!! send help!!

my fave genres (to read and to write): fantasy, sci-fi, works and words inspired by folklore and mythology - but really i like anything with compelling characters!

random things i love in writing: vampires (one day i'll write the Great Big Austrian Vampire Novella. alas, not today), characters that haunt the narrative, guilt and grief and healing from both, characters that make all the wrong choices, couples that have fun with each other, cryptic prophecies, sibling relationships, symbolic flowers

PLEASE COME TALK TO ME ABOUT WRITING!! i would really like to become part of a community here, so always feel free to come talk to me about your wips, my wips, the blorbo that lives in your head rent-free, the latest book you've read and loved... whatever you want to share i'd love to hear <3 you can also always tag me in games and challenges, but it might take me a bit to get to it, depending on how much real life hates me atm

my children: works in (never-ending) progress

i'm gonna make proper intro posts for all these projects soon, but to give you some idea of what i get up to, here are some short descriptions! some of these wips have been with me for a couple years, others are more recent, but they all haunt my every waking moment <;3

The Price of Wishing (first draft complete): good old sci-fi dystopian flair; a society that got rid of poverty by creating so called Houses of Service - institutions that will sell out their workers to the highest bidder for anything that people are willing to pay for. but it's not quite as simple as that: politics, organised crime, and a revenge plot years in the making all intersect at Isra's House of Service, and its inhabitants must learn to navigate these worlds - or they'll go down trying.

Forget Me (Not) (first draft about half-way done): wouldn't it be great to purge some of the mistakes we made from memory, not just our own but that of everyone? in a world in which the Chip implanted in everyone's neck records everything seen and experienced, this - collective forgetting - is the price celebrity contestants get to compete for in a reality tv show. each contestant has something they need the world to forget, but who can convince the viewers the most? the central theme of this story is grief, and when to hold on, and when to let go.

Attempts at Life (still in the outline stage): finn day and her brother felix know how their lives will play out: they were born in the lowest class society has to offer, and there they will stay. which is an unusual position for people like them to be in: both their souls were reborn for the fifth (and last) time; for them to have been assigned to this shitty life, they must have done something heinous in their previous one. finn is resigned to accept this punishment for a crime she can't even remember, but that's before the government offers her a position - she finds out things that change her view of society and herself forever, and she'll have to decide which one to save.

Untitled Fantasy (literally only thought of this last week): something something a necromancer brings back the hero of the ancient world to stop Something Bad from happening. only problem is - the hero does not remember ever being a hero. or anything at all, really. the rest of the world remembers, though. i'd love for this story to include some traditional austrian folklore elements! those are fun

so that's it! last but not least: if you've read this far, thank you so much omg you're my personal hero. i'm following a bunch of people already since i've been lurking for a couple weeks, but i'm always looking for new writers to get to know and support so pls interact with this post or shoot me a message and i'll check you out and follow you! and if you have any questions, or answers, or just wanna talk i'm very excited to get to know you all <3

[blackjackkent]

I stole all the food from the Audience Hall since there's finally no one around to stop me. >:) And up we go to Gortash's office!

The whole walk along the ramparts is lined with stun traps and unconscious Steel Watchers; this would have been an absolutely brutal approach if we had tried to do this without going to the Foundry first. Infuriatingly, there is a chest on top of a tower with no immediately obvious way to get to it. Perhaps I'll bring Lae'zel here with her githyanki psionic jump once we get her back.

But... onward to the main event.

Dramatic place you've got up here, Gortash.

The busts are an interestingly varied lot, mostly but not entirely patriars from Baldur's Gate history. The only ones I recognize are Eltan ("Founder of the Flaming Fist. Later history is kinder to him than accounts from his time, which portray him as a cruel and hard-handed mercenary commander.") and, well, Bane himself. ("This is a bust of the god Bane as he first appeared to Gortash in dreams, and was then described to a Rivington sculptor.")

(Please tell me Stoney and Boney got commissioned to make a sculpture of the god of tyranny because that mental image is amusing me. Probably not though because I think they just came in recently with the circus.)

I am, of course, robbing Gortash blind of anything of value in this outer room, mostly silver and bronze dinnerware. Also finding odds and ends of papers detailing the planning phases of Gortash's rise to power (including focus group testing of different populist/xenophobic slogans, which I am finding darkly humorous for some reason).

Not entirely sure what the big rope with the ring on the end (visible in the screenshot above) is about.

On into the next room, and there he is, the man himself:

Hi there, dipshit.

------

Hector has calmed down somewhat after the showdown with Wulbren, but all of his anger and grief over the suffering he has seen inflicted in the last few days are still simmering under the surface, and seeing Gortash, he feels it all starting to bubble up again in his chest.

There you are, you bastard. This ends today. Now.

Gortash just grins casually as they enter, utterly unbothered by their presence. He shoots a look at Karlach, lifts an eyebrow almost playfully.

"It's hard to keep a good woman down, isn't it, Karlach?" he says dryly, and Hector feels his neck prickle with rage at the casual disdain with which the words emerge.

Karlach smiles icily. "I don't know. You managed it for a solid decade." Hector can hear the matching fury in her voice, just below the surface.

You're already a dead man, Enver, Hector thinks. You just haven't realized it yet. If he wants to talk, let him talk; perhaps he'll say something of use. But with each word, he is only digging his own grave further. Sooner or later, the moment will snap... and Gortash will die, and the city will be better for it.

Gortash smirks. "I never meant to harm you, dear," he says nonchalantly, lounging back on his heels. "Merely to help you realize your vast potential."

Flame begins to lick delicately over Karlach's armor, up her neck, through her hair, behind her eyes. "You sent me to the Hells," she growls. "You let Zariel take my heart!" Her voice is cold and steady and Hector feels a flash of pride in her for that - but he can hear the emotion under the surface, too, all the grief for her lost youth that he has come to know intimately over the last few months. "As though *any* of it was yours to give away!"

Gortash clicks his tongue patronizingly. "The greater good, Karlach! Something I wouldn't expect you to understand."

"You feel no regret, do you? All right." Her voice drops an octave, taking on the low, resonant rumble that accompanies her battle rage. "How about *fear* then?"

Gortash tips his head to one side, unflinching, seemingly almost amused. "You can't hurt me. You *need* me. Whether you and your friend--" he flicks a look to Hector and smirks "--realize it or not."

"Do we now?" Karlach snarls.

Say nothing.

Hector doesn't move, just stares down the younger man unblinkingly. As the standoff with Vlaakith was Lae'zel's fight, as the standoff with Aylin was Shadowheart's... this is Karlach's. This is the moment of justice for the woman he loves beyond all measure and he will not do her the disservice of stepping into her path. He will strike with both fists when she is ready, and not before.

But the incandescent rage that is lighting the flame over Karlach's body is reflected in Hector's eyes.

I know what you did to her. And I know what you've done to this city. And you can charm and smile all you want, but it changes nothing.

He can hear Jaheira and Minsc behind him subtly shifting into battle stances - but they take their cues from him and wait.

Gortash shifts slightly in the silence, and perhaps there's the slightest flicker of nervousness, of uncertainty, before the cocky mask slips back into place.

"I'm sorry you feel wronged by how things ended between us all those years ago," he tells Karlach dismissively. "But now we must look to the future."

Karlach's jaw sets. "You make it sound like we were lovers," she answers, equally disdainful. "Or friends. But that wasn't it. I trusted you. I respected you! It was my job to protect you, and that's what I did!"

The pain in her voice is unhidden now - the betrayal and the loss.

"I was so YOUNG," she says, and deep under the cold anger, Hector can hear the wail of grief, of a not-quite-child torn from her parents and her life and thrown into utter brutality. "I didn't recognize evil when I saw it. When you turned on me, I was too dumbstruck to realize what was happening. No way he'd hurt me, I thought..."

She trails off, and her eyes narrow. "You betrayed me for reasons I still don't quite understand. But I suppose evil has no real cause. It just is."

The flames surge upwards, the anger taking control, the need for revenge displacing everything else. "Until it ISN'T!"

Gortash backpedals with a sudden flash of alarm. "You utter brat," he snaps, as if chastising a disobedient puppy. "You're going to burn this place down!"

"GOOD!" Karlach roars, and it echoes into the room's high ceilings, rattling the rafters.

For the first time since Dammon's repairs she is burning too hot to be touched; Hector can feel the bubble of superheated air around her, pressing him back from her as it hasn't since Last Light. And yet he feels a smile tug at his lips, a sort of fierce joy and pride in her in this moment of crisis.

You are stronger than he is, stronger than I am, stronger than any of us. Kill him, end this, and I will be with you for every blow.

"Say goodbye, Gortash," he says, turning shoulder to shoulder with her and staring the man down, his voice deathly soft.

Gortash's eyes widen, and now for the first time there is clear fear in his expression. "No-- you have to stop her! Do it now!"

If he has anything else to say, any gestures of bravado or superiority or cruelty, he doesn't get the chance, as Hector's fists and Karlach's blade swing out at him at once and he stumbles backwards out of the way.

[clickerflight]

Joseph: Part 5 - A Friend

Masterlist

Part 4

Had something happen today that made me lose a bit of steam for this story, but we're going to keep trucking. I probably got too caught up in looking for validation with my writing, but I think we'll be okay. I have plans for it and I'm going to keep going, I just might have to take a short break.

Content: Vampire whumpee, human caretaker, hospital setting, panic attack, grief, detailed memories of a character death

..................................................

Joseph enjoyed his music for most of the day, his eyesight coming back enough for him to see the small device where he could search for music and play it. He didn’t recognize the app, but he was glad for the music. 

He was bobbing his head to ‘Eye of the Tiger’ when he smelled someone familiar. He looked over into the hall, waiting until a man came into view. The man that had to be Joshua Muir looked to be of Mexican descent, clean shaven and wearing his hair just long enough he could pull some of it back into a little wolf tail. 

He wasn’t wearing a police uniform, instead wearing well worn jeans and a t-shirt. 

Muir opened his mouth in greeting and Joseph realized he was still wearing his headphones. He pulled them down, the sounds of the hospital greeting him again, but he could focus attention on Muir and it wouldn’t bother him. 

“Hi,” Joseph said, feeling once again safe as Muir sat down in the chair by the bed. 

“How are you feeling?” Muir asked.

Joseph shrugged. “I’m completely regenerated. The nurses said they were going to get some more blood into me overnight and then get me set up to go to a rehab center.”

“Nice. That was pretty quick,” Muir commented. 

Joseph nodded as the situation dawned on him for the first time since waking up. “Oh, stars, you, I….. Sorry. I shouldn’t have forced you to ride in the ambulance with me. You didn’t get in trouble, did you?”

Muir laughed. “No, not at all. Well, maybe a little but it wasn’t a problem. You needed someone to be there for you, man. It happens.”

He nodded a little. “Thanks for coming back. I hope I’m not keeping you from anything.”

Muir shook his head, a hint of sadness entering his expression as he said, “No, you’re good. I, ah, I moved to the city pretty recently. I don’t have many friends yet outside of some coworkers… but I guess we don’t really hang outside of work. This is…. Kind of nice, actually.”

“Oh,” Joseph said, surprised. “Alright then.”

There was a moment of awkward silence before Muir asked, “So, got any questions? 3 years is a lot of time.”

Joseph shrugged. “Haven’t really seen enough to have questions, I guess…. Have the fledgling laws passed?”

“Not yet,” Muir replied, looking slightly annoyed. “Well, parts of it have. People with terminal illnesses can apply to become a fledgling, but the stuff around people with chronic illnesses and terminally ill children got tied up in the courts last year.”

“Well, I guess it’s good there’s been some movement on that,” Joseph said.

“Yeah,” Muir said. “So, what do you like to do?”

“I like reading,” Joseph said with a shrug. “And D- my bondmate was teaching me how to play the piano. I used to work at a tech shop. I guess I was kind of, I dunno, stuck in a rut. Wasn’t really sure what I wanted to do with my life…..”

“Well, there’s plenty of time to figure it out,” Muir said with a shrug. 

Joseph nodded. “And you? What do you like to do?”

“My job takes up most of my time. I’m working my way up to being a detective. I’ve been a cop for a few years now and I’ve been studying to pass the tests they’ll need me to do. I’m pretty excited. The Chief has been pretty hard on me, which makes me think it’s going well.”

“How’s that?” Joseph asked, curious.

“Well, she’s a tough love kind of lady,” Muir said with a mischievous smile. “She’s been criticizing my work a lot lately, which tells me some big guns are watching me, trying to decide if they should try me out. It’s a bit early in my career for it, but I’ve been proving myself and I think they see it.”

“Oh,” Joseph said, intrigued. “That’s awesome, then! I hope it all works out for you!”

“Of course! And you’ll be the first to know if it does!” Muir said, his grin splitting his face. It drooped and he hesitated. “Er, if you want to be friends, that is. Maybe I can help you figure out what you want to do with your life.”

“Oh yes,” Joseph said eagerly. “I could definitely use a friend.”

“Good,” Muir said with a grin. “I wonder…. I want to talk to the nurses real quick. I’ll be back.”

Muir hopped up and left, the smell of his excitement still hanging in the air. Joseph slipped the headphones back on, not really paying attention to the music as he waited for Muir to come back. 

Muri came back after another 20 minutes, a bag in his hand. Joseph pulled the headphones off and Muir said, “Alright. The nurses said you can check out tonight.”

“Check out? Where am I going? With you?”

“Yup! I had some extra clothes in my car so you can put these on and we can get out of here. I thought you’d probably like to sleep somewhere quiet tonight.”

“Oh, I certainly do,” Joseph said, pushing the blankets off his lap and turning to sit on the edge of the bed as a nurse, the same one who brought him the noise canceling headphones, came to unplug him from the drips. 

Once that was over and the small holes in his skin healed, Joseph stood up, taking the clothes and heading into the bathroom to change. 

The clothing was a bit big on him, but after rolling the top of the pants down inside once they held just fine. He stepped out, shifting the shirt to sit properly on his shoulders before taking the shoes Muir held out for him. 

“We’ll get you some better shoes later,” Muir said with a smile. 

Joseph nodded, grinning. The two walked out, Joseph shuffling a little to keep the shoes on his feet. Muir had already registered his address with the lady at the desk and they were set to go. 

“I think the rehab people will come to meet you around 2 tomorrow? I’ll be at work, but the hospital will let them know to go to my house.”

“Cool,” Joseph said, his shuffling steps feeling strange. They were smoother than he thought they would be, as though there hadn’t been three years and a regeneration in between the last time he walked and now. 

“And then we can get you clothes and stuff tomorrow night,” Muir said as he got into his car. Joseph entered on the passenger’s side and buckled his seat belt, relaxing as heard the familiar sound of a car starting. 

They soon left the hospital parking lot and drove down roads as the sun to the left of them as they hit the highway. Joseph watched the world pass by in awe, the rumble of the car soothing to his fragile mind. 

Maybe he’d be fine. Maybe one day he’d be healed and forget about what happened and he could move on. Maybe when he had something good to do with his life and-

But who would he share it with? His bond with David was empty. It was gnawing on him, crushing his soul and begging to be fed. He had been without a pairbond for three years and his body and mind were beginning to realize it. David was gone and he could still remember feeling his pain through the bond, could still hear his screams. He remembered when the blade had entered David’s heart and killed him. The pain and fear had been unlike anything Joseph had ever felt. His and David’s mingle fear, the pain, David reaching through the bond searching for comfort, searching to be sure Joseph was still okay, and then the knife had come down. 

It was like losing a limb. Crushed in a combine’s mechanics, shattered and torn and shredded and bloodied and violently taken in a moment that could never be changed and never be reversed. The emptiness had consumed Joseph’s mind entirely. Going from all that noise to dead silence where his own fear and pain echoed down and back again through broken links. 

He would never get David back and the pain would last forever. It felt like it would last forever. How was he supposed to deal with it all? How was he meant to survive this?

He grabbed on tightly to whatever was pressed against him. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t hear, he couldn’t feel. All he knew were the memories of David’s gargled screams and the broken bond as his sire and bondmate died. 

He knew he would need to pairbond again eventually, and that sent a new wave of sorrow through him. Was it not enough to be on his own? To always remember David and cherish his memory? He was Demijeoa. He would have to pairbond again to heal, but he couldn’t imagine it. He couldn’t imagine pairing with anyone after that. 

He pressed his face into soft fabric, sobbing desperately, unable to alleviate the pain. He realized someone was running a hand through his hair, untangling it and running down his back in strokes, and then he recognized the smell. 

He lifted his head to find Miur looking out a window, though Joseph’s stirring brought his attention back down. “Hey, are you back?”

Joseph felt a wave of sorrow and embarrassment so strong it sent him to hiding in Muir’s shoulder again. 

“Hey, man. It’s going to be alright. Promise. Do you want to talk about it?”

“”S not gonna be alright,” he mumbled. “He’s dead.”

He felt Muir tense up, but he didn’t stop rubbing Joseph’s back. “I know, I’m really sorry.”

Joseph let out a shuddering sigh, simply letting Muir quietly comfort him. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

“You don’t have to. Not right now. Right now, it’s enough to just grieve. I know losing a bondmate is painful, even if I can’t really understand it.”

Joseph nodded before peeling himself away from Muir, scrubbing his face. 

“Are you going to be okay?” Muir asked.

Joseph just nodded so Muir turned off the hazard lights, signaled, and got back on the road. It was dark now, and Joseph was so tired he just laid his head against the window and let the rattle of the road bruise his head repeatedly. 

Joseph was asleep by the time Muir pulled into his driveway. He got out and went to the passenger seat, opening the door quickly and propping up Joseph to keep him from falling on the pavement. The vampire slept like a dead thing as Muir closed the car door with his hip and walked up the steps to the house. 

After some awkward shuffling, he managed to unlock the door and step inside. He walked through the house to his bedroom where he set the vampire on his bed. He coaxed the blankets over him and went back to the front door to lock it. 

After a quick snack and a shower, he got ready for bed and slept on the couch in the living room. 

………………………………………………..

Joseph woke in a comfortable bed wrapped in blankets that smelled enough like Muir to tell him that Muir had given his bed up to Joseph. He sighed, pressing his face into the pillow for a moment before rolling over and out of the bed. 

He poked his head out into the hall, looking around. There was another room set up with a desk and walls lined with cork board, though only one was in use. He soon found the bathroom and cleaned up before going to the living room. 

Muri laid on the couch, bundled in blankets and snoring very softly. Joseph hummed and decided to make breakfast. 

There wasn’t much in the kitchen and he ended up just improvising with some quick oats and eggs, as well as getting some coffee ready. 

He heard Muir wake up and smiled when he heard Muir’s small confused noise when he smelled food. 

He stumbled in, wearing sweatpants and a blanket cape as Joseph turned, scooting a plate of food across the island to him. 

“Got the coffee started a bit late but it should be done in a mo.”

“Thanks,” Muir said, surprised. 

“You're welcome. And no offense, but do you live on oatmeal, eggs, and canned chili?”

“Er, no. I tend to grab food while I’m working,” he said, fishing a fork out of the dishwasher and sitting on one of the stools to eat. 

Joseph rolled his eyes and sat down next to him once the coffee was done. Muir took the coffee eagerly, taking a sip and closing his eyes in delight. They ate in silence for a minute before Muir said, “So I guess this means you want me to buy more food.”

Joseph snorted. “Yes. You’ll end up with kidney stones if you keep eating like you are.”

Muir shook his head and downed his coffee. “Alrighty, then. I’d better go get ready.”

“Kay,” Joseph said, enjoying his breakfast a bit more slowly. 

When Muir came back, he was dressed in his uniform and ready to go. “I left a note on the computer with the password. Feel free to surf the web while I’m gone. Just remember-”

“The meeting at 2:00. I got it,” Joseph said, putting the dishes in the sink while he unloaded the dishwasher. 

“Yup. I might stop by on one of my breaks, but we’ll see.”

“Alright. See ya.”

“Bye.”

The door closed, the key scraped in the lock, and Joseph was alone. 

Joseph stood in the kitchen, his heart pounding in his throat as the silence pressed in on him. Silence like silver. 

He shook his head. He was not interested in having another breakdown today. Not right now. He was going to hold it together and if he needed to cry himself to sleep that night, then by the stars he would cry himself to sleep. 

He rifled through the kitchen, putting things away as he went along until he’d taken care of the dishes. He loaded the new ones into the dishwasher and closed it. 

He supposed the next thing he could do would be to catch up on what he’d missed. 

He went to the room with the cork board walls, glancing at the images and notes tacked there. It was a missing person’s case about a little girl. He hummed, looking at the little girl’s face. Did anyone look for him and David like this? Did someone in the world string up their names and faces, staring at them in the hopes that it would provide some clue?

Joseph shrugged off the image and sat at the computer, typing in the string of letters and numbers from the sticky note and opening up the search engine. 

He stared at the blinking bar for a moment, uncertain of what he should do before he started pulling up the social media accounts he’d had and opening them up to see what there was to see. 

Joseph: @not-a-space-alien @why-not-ask-me-a-better-question

From Dust to Ashes: @writereleaserepeat @currentlyinthespiral

Part 6

Let me know if you want to be on the taglist

[taelonsamada]

Tid-Bit Tuesday

It’s been a hot minute since I posted any wips!! Figured now was a good time to do so, since I’ve been consumed with a new oneshot idea, and for a boy I’ve pretty much never written! Poor Vincent, he gets so little love from me, considering he’s the gateway that led me to redacted in the first place 😅

I’ve been missing my grandpa pretty hard the last couple weeks, so this is my way of working through that lol my grandpa lost his leg from just below the knee, and while he handled it with grace and great humour (Ooh, the way he’d scare the grandkids with it… love that fucking man LOL) there were still days that were hard on him, and I’d get to see how my grandma would help him through it. It was always really sweet, being able to see the bond between the two of them as she helped him.

So this is kind of like a tribute or me paying my respects to the love between my grandparents that I got to see growing up, I guess 😅 it should be up later today, so long as I don’t get trapped in editing hell or distracted by woodslife stuff lol

Tagging @romirola @zozo-01 @ejunkiet & @darlincollins because they’ve all tagged me recently in their wonderful wips and I need to catch up! XD ♥️ also tagging @dominimoonbeam @lovelylonerliterature @glassbearclock @dollscircus and @sollucets cause I’m nosy and wanna see what you’re working on LOL

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It would pass. It always did. He’d been enduring phantom pain like this for the last two decades, he knew what was going to happen. He just had to be patient, ride it out.

William would know. It didn’t matter how long he gave himself to recover, to settle and recoup before heading out to be with the rest of the clan. William knew when it was a bad day. Something he could see or smell, something so minute that Vincent couldn’t disguise it. The bond between progeny and Maker, perhaps. He’d know, and it would break his heart.

Vincent wished, yet again, that he could take back all those words he’d said in the first few years towards his maker.

He knew that William still blamed himself for not being able to save his leg, still carried guilt for Vincent having to mourn the loss of a limb on top of all the other pain and grief that came with adapting to life as a vampire. A guilt that Vincent had absolutely played on in his early days, hurling curses and accusations that he now felt awful about.

For all his power and strength, even William wouldn’t have been able to save his leg, not after the damage the crash had done. Vincent’s outrage over the loss had merely been another way of exorcising his grief for the life that had been taken from him.

He’d grown to accept this change alongside all the others in his new existence, and on the good days it was something he almost embraced and celebrated. Treating it as a badge of honour, a testament to what he’d survived. As well as using it as a way to fuck with the new members of the clan whenever they joined.

The faces they’d make when the Solaire Prince collapsed in front of them and screamed as his leg, to quote Alexis, ‘flopped about below the knee like a badly gutted fish’, were priceless.

[antclan-blogs]

MOON 41

Minkpaw is named Minkfluff. Chaffinchbounce has died of old age.

This moon’s extremely depressing story under the cut!

Grief hung over the clan like a stormcloud. No cat spoke as the crowd sat vigil for Chaffinchbounce, bowing their heads as the sun beat down and the blueish-grey elder’s still body lay in the centre of the clearing.

“He was a brilliant deputy, a kind soul, and my best friend.” Slightstar mewed with a shaky voice, tears in her eyes. “He lived a long and fulfilling life wherever he was, and touched all of our hearts while he lived in Antclan. His wise words and remarkable courage will never be forgotten.”

Rivernose let out a choked sob from the back of the crowd, padding slowly forward to bury his nose into his mate’s fur. “He was my best friend.” The old grey tom murmured, his voice muffled. “And more than that, infinitely more. I’ll never forget him, and we’ll meet again in Starclan.”

As if on cue, a shimmering silver cat appeared from the shadows and trotted forwards to face the clan cats. She was small and young, and had eyes that shone like the stars above.

“Cats of Antclan, my name is Tulippaw.” She mewed gently. “I’m your Starclan guide, for I died long ago in this very camp. I help the dead cats of Antclan on their journey to Starclan, and assist them in finding inner peace.”

Slightstar’s eyes widened and she dipped her head in respect, the other clan cats quickly following suite. “Welcome, Tulippaw. To what do we owe this visit?” She asked.

“I bring a cat with me today, whom has recently joined the ranks of Starclan. He wishes to say a proper goodbye to his clan.” Tulippaw answered, stepping aside to reveal the glittering form of a much younger Chaffinchbounce. He was not old or frail in Starclan, instead tall and muscular as he must have been in his youth.

“Chaffinchbounce!” Rivernose cried, bounding over to his mate. The dead tom smiled, looking wistful, and touched his nose to his mate’s.

“Hello, Rivernose. I can’t stay for long, but I wish to bid you farewell.” He mewed, his voice no longer shaky with age. Every cat could tell that he would be happier in Starclan.

“I’ll miss you so much. Too much to bear.” Rivernose fretted, wishing he could keep Chaffinchbounce by his side forever.

“You’re strong, Rivernose. You’ll carry on. And you and I both know that your time is near. We will soon be reunited once more.” Chaffinchbounce told him, twining his star-laced tail with Rivernose’s.

“You truly were the best of us, Chaffinchbounce. I hope you know that.” Badgerdust mewed, gazing at the dead cat with a mixture of grief and wonder.

“There is no best in Antclan. We all make this clan what it is.” Chaffinchbounce told the senior warrior. He had always harboured a secret fondness for him, even if his loyalties lay with Rivernose.

“I hope you find peace in Starclan, Chaffinchbounce. And may you have good hunting, a warm nest and pleasant company for the rest of your time there.” Slightstar told her previous deputy formally.

“Thank you, Slightstar. I’m sure when your time comes, we might bathe in the sun and make useless small talk once more.” Chaffinchbounce grinned, recounting his old favourite pastime to do with the leader.

“I hope so.” Slightstar smiled.

“We must return.” Tulippaw urged suddenly, giving Chaffinchbounce a nudge.

Chaffinchbounce looked around at his clanmates, with so many goodbyes still left unsaid. “Thank you.” He mewed hoarsely before turning and padding away into the shadows with Tulippaw.

As the two Starclan cats disappeared, Antclan fell silent. Minkfluff, the clan’s newest warrior, made her way forward and gave Chaffinchbounce’s shoulder one last respectful lick. She was closely followed by Sunnymeadow and Tunnelbeam, his two daughters, who both looked devastated, and Daisyiris, who had been wailing ever since she had heard the news of the previous deputy’s demise.

“This clan will never forget Chaffinchbounce. We will keep his memory alive, and tell our kits stories of his bravery and intelligence.” Slightstar decreed as the vigil came to an end. “May Starclan light his path.”

WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH IM LITERALLY SOBBING THERE WAS TEARS ROLLING DOWN MY FACE WHEN I WROTE THIS GAH

[cherrys-writings]

Cat-astrophy

Summary: Grayson is on damage control, Jameson is drunk, and OC just wants people to stop making innuendos Word count: 1060 Warnings: Mentions of underage drinking

Deciding what to make for the household of a deceased billionaire was proving more difficult than I originally thought. Aside from the immediate family and the Laughlis, there’s the security team and the small army of workers. I wait for the shower to warm, maybe I should have something sent to them instead. Letting the hot water ease the tightness of my neck, I try to put the worries out of my mind.

I wish I didn’t know what Nash had been implying when he said he’s had, “good friends,” too. It’s possible Grayson and I had been thinking of something along those lines at one point or another. I stepped out of the shower, wrapping myself in a towel as I walked across the heated tile and into my bedroom. It’s possible we had been thinking about it at the same time. If Grayson wanted a friends with benefits arrangement he would have brought it up. Right? He has a way of being direct, yet discreet. But, all this would have been before Emily. 

Why am I even thinking about this? Grayson’s grandfather just died. As I pull on my clothes for the day, my mind wanders to the casual contact that has been ever present between us: leaning against each other, heads bowed over shared work, knees touching under tables, idly messing with each other’s hair, and accidentally falling asleep together on occasion. I need to clear my head of this nonsense before class this afternoon. I brush out the tangled mess and set up my study area. There have been times lately where I’ve started to question whether we are genuinely platonic. He’s started whispering in my ear even when we’re alone, guiding my attention away from what’s in front of me and back to him with a gentle hand, and forehead kisses after every embrace no matter where we are. 

I manage to push those thoughts out of my mind for now, settling into my chair and logging onto the college’s portal. Technically I’m a commuter student, but most lectures are conducted remotely and time on campus is saved for lab work. My phone goes off before I can open the class link.

Gray: Jameson is drunk AF, Nash is with Skye who won’t leave her rooms, and I assume Xander went to school because no one has seen him. 

Me: Be patient. Don’t kill Jamie.

Gray: He and I aren’t speaking at the moment.

I have to call the lawyers and begin funeral arrangements. You have class soon.

Me: If you need to vent that’s fine. I know my professor will understand and even if they don’t the webcam only sees a portion of things.

Gray: Do not rearrange your priorities. This is my responsibility and I can handle it. 

I see no point in arguing and let the conversation die for now. I’ll check on him and his family after class.

********************************************************************************

Barely an hour into class, messages started flooding my phone. I assume a statement was released. Grayson wasn’t kidding about handling things as quickly as possible.

Olive: Make sure you’re available to comfort Grayson *whink* *wink*

It’s obvious you want each other. Tobias Hawthorne probably died to give you two a little nudge

Me: You’re a terrible person

Olive: I don’t hear you denying grief hook-ups

  I exhale forcefully, hoping that I look focused on taking notes and not frustrated that she is the second person today to suggest such a thing.

Me: We are literally in class rn can’t this wait??

“Mx. Davis, you look like you have something to share,” Dr. Richards clearly noticed my frustration, “Given your recent, personal introduction to grieving you must have some insights into the stages.”

Of course everyone had to say where they had graduated from on the first day of class. Of course I, wrongly, assumed no one would care. Of course when Olive asked about grief hook-ups my face said what my voice didn’t. 

“It’s bullshit,” I deadpan, “Yes, the Kubler-Ross model is a reliable foundation that identifies common emotions and behaviors exhibited by grieving people. However, as a society and a field of study, we treat these stages as a roadmap whe-” 

My phone begins buzzing incessantly, Jameson’s name lighting up the screen each time. At that moment my cat launches herself onto the desk, deciding the phone is now her prey. To the amusement of my classmates, I wrestle her into my lap. 

Scratching her head I continue, “when grieving is a prolonged cluster-fuck of overlapping emotions. You can’t accurately predict what someone is going to feel next when helping them through a time of grief. Even if it’s been experienced before.”

Momentary silence followed, my class dumbfounded by either my audacity to attack the respected Kubler-Ross stages of grief model or my horrifyingly unprofessional word choice. 

Dr. Richards collected herself quickly, “That was….well put. And sounds like a great stopping point. Remember tha-”

I shut my laptop quickly. Resting my head against my cat’s I groan. That was not how I should have phrased that at all. I could have said it better; I could have said nothing at all. Good job racking up all that college credit in high school just to give a long winded, unfiltered response to a simple question. Whatever Jameson has to say, it better be important. 

Jameson: Grayson is being mean

                 Please help

               Tell him to pull that stick out of his ass an people respond to things different

Me: Drink water and sleep it off please

Jameson: He keeps talking abou “arrangements”

Me: Oh? Does that mean you want to help?

Jameson: Come fix him

      Please

If Grayson doesn’t kill Jameson, I might. During class and the flood of messages, I missed calls from my aunt and uncle. New arrivals at the antique store need repairs, there is a commission for a book restoration, but beyond that, the note on the box stated the contents are for my eyes only.  I put my laptop, textbook, and supplies into my backpack ready to add to my growing to-do list. I'll go to the antique store first and decide how much fixing each item needs, get supplies to make lasagna and blueberry scones, call Grayson, find sources for an animal intelligence presentation, and revise whatever notes I took during this afternoon's lecture. 

[madamemedic]

Prince of Silence (Prologue)

[Hello, this is an A.U. of Leatherface: The Beginning. I accidentally deleted this chapter. Oops. ]

It was a stormy night, and the wind beat against the widows of the castle. Today was not a good day for one, Luda May Hewitt. The Queen had just come back from the funeral of her late husband. Luda felt like the weather was matching her mood, cold and depressed. Charlie, or Hoyt, who liked to be called, hadn't been much help as he wasn't close to his Father, so he naturally avoided the whole ordeal. At least Monty tried to comfort his poor grieving sister, though it did little to soothe the wound that Luda felt, but at least it was something. Luda closed her eyes, and it felt like she could still see him, hear him. The man that Luda had fallen in love with so deeply. If she could cry anymore, she would. The tears had all but run out, and now all left was the burning feeling in her eyes. A loud knocking was heard on her door. Luda jumped for a moment before she quickly wiped her eyes and opened her bedroom door to a flushed face servant.

"What is so important that you interrupted my time of grief?" Luda didn't mean to be harsh, but she wanted time. It was hard enough not to crumble into a mess while they carried her love off in a coffin to be buried with the other royals. The servant bowed as he looked up again.

"My apologies Ma'am but there is something you must see at once" What on earth was so important that she had to see it? Couldn't Monty deal with it? Or even Hoyt? Whatever it was, Luda wasn't in the mood to see whatever it was, but if necessary, she would go and hopefully come back to her room to mourn in peace. Luda let out a small sigh as she left her room to follow the man to where her attention was needed; she didn't get a break even in her time of need. Loud voices could be heard, and lots of people were talking over each other. To put it plainly, it was quite the chaos in the dining area by the time Luda arrived. Strangely both Hoyt and Monty were there, so why was she needed so badly?

"Just get rid of it; we don't need another problem and especially one that's this fucking ugly", Hoyt snarled out. As usual, Hoyt is vulgar as ever.

"No, we need her opinion on this. If we decide without her, Luda will be very upset. You know how she feels about these kinds of things," Monty replied; at least he had a cool head about whatever was going on. The small gathering of people was still arguing amongst themselves until Luda cleared her throat and was faced with the gardener, Hoyt, Monty, two guards and three maids.

"About time you got here; now we get rid of that thing and move on with our lives", Hoyt grumbles; he didn't look happy, but when did he ever look happy? Now Luda was even more confused. Getting rid of what? Then a shrill cry disrupted her thoughts as she gazed at where the noise was coming from. On the table was a badly beaten cardboard box with a small child inside it with raggy cloth around its body. A child?! It looked like it was born relatively recently and was hungry. It looked normal, except its face had a slight deformity. The poor child has a cleft palate, and the nose shows signs of decay. Most likely due to an infection.

"Where did you find this poor child?" Luda reached down and scooped the crying child into her arms. Who could be so cruel as to leave a child alone to die in the harsh world? This wouldn't stand. The gardener stepped forward with a sad look on his face.

"I did, Ma'am; I was going round to feed the pigs and found the child. He didn't sit right with me, so I brought him in, and well, Mr Monty said, " You should be involved with what happens to the child" He looked pretty upset when he described how the child was found.

"You found him with the pigs? Was there any note or anything else left with him?" Luda was getting upset; she had already had a feeling about why the boy was left with the pigs. But being upset was going to solve anything. She needed to know more.

"No, Ma'am found him naked in the box alone in the pig pen; I hope this isn't true, but I think somebody tried to kill the poor boy by feeding him to the pigs" Ah, there it was! Luda was correct, although she didn't enjoy being so. Her hands glided over the thick tuffs of brown hair. Whoever this wasn't kind, but that didn't matter. All that mattered was what was going to happen now. Luda rocked the child gently to her chest as his cries started to slow into soft murmurs.

"That is exactly why we should get rid of it; not even the ugly bastard's mother wanted it", Hoyt jeered from the side. It was clear that he wanted it gone. But not on Luda's watch; she wouldn't abandon this child-like its Mother. No, she was going to raise it as her own and give him the love and care he deserved.

"Did you see anybody leave the child?" Luda faced the guards, now ignoring her rude son. He did not help.

"No, Ma'am, whoever did this must have done so when the guards were changing or on a break," The left one said. It only made Lud'a heart break even more. The thought of the poor being left devoured by pigs without care."

"What do you want to do with the baby? Everybody turned to Monty, who looked the calmest of them all. Then, they all turned back to Luda. It was her choice, and she was going to keep the baby. It had been a while since there were children in the castle, and Luda wanted to feel happiness again; maybe this child could do it.

"I'm going to keep him and raise him as my own" Luda faced the child; he had a round face and was quite a big baby. Whoever gave birth to him must be in some pain. "THE HELL YOU ARE! WE DON'T NEED THAT THING! THROW IT BACK TO THE PIGS!" Hoyt slammed his hand on the table, his face red with anger. The sudden loud noise upset the child, and he began to cry again. Luda started once again to calm the child down with small rocking motions.

"I am Charlie; he will be my son like you are. I don't care if you disagree, but this is my choice and what I say is final" Luda calmed him down slightly again, only for Hoyt to get even angrier.

"How many times must I tell you? It's Hoyt. H. O. Y. T. Not fucking Charlie, and no, that thing will be gone" Luda stared down at her son with no emotion; this did make Hoyt back up slightly.

"Your Father named you Charlie, and that is what I will call you. I may be your Mother, but I am also still the Queen; this child will be adopted by me, and that is final" Luda's voice was calm and held an authoritative tone. This was not up for debate; Hoyt could see he was not going to win this one; his Mother was more stubborn than he was.

"Fine, but all of this is one big fucking mistake, and if and when it blows up in your face, don't come crying back to me" As Hoyt talked, he stepped closer to Luda until they were face to face. This was his final attempt to get his Mother to see why accepting that brat was a bad idea, but Luda stood her ground, unflinching. Fine, let this be the hill that she dies on. Hoyt storms off, and the two guards follow suit but bow in respect as they pass Luda.

"I hope you know what you are doing, Luda; Charlie isn't going to be nice to the child", Monty spoke out. He didn't want the child to stay either, but when he saw his sister's eyes when she saw the baby, he knew there was no choice; he was going to stay.

"I know, but he is going to have to learn that you don't get everything in life" Monty knew there were more reasons why his sister was keeping the child but chose not to pry. This kid could help his sister overcome the hardship of losing her husband. Maybe.

"What are you going to do now?" One of the servants asked Luda if she was the head maid, so if anybody was going to find out what was next, it was her.

"Maria, could you find a wet nurse for the child. Gloria, sees if you can help find clothing for him that we have. Charlotte, see if you can find a cradle so he can sleep," Luda orders the maids to follow. They bow and leave to do as they are asked. Luda couldn't help but stare into the child's beautiful eyes.

"What's his name?" Monty could already see the positive effect the baby was bringing to Luda. Maybe this child is what she needed to feel better again. He only hoped he turned out better than Hoyt did.

"Thomas, Thomas Brown Hewitt" Luda's finger reaches out as Thomas's hand grips her pinky. Yes, Thomas Brown Hewitt, his name shall be, and he will be a fine young man.

[Howdy, sorry I accidentally deleted this chapter like an idiot]

[highwaytothedangerzone502]

Ghost Story - Chapter 31

Pairing: Rooster x Female OC

Word Count: 2129

Warnings: Mention of death

Summary: No one will miss a ghost. It'd been a running joke for as long as anyone could remember, something Ghost herself started, and she always said it with a smile on her face or with mirth in her voice. The untouchable stealth pilot in every sense of the word, no one could've predicted the depth of her turmoil over recent events, nor the extremes she would go to in order to protect the man she loved, not even those closest to her. Now, all that was left of the young aviator for Maverick, Hangman, and Rooster were the memories of the past, which would slowly fade with time. She'd come into their lives and made an unforgettable impression, and then, like a ghost, she was gone... Then again, ghosts can't die a second time.

Notes: The chapters/large parts in italics are flashbacks.

Chapter Songs: Sittin' On The Dock Of The Bay Destination Unknown

****

Maverick

Five days had passed since the spreading of Charlie's ashes, and Maverick still couldn't bring himself to read her letter. Instead, he focused on two things: first, training for the mission, and second, most importantly, checking in with Ghost morning and night. She would respond almost immediately, and the two would text until they saw each other at training or bid each other good night. Maverick just wanted to keep her talking because he knew from experience that when mourning the loss of a loved one, the silence exacerbated the grief and emotions. With the mission coming up, Maverick wanted to ensure her head was in the right space.

Rooster and Hangman asked for updates on her because while they checked in on Ghost daily, her responses remained short and to the point. Despite their temporary peace for training and for Charlie's funeral, Ghost continued to keep them at arms-length, evidently still hurt by whatever had happened between them. 

Sitting at the Hard Deck's bar, Maverick watched Hangman and Rooster chatting with the Daggers, playing pool, drinking beers, and enjoying life, but he noticed the two men kept glancing over at the doorway as if expecting a certain someone to waltz in. To Maverick's astonishment, someone did. Two someones.

Bryn, her arm looped through Ghost's, escorted her friend to the bar. The Kazanky girl chirped, "Penny! Could we please have two double whiskeys on ice?"

"Of course," Penny said, smiling at the girls. Her gaze lingered a little longer on Ghost, gauging to see how the Winchester girl was holding up.

"Thanks, Penny," Ghost replied. Then, turning to Bryn, she said, "Why don't you go see the others? I'll bring the drinks over."

"Sure, but you better actually join us. Tonight's your last night on land for a bit," Bryn pointed out, grasping her friend's shoulders. "Enjoy it!"

With that, Bryn bounced off toward the Daggers. Ghost braced herself against the bar and said, "I'm pretty sure she's had about six cups of coffee today and has been bouncing off the walls since this morning."

Maverick grinned. "She keeping you company?"

"She hasn't left me alone since she found out about Mom. I don't mind the company because she knows when I want quiet and when I'm ready to talk, but she did threaten me within an inch of my life if I didn't come tonight."

"I'm glad you did. The Daggers will be happy to see you. They've been asking about you."

Ghost smiled over at the group. "I admit I've missed hanging out with them, but with the shitstorm I got myself into with Rooster and Hangman, and with the Daggers being their friends first, I felt... out of place."

"Here you go," Penny said, sliding the whiskeys on the bar. When Ghost pulled out her wallet to pay, Penny shook her head. "Yours is on the house tonight, but I'll open a tab for Bryn."

"You're the best. I promise I won't drink you dry."

"No, you'll do that when you return from the mission after celebrating your success."

"You sound so certain of it."

"If you're as much like Maverick as he claims you are, then success is the only outcome. You've got this, Ghost."

"Thanks, Penny. It means a lot to hear that. I'll see y'all later?"

"I'll be over to teach you kids a lesson in pool in a bit," Maverick promised, smirking.

"Oh, those are fighting words!"

"Let's see if you're as good at pool as you are in the air."

"Challenge accepted," Ghost said with a laugh. "I'll see you soon."

Grabbing the drinks, the female pilot maneuvered through the crowd to the Daggers, all of whom enthusiastically greeted her. Maverick watched them with a warmed heart, if not with a bit of sadness too. He shared Ghost's concern that someone wouldn't be returning from the mission.

"I know that look, Pete. Where's your head at?" Penny queried, sliding another beer to him.

"Just thinking."

"You know how bad that is for you."

Maverick chuckled. "Yeah, thinking was never my strong suit."

"Joking aside, what is it?"

"I don't know. I have this... weird feeling that things won't be the same after the mission. Something's going to happen, and the last time I felt like this, Carol died a few days later. I'm worried it's going to happen to one of them."

Penny reached over and placed her hand atop his. "You won't let anything happen to them. Or to her."

As usual, Penny had seen right past his facade. Although worried about Rooster and Hangman, Maverick's main concern centered on Ghost. Having lost her mom a mere week ago and knowing she felt alone despite having friends surrounding her, Maverick found himself terrified of what she might do to protect her wingman, whoever she chose. She displayed the same disregard for her personal safety during the training sessions that Maverick had when Goose died, only discovering it when Ice pointed it out to him. How could he tell Ghost that, though? As close as they were, they'd only known each other a few months, and telling someone they had close to suicidal tendencies, whether the person was intentionally doing so or not, was a slippery slope to go down. One could never predict how they'd handle the conversation.

"Penny, I can't stop anything from happening to her if I'm not up there with her," Maverick said quietly, "and I promised Charlie I wouldn't let anything happen to Ghost."

"And you won't. Neither will Hangman and Rooster. Speaking of Charlie, have you read Charlie's letter yet?"

"No. I can't bring myself to read it. Not sure I want to know what's inside, to be honest. We left things on such a sour note."

"I don't think she wrote you a letter to tear you down. From my experience, people write letters when they want to tell someone something difficult or something they can't tell them in person."

"It's funny how facing a mission is easier than facing an ex."

"Physical things are often easier to face than emotional, but don't dwell on those things for now. Spend some time with the Daggers, and enjoy your night, okay?"

Maverick nodded, leaning over the counter to peck her on the cheek. Then, he finagled his way to the Daggers.

"Mav! Want to play?" Hangman motioned at the pool table.

"Sure. Hey, Ghost? Be my wingman on this?" Maverick inquired, handing a pool stick to the aviator. She readily accepted. They played a couple of rounds, narrowly losing out to Phoenix and Hangman, then Rooster and Phoenix. Their third match was up against Hangman and Rooster, and the latter decided to heckle Ghost playfully while she lined up for the shot.

"You don't have the line right," he jested from behind her. "Not gonna make it. You're not gonna-"

Ghost not only nailed the ball into the socket, she also nailed Rooster in the stomach with the butt of the stick. He bent over in pain, glancing up at her with a sheepish smirk. He grunted out, "You got it."

Ghost smirked down at him and ruffled his hair. She turned around as Rooster straightened, and Maverick saw the wistfulness in his son's eyes as he watched Ghost, an unmistakable longing for her and the way they used to be. Meanwhile, oblivious to the man madly in love with her, Ghost continued on with the pool game, sinking another ball in a hole before barely missing scoring a third. She and Mav ended up winning that game, and she passed the stick back to Phoenix, who gladly challenged anyone to beat her. Hangman, naturally, took her up on it. 

As the night wore on, more drinks were imbibed, and by the time Rooster made it to the piano, Maverick wondered how any of them were still standing, let alone how they were going to be up and alert to ship out tomorrow. Nevertheless, he wouldn't stop their fun. They all needed this night, especially Ghost, who appeared to be thoroughly enjoying herself while singing at the top of her lungs to 'Great Balls of Fire' alongside Rooster and the Daggers. When the song finished, the bar applauded Rooster, who danced to the chanting of his name until it ended in applause. He then slung his arms over Ghost and Bryn's shoulders and let Hangman play songs on the jukebox. More singing followed, although most of the words were slurred. 

Near the end of the night, as the bar emptied out, Maverick scanned the Hard Deck to see who remained. Bob and Phoenix were chilling in a booth with Payback and Fanboy. Omaha, Fritz, and Halo were chowing down on some pizza they'd ordered. Harvard and Yale were long gone, having slipped out earlier with a couple of girls. Coyote, Bryn, and Hangman played darts, and Rooster stood with Maverick at the bar, the former sobering up. However, his eyes rested on a figure sitting at the piano, playing a gentle tune Maverick could barely make out until a string of familiar chords reached his ears. Curious, he headed over to her with Rooster on his heels.

Approaching the piano, Maverick heard Ghost singing softly along to the melody. "Cause I've had nothin' to live for; it looks like nothin's gonna come my way, so I'm just gon' sittin' on the dock of the bay, watching the tide roll away."

"Where did you learn to play that?" Maverick asked, leaning against the piano.

"Rooster taught me after Dad passed," she replied, halting her playing, much to Mav's dismay. "It's the only song I ever learned. Mom said it was my grandma's favorite song and that she'd listen to it on repeat after my grandfather died. Mom said my dad loved the song, too, because of the nostalgia it brought, funny considering I don't remember ever hearing Dad play the song. I love it, though. It's a relaxing tune."

"That it is," Maverick responded, thinking back to how his own mom used to listen to it on repeat. "You played it beautifully."

"I had a great teacher," she said, smiling shyly over at Rooster. He returned it but quickly dropped his gaze to the floor. Ghost's cheerfulness faltered, and she stood. "Well, I should probably head home. We have an early day tomorrow, and I'm already regretting my life choices by staying out so late."

"You need a lift back?"

"No, sir. Bryn's brother is picking us up, if not just so he can see Halo. I appreciate it, though! Rooster looks like he might need a ride."

Rooster chuckled tiredly. "Nah, I'm good. The adrenaline is wearing off, and so is the alcohol," he said, pushing himself off the pillar he'd been leaning against. "I'm going to get some water and snag some of the pizza from Halo. I'll see you two in the morning."

Hands shoved in his pocket, Rooster shuffled off to the bar. Ghost watched him go sadly but said nothing. She simply sighed and turned to Mav. "I'm going to get Bryn, see if she's ready to go."

"If not, I'll be here a little longer. I'll give you a ride back."

"Thanks, Mav. I may take you up on that." Ghost strode off to her friend. The two briefly chatted, and to Maverick's surprise, Ghost returned to him hardly two minutes later, asking, "Is that ride still available?"

"Of course. Come on." After bidding Penny goodbye, along with the other Daggers, Maverick and Ghost left the Hard Deck. She fell asleep on the way there, only stirring when the Jeep came to a stop outside her apartment.

Sleepily, she said, "Thanks for the ride, Maverick. I'll see you in the morning, bright and early."

"See you in the morning, Ghost. Get some sleep, okay?"

"Yes, sir!" she saluted him, then got out of the Jeep, walking a surprisingly straight line, considering how much she'd had to drink. Maverick waited until Ghost entered her building before heading home. Once there, he got dressed for bed and collapsed into the comfy sheets. He stared at the ceiling, mulling over the impending mission and the events of the past few months, namely Charlie, their first meeting in three decades, her passing, and her letter.

From my experience, people write letters when they want to tell someone something difficult or something they can't tell them in person. Penny's words echoed in his head. What did Charlie want to say to him that she couldn't- or wouldn't- tell him in person? The woman who was never afraid to speak her mind?

Maverick had to know. Rolling over, he opened his nightstand drawer, pulled out the envelope, took a deep breath, and opened the letter.

****

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Chapters: Chp 1 Chp 2 Chp 3 Chp 4 Chp 5 Chp 6 Chp 7 Chp 8 Chp 9 Chp 10 Chp 11 Chp 12 Chp 13 Chp 14 Chp 15 Chp 16 Chp 17 Chp 18 Chp 19 Chp 20 Chp 21 Chp 22 Chp 23Chp 24 Chp 25 Chp 26 Chp 27 Chp 28 Chp 29 Chp 30 Chp 31

[theres-bugs-in-my-brain]

Please just block and don’t report, this is my only safe space

I’ve come to the dumbfounding realization that I am hearing things again and I can’t do anything about it.

I have minor to moderate hallucinations

Mostly auditory, mostly nonsensical

The repeating sounds of doors opening, dogs barking, phone notifications stuff like that

On the more extreme end I have seen and heard upsetting things. Disturbing to just plain gross at times.

I also have an imaginary friend, max, who is mostly my voice of reason but he keeps his distance ever since I started going to therapy.

But there’s this one that’s been messing with me for a long time. The voice of my probably dead ex. Long story short he was dealing with psychotic episodes and confided in me for experiencing similar things (hallucinations), but after a dumb argument with me agreeing with my friend over a stupid thing made him think that I was cheating on him. He threatened to take his own life before blocking me. Never heard of him again. Never had a mutual friend between us and I didn’t tell my parents about our relationship or even our friendship so no connection to his family to see if he was okay.

That night I made a promise to take my life before 18 but I’m 19 now.

Since that day he was this soft yet suffocating voice to tell me I wasn’t worth the air I breathed for killing him. I hardly talk about it. Not like how I talk about the bullying or harassment I was experiencing at the time. It’s still hard to talk about it today.

Something about it is that those thoughts, those feelings, that moment is always in the back of my head. I spend so much time trying to forget about it, I end up thinking about it twice as much.

Recently it was my 19th birthday. For weeks, months leading up to that day it was like he was resurrected. his damn ghost talking to me, asking me if I really wanted to stay like this. This alongside the hallucinations twisting and turning what everyone is saying around me. Sounding harsher, whispering cruel truths, even when I’m alone, with the voices of family, friends

Especially friends that walked out, that I don’t know if they’re safe, alive.

It’s eating me up. The things they say.

Makes me dizzy with anger, nauseous with anxiety, choking on grief.

I’ve been trying to stay clean

I really am

But if I’m clean with one thing I’m twice as dependent on the other.

I used to talk about this with my therapist

My closest friend

My brother max

But I don’t go to therapy anymore and she was a bitch anyway, nice lady just always felt like she looked down on me

My closest friend is drowning in his own life and he’s just a kid, how could I even put something on him in the first place

And max, my brother, isn’t that so damning huh? A literal extension of myself and somehow even though he out of anyone should understand the most, his disappointment, him not understanding is what I fear the most.

Plus how could I even bring it up??

“Hey by the way my understanding of what everyone around me is saying is slowly being twisted and it’s getting harder to tell when it happens, and it’s been making me feel violent and awful”

No one would trust my feelings, my perspective, every little thing that I say that I feel will be scrutinized and doubted. Don’t get me wrong, it’s for a good reason, but it feels like no one understands that I already doubt everything I see and hear. Scrutinize every feeling already. Why would I want others to do that to me when I build up the confidence to even say anything?

Cant mix well with my already shaky sense of self. My very identity is constantly contradicted by how everyone else perceives me and my own fucking body betraying me.

So it’s getting bad again and I can’t say anything, but whenever things would build up I would come here to write it down, get it out, so I know I’ll feel better soon. And like I always say

It will pass

[midori-laboratories]

Frozen Ashes: Chapter 16 - Part 3: Homecoming Queens IV

Book 3 of The Calendula Chronicles.

Story synopsis: Albert Wesker molded his captive into the perfect, pliable bait for taking out Rockfort Island's paramilitary facility, and cracking open the Ashford family’s secrets. But who’s really in control, once chaos breaks out?

The stakes have never been higher for Marigold, but she may not be fast enough to save everyone.

Book 3 of the Calendula Chronicles series. Written as the other side of The Antarctica Incident.

Want to catch up? The story's a ways ahead on AO3

Chapter summary: Somebody has some explaining to do.

Alan Green winced as his wife seemed to materialize from nowhere to slam the heavy phone down in front of him. “You need to call her back.”

Alan frowned at his wife of nearly thirty years. “Poppy Higgins? And say what, exactly?”

Gemma held firm. “She may not hear anything, but she knows something’s up, just as much as I do. Why are you avoiding her?”

“Love-”

“Don’t start with that. That woman had been through hell since her father died, and she still managed to trust us enough to make sure you had a soft landing. Even after what your cousin tried to do.”

“Maxwell? What’s he got to - no, nevermind that.” He shook his head. Maxwell’s health had recovered somewhat some years back, but he’d never quite recovered. They’d fallen out of touch ages ago. “Bringing Poppy into this won’t make the situation any easier, Gemma.”

“Do you know that? Poppy knows how to deal with the family. Whatever you’re doing, odds are that she’s going to have to clean up after your little adventure.” She spat out the last word.

Alan stared at her, mind churning. Gemma had a point. Wesker was being tight-lipped about whatever was happening down at Rockfort, and that wasn’t a good sign. Mark had insinuated that he was not to lose the ‘asset’- even belligerent, Marigold’s condition had Progenitor written all over it, in a way that actually worked, and had remained stable. The potential of that was immeasurable.

The odds were high that Marigold was still trying to save her brother’s children- misanthropic and temperamental creatures that they were. Alan had been one of the few to know just how much she had doted on them - someone had to cover her tracks when she traveled down to visit, and she had always been adamant that they stay covered. Based on the report, she’d gotten her nephew out of Rockfort, and was attempting the same with her niece.

Whatever Alexia had been doing had gone wrong, somehow, given how Alexander had simply vanished. Alan could feel it in his bones. Alexander had been all the family Marigold had left for years. If that were the case…

Alan felt his mouth go dry. “I think you’re right,” he said slowly, feeling the blood drain from his face. “We’re in over our heads on this.” As much as he didn’t want to deal with Poppy’s anger, nor her grief, no one else had a better handle on the family dynamics. He reached for the telephone.

Alexia walked through Marigold's room- the bed had been slept in recently- into the adjoining bathroom. It had been designed, more than most, with decontamination in mind. In the shower hung a drying uniform from the mercenary outfit that had attacked Rockfort, a Kevlar vest sitting on the floor next to it.

Privacy was a luxury for people who had time.

Marigold herself was sitting in the bath, immersed to her shoulders in steaming, cloudy water with a eucalyptus scent. She cracked her eyes open and rolled her head towards Alexia at the sound of the door opening, giving her a wan smile. “Hello,” she said in a voice roughened by sleep and the exhaustion that hadn’t managed to leave her yet. “Is that Veronica’s dress? It looks good on you. I suppose today counts as your debut. I didn’t have the coloring to pull it off back when it was my turn.” There was a touch of the gentle amusement that her aunt had always spoken to them with when they were children.

Alexia looked around, then pulled the chair by the door over to the bath. She sat, finally taking a long, critical look at the older woman.

Marigold did look smaller now, which might have been a function of her own growth. She and Alexia had similar colouring- pale, flaxen-haired, though with Marigold it was nearly a Scandinavian white- and it hadn’t been unusual for people to assume she was an elder cousin to Alexia. That dynamic had shifted, in that they might have been easily mistaken for sisters- twins even.

The hollow look in Marigold’s eyes was new. But so was the trail of dark marks along the line of her neck, on her shoulders, and disappearing down under the water.

Marigold, with obvious resignation, watched Alexia as the realization bloomed on her face- indignation, fury, finally resolving into a point of interest she could deal with in front of her. “You always healed so fast. How recent is all of this?”

“Days, I think. They’ve been lingering longer over the last few weeks. It’s why I tolerated the hormone patches.” She grimaced a little. “I’d rather eat glass than have this conversation, but it needs to happen. I won’t be blackmailed over something my libido spent six weeks kicking me in the throat over after I woke.”

“Oh..oh.” Alexia fidgeted in her seat, recalling the enthusiasm with which she had…greeted… Grayson on waking. And again later, when they have come back up into the house. Six weeks? Alexia hadn’t waited six minutes after waking. She firmly stepped on that particular thought, flushing a deep red.

Marigold looked at her with a steady eye, choosing mercy. “I suppose that part comes from Sonnetroppe. The medication tamped that down for years - the appetites - but it made me too weak to fight properly when they cornered me in ‘81. If that one woman hadn’t put an end to the whole circus by telling them I was sterile, I think things would have been so much worse.”

Alexia went cold. “What woman.”

Marigold looked away. “I was ready to burn the world down for a little while, when I was told you and your father had died. I thought Spencer had…I can’t imagine what it would have done to Grayson.” Marigold leveled a flat, hard look at Alexia. “Annette Fletcher is dead. I made a friend who saw it happen. It’s not like anyone can bring them back, can they.” That last part was said in a sharp tone, pain threatening to crumple Marigold's smooth features.

It threw cold water on the embers of Alexia’s jealous anger over how Grayson had spent the last few years. Alfred was right. Marigold knew about Alexander, and that knowledge was slowly eating away at her.

Alexia took a deep breath. Killing Alexander had freed her from her childish fears, proving to herself that the thugs working in the facility down below weren’t something to be afraid of. That Umbrella itself could be made to bend, if need be. By the time Alfred had found out how they’d been made, she’d been one lit match away from freeing him from the weight of his own towering paranoia anyhow. Auntie Marigold had always been the family’s bulwark against outside interference, and without her, Alexander had seen enemies everywhere.

Something else Marigold had said snagged in her mind. “You told Alfred that you were running out of time, but you didn’t tell him why. I think I need to know what happened since Arklay.”

Marigold sighed. “I know you do. I’ll tell you what I can.”

Marigold talked.

Eventually, the water cooled, and Marigold called for a break to get out and find a robe. They went into Alexander’s old study, seating themselves on the sofa. Grayson had left a note for Alexia before going down into the facility, letting her know that there were fresh beignets in the kitchen for her. Alexia had retrieved the platter for the two of them, as well as the box of toffees placed conspicuously next to them, engrossed in the tale. “So you convinced them to go down into Raccoon City; that’s where you got those journals.”

”And ran my field tests. I didn’t share anywhere near the full scope of what I was looking for, obviously. There was only the combat one that they were really aware of, but G-Virus has a very loud, shrill quality to it. I don’t know how else to describe it. As soon as Birkin injected himself - “

“No!” Alexia was clearly trying not to laugh around a mouthful of beignet, looking more like a girl at a slumber party. Marigold had mentioned it earlier, but Alexia clearly hadn’t really lingered on that fact at the time. “Why would he do that?”

“Why did you?”

“I gave myself time to bond to it!” Alexia argued, as if that explained everything.

“I think he tried to sell it directly to the government, and Umbrella, well, objected. With bullets. I wasn’t prepared for that- felt like being possessed.” Marigold shivered at the memory. “I wanted to hurt him for that. For being involved in the whole sordid thing.” She smiled a little at the memory. “So I did. Irons didn’t recognize me at first, but he likely had nightmares for the rest of his very short life after I made him connect me to their lab. The least I could do was to let her know I was about to play ‘break the idiot’ for twenty minutes so she could get a few things to slow the spread.”

Alexia’s face darkened. “Irons? I’ve met him.”

“Also dead, dear. Someone else’s handiwork, quite brutal from the sounds of it.” Marigold frowned. “The man was a predator, but I had to make do. Did something happen? I…you mentioned that you spent some time at Arklay.”

“I was studying a mutated plant there in ‘83 - there should be a cutting of it in the facility if it survived. Irons pulled Grayson over when he was taking me to see a film. Nothing happened, but…” Alexia grimaced. “Only because he realized who I was.”

Marigold stared at her, then drew the younger girl into a sudden, careful hug, holding her firm when Alexia flailed briefly before settling awkwardly into the embrace. “You’re still a lot stronger than I am, Auntie,” Alexia chuckled in a slightly breathless voice.

Marigold pulled back, letting Alexia go, but still reached forward and squeezed her hand while smoothing the hair out of Alexia’s face with the other. “I’m sorry. I’ve missed so much. I do know that Irons is dead, and we’re both here. Shall I continue?” She watched Alexia closely, who nodded, clearly eager to be rid of the memory. “I…Oh, it’s always so uncomfortable to try to put these things into words.” She huffed a little at the memory. Finding the words for what she’d done made it sound like a bad acid trip. “It turns out that G-Virus can be leveraged into a very nice little figurative satellite phone, if you keep the call short.” Marigold snorted. “I doubt it can be done again - I pushed hard enough that my eyes finally mutated like they always threatened to do under medication. But…activating the Teig O’Kane protocol was worth it.” Marigold’s smile was sharp, merciless. “When I got back, I let them feel in control of the situation…and waited.”

Alexia smiled back, a little uncertain. “Whatever for? Why not leave? Why work with someone who did that to -” Alexia looked away, her face schooled into a mask. The girl was in turmoil, to Marigold’s practiced eye.

“Between Raccoon City and Teig O’Kane, Spencer lost a lot of resources, and he’s distracted trying to hold the rest together. He - Wesker - was quite happy to keep me off of Umbrella’s radar while I got my bearings.”

“You worked with him.”

“He seemed very eager to dismantle Spencer. There’s some history there, I think. And..he seems to have had a fixation.” Marigold felt her face shift into an uncomfortable grimace at the euphemistic phrasing.

“On Spencer.” Alexia said, dubious. Please don’t make me spell this out, Marigold pleaded silently.

“Yes…not only Spencer though. He caught on to what I did to Doctor Marcus when he still worked for him.” Marigold let go of Alexia, hands curling into loose balls. “So long as he was distracted from asking questions about the family, I could handle it. I could use it. So long as he, they, didn’t target you.” Marigold made a frustrated sound. “But in the end, they still did. I did what I had to.” She frowned. “Your brother isn’t well. Surely you’ve noticed.”

Alexia started to speak, then closed her mouth. Bless her, the girl was trying so very hard to be kind. “I’ve been trying to triage the situation as a whole. I thought he was just exhausted. The bullet wound didn’t help.”

Marigold exhaled a long, frustrated breath through her nose. “Of course. Yes, but also no. I think there’s more going on there.”

Alexia blinked, then waved it away. “Teig O’Kane. That’s your code for hiding little caches. What does it mean here?”

“Not caches, in that sense,” Marigold replied. “Did you never get a look at my notes?”

“Only the physical data,” Alexia said sourly. “I wasn’t allowed near anything deemed political - “ Alexia stopped, darting a look at Marigold. She’d realized she’d strayed too close to a topic she very much didn’t want to open.

They’d have to, and soon, but not yet. Marigold sighed. “It means ‘where the bodies are buried’. The one in Devon is a list of names, people I’ve influenced.”

Alexia made a face. “Your mutagenic saliva. Alfred mentioned the airfield. He found it unsettling.”

Marigold shuddered. “He should. That was rough work, and I hate how much it looks like…well. When the virus isn’t already involved, it’s much easier to share a drink, or a cigarette. Sometimes a little more.” She pinked a little. “With the virus involved beforehand…well, it always was a territorial little bastard. I didn’t expect to end up linked like that. I certainly didn’t expect that I’d have to let go as much as I did before it started to have an effect on him. It kept him from prying enough that I could hide the journals.” She closed her eyes for a moment. “If I hadn’t run out of pills in November, I probably would be healing normally. He doesn’t know, Alexia.”

Alexia stared at her, processing her words. “Are you pregnant?”

“Yes,” Marigold replied, her gaze sad but steady. “Almost certainly, at this point. Now you know everything. So now I have to ask: what in the hell happened here?”

[steouwu]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

tw: mentions of grief, loss, and some other negative feelings.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

🌷 : today's song – interlude // aly remulla , emn’98ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

07 / 03 / 23

today, i woke up early. (around 6 am) the first thing i usually do fix my side of bed (i share a room bed with my mom) then after that, i go and prepare calamansi water :DD me and mom drink calamansi water every morning before breakfast. it has a lot of health benefits according to her in which i forgot, but since it has the potential to make you lose weight and i noticed that it improved my digestive system, i continued on drinking it.

ever since lola past away (just this year, may 29.) we've tried getting into healthier habits. my family were never all that sweet or that caring. especially my uncles and aunties to each other but i noticed that ever since uncle's wife came and helped arrange the funeral, her caring nature has rubbed on us. i love it : ) hehe. we now focus on taking care of grandpa. he even started eating an apple everyday for his health. we've learned a lot i guess. honestly though, i found myself getting back to my original unhealthy habits recently (but i swear, I am doing my best to counter it) and have gotten a bit more comfortable and happier even since she passed away. though i'm still blaming myself for her death due to some circumstances i am too lazy to elaborate. because of that, i avoid on wearing my headphones even though i comforts me and clears my mind. it's not a punishment for myself (maybe a bit) but mostly, it's just ’cause mom told me that if i noticed grandma was gone inside my room (i used to have a room of my own before. when the funeral was over, grandpa transferred into my room) earlier and maybe heard her fainting or struggling (in the bathroom. that's where she passed away.) if i wasn't wearing headphones, maybe she could've been saved. she had always told me to stop wearing it because i drift away from my reality. i am always in my head. she inflicted in me such a heavy feeling and i wish she considered that i was grieving too before saying that. it still hunts me and i feel as guilty as ever when i wear my headphones now. i've worn it about 3 times since she died (i used to wear it whenever i use my laptop) but i keep relapsing and going back to feeling guilty and blaming myself. one of my friends said i shouldn't be blaming me for things that are out of my control but i don't know, maybe it was in my control. maybe the reason as to why she visits my aunts and uncles in their dreams but do not visit me is because she could have been saved if it wasn't for me. damn.

anyways, lmao. sorry for the drama, after i drank calamansi water, i went outside for a walk and to buy breakfast. i had sinangag and egg with ma ling! :DD it was really good and i only had it because i just got my allowance this week. it's quite expensive, to eat it everyday. after breakfast, i watched a series in netflix for some time before preparing to go to school. my school ended already but since i am a part of the publication, i had to go for a meeting and a surprise training. it was fun, though my head was floating in space as i write it. there are so many things holding me back from actually achieving my real potential in writing that time. sometimes though, the shackles break and words just flow into me. I don't know when my head started to feel blank yet too filled at the same time. i think i have some time of ailment or maybe i just need to let myself go more.

after the training, a friend of mine came to school too to pay for her tuition in order to see her grades. the deliberation of grades for the second semester is today. i hugged her before going home. i chose to walk home to save money (because unfortunately, we aren't rich and we live in a third world country with a bunch of corrupt politicans who steal the Filipinos’ taxes aside from making them pay from a debt they didn't fucking cause. fuck you, Marcoses.) and on the way home, i bought siomai! yum.

i ate siomai and the dish my uncle cooked as lunch. then, i proceeded to sit in my desk (which is at my grandpa's room) and occupy myself. i tried to draw but i really do not have motivation and ended up fucking my anatomy practice. i settled to scrolling on tiktok and feeding myself dopamine until my timer ran out. i feel like a zombie most of the time because of social media, honestly. but tumblr's different. i rarely ever scroll on tumblr. i just use it as an open diary.

while in my desk, i thought a cat ate my chickens. i have pet chickens named jojo and benben. turns out, no one ate anything. a stray cat stumbled upon our house and followed my auntie (who first saw it) and gave it food. the stray cat isn't yet fully grown up and seems to be somebody else's pet because it's squeaky clean. it's also not agressive, and playful aside from that. my family members are speculating that it's grandma that came back for us because it just won't leave our house no matter what. i named the cat Saucy as a tribute to my other chicken, Suzie who passed away because a cat ate them :((

it's 6:41 pm right now so i cannot consider my day done yet. i wanted to read today but after frying my brain due to scrolling too much on social media, i lost my motivation and settled to feeling so low, empty, and aimless. i feel aimless most of the time. my potential is wasted, i do not know how to socialize, i feel so uncomfortable with myself. sigh. but i hope it'll get better. right now though, i am so tired.

i am so proud of my grades, though. or maybe not. i get it all the time. but i still want to gain people's admiration and my mom's praises. my average is 97 this semester and my overall average this grade according to my computation is 96. is that great enough for people to be blown away? i don't know. getting high grades is expected of me all the time. it's the only thing i'm literally good at and school is the only thing that makes me feel alive.

i don't know why this entry of mine turned very melodramatic but i definitely feel better after writing it all out like this. thanks internet for apps like these. it's the only thing you did great.ㅤ

right now, i'm hungry. so i guess i'll eat.ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ended, 6:55 pm

🩷ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

[mo0n-water]

hi :)

i’m sorry to hear that you had a bad day yesterday. i hope that you were able to give yourself some time to feel and then to recover because you deserve it! sending you lots of love and i hope that today was/is bit better.

what time zone are you in, btw?

my tbr is basically just any fic that i’ve seen someone like so it’s extensive and spans many ships and tropes so there’s something for any mood i happen to be in. i mark things for later on ao3 and it’s about 5/6 pages of fics… i can’t remember many off the top of my head but i want to read everything that eyra has ever written because i loved ‘a brief history of dragons’ so much and i’ve been putting off reading choices for forever but i’ll eventually get round to that. and of course black mass, i started it before exams but then i stopped so i’m going to go back and start it again.

i’ll have to give noah kahan a listen, everyone i know has been talking about him recently.

i love love love that you’re asking me questions back, you are genuinely making my day <33

good things recently… one of my friends, who i’m not particularly close to, bought me flowers for my birthday a few months ago after a conversation we had about how people don’t give flowers to each other enough, especially between friends. it was her birthday a few days ago and so i bought her some beautiful flowers and she was so happy with them. it feels so innocent and intimate to give flowers, i love it and i definitely will be doing it more often and without reason.

a lovely thing about my life at the moment is my friendship group. for a long time i’ve felt out of place with other people or not settled but now i feel so safe and comfortable with my close friends. it’s like i’ve suddenly matured and found my place. there are no arguments and no tension and it’s nice to relax into a group that is calm and loving and still exciting. i’ve finally got to the point where i’d have them over to my house just to do nothing with them and that’s saying something because i think domesticity is the highest form of flattery.

i’m looking forward to many things. i’m going to see a performance of the great gatsby tomorrow, i’m going to a harry styles show on friday, next wednesday i’m going to the bfi premier of asteroid city, the new wes anderson film and then next friday i’m going to a music festival, which i can’t wait for! after that it’s about a week or so until me and my best friend leave for our month long holiday through france and italy which i still can’t believe is happening!

sorry, i’ve been waffling for ages but questions:

- what’s your favourite picture on your phone and why?

- what’s your love language?

- what’s your favourite trope?

- what’s your favourite lyric of all time? do you write songs? if you have, what about of the ones you have written?

- if you could time travel, would you go backwards or forwards and what year for both would you go to?

again, sending you lots of love and hoping you feel better soon xx

ps. 264 HOURS

i ended up being a total bitch for a few days & concerning everyone around me, but i’m doing a lot better today! cried it out to the new noah kahan songs, reread looking for alaska, & the intersection of those two artistic experiences happened to help me realize why i was feeling the way i was. isn’t it lovely how art can offer you that? i’m thankful for that today. also thankful for your kind words!

i like your answers, especially in regards to giving flowers to friends. i’ve been thinking a lot about flowers, lately, both as gifts & as a symbol of finding love within grief. that’s a tad melancholic, but i think flowers are so beautiful as a sign of love (to anyone) because they imply a sort of commitment. a flower is going to wilt, so are you going to be there to replace it? rhetorical question. but anyway it makes me think of something john green likes to say about how love is not a feeling, but a choice we make again & again (loosely paraphrased!)

it sounds like you’ve got a wonderfully busy time ahead of you! have fun! lots of experiences. so jealous in regards to the harry show, omg, & the music festival? that sounds like a blast. (actually thinking of going to a music festival on thursday, so i wonder if it’s the same one haha!)

to answer your questions!!

i’m in est! same timezone as nyc. i’m pretty close to cst though. i feel a conflicting sense of loyalty to each timezone. i hope that tells you something about how bonkers i am in personifying things that have no business being that personified. but yeah it’s currently 3:30 am here. (4 now)

i don’t know if i have a favorite picture on my phone? there are a lot that represent really important memories, so it’s hard to choose a favorite. everything means so much to me in the moment. so i have a lot of favorites, but i’ll tell you about one. it’s a somewhat blurry selfie of me & my best friend sitting at a restaurant in savannah, georgia. i like that picture so much because that was one of the best nights of my life - and the best trips tbh, so iconic - and to me it represents a lot of things that bring me joy. (that friend is like the only person who reads these posts, so hello to her <3!!)

everything i do is done in an effort to express love. all of it. one thing that i find underrated is giving someone your time. what says ‘i love you’ more clearly than choosing to spend the day with someone? & what spells indifference more clearly than not making time for someone?

ooh, favorite trope! i think someone asked me this recently, & i can’t remember what i said? hm. well, if you’ve learned one thing about me from this, it’s that i hate picking favorites. but if i had to, i’d say enemies to lovers! i like reading about people learning to look at familiar things in startlingly new ways. i’m a sucker for a good road trip au as well, & stories about going back to a familiar place once you’ve changed quite a bit.

OH I LOVE YHIS. i love this so much. favorite song lyric!! okay omg i adore you for asking this.

all-time favorite: “i was cleopatra / i was taller than the rafters / but that’s all in the past now / gone with the wind” from cleopatra by the lumineers - i know that one’s technically like half a verse but UGHHH i can’t explain how much it means to me. and that whole song just means everything to me.

current favorite: “if i could leave, i would’ve already left” from paul revere by noah kahan. OUCH. this motherfucker from vermont captured my small town appalachian pain so succinctly.

favorite of mine: “i like to say i can’t get homesick for tennessee, ‘cause i’m always thinking of kentucky.” i love that line but it also haunts me because whenever i sing it, i get overwhelmed with this deep sense that the people listening Know Too Much lmaooo

time travel question! fun. okay so i have no interest in spending the rest of my life in the future or in the past, but i would like to spend a yom kippur in jerusalem in the time of the first temple. so that’s what i’d do if i could time travel. i don’t want to travel to the future at all, because that sounds like a lot of responsibility & i am a coward haha.

for your questions… there is a lot i want to ask you that wouldn’t sit well with your interest in continued anonymity, like what your name is, & how old you are, & where you’re from. also lots of other things that i’m not even gonna write here because they’re just embarrassing. i am giving you these instead!

- what is something kind that you wish someone would do for you?

- what is it that you like about anonymity? you could just as easily send asks with your name attached, so i’m curious what makes anon preferable to you

- and, of course, favorite song lyric? (also, favorite harry song? gotta ask)

sending good vibes & flowers 💐