occasionally subtle
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her

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@axstor
With(out) Absolution
@walkingcasualties
Back pressed against the door, Astoria absently sliced her nail through the envelope’s seal. A beat and the sound of an engine turning over, tires squeaking against pavement filtered through the heavy wood. She didn’t know what she was waiting for, but didn’t move until the engine faded into the distance. Brow furrowed she pried the stack of pages free, so tightly packed they unfolded on their own. Her eyes bounced over the first page. A long exhale deflated Astoria’s chest as her fingers strummed through the corners of a dozen pages. Crinkled, crisp, the date in Kevin’s scrawl peeking out from each. A particularly fretted over page suck instead flipped. Fretted over, she assumed, wrinkled and smudged. Secrets. Did they matter anymore? Gnawing the inside of her lip, she flipped the page open.
I raped people.
Her stomach lurched, chill chased after the blood that drained from her face. Pages snapped shut and she stormed back into her office. “Fedex,” she offered as blunt explanation to her monitor, dropping the letter out of view.
“Expecting any more interruptions of my time?” her bespectacled father didn’t look up from his ledger on the other side of the Skype call.
“We need to reschedule.”
“Why?”
“Because I asked.”
“Reschedule an international client because my daughter asked?” Samuel looked up over the edge of his glasses, “Astoria, you told me you were done with your little game of house.”
“Daddy, this has no-“
“You are not a child, do not speak like one,” he cut off her dismissive laugh.
“Conduct this meeting and consider your future with this company if I could replace you with an intern and tell no discernable difference.”
“Yes, sir,” she swallowed and gritted her teeth.
Hours later the letter still sat ignored, but not forgotten. Work finished, dinner with friends, as her keys clinked against the counter half a thought of ‘Kevin should be home by now’ jutted through her mind. Without distractions or excuses the letter again drew all her attention. Still, it took another hour before she drug herself into the office again. Another twenty minutes of sitting in bed, flicking through the TV, nursing wine before picking up the stack of pages from the mattress.
She forced herself to read from the beginning. Not a quick skim and not shuffle through pieces ignoring context. He deserved that, she forced herself to remember, context. Context for raping people- “Jesus Christ…” she gasped to herself, realizing the train of thought she gave voice to. Already she hadn’t retained anything she read, started over, forced herself to read every word. And a third time before she finally calmed the twisting in her stomach enough to turn the page.
Once she started reading, she couldn’t stop. A lifetime falling apart scrawled before her. She could almost fool herself into believing this wasn’t the life of the man she fell in love with… save for the repeated regret naming his family, herself… and her own distant memories that verified reality.
That first deployment, she first met him soon after. A sixteen year-old who couldn’t believe her mother has schlepped her to a backwater town and every step she took was as though she was sifting through a minefield of dung. Taunting him relentlessly because he was charming in uniform and she could… when he had just killed a girl maybe four years younger then her, would have been in school with her…
Her lingering thoughts dashed with the turn of each page. She read and forgot to breathe, powering through, dread forcing her eyes to continue. The pages rattled in her hands before she finished, through the second time, by the third she could hardly see the words- his words. It was so much. Things she knew and didn’t, regrets for the past, regrets for the future he wished they’d had, organized as such across the bed spread. Knees drawn to her chest, Astoria eyes the pile that was beyond her scope.
In spite of the night drawing into early morning and climate control, her face flushed. Uncomfortable heat licked down her chest and soured her stomach as she picked up that section of the letter again.
So wrong… thought killing a kid was the worst thing I’d do… the guards… raped people… someone they set on me…
Anger flooded through her. Pages crumpled in fists only surviving when she threw them down onto of the rest. There was so fucking much. Texts started and deleted to Jay, Lina, even Rab. Instead she scooped up the letter, sorted the pages to face the same direction, remembered the dates. The first page suck out like a little omen, almost three months ago.
Her stream of consciousness flooded into the text to Kevin before she realized, stopped herself. Nothing good happened after three am and this deserved… an incredulous scoff puffed from her. Her jaw clenched, pulsing with each swallow as she ground out a single sentence.
[Sms; Kevin] Thank you for trusting me with this.
A long exhale dropped her shoulders. But her lip caught between her teeth as she found herself typing a second message, thumb hovered for a long minute before hitting send.
[Sms; Kevin] I will call you when I can.
Curled around a pillow, her eyes closed to soothe the burning pressure behind them.
A screaming alarm jolted Astoria awake. Confusion replaced relief. A pillow not a chest, fist full of paper not uniform, the scent of canvas and starch vanished as she scrambled for her phone. 6:34…am? Not the alarm?
It took a bumbling few seconds before she recognized the gate bell. Warning bells blared through her groggy mind. A year on without bikers or worse cropping up at odd hours, she still pulled the revolver from the beside. Fingers trembling Astoria clicked on the monitor just inside her front for. “Christ-“ she exhaled visibly deflating, bracing herself on the door frame. It was her idiot PA waving urgently up at the camera.
Gun stashed in a near by drawer she buzzed the girl in. When the key rattled on her front door Astoria wrenched the door open. “Good to see you still have the key.”
“Of course I do- you look like shit Astoria. Why are you up so early?”
“Gate alarm is loud,” she stared blankly, “You have the code for a reason.”
“Didn’t work for some reason this morning. Did you change it? Got your coffee and your schedule, starting at nine today by the way. You have-“
Snatching the coffee Astoria sludged to her living room and collapsed into an armchair. She did change the code. The fog of only two hours of sleep fell and the late night tumbled back. Bitter and petty maybe, but the code was changed the minute it occurred to her Kevin could let himself right back in. She couldn’t handle it, the possibility hadn’t gone back to Redding like she assumed. Claire followed rattling off things Astoria didn’t hear.
“You’re late,” she cut Claire off.
“Well yeah. I told you, gate code didn’t work.”
“Cancel all my appointments for the week.”
“What the hell is going on Astoria?”
“How much do I pay you? Just do it.”
Claire’s jaw dropped dumbfounded. It seemed like they had gotten close over the passed year at least she felt more friend then personal assistant. Astoria’s eyes screwed closed, nails dug into the corners of her eyes trying to banish too many thoughts and sleep, drawing on the coffee. Claire was still utterly bewildered when Astoria’s eyes opened.
“Off you go,” she grumbled.
“Right… um… I’ll let you know if there’s any issues.”
That's the smile of a content man. Of a man who knows his place in the universe and is comfortable with it. Of a man who's come to a kind of peace with the horrible things he's done. Of a man who's begun to forgive himself. All because of the woman walking at his side beaming at him and holding his arm because she adores him just as much as he adores her.
pintrest
I just wanted you to know. That you were happy once. With me.
The Butterfly Effect (2004), Dir. Eric Bress and J. Mackye Gruber
@walkingcasualties @irishbcrn
Knuckles white on the steering wheel; Astoria chewed the side of her tongue the entire way to the hospital. Focusing on the left, right, lefts she didn’t really hear the conversation Lina had with Flynn; didn’t really hear if Lina said anything. Just the turns and what the hell to tell the ER clerk when they checked in.
“Angelina Murphy,” Astoria bit out the basics while Lina scrawled out the paperwork, “She was choking. She’s pregnant so I was to afraid to try the Heimlich.” Lies flowed like second nature from both girls, because they were.
Flynn in less then ten minutes. Should have called an ambulance, Astoria’s only thought. Lina would already be back there, being seen, making sure the baby was ok. But, he was doting on Lina. Through a flare of anger and fear, worry was what drove Flynn’s hunt for answers.
“-I have to go-” Astoria finally murmured and left the waiting room without a look back. She couldn’t see that, couldn’t hear Lina’s explanation, couldn’t see the reaction. Besides, she didn’t care. Right? That was her whole thing. Objective distance. The venting post, shoulder to cry on, emotionally fucking regulated. Protected so that she wasn’t the one who turned to drink or drugs or sex to pull through. Ol’ USS Reliable.
Purse dropped in the middle of her foyer; phone out to explain exactly how much she didn’t care. Shaking she couldn’t dial Kevin’s number, couldn’t click through to her contacts; his face grinning up at her filled her vision. The phone shattered the mirror across the room; with a roar the console table ripped to it’s side sending tchtchkes spilling over the floor. Chest heaving, Astoria stormed up the stairs peeling jacket, blouse, shoes, jeans from her body leaving them where they dropped.
Sneakered feet picked through scattered crystal moments later. The front door bounced out of the frame, but Astoria didn’t notice. Pounding the pavement she put distance between herself and the town as quickly as possible. Houses and businesses gave way to trees, power lines, and rocky out croppings. In turn she ran from road to gravel to dirt trail.
She had to stop, gasping for breath over looking the dam. Shock parted Astoria’s lips as pain spiked through her shoulder when she stretched her arms over her head. Tentatively, she tugged aside the neck of her tank. Spotted purple already bloomed across her collarbone disappearing under bra.
“What am I doing here?” she rasped, choked, sobbed to no one.
Collapsed in on herself, a ball sitting back on her heels, her own dam broke. Is this what she had been holing out for all these years. For her best friend to lose a baby at the hands of the man she wanted to have her own family with. Bend over backwards for a man that would kill his own sister. Who didn’t acknowledge her existence under the guise of protecting her then sleep with every woman who crossed his path. The women she spent a fucking year and a half to make sure were taken care of when the club could barely look after itself.
A man that made her feel so alive, even being used, she would follow him straight to hell.
Used.
Her weight shifted back, hands braced on the ground as she eased herself onto the dirt. Tears, makeup, and sweat blurred together through hiccups trying to catch her breath. Any idea she had of a life together should have started years ago. What was she even crying over? When were they an actual couple, had an actual relationship? Was she just a teenager who fell in love with an idea?
Crosslegged, looking out a the river, Astoria’s breath slowed to a rattle. What was she doing here? Somewhere along the line, she’d just become another hang-around at the club.
Around her the light began to orange. Systematically, she tucked away the thoughts and memories creeping into her mind. The prospect of walking back to town after sunset drug her back down the side of the mountain. A futile effort made to brush the dirt from the back of her sweats and rub away the streaks down her face.
#Jaspenor 2.01 “I’m sorry.”
If you’re into sensual images/gifs, could you follow me at @sensualychology
“you’re like a twelve year old girl around him!” ”every time he comes around, it’s like i fall to pieces and i start acting like a dork - like a total dork. i laugh and i say really awkward things…it really freaks me out.”
Girls like her were born in a storm. Lightning in their souls, thunder in their hearts and chaos in their bones.
Long legs unfolded as she climbed out of her car and looked pointedly at the gap between her car and the line of bikes curving around the side of the clubhouse. She nearly snickered at every thought of the term; grown men in their clubhouse. Grown men in their clubhouse with their matching uniforms. Disguising the laugh as a soft smile, Astoria shrugged innocently, nails brushed his throat as she smoothed the collar of his t-shirt under that bit of leather his puffing chest nearly burst.
“Antonin,” every syllable enunciated with warmth, “you are a very patient man aren’t you? Thank you, for being patient with me. Now, I ask you forgive me for giving you a bit of advice. Talk again and I will eat you. Not in the ‘oh baby I want every bit of you’ way. I will bite your dick off and correct me if I am wrong, but I will be doing women everywhere a favor. Because you cannot aim if you were throwing a hotdog down a hallway.”
Her car beeped, locking from the remote in hand as she returned her sunglasses into place. The hand at his chest flicked off the tip of his chin before she turned to leave. “You are very handsome though,” she called back over her shoulder.
His eyebrows raised as she spoke. Damn, who the fuck was this crazy chick? Though he probably should fear for his genitals, the twisted part of him was intrigued. She seemed way too la di da to be anyone’s old lady, but then again, she didn’t seem the slightest bit afraid of him. Not that he’d done anything intimidating…yet. She definitely talked like a crazy biker chick though, so maybe his judgement was way off. Wouldn’t be the first time.
Cold blue eyes narrowed when she locked her car and took off in the other direction. He sighed, leaning against the hood of her car as he flicked open his lighter and lit his cigarette. “Nice ride you got here, by the way. Not a sign of damage on it…” He called out, exhaling a cloud of smoke with a sinister smirk. At the very least, if she wasn’t worried about damage to the body, he’d be more than happy to break in and hotwire it. It’d be a pain in the ass, but given the circumstance, he didn’t think he was getting his bike out anytime soon.
Back pin straight, Astoria turned on her heels. Practically prowling she wandered back to the biker. “Antonin,” she repeated, matter-of-fact, allowing herself this moment of indulgence. Scratch her car and replace it or eviscerate him with on of her father’s lawyers; it honestly made no difference to her. Regardless she had larger fish to fry.
“About six foot. Drives an unnecessarily obnoxious Harley, though in this town that hardly makes a difference does it. What should I say for identifying markings?” Her eyes raked over the little skin that could be seen under his tattoos, “Adult coloring book? Pull up and around the curb if you can’t aim through a two foot gap, sweetheart. I’m looking for my sister and hardly have time to give you driving lessons.”
Had Lily expected to be integrated into Liz’s family after taking her up on her offer of cleaning the clubhouse and cooking dinners in exchange for room and board? No. She was used to, in a sense, being on her own. Even under her father’s care, she had been mostly left to her own devices, so long as she followed about a hundred of his rules. Couldn’t have her just stumbling onto anything, or getting taken by an enemy, or some law enforcement realizing Charles Campbell O’Shea had a daughter, after all.
But, Liz had done more than just offer her a place to stay – she had offered the petite redhead a home, something that she hadn’t ever really had. At eighteen, she looked out of place; the youngest of all the other young adults, a child compared to them. She felt as out of place as she looked, really. Everyone here was family, they had a history. She was still just an outsider, looking in. Another of Liz’s charity cases, as Kevin had called her.
This theory was confirmed when a voice called out from the dining room. Setting down the plates she had been helping Liz carry into the kitchen, she went to speak to the young woman who’d voiced her curiosity.
Lily recognized her, vaguely, as a Greengrass – they were some of the richest people in the United States, and apparently, everyone liked to gossip about their lives. Lily had read enough tabloids recently, trying to get familiarized with the culture she had escaped too.
“Erm — I’m Lily. Lily Evans,” she said, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet. This is what she had been afraid of – though she had certainly made leaps and bounds in the few short weeks she’d been under the Baron’s protection, she still wasn’t exactly Miss Congeniality. She just hadn’t ever been able to be social. But, Liz had insisted, and Lily couldn’t deny the woman who took her off the street and treated her like a daughter.
“I guess I work at the clubhouse? I clean and cook for the guys, since Liz can’t do it all the time. She lets me stay there in return.”
“You guess?” Astoria sipped from her glass. If there was one thing she learned from her years in, out, and around the club it was; hold your ground. “You either do or don’t. You are here though, so I’ll take it that you guessed correctly.”
Astoria continued to study the girl, for a sip or two, over her wine. The girl -Lily- fiddled, couldn’t quiet hold still. Astoria continued to stare, if Lily couldn’t handle her scrutiny she would be helpless in the middle of that club. Absently, Astoria wondered how old Lily was. Quite young by her judgement.
There was another young outsider at one point. Though Astoria did not see much of herself in the girl before her, she wondered if Lizzie did. She flashed the matriarch a smile as she passed through from the kitchen again. If there was a person who always made you feel like you belonged, it was Liz. No matter how tenuous the connection to the club.
Killing that train of thought before it latched on, Astoria finally addressed Lily again. “Stop fidgeting. No one here will bite.” The trio of idiots who vacated the premises as quickly as possible, she couldn’t speak to, but here and now, Lily was fine. “How old are you, Lily?”
@walkingcasualties
Perched on a stool in the kitchen, Astoria tried to not rattle her shoe against the back of the island. She never quiet sought out Jon, just sort of -existed- next to him when she was home visiting her mother. The black screen of her phone stared up at her from the counter as she checked it again. No notifications. Her thumb nail nearly chewed off; anxious, waiting. She didn’t really quite know his schedule and had been waiting an hour at this point, but she couldn’t risk missing him. He had to come home sooner or later.
She picked up the phone again. Sent Bash a quick text.
[Sms; Sebastian:] Any word from her?
More waiting.
The door opened. Leaning forward on her forearms, Astoria caught sight of her semi-step-father. “Jon?” she called out to him, dropped from the stool to meet him at the door. “Hey... have you heard from Jameson? It’s been a couple weeks. She usually checks in. I’m kind of getting worried.”
Jaspenor failing miserably at deny the importance of their relationship.
The Royals (2x05)
@deimxxre, @walkingcasualties
”Mine.” She whispers. ”Yours.” I breathe.
“I don’t give a flyin’ fuck who y’think y’are, Kev. You touch her again an’ I’ll break y’er fuckin’ prick off and shove it back up Rab’s ass where it fuckin’ belongs.” His voice clipped, his entire frame tense, Bash held his ground against his older brother, held what little ground he had to stand on and waited for the inevitable swing, waited for Kev to lose what joke-of-a-control he had over his impulses. Didn’t matter - Lily was off limits, needed to be for his fucking sanity and her well being. She was…soft. Innocent. Untouched and he’d be damned if either of his fucking asshole brothers did something to fuck that up. God knew they already ruined enough women…and him.
Kev smirked, probably would have swung if it was anyone else, if he hadn’t already polished off half a bottle of whiskey, if he hadn’t still been drunk from the night before. “She’s just a hole, Bastian. Y’know how these broads are - play sweet an’ innocent, play hard t’get. Y’know how they like it really. I mean, lookit Ma-” The doors flung, slammed into the wall, into a chair, jerked his attention, jerked him into attention as he reached for a gun, reached for protection, for peace, for silence. That same hand wne tot his hair, went to straighten the short stands, went to cover the action of reaching for a gun against…her. Astoria mother-fucking Greengrass. Like a god damn angel right dab in the middle of hell with all the looks of every fucking devil he’d ever known. The one thing that could keep his head quiet and he ran from her every fucking time.
“Ain’t seen her,” he muttered, ducking his gaze away, praying she hadn’t heard the conversation, hadn’t caught wind of it. “Dropped round Rab’s yesterday, ain’t seen her since.” Bash froze in place, hesitated as he turned back on his brother, “She’s back after ten mother fucking months and y’er too bu- Christ in hell, y’piece o’shite, go blow y’er fuckin’ brains out on another fuckin’ bottle. You check her apartment, lass?”
beat.
Nostalgia flooded through Astoria. A laugh, cologne, her arms tight around his stomach cheek pressed against leather, fingers knotted in her hair--
beat.
Wide eyes that snapped to the voice, hardened. Between heartbeats thrill coursed through her. There was a time she would have been the first to know he was out of prison. A time when taking her breath away didn’t crumple her lungs in her chest. A time where the brothers would never posture against each other. For once Sebastian took the words straight out of Astoria’s mouth.
Peeling her gaze away from Kevin to Sebastain, the world around her sprung back into life. Kevin wasn’t the one who had been missing for months, not physically at least. Long strides quickly brought her across the room, between the brothers, facing Bash. Her voice flush with relief, Astoria shook her head, “So she is back? I just got to town, had to find out from my father’s fucking--”
Hands at her sides balled into fists and she forced herself to relax, before nails sliced her palms open. Her eyes bounced back toward the man behind her, she could smell the cloud of whiskey clinging to Kevin. Her double question clear to Sebastian, “Why didn’t anyone call me?”