found yourself in a new direction; arrows falling from the sun @coolhcnds-archive - Tumblr Blog

Posts

lifeinpoetry

Soon, I will be the barn-dark space / between the trees.

Michael McGriff, from “Skipping a Funeral,” Early Hour (via lifeinpoetry)

#∘⡊➵ the dark interior of a lung ( or a leaf bud ) imagined long enough ` becomes a wilderness — musings #q.

trickstcrs-blog

🎶 hunter

{ send 🎶 and I’ll create a mini playlist for our muses’ relationship } : OPEN.

→ you live a HALF LIFE ; ( ft. @coolhcnds )

“ THE NIGHT WE MET ” – lord huron | and then i can tell myself what the hell i’m supposed to do. and then i can tell myself not to ride along with you.

“ BRUISES ” – lewis capaldi | everyday it’s getting colder and if only i could hold you, you’d keep my head from going under.

“ SORRY ” – halsey | i run away when things are good and never really understood the way you laid your eyes on me.

“ HALF LIGHT ” – banners | when you’re in the half light, it is not you i see. and you live a half life: you only show half to me.

“ LIAR ” – mumford & sons | you lean in for your last kiss – who in this world could ask me to resist?

#THAT MANIP IS BEAUTIFUL SHHH #and this is just lovely #∘⡊➵ every wound forms a scar ` that tells the story ( i survived ) — mentions #( temptheotag )#q.#∘⡊➵ voices calling ( voices crying ) some are born ` and some are dying — music

fbiisms

beau dales is not a idle leader. he’s a man of initiative, a deep-rooted belief in leading by example : no ‘ do as i say, not as i do ’ bullshit from him. he wakes at dawn, a habit he’s yet to break he can still remember the last time he slept in : the smell of coffee, rosaline rushing around to prepare for the BABY SHOWER … cadet jumping up and down on the bed excitedly. his head aches from the flood of memories, a pang in his chest following suit. he’s so lost in memories he’s nearly forgotten that he’s gone for a walk. but a disembodied voice pulls him from the past :

he looks up, regarding the figure curiously. he’s not altogether shocked : more surprised by the woman’s dexterity. ❝ no, ❞ he calls up, head cocked to one side. ❝ are you ? ❞ he doesn’t DOUBT her abilities but beau is generally unwilling to fight a lady. ❝ just passin’ through, ma’am. sorry to disturb ya’. ❞

Hunter’s brows furrow, eyes narrowing to gaze through the heavy foliage beneath her. The man below is far enough away that she can’t make out too many details, but he looks and sounds older than many men she’s come across in Cheyenne. Curiosity pulls her down from the higher branches to get a better look.

“Not lookin’ for one.” The implication that they so often find HER goes unspoken. Hunter isn’t like her brother--she doesn’t seek out violence like it’s oxygen. “Where y’ headed?” It’s more to find out if he knows the area or if he’s new. He doesn’t LOOK like a raider. He doesn’t carry himself in that kinda way ( sometimes she wonders if others think she does ).

#p: beau dales #( sorry this took forever )#q.

Having run into a horde on her way back to her home base, Hunter had opted to spend the night in the safety and cover of a tall, green cottonwood. The cover was sparse, but she’d been able to shimmy her way far enough up to remain undetected by several of the dead, save a couple she’d quickly dispatched with her bow.

Despite the relative safety of the spotty canopy, Hunter had slept no more than a handful of minutes at a time--REST slipping through fingers with the hour hands of a long broken watch. When the sun had come up, she’d finally dozed off into a deeper slumber only to be disturbed by the cracking of foliage beneath the steady gait of a living person.

Not wanting to startle them nor reveal her location to a raider or someone similar while unprepared, Hunter rolled onto her belly--chest pressed tightly against the rough bark of the branch. “You lookin’ for a fight down there?” The husky tone of her voice cracking with disuse and she cleared her throat before continuing. “Or are you friendly?” It had been a long time since she’d been in a fight, but maybe longer since she’d seen a friendly face.

#hst:starter #( those are ferns clearly but yknow #ferns trees whatever )

ancrchist-a

“everywhere you go, i go.” Hunter

PROTECTOR/PROTECTEE | @coolhcnds.

she’s never been lonely – in it’s most basic form, being LONELY comes from being alone; from bejieng to california, she’s always been surrounded by friends, lovers, acquaintances. not a party girl, not the type to trash her liver or lungs, just a sociable person. she never stayed anywhere long though. she left when she wasn’t getting enough to fill her greedy hands. she doesn’t tell anyone that it’s why she left home. for all people know, it’s because she wanted to leave. and she did. it wasn’t the vehement hate of her parents or the way they pushed, and pushed, and pushed. the point, if there were one to be made, is she’s been here too long, and she wants to leave again. the cabin offers her nothing but shelter, and hunter only offers food along with an extra pair of eyes.

sometimes, and usually for days, she’ll be gone. she’ll show up again without a word of warning. hunter must know that she’s something less than kind, and that trips out are anything but uneventful; sometimes she sees sidney. other times it’s another man, a woman, whoever’s unlucky ( and LUCKY ) enough to be around. coming back to hunter each time feels too much like dependence on her company. the food, the shelter, the peaceful night of rest – it’s not enough anymore. as she listens to what’s been said, her ankles crossed while she’s lounged on the couch, huan is equal parts motivated and angry. it’s the same bitter taste; be home early, don’t talk to him, go to your classes. she won’t sacrifice anything so easily, especially not her privacy or, at least, her right to it. ❝ hunter, ❞ so STERN compared to the carefree tone she seems to always use. every dramatic bone in her body wants to leave and slam the door behind her. it’d be so like huan to lose her head over the prospect of being forced.

she grits her teeth. she always has; she’d look her parents in the eyes and nod with her jaw this tight, even when everything in her wanted to scream. see, she’s never been LONELY, it’s not in her to allow such a thing, but she was raised to be quiet. she reverts to it when being who she wants to be isn’t in her favor. she did it with her parents, she can do it with hunter. she doesn’t think it’s worth noting that when she came back this time, it’s sporting a new wound. a shallow thing, barely a sting in the skin of her thigh. ❝ don’t. ❞ she’s not feeling rational enough to accept that hunter is just W O R R I E D. ❝ i don’t need you. ❞

#OUCH #∘⡊➵ i am a war and you ` my darling are chaos — huan zhang #∘⡊➵ every wound forms a scar ` that tells the story ( i survived ) — mentions #q.

riotousgiirl

“most of the schools got huge alarm systems installed after colombine and after the terrorist attacks on 9/11 - it kind of became sort of standard issue. you know, in case something like that ever happened again. most of the schools had them installed, even some of the smaller public schools had security doors and fire exits wired up to sound alarms,” she looked back to the source of the sound - to HOME - “but… fire doors don’t MAKE that sound.” her light brows creased to show her confusion and frustration.

“saddle ridge would make the most sense, but they’ve got people up inside that building. if it’s their alarm they might as well ring the damned dinner bell for the walkers.” janicka’s eyebrows rose, “the country club? that’s where i live now… i’ve been there for about two years though,” no one paid attention to the small, blonde girl who’d spent most of her days crying… now she wasn’t that TIMID. “i’m janicka - but i spend most of my time with a guy called topher, so i’m not usually at camp.” she extended her hand as a gesture of good-will and trust, “company is always good, i got a feeling this is not going to end well.”

“I never went.” The words were spoken weakly even by a strong girl with a husky voice--the deficit of her peers’ education her BIGGEST insecurity. Hunter made the effort to look like she knew what the girl was talking about. Of course she had heard 9/11 mentioned--in arguments where her mother begged for the kids to have normal lives and her father invoked names and dates. It was years before she knew about it, by then it seemed so distant and removed from her reality in rural Oregon. “What do they sound like? What makes this sound?”

“Maybe they got hit hard by raiders?” Hunter mused aloud, walking side-by-side with the girl. “Some last ditch effort to either get help or revenge on those who come down on them?” It was a possibility, but it would put the other camps at risk. Still, drowning men sometimes drowned those who tried to rescue them--it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. “I--” Shit, should she have known the girl? At the time she’d been so caught up searching for Eden and Shaw, she hadn’t paid anyone there much mind. “I hunted mostly. Was rarely there but as a place to trade and leave my stuff.” Brows furrowed she added. “Not really one for minglin’.”

#tw columbine mention #tw 9/11 mention #∘⡊➵ plot drop 005. — siren call #p: janicka rush

drakomalfoyyy-deactivated202006

what do u mean i don’t have a social life I just went grocery shopping with my mom

#( ummm????#pre outbreak hunter tbh )#∘⡊➵ the dark interior of a lung ( or a leaf bud ) imagined long enough ` becomes a wilderness — musings #∘⡊➵ perhaps i may become a ` highwayman again — past #∘⡊➵ they’d shoot you in the back first ` then introduce themselves — family #q.

whitcshcll

It was Rey’s first time being south of the city. Usually, he stuck with familiar territory, which happened to be Route 85. He’d go as far as a four day’s walk before things started getting strange in his mind. Maybe it was because he was so close to La Grange, or maybe his mind was getting too dependent on being with other people to function (which Rey would gladly take). He did the same following the Lincoln Highway. He was more prone to mistakes then but he figured he caught some good game and found a few settlements that still had some seeds hidden away in cubbies to give to the traders.

When the sirens started, he gulped. They reminded him of snowstorm warnings back in Minnesota. As much as he relished in remembering a time before cages and fists, he didn’t like the chilling sensation that started at the ball of his back and crept its way up. “Returning,” he murmured before looking at the other survivor, “Back where I grew up, they used alarms like that as a snowstorm warning. Snow would block us all in our houses, it was almost as tall as our house, I remember… Do you have a place to get to?” Rey wasn’t about to leave someone stranded. Alarms were never a good sign, even if t was false.

There hadn’t been sirens in Pendleton--the nearest town of any particular note to Hunter’s family compound save, maybe, Antelope or Athena. The compound had made use of their own alarms, sure, but that was after the outbreak and she’d known well about them. Her father’d put them up in case folks tried approaching the compound either for supplies, help, or more nefarious reasons. Regardless of intent, those folks were promptly frightened off--if they were lucky--or killed, if they weren’t.

The boy on the road was young--a boyish face, not unkind. Hunter’s eyes surveyed him as he spoke. They’d had snow back home, and fairly often, but nothing warranting alarms. Must’ve been something to see. Cheyenne itself sure had its fair share of snow in the winters--the likes of which she had not experienced prior to her first Wyoming Winter. “Whereabouts was that?” Her husky voice cracked, dry from a long day’s hike and rationed water. She licked her chapped lips, eager to return home. No doubt Huan would scold her before giving her some manner of moisturizing concoction and side-eyeing her for returning with dried mountain goat instead of whatever girls like her had been used to eating before people ate each other. “Got a place.” Another nod. “You from one of the camps or...” Brows furrowed as she considered the potentially touchy subject. “...you livin’ out here on your own?”

#( spooky ! )#∘⡊➵ plot drop 005. — siren call #p: rey whiteshell

riotousgiirl

janicka jumped at the sounds - flinching as she had done over two years ago as a sixteen year old girl. now… despite how she had TRIED her best to nullify the strange DESIRE to destroy - she reached to the knife concealed at her hip. a girl with a knife at her hip and a flower crown on her blonde locks - what a sight… ( a far cry from the girl who walked up and down the streets in a pink sequinned dress with blood spatter on her arms and a gore-y baseball bat as her only weapon. )

“sounds like - an… EVAC alarm… i didn’t think any of them would still be working,” she mused, going over what she knew of emergency grids and back-up generators, “could be something tripped in one of the schools? like an emergency school evacuation?” but it didn’t make it feel any less… worrisome. “i’m heading back - i came out to gather up some plants for topher haas and i to transfer to the gardens… but now i don’t know if it IS safe.”

The cascade of blonde waves, emanating from the crest of a wildflower crown, was a ghost image of the girl who had once been her dearest friend. She wasn’t here anymore; Eden was not a place on Earth. This girl, beneath the tousled hair and big eyes, contained a stronger edge--and she was friendly, a rare combination.

“Don’t know that I’d even thought ‘bout the school alarms.” Hunter nodded seriously. She’d heard alarms, sure--they’d hand them in the compound--but she’d never been to a public school. Perhaps the rest of the world hadn’t been as entirely unprepared as her father had led them to believe. “You thinkin’ Saddle Ridge?” Hunter didn’t really know anyone there and hadn’t lived at the camps in a long time, but she had a healthy respect for the idea of them.

“I’m Hunter. I used to live at the Country Club awhile back, but I’ve been livin’ on my own--” she didn’t include Huan in case the girl wasn’t as trustworthy as her young face suggested. “--If you don’t mind, I’m happy to accompany y’ back in case things get harry.”

#p: janicka rush #∘⡊➵ plot drop 005. — siren call

∘⡊➵ OPEN STARTER — SIREN CALL

“The hell is that noise?” Hunter said as she picked up her pace to meet the other survivor, emerging from the unkempt fields along the Lincoln Highway, crops that had once been tended to with care had long since overgrown and spread out in disarray. On her way to and from hunting trips in Colorado, Hunter often wondered if the long dead farmers turned in their graves ( or else above ground, twisting their joints and decaying flesh impossibly ). “Is that some kind of emergency alarm?” First what had been some manner of sonic boom had shaken the survivors to their core and now this? She wasn’t paranoid, but the sound made the hairs on her neck stand up. “You headin’ to Cheyenne?” She asked, an inquisitive brow raised. “Or you returnin’ there?”

#∘⡊➵ plot drop 005. — siren call #hst:starter

ancrchist-a

❛ evil wakes in vengeance. be careful what you choose. ❜ hunter

SILENT HILL | @coolhcnds.

she doesn’t suffer from nightmares; when she rests, it’s peaceful. past experiences, and murder, and rotting corpses haven’t put her down that far. but her waking hours, oh, they’re consumed – with raiders ( she thinks it’s a dumb name ), mostly. huan doesn’t talk about what happened, about why she hates them so vehemently despite not caring for humanity or having any of her own. PRIDE THOUGH, she at least admits it to herself that it’s her pride. she’s always been told she has too much; a boyfriend once called her egotistical, as though he were any more humble in all his instagram photos and private messages. she wouldn’t have dated him if he were weak. there was no benefit to it in the old world.

now, there is. eden was good. she ended up with a place to stay out of the deal, even if it was hunter who gave it to her, huan has a suspicion it’s only because she knew eden that she was allowed to begin with. she doesn’t think about eden often, but in her hours spent awake, she thinks of how NICE it would have been to visit a river together. they say drowning is euphoric. she’s gone though, and so is shaw; nothing is lost, all that stood out about him was his filth. so, huan is left with hunter. she would have poked fun – hell, maybe shaw and eden ran off together. it sounded too much like comfort though, so it never got out her throat.

hunter is fine, irritating when she worries about things long since settled. EVIL wakes in vengeance, she mulls it over as she tugs a jacket on; it’s not her’s, it’s hunter’s – the fact of the matter is that for whatever reason, she has better survival gear, even if the style … lacks. her knife is slid into the side pouch of her bag and her gun into the waistband of her pants. she doesn’t speak yet. she wants to laugh; she’s been spiteful for years now. ❝ about fourteen years late, hunter. ❞ and she’s not uncomfortable with the subject, her words aren’t a way to deter from the topic. they’re honest, it’s obvious even with the lighter tone it takes. she hasn’t admitted to anything, but there’s no doubt that hunter has caught sight of scars ( huan has a distaste for them – that doesn’t mean she’ll stop undressing in front of people for the sake of discomfort ) and made her own conclusions.

she doesn’t surrender herself to the lecturing while it happens; she does sigh into the silence. it’s such a pointless thing, people looking for comfort. it’d just be like old days with boyfriends if she kissed hunter on her way out. she won’t. instead, as she walks to the door and pulls it open, she gives hunter ( who looks like a statue leaned against the wall ) a pat on the shoulder. ❝ at least try to clean something while i’m gone. ❞ it’s not ❛ don’t worry ❜, but it is a promise that she’s coming back. that, and her not slamming the door on her way out should be enough.

#<333 #∘⡊➵ i am a war and you ` my darling are chaos — huan zhang #∘⡊➵ every wound forms a scar ` that tells the story ( i survived ) — mentions #q.

trickstcrs

“Well, I’ve never heard a worm speak so until I do, I’ll consider you ahead of the race.” How was it possible to fake so much cordiality, so much respect? He’d never been taught either. He could paint a smile so bright on his lips it left the world blind – he could be so wonderful. The rot underneath his skin wasn’t even slightly noticeable under such expert facade. Hell, he even made her snort; a sign of a real – repressed, but real – laugh. An indication of amusement, enjoyment. Trust often started with good humor. His stance was visibly relaxed, an indication of confidence in their interaction ( confidence that she wouldn’t suddenly try to slit his throat – something he didn’t really feel but fabricated regardless ), and something to prove to her that he was at ease in her presence. A lie, sure, but the person Theo was playing was far softer than whatever sort of man he usually was. “Can’t argue there.” She was vulgar in a way that most might consider unappealing. Like apple cider among champagne. Her class was evident ( he’d climbed up many social ladders in his world of lies, and he knew sore thumbs when he saw them ). Yes, vulgar – yet the reality in her, the explicit truth of her being was…charming. The brunette wasted no time with intricate vocabulary nor did she try to seem like more than what she offered at first glance. Transparent. Somehow, that was beautiful. A man who told so many lies could appreciate honesty – perhaps even more than anyone else could. “Yeah – we are; but maybe we shouldn’t be,” there was no insinuation, no double standard, in his tone. Just candid words spoken like a soft man; friendly. “Hunter,” he nodded, a smile forming on his lips, “I like that. It suits you.” He looked back up at her, brown eyes shinning as if the light had never left them. “My name’s hardly as cool as yours – I’m Theodore; Theodore Langley. Theo works fine though. I think Mom had a thing for Roosevelt at the time.”

Hunter’s eyes watched him cautiously--they could change from forest canopy to those of a hawk’s in a moment’s notice--but her lips did not hesitate to curl into a smile. “That’s a dumb joke.” She told him, smile still plain on her face--evidence of her amusement in the words her husky voice marked as a failed humor. It was plainly and deliberately a lie. Hunter had learned a wariness of men since birth; a childhood that had given her the tools of survival had taught her a more important lesson. Men were not there to look out for her. In her younger years, they were jealous of her ( Jesse, her brother, primary among them ). As puberty hit them and she grew into her looks, they harbored an emotion much more dangerous than jealousy--something that fell somewhere between LUST and entitlement. The boys in the compound inherited her father’s belief that the world owed something to them and the girls in the compound--they didn’t factor into the ‘them’ that was owed. It was that simple. If the escape into the real world following the banishment of her sickly mother had taught her anything, it was that this phenomenon was not unique to the compound. It had spread as widely as the virus that had surely reanimated the dead. “It was sorta intended to.” Hunter smirked, chuckling darkly at the meaning behind her own words. “My mother taught me that Theodore Roosevelt was an impressive man.” It remained to be seen if the man before her was made of the same manner of stuff. “Theo suits you as well, I think. Theodore seems a mite formal.” Despite his niceties, there was a grit to the man before her. It was what had intrigued her long enough to stay. Men with soft words and rough hands interested her more than all manner of other folks.

#p: theodore langley

conflictinghands

📖 hunter

EVER WONDER WHAT MY MUSE SAYS ABOUT YOURS?

@coolhcnds

📖 for what my muse would write about yours in their diary.

Since it had already begun, Jac figured that she could continue with it whenever she felt the muse for it. The easiest and fastest way to lose interest in attempting to run a journal would be to push it, act as though every day had something she wanted to report back to her own confidante about. In reality, it would probably become a coping mechanism. A place to let all her troubles and worries and what else could be occupying her mind out in a healthy manner, to be able to see it written before her rather than jumbled up in an overwhelming mess in her head.

So one would think it would obtain entries of importance, psychological inklings from a “doctor’s” mind, maybe even plans and blueprints for ideas that she harbored without intent to share to the leader for fear of stepping on toes. The reality of the matter was that she know sat on an exam cot and doodled aimlessly on the margins, knowing what she really wanted to write about, but did she really want it spelled out for her?

❝ To begin, I’m aware that SHE can take care of herself. 100%. That doesn’t mean that I still don’t worry that there is that slight off-chance that something BAD could happen to her. I mean, she is out there alone. What if it’s not even a matter of the rotters getting to her, or even Raiders — where does she sleep? Does she have enough food? What if she injured herself, and now the wound is infected, but she thinks she can handle a little pain and a little pus and it will go away on its own, when in fact, sepsis will occur and then she dies? I know this is all so far-fetched, and I am projecting my own self-esteem on Hunter. I am asking all these questions and letting my imagination run wild because I know that if I was alone out there in the woods and on my own that I would perish. Hell, I would have died long ago if not by the grace of others. So how does she do it? How can she flourish whereas I would wilt? I guess I mean to say that she’s interesting. A person I could never be. ❞

#( this is so sweet??#wow i love it )#∘⡊➵ every wound forms a scar ` that tells the story ( i survived ) — mentions #( tempjacquelinetag )#q.

📝 huan :))

∘⡊➵ MEMES // SEND ME 📝 AND MY MUSE WILL REVEAL THEIR THOUGHTS ABOUT YOUR MUSE.

Their first impression: hunter was immediately suspicious of huan–some dark hearted girl who followed eden home. she wasn’t fond of her, but kept the sentiment to herself lest she hurt the feelings of eden.Their current impression: hunter has…mixed feelings about huan. she’s clearly not one for heroics or being like a decent person? but hunter cares about her and despite huan’s protests and awkward innuendos, she thinks huan cares about her too. What they like the most about your muse: she’s brave and strong. she can trust her to take care of herself in a fight. hunter, probably mistakenly, trusts that huan really cares for her. What they dislike the most about your muse: her flagrant heartlessness.What your muse is for them ( Friend, lover, rival ecc.): friend?A general opinion of their relationship: if hunter could form a general opinion about this relationship, it would be very impressive. she doesn’t really know how she feels about huan, but she likes having her around anyway ( it’s not home if she’s not walking on eggshells around somebody ).If applicable, something they wish to reveal: a genuine connection?? she’d love to have a heart to heart, but that would be…weird? and gross?? and it will never happen bc neither of them would ever play

#homebcdy #∘⡊➵ i am a war and you ` my darling are chaos — huan zhang #∘⡊➵ what the woods whispers to itself — memes #∘⡊➵ shot an arrow in your harbor ` where you waited in the rain — answers