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anxiousgaypanicking · 8 months

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The Fear Of Falling

Written For The Tss Storytime Big Bang, 2023 :) @tss-storytime

Logan is stoic, smart, and spending the summer before college with his grandparents, who’s traveling circus parks in their backyard for those months to rehearse new routines. While Logan is wary of the circus, and everything it encompasses, there’s a certain clown named Remus who goes out of his way to make him crack a smile. With just one summer, the two of them, and three months together, a lot is bound to happen.

Part One: Old Town Roads

Masterlist

The sound of a plane flying overhead makes Logan’s stomach churn; his knuckles turn white as he tight-fists the steering wheel.

Being in a mostly rural area - with an airport about a half hour from the town he was heading towards - planes were a bit lower than normal, either as they took off from the airport, or prepared to land.

He could have flown on one instead of driving the twelve hours straight through, but where would the fun in that be? Logan quite liked the dryness of his eyes paired with the cramping of his hands. An ache shot through his back; his posture had slipped somewhere between the fifth and sixth hours, but he persists despite the pain, not wanting to stop at some germ-ridden motel along the side of the road.

Besides, a town was in view now. It had all been worth it. Sure, gas prices were rising and his mileage was going up, but he feels satisfied with himself. After all, multiple people - his parents, especially - repeatedly insisted that a plane would be easier, faster, and less stressful.

Maybe for them.

But as his hands had lingered over his computer keys, mouse hovering right over the purchase button of round-trip tickets, Logan couldn’t convince himself to push the button. And thus, driving was his only other option.

Well, not only other option; he wasn’t obligated to visit his grandparents this summer, but it’d be a nice trip before college. Besides, he already spent the first few weeks of summer vacation at home! Doing little to nothing. He knew that once he was stuck in a dorm room where a frat party would take place in the building every other night, he’d miss the countryside.

His car rolls down the road into a small town. A water tower stands proud in the distance, as minimal trees expose large plains and farmland; corn stands high, and beans hang low, and everything smells like dirt.

Weirdly, it was wonderful. Logan forgets how dense and smoky the air in the city tastes.

In the distance, further away from the majority of houses, was a large, domestic looking farmhouse. To the back of it was a small garden. Not big and extravagant as plenty of the other farms Logan had passed, just small and used for only the patrons of the house. But to the side of the building was the real eye-catcher; a sight Logan was unfortunately familiar with, and one that makes his gut twist upon seeing.

Red and white fabric strung up to be miles above the ground, with three peaks, though the center one is the largest. It gives the illusion of a three-pointed tent, which is quite literally what it was. A big top. A circus tent.

Logan swallows the spit in his mouth as he pulls his car up the gravel driveway to the front of the house, putting the vehicle into part, before shivering.

He can’t bring himself to open the door right away.

Breathe, he tells himself, setting a hand on his chest and feeling the rapid beating of his heart. You’re okay. You’re fine. Breathe.

He sucks in a deep breath, fingers resting on the buttons to control the windows. Though he hesitates, he eventually rolls them up after a moment, and then takes a few minutes to fix his hair, which had been tussling with the wind.

Then, he finally cracks the door open, and steps out.

The air is clean, and a light breeze ruffles his clothes. The sun beats down on him - it’s nowhere near as hot as Florida, but it’s nice and warm, and makes Logan’s choice of a black turtleneck feel warranted.

Grabbing his bags from the back - filled with his personal laptop and some clothes - he hops up the steps to the front door. Before he can knock however, it’s being swung open, the screen door in front of it being pushed immediately after and almost hitting Logan in the face. A plump, elderly woman with her hair tied back into a bun greets him. White streaks in her hair contrast with the dark black, and her blue eyes seem to shine as her arms stretch outwards, before closing around Logan tightly.

“Mon bien-aimé!” she exclaims, affectionately. “You came to visit!”

“I called Grandpa,” Logan says, stiffening at the firm hug. “I thought he would have told you I was on the way.”

She leans in close to kiss the side of his cheek, but stops before her lips press against him, instead making the kissing noise about an inch and a half away. She then turns his face and does the same to the other cheek.

“He did,” she states afterwards, smiling, “but I’m still excited. I haven’t seen my little Lo-corn in years!”

“You would if you and Grandpa weren’t so busy traveling all the time.” Logan shoots a bitter look towards the circus tent, while Grandma looks towards it wistfully. “And my summers have been preoccupied with extra school and college applications.”

“I suppose they have been, haven’t they,” Grandma utters, sympathetically. She then shakes her head slightly. “Your grandfather’s been very busy too. New routines need deciding and new acts need practice. It’s always work, work, work with him.” She leans forward to pinch Logan’s cheek, wiggling his head back and forth despite Logan’s scrunched up nose. “I suppose that’s where you get it from.”

Logan pulls away from her, scoffing. “I guess technically, what we do is comparable, but what I do actually matters. A failing circus does not.”

His grandma sighs through her nose, deflating a tad, but she doesn’t respond to Logan, instead just waving him inside.

“Here. Come get your stuff unpacked. Hopefully by the time you're done, your grandpa will be done as well.”

She closes the screen door behind him, but leaves the front door open, allowing a gentle breeze to drift through the house. Not a single light was flipped on, as the natural sunlight fluttering through the windows illuminated the area enough. Even as Logan follows Grandma up the stairs, he passes a row of windows all looking out towards the circus tent.

His nose scrunches up again.

He’s led to a scarcely decorated room with a closet, a dresser, and a nice bed with a soft blue comforter. It’s very home-y, but very barren. He tosses his bags on the bed, as Grandma smiles at him.

“Feel free to come back down whenever you’re ready. I have some zucchini bread currently cooling on the windowsill. We got the wheat from the Vyuga’s - you remember the Vyuga’s, don’t you? Little Virgil has taken over manning the fields since his father passed. And the zucchinis are from our garden.”

“That’s great, Grandma.”

She sighs again, turning away partly as Logan doesn’t even look at her, focusing instead on unzipping his bag. He hears her footsteps softly patter down the stairs, which is when he finally glances over his shoulder, being met with the railing just outside of his door, and nothing more.

He spends the next hour or so unpacking his few bags. He plugs his laptop in and sets it on the bedside table, and then hands his long-sleeved shirts in the closet. All of his pants, songs, underwear, and the few short sleeve shirts he brought are tucked into the empty drawers of the dresser. Each particular action fills him with a weird, heavy sense of nostalgia. He used to come every summer when he was little, but that eventually faded to being one or two summers in the past five years. Now, the idea of putting clothes in empty drawers reminds him of summers long past, where these drawers were also stocked with books, toys, and one or two stuffies that he sneakily hid so that he could sleep with them at night.

Logan stares. Just clothes.

He shuts the drawers, only filling two of them with stuff, while the other three remain empty. He then leaves the room, shutting the door behind him.

Leaning over the banister, he sees his grandma within the open kitchen, grabbing the zucchini bread from the windowsill and setting it on the table, carving it into thin, even slices. Despite it being cooled off, Logan catches a whiff of cinnamon and butter. It makes his stomach rumble.

He casually heads downstairs, and towards his grandma, who’s already tearing away a paper towel for him. She sets a piece of bread on it, and hands it to him, offering him a butter knife and a small tub of unlabeled butter.

“Cinnamon and honey infused,” she says, smiling. “Got it from a neighbor in exchange for a couple pans of rhubarb pie.”

Logan accepts it with a small “thanks,” as he spreads the butter over his slice.

When he looks back up though, Grandma is sliding him another slice, already buttered. When he looks at her, confused, she merely smiles.

“For your grandpa.”

Logan frowns immediately. “I don’t want to go to the tent.”

“It’ll be quick,” Grandma urges, wrapping the bread slice up neatly in the napkin. “Just go say hi and let him know you got here safe. Maybe you’ll urge him away from his work for a bit. You’d think that after traveling all the time he’d want to relax at home a bit, but he’d rather stay busy!” She laughs as if she just told a joke, but she doesn’t seem that happy.

Logan takes both pieces of bread, and leaves the house.

He takes a large bite of his as he walks out towards the tent, and has to admit it tastes delicious. With his parents always working and his constant flood of school work, they hardly have time to bake. And when they do, it’s from a store-bought box. Not home-grown ingredients. But there was a distinct difference between products found in a store and those grown in your backyard. Logan finds the freshness more appealing.

Cold air rushes over him as he nears the tent, being overwhelmed by cliche circus music as he nears the drawn fabric flaps marking the entrance, concealing him from the acts taking place inside.

His hand hesitates against the cloth. He doesn’t want to go inside; he’d rather go back to the house and wait for his grandpa there. But alas, his grandma entrusted him to deliver her zucchini bread, and it shouldn’t take too long.

Sucking in a deep breath, he pulls back the fabric, and steps inside the tent.

Immediately, his senses are assaulted from all angles. There are multi-coloured acrobats swinging from trapeze bars, dancers in flapper dresses and repurposed leotards kicking their feet. Dancers and singers; clowns and magicians.

Logan was at least glad Grandpa strayed away from having a freak show; it was the one respectable thing he’s done.

Speaking of his Grandpa, there he stands, dressed in a casual sweater and slacks, but holding his arms outstretched as he practices leading said circus. He holds a cane in his left hand; if Logan didn’t know he needed it, he’d assume it was all part of the act. As an esteemed ringmaster, Grandpa moves with emotion and histrionic characterization, leaning one way, waving his arms the other. And as he spins on his pedestal, Logan can see the corners of his lips stretched into a wide grin.

But when he spots Logan, he stumbles.

“Logan!”

“Hi, Grandpa,” Logan greets, as his grandfather waves the circus to a halt. Performers buzz with excited, exhilarated laughter and words, a few of them waving towards Logan, while most head opposite of him, and out a different part of the tent, presumably to their quarters.

A clown lingers, looking between Logan and his grandpa, before running to catch up with the others.

Grandpa hops off his pedestal, and hobbles towards Logan, cane crunching against the ground as he moves.

He stretches his arms out for a hug, but unlike Logan’s willingness - or, more accurately, tolerance - for his grandma’s affection, he steps back to prevent his grandfather from touching him. There’s a twinge of hurt that crosses Grandpa’s face, but otherwise his arms fall to his sides.

“How was the ride? Did you fly?” Grandpa asks, making Logan tense.

Logan stands, aloof, itching to leave the tent. “Of course I didn’t. I told you I’d be driving.”

Grandpa sighs. “Right. I forgot.” He forces a smile afterwards, reaching a hand out to clap Logan on the shoulder, which Logan does allow. “I’m glad you’re here though, kid. It’s nice to see you before you become some high-and-mighty CEO.”

Logan scoffs, shaking his grandpa off. “I’m not going to school for business.” He seems to have calmed down a bit though, as his grandpa makes his way out of the tent, Logan following after. “I’m going for science. Biology, specifically.”

The moment they’re out of the tent, Logan relaxes further. He hands the wrapped bread to his grandpa, who smiles as he takes it.

He unwraps it as he and Logan make their way back to the house. Taking a bite, he nudges Logan’s shoulder. “Biology, eh? Back when you used to travel with me, you’d love to run around and pull up plants. We went all over the country, after all. Seems like that stuck with you into adulthood.”

Grandpa swallows a larger bite of his bread, as Logan dabs his face with the paper towel he was given in order to wipe away stray crumbs.

“You’re always free to come travel with us again, you know-”

“No.” Logan’s eyes narrow as they make their way up the stairs onto the front porch. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m not interested.” He leaves no room for any attempted convincing, as he holds the door open for his grandfather, and then follows him inside.

Grandma greets Grandpa with a kiss, and smiles dearly at Logan, urging them both to sit at the table as she pulls a casserole out of the oven. Still steaming, she sets it on the table, dipping a large spoon into it, and then passing out plates. Despite the warm feeling of a family dinner, there’s tension.

Thick tension. One that hangs in the air as Logan and Grandpa avoid saying a word to each other for the rest of the dinner.

#tssstorytimesubmission2023 #sanders sides #intrulogical #sanders sides fic #agp fic #the fear of falling #tss storytime 2023 #intrulogical fic

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nektaarr · 2 years

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sometimes climbing‘s mentally more exhausting than physically…

#the fear of falling #constantly pushing your body over the limit #always having to trust the person holding your rooe #*rope #not getting frustrated when you have to stop after every second grip #but honestly thats why i love it #its not just power and muscle #its a lot technique and mental strength #alhamdulillah #yxc

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nellasbookplanet · 7 months

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'Enjoy it despite its flaws' is one thing, but Mass Effect somehow invented its own category: 'simultaneously one of the most flawed and the most well-crafted sci-fi stories I've ever experienced'. These games are incredible. They’re the worst. All the women are sexualized. All the women have deeply flawed and complex personalities without being either demonized or romanticized. The first available f/f ship seems to be written along the guidelines of 'what would a straight man find hot'. As the games go on, they effortlessly include multiple same sex romance options given just as much care and development as the the opposite sex ones. You can play as a xenophobic murderhobo asshole. You can play as someone genuinely caring but also harsh, who inspires growth and co-operation wherever you go but who makes hard choices when you have to. You can kill civilians and punch reporters and commit genocide. You can stop a generational war and mediate peace and save several species from extinction. The robots are stereotypically evil cannon fodder. The robots are deeply complex with a tragic history. Your team mates are assholes with xenophobic opinions or justifications for police brutality and genocide, or they just want excuses to Do Murder. You team mates are deeply flawed and can be urged to grow alongside you. The most important aliens are all humanoids. There are plant aliens and jellyfish aliens and insect aliens and elephant aliens and aliens who can’t share an atmosphere with us. You have to drive around countless identically boring planets with little to show for it. You get to discover hidden secrets and civilisations millions of years old and live through some of the most emotionally harrowing scenes in storytelling history. I am going absolutely insane about it.

#mass effect #up next let me talk about how andromedas biggest flaw (not perceived flaw but ACTUAL flaw) is how it lacks these highs and lows #sure it doesn’t fall into the same problematic tropes as the trilogy sometimes does #but in its fear to take risks it also fails to hit the highs of when the risks pays off #nella talks

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natjennie · 3 months

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something about "your anger isn't scary to me" is making me so emotional. something about as above so below, cassandra as a mirror of kristen. something about "I've been dropping the ball a lot lately" and kristen's struggles with adhd. something about teenage girls and rage and fury and justice. something about adaine's vision of ruining fallinel and the sylvaire looking for revenge. something about sadness and doubt and anger and love. something about "I choose to understand" being the absolute core theme of d20 in general. something something.

#something about kristen's adhd making her fuck things up and being mad at herself and that manifesting #as her deity being overcome with rage #something about fear and anger and shame and the inability to do better even when you're trying so hard #and something about people loving you anyway #something about 'your anger isnt scary to me'#as someone who had undiagnosed pcos in early high school and got so fucking MAD #something about adhd and how you're always failing and you have no one to blame but yourself #and how heart breaking it is to watch your life fall apart around you KNOWING you could do something #but being unable to do it right. always forgetting always slipping up #and how mad that makes you. at yourself.#this fight is so much #fhjy #d20 #dimension 20 #fantasy high

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novelconcepts · 2 years

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The defintion of hell is knowing a show is incredibly well-received in its first season, but if people don’t become machines churning out tweets, content, and rewatching 24/7, there’s no likelihood it’ll get a chance to tell its whole story. This shit is madness. Shows in different genres shouldn’t have to pit-battle for dominance. First seasons are MEANT to be baselines establishing worlds and characters, not complete storylines. The idea that this golden age of television has turned into “get it done in one or get out” is revolting.

#the sandman #paper girls #some of the hot takes on Twitter are breaking me #‘why don’t we know the whole story? it’s bad writing if you don’t have a complete story in the first season’ girl WHAT since WHEN #how many excellent shows were weak as fuck in S1?? and here we’re getting shows with incredible first seasons fighting for their lives #like fuckin Christ dude the idea of long form storytelling is allowing your story time and space to spread out #otherwise we would only make movies #i am so sick of this edge of my seat fear that any new show I fall in love with will get axed because the higher powers don’t care about art #this has to be a bubble right? this has to pop at some point and go back to shows valued on what they are #and don’t even get me started on creators having to beg for good reviews to balance out review-bombing from shitheads #if every one star review is clearly bigoted from the comments? why is anyone taking them into account??#why is there no way to manage this shit aside from creators being like ‘please help us”’

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hychlorions · 4 months

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What if I told you that I've fallen?

[ID: Art of Susato Mikotoba and Haori Murasame/Rei Membami, done on a stylized background of swirling cherry blossom petals. Haori is falling backward, pulling Susato with her, so close that their noses are touching. Haori closes her eyes as she pulls off Susato’s cap, while Susato — still dressed as Ryutaro Naruhodo — looks down at her with eyes wide. The background is suffused with the faint colors of the lesbian flag. End ID]

#susahao #susarei #susato mikotoba #haori murasame #rei membami #dgs #tgaa #dgs2 spoilers #<- i guess !#.png #me: ok we've done our fill of comms for today let's do something quick and easy (doesn't do that)#this is a nightmare to tag actually. why does she have two names #also here's to hoping external links don't get hidden on here anymore i've been living with that fear since 2019 #do i think that song fits them. i'm not sure. it's just stuck in my head and i don't wanna use kiss kiss fall in love

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amalasdraws · 2 months

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Peach Soda

#original art #character art #original characters #aran and tao #slice of life #fear of falling #comic art #love story #my art #my drawings #new york city

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biggest-gaudiest-patronuses · 1 year

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it is so important to me that more people realize the collective nouns for cats include "a pounce" and "a glaring." society cannot heal until we acknowledge this basic truth

#A GLARING!#A GLARING OF CATS!!!#i cannot be the only one who heard this and immediately imagined the Sorority Girls At A Party Turning In Unison To Glare At You meme #but with CATS #wish i had the artistic/photoshop skills necessary to articulate this #but for now i will enjoy basking in the warmth of the mental image #imagine you're in a room full of cats and they turn in unison to side eye you #i would fall on my ass in fear and horror i think #would be very beautiful. very powerful.#A Glaring of Cats

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m-aximumjoy · 1 year

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Some interesting similarities between the forms of Falling Devil and Darkness Devil.

There’s the use of multiple bodies to create a singular form, the angular shapes, the mantis-leg-like appendages, the sheer height.

These two also share very strong hand motifs, which makes sense for both of them: when it’s dark, you have to feel your way around, usually with your hands; when you’re falling, you try to grab onto something with your hands.

I’m curious to see if the other Primals look anything like these two.

#chainsaw man #csm 123 #csm meta #darkness devil #falling devil #csm spoilers #csm manga spoilers #csm part 2 spoilers #csm 123 spoilers #there isn’t a particular Point to this post really but #I just enjoy the symbolism Fujimoto has in his designs #like. how the fuck do you physicalize the fear of darkness. or falling. they’re both concepts characterized by absence.#also the fact that darkness and falling are both metaphors for despair/depression #saying you’re in a dark place or your heart dropped/sank or that you’re in a deep dark hole #Fujimoto you’ve done it again!!!#body horror cw #oryginals #ACK forgot alt text sorry y’all I fixed it

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divorcedfiddleford · 3 months

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leave the door ajar

#gravity falls #stanford pines #fiddleford mcgucket #fiddauthor #artwork of the damned #this is sloppy but i just had to get it out of my head #i just think especially at first there was a lot of fear of saying the wrong thing #and of feelings not being reciprocated #they'll be okay they'll talk about it later #well. more accurately they'll imply they don't want to stop working together and build a doomsday bunker with one bed about it #but that's basically the same as talking #also apologies for the alt text #i know it's not very good #i might try to re-do it later. or just tack it under the post in a readmore. i'm open to suggestions #anyway happy fiddleford friday please enjoy his misery

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anxiousgaypanicking · 8 months

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The Fear Of Falling

Written For The Tss Storytime Big Bang, 2023 :)

Part Five: Speeding Ticket

Masterlist

“Logan, for christ’s sake, listen to me!”

An arm quickly props Logan up, resting his upper half on a comfortable lap, as his head is cradled. The hand twisting into his chest is grabbed and squeezed. Logan squeezes back, as he finally sucks in a deep breath.

His torso throbs with relief, as he sucks in breath after breath, as if he’d just been drowning.

“Listen to me.”

Logan’s pupils seem to shake as his eyes move from the tall ceiling above him to the person holding him. Remus.

He looks a mixture of uncomfortable and guilty. Though Logan hasn’t known Remus for that long, he immediately feels unnerved at the lack of a smile or the looseness of his shoulders. He seems so tense. So rigid.

“I’m- I’m listening,” Logan croaks, mouth feeling dry.

“Where does it hurt?”

“What?”

Remus looks at Logan confused, and a little frustrated, before sighing. “You screamed. Where does it hurt? Your legs?”

Logan sits up slightly, staring at his legs. Aside from a bit of dirt on his jeans… he’s fine. He moves them, as if he doesn’t believe that they could be okay, before sucking in a deep breath.

“My back,” he eventually answers, and Remus helps Logan sit up fully so he can inspect the latter’s back. Remus brushes more dirt off, before lifting Logan’s shirt part way. He looks over Logan’s back, running his rough hands over the skin, before he pulls away.

He scoots away from Logan to give him some space, allowing Logan room to breathe. “You look fine. It’s just a bit red.”

“Yeah…” is Logan’s only response, as he stares at his legs. “Yeah.”

“What’s going on? Did you just slip?”

“Something like that.” Logan rubs his hands together, feeling the clamminess of them. He knows he was sweating a lot. He didn’t want to go up there, and yet Remus decided it’d be a good idea to recklessly scale to the top of a tightrope-

“Then why’d you scream? Last I looked down, you were hardly up off the ground.”

“None of your business,” Logan replies immediately, harsher than he intends it to be. When Remus looks a little taken aback, Logan shrinks a little, and pulls his knees to his chest. “Just… seriously. Stop asking. It doesn’t concern you. It’s nothing.”

Narrowing his eyes, Remus moves a little closer. Logan can feel his presence looming just over his shoulder. “Well, whatever it is, it’s clearly not doing much good. Do you think you might have broken something? Or is it something else?”

“Remus, stop.”

“Logan, something's bothering you. Why were you staring at the tightrope?”

“Remus-”

Remus sets his hand on Logan’s shoulder, rather firmly turning Logan to face him. “What’s going on in your mind? Whatever this ‘nothing’ is, it’s eating at you. I can see it on your face. It’s bothering you horribly. Why are you affected so badly? What was so awful that you-”

Logan shoves Remus roughly away, sending them both rolling away from each other on the arena stage.

Remus is pressing, and Logan can’t handle it.

He quickly scrambles to his feet, tripping over his shoes in his race to stand. His chest heaves with each breath, gulping them down as if he’s suffocating. His face is red in anger and fear, and his head throbs. His entire body feels overwhelmed. He’s overloading.

“Logan-”

“Stop it!” Logan shouts, before slamming his hand over his mouth. Frustrated tears pool in his eyes, and his other fist roughly hits against his thigh in an angry stim. He’s letting his anger consume him, and he hates it. He hates feeling this out of control. This vulnerable. This broken.

Broken and bloody and mutilated and-

As Remus moves to stand, Logan shakes his head, trying to rid his mind of every thought that’s currently overflowing within, but when he’s unable, he turns and runs.

He just has to leave.

He runs the entire way back to his grandparent’s house, ignoring his growing fatigue and strained breathing. His footsteps are heavy as he bounds up the porch and inside, up the stairs and to his room, grabbing his keys and nothing more before he’s sprinting back down. His grandma says something to him, confused and worried, but he doesn’t hear her. He’s too focused on getting back to his car, forcing himself inside, and starting it up. He’s sweating hard from the midday heat, and the intense warmth of his car just makes breathing harder, but as soon as his engine roars he’s pulling his car into reverse and speeding out of the driveway, kicking up gravel as he goes.

Briefly glancing in the rearview as he pulls onto the road, he catches the slightly blurred Remus running up to the porch, and speaking hastily to his grandma.

He floors it down the road, hardly having the sensibility to brake when people are crossing the street. He’s disobeying traffic laws, and keeps his foot on the gas until he’s out of town, heading the way he came.

He needs to go home. There’s an airport around here, right? He can go to the airport, get a ticket, and leave. And never come back. He could go straight to college! They wouldn’t mind him showing up at his dorms a month or so early! He can just stay in college forever and never think about getting back on a tightrope.

The empty scenery out either window does little to direct Logan. And as he calms down a little and goes to pull his phone out in order to use it as a GPS, he realizes he left it back at his grandparent’s house.

Great. Wonderful.

Despite briefly thinking of turning back, he decides to pull over instead.

He pulls off the road and into the flat grass on the side of the road. Putting the car into park, Logan finally gets the motivation to roll down his windows. Immediately he’s blessed with cool air seeping into the car and alleviating some of Logan’s panic.

What was he thinking? Speeding away like that?

Once again, he thinks about turning around and driving back into town, going the speed limit this time, but once again, he decides against it. He doesn’t have the energy to go back and face his grandparents. And the idea of seeing Remus again after he acted so impulsively makes him nauseous.

He turns his car off.

He takes in a deep, grounding breath. Tears are still flooding his eyes, but he blinks them away before they can even think to roll down his face.

What he needs to do right now is stop acting irrationally. He’s not thinking, and not thinking caused him to yell at Remus, to run home, and to break several traffic laws.

A wave of exhaustion overtakes him, though. He’s still trembling slightly, and his eyes sting from the tears he was unwittingly shedding during his panicked sprint. His head also hurts, though Logan can’t tell if it’s because of his mental fatigue or the heat and thirst he was battling.

He leans his car seat back a little so he can lay down. Though his seatbelt is still buckled, he lets himself relax slightly. Images flash in his brain, but he chooses to ignore them. He can continue shoving them down like he always does. They’ve never bothered him in the past aside from a little bit of hesitance here and there; why is he going to let them bother him now?

His eyes shut. His breathing is still heavy, but he manages to calm it down to a rhythm. Deep breath in, deep breath out, and then his brain is void of thought, and he falls asleep in the driver’s seat.

***

He’s startled awake by the sounds of sirens, and when he rushes to sit up, he’s locked in place by his seatbelt.

Panicking slightly, he rushes to unbuckle himself, and then peek in the driver’s mirror.

Behind him, an officer flicks the sirens off, and then steps out of his car. He’s a bigger guy, with curly blonde hair and freckles visible from miles away, as well as a round pair of glasses that make him look more approachable than threatening.

“Hey!” the officer calls, as Logan lifts his seat back up and reaches for his license. “I don’t mean to scare you! You’re Cyrus and Cherry’s grandson, right?”

Logan sticks his head partially out the window, watching as the officer slowly moves forward, hands in the air like he isn’t the one armed with a gun.

“Yeah?” Logan calls back, blinking the sleepiness from his eyes. His face hurts from where his glasses were pressed against it. Why’d he think sleeping in a car was a good idea?

“I’m Patton Hart,” the officer, Patton, calls. “I was notified you ran off. Abandoned all your stuff. Me and some of my boys have been driving around looking for you. Are you out of gas?” Patton moves closer to the car, and leans down to the window. Some of his curls fall in front of his face, but it does little to hide the cheery face. As he smiles at Logan, Logan notices the gap in his front teeth.

“No,” Logan answers, as he offers Patton his license. “Do you need this?”

“What we need is to get you home, kiddo,” Patton responds, shaking his head softly. “Your grandparents are worried about you.”

Logan sighs, and puts his license away. “I know.”

“Let me give you an escort back into town. I don’t know everything that happened, but they said you seemed pretty panicked before you left. Is everything all right?”

“It’s nothing you can help with.”

Patton smiles sympathetically. “I can always try. I’m here to help, after all. That’s my job. And if you don’t feel like you can go back home immediately for one reason or another, we can go get you some milk and pancakes first.” He flashes his badge at Logan, as if to emphasize his point. What it really does is highlight the difference in city cops and rural cops. Any city cop would have stuffed him into their cop car and dragged him back to his house.

“I am going to phone Cherry and tell her you’re alright, though. Poor woman has been stressed since you left. Where were you heading, anyway?” Patton leans away from the car door, smiling curiously.

Logan feels stupid as soon as he says “airport.”

No money on him, no phone, none of his clothes or even his laptop… What was he thinking?

“Ah. Glad I caught you when I did then. It’d be much harder finding you in such a crowded place!” Patton then chortles, a very cheery sound coming from an equally cheery man. They both know that the airport is just as empty as the plains around them!

Logan can’t help chuckling softly at Patton’s general demeanor. Honestly, after some fresh air, time alone, and a nice nap he feels a lot better.

“We can head home,” he then says, after a moment, and Patton looks proud.

“Alright! I’ll keep the sirens off, as not to embarrass you,” Patton winks, before heading back to his car. In the rearview, he watches as Patton speaks into his radio, most likely asking somebody back at that small-town station if they’ll call either of Logan’s grandparents to assure them he’s been found.

He then backs out of the grass and back onto the road, and waits for Logan to do the same before he starts driving.

Logan keeps the windows down for the drive home, and manages to ride back into town going a much more sensible speed. Patton leads him all the way back to his house, where Grandma and Grandpa are standing on the front porch, anxiously waiting for his car to pull back into the driveway.

As soon as he’s parked, both of them rush to the car and envelop him in a tight hug.

“Have a good night, Mr. and Mrs. Berry!” Patton calls from the curb, before he drives off, leaving Logan to be suffocated in the tight grip of his grandparents.

“Oh Logan, we were worried sick!” she exclaims, voice trembling. “We kept calling and calling… and then Cy found your phone upstairs! Something could have happened to you!”

“I know.”

“It’s dangerous to run off like that. And… and driving so fast? One veer off the road and…” Grandpa sounds equally as choked up, as he squeezes Logan tighter, before they both release him at once. Grandma takes a step back, allowing Grandpa the opportunity to set his hands on Logan’s shoulders.

“What were you thinking?” he asks, exasperated.

Logan’s voice is quiet. “I… I wasn’t.”

Grandpa blinks back tears. “No… no, Logan. I’m not talking about you driving off so sporadically. Obviously I’m upset about that; you could have been hurt, or even hurt somebody else. But what were you thinking about that made you feel like you had to run from us? Logan, you can come to us for anything.”

“We love you so much,” Grandma interjects, softly. “We know that coming back here has been hard, but we’re trying to make it easier. We just can’t do that if you don’t talk to us.”

Logan forces himself to blink back tears. “I know. I’m sorry.”

His grandpa stares at him for a moment, before sighing and pulling him back into another hug, much gentler this time. “What do you need from us right now?” he asks, quiet enough for just Logan to hear. And as Logan leans into his grandpa’s chest, he lets forth a quiet, resolving sob.

#the fear of falling #sanders sides #intrulogical #sanders sides fic #intrulogical fic #agp fic #tss storytime 2023 #tssstorytimesubmission2023

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canisalbus · 2 months

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Hello, I'm not sure if you're aware, but tumblr is going to start helping midjourney gather data for their AI. You're one of the artists I follow here pretty actively and I wanted to warn you to maybe start nighshading your art before posting it here so it doesn't get swept up!

I've seen a couple of posts about it. Feeling disappointed but not that surprised. Also not excited about having to start nightshading/glazing my pieces but if there isn't going to be any serious regulations regarding data scraping and ai "art", there aren't a lot of choices.

Thank you for taking the time to warn me just in case, it was very thoughtful of you!

#from what I've seen the effectiveness of nightshade/glaze has been debated and I don't even pretend to understand how it works #but like watermarks it's at least some kind of preventive measure a token effort to stop your art from being stolen and misused #but I fear that if someone is determined to do it anyway chances are they will find a way unfortunately #this shouldn't be the reality of trying to share art online #it's a pretty dismal situation when this responsibility falls on the artists themselves #I've been here since 2011 I've lived through multiple tumblr apocalypses I'm not leaving unless they make this place wholly unlivable #and I don't think there are truly good alternatives with similar sense of community and as varied posting and customization options #it seems like every other major social media platform is doing this exact same thing if not worse #answered #ohdeergood #I'm tired we're all tired of this

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turtleblogatlast · 1 month

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[ cw: nightmares / trauma / ]

Post-invasion, Mikey sneaks into Leo’s room and when asked by Leo what the problem was, Mikey just smiles and says since he’s awake and knew Leo would be too, he didn’t want either of them alone. Leo laughs and lets Mikey stick around, both of them clumped together on Leo’s bed, watching grainy compilations of old Lou Jitsu commercials on Leo’s phone.

Technically, Mikey didn’t lie. He just didn’t explain everything that led him to Leo’s room. He didn’t explain the nightmare of his arms burning up too bright, too fast, destroyed before Raph and Donnie have a chance to help. He didn’t explain how he woke up with a wail caught in his throat, phantom pain in his arms and chest alike chasing away any semblance of exhaustion. He didn’t explain how his mind made sure he knew, vividly, that if one thing went wrong with his portal, then he would have never seen Leo again.

He didn’t explain, and he didn’t have to. Leo knows his brothers better than he knows himself, and Mikey has always been easy to read. So it’s no trouble to let Mikey know that he’s still with them, that Leo is here and alive with everyone else. And when Mikey finally regains his exhaustion and falls asleep leaning against Leo, Leo simply maneuvers him into a more comfortable position and stays by his side.

He doesn’t move, doesn’t go to sleep - not that he could, anyway. He just mindlessly scrolls on his phone, the soft snores of his little brother filling the room. He stays in place, awake, because he wants to be sure that when Mikey wakes up again it’s to the immediate sight that Leo is alive and well and home.

And, if Leo’s bring honest, that’s a reminder not just for Mikey’s sake.

#rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt mikey #rottmnt leo #rise mikey #rise leo #portal pals #one of my favorite things about Mikey is how self assured he really is not only in his skills but in his sense of self #but no matter how confident you are how much faith in yourself and others you have anyone can be struck by what ifs #and trauma isn’t so easily brushed over #so I can easily see Mikey struggling occasionally with the notion that ah. I did it. but what if I didn’t.#bros the worlds best mystic warrior in part because he can do real miracles #but miracles are only thought to be so because they’re near impossible feats #and with the knowledge that he is capable of opening timelines…I wonder if a part of Mikey fears falling into one where he failed #now - Mikey is not one to get wrapped up in insecurity he really isn’t #but for something so important and such a possible fear? at the very least I can see his subconscious manifesting a nightmare or two #most likely more - he’s a kid after all #they all are #ANYWAY love this duo lol #almost positive I wrote something similar to this wayyyyyy long ago but bleh I’ll write it again idc idc

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