lost lioness

Daddy, always told me I was born a fighter; I never knew I'd have to actually do it for my life.

[sudaul]

[criistrod-blog]

remainingelijah:

It would be easy to attack the world – to never let anyone be close. If that were the path Elijah had chosen to travel along, he would have been dead on the side of the road from people who were just like him. Ruthless and unforgiving, taking from the weak. He couldn’t blame them for doing what they did. They wanted to survive. What bothered Elijah about their tactic was they were fighting on the wrong side of the battle. If the human race was going to survive, they needed to look past primitive actions and use their head. But Elijah wasn’t going to waste his breath on deaf ears. Those who were willing to listen would comply and those who didn’t were going to bring trouble greater than it was worth. Elijah wanted to believe the calm that had washed over the museum would last. Doing so would make him foolish and that was the last trait Elijah needed to possess. Cristine’s shoulders rolled back with ease and Elijah smiled gently to himself. He couldn’t blame her for having her defenses up. He wore a number of masks to prevent himself from cracking, to prevent himself from becoming a target. If no one had anything on him, they wouldn’t be able to hurt him. Though Cristine was different for she had already seen an intimate side of him. They were not starting on the same playing ground as they were with the rest of the survivors. The presence of the other was familiar and it was not harsh or uninviting. In a way, it undid some of the knots from Elijah’s muscles, lifted some of the weight from his chest.

Elijah didn’t take offense when Cristine pulled the bags closer to her. She hadn’t been expecting him. He probably would have done the same. When she finally offered them, Elijah slung the heavier one over his shoulder and gestured towards the museum. The sooner her items were tucked away, the better. “Don’t worry about it. Having a place to stay after so long is weird. I’m used to the truck and being ready to go.” He hoped they wouldn’t have to make a run for it soon. Searching for shelter was always one of the most difficult parts of staying alive. Anything could happen and anyone could show up. “I’m alright, just gathering what I can to help us all out. There’s a lot of stuff out there – that’s for sure.” He paused then, his gaze shifting to Cristine. “You sure you’re okay?”

Okay, no one was really okay these days, there was just so much damage and trauma after what had happened to the world. It was a dark place and all it did was take and take and take and take and take then give nothing back in return but pain and suffering. Cristine hated it, this place had taken the single most important thing in her life from her and from then on it was just a constant struggle of trying to find a way to preoccupy her mind from wandering to her sorrow. The woman was so sure that if she gave into that sorrow she would surely die from the grief, she would lose her mind if she completely accepted the death of her son. So she looked for comfort and distraction where she could find it. Elijah had been where she found it. Yet the man was far too sweet for his own good, she soon became attached and in the most innocent of manners; companionship. Cris would not have gotten as far as she had without the man she’d found beaten and left for dead, but she had a feeling that it was much the same for him as well. 

He was a comfort even when she didn’t want him to be, that was dangerous and Cristine knew it, if anything happened to the man who so kindly took the heaviest bag from her Cristine wasn’t sure what she would do. There had been so much that she had lost and the woman was just a feather away from snapping. But for now she’d accept his silent and unknown offer to distract her from such thoughts and feelings, from the fact that the last thing that her son had ever touched was tucked under her arm. The woman took a deep breath and exhaled slowly before speaking finally. “Yeah, I’m sure I’m okay--- I just, probably need a good nights rest but that’s well, you know, a rarity in itself.” Cris finished before she nudged Elijah lightly and offered a reassuring smile to the man. 

Soon she locked up the vehicle and started her way up the steps towards the museum, this was their home now and she was like Elijah in the sense that she too was still used to the truck, having to pack up and go at a moments notice. This was completely different and it almost felt like it could be a home, but that was wishful thinking and she wouldn’t have it, no matter how much she wanted it. “I came here once when I was little, y’know.... I was nine and it was my dream to see the big apple, a country girls first dose of the big city and this is where my Daddy brought me our first day here... Never thought I’d see it again let alone like this.” Cris commented, more so trying to make conversation than being a stick in the mud. Realizing she might have expressed too much she shot Elijah a glance before giving him a small look of apology for reminiscing, which really she didn’t have to, but the woman felt it was too much to speak of ones past in a time like this--- even if it did help sometimes. Damn, she was a fucking mess. 

[criistrod-blog]

🔫 & 🔫 reverse

send me a 🔫 and my muse will be shot in front of yours. &  send me a  ‘ 🔫 reverse’ for my muse’s reactions to yours being shot

Chaos, it was an ever spinning circle to which everyone was cast into without even wanting to be there in the first place. Death accompanied chaos on her outings and this one was no different than any other they had found Cristine in, rushing to someone’s aid in the midst of everything that was going on. A battlefield, more or less, between the living and the dead, between the united and the desolate ones who wanted what they had. It was a vicious circle bathed in crimson and tears. 

But Cristine didn’t have time to think of anything but the crimson that was escaping the person she was tending to. If the screams and gunfire was not enough to boggle a normal persons mind then it surely would accomplish that for the ER nurse who was now scrambling to patch up this individual with the best of her materials and efforts. Just when she thought she had lost herself there was another set of hands there, a Doctors hands and without even looking up Cristine knew it was Tobias. She’d never tell him but the woman had studied the others hands whenever they worked together, something she found odd on her own but now she was thankful for the familiarity of those hands. They were hands that had taught her new things without him even uttering a word to her, now that she was thinking about it Cristine found it strange in her own right. But as they finished helping the person who was now being hauled away Cristine was more than just thankful for him. 

It was a split second and intense heat that broke her focus, confused the nurse glanced down to where the heat was originating only to be shocked by the fact she had been shot. But that wasn’t the end of the pain, no, the bullets started to bite through the air more aggressively and for whatever reason Cristine was reminded of the lesson on Florence Nightingale back in school, how the woman would walk the battlefield and help the wounded soldiers. She was both now, the healer and the wounded. It was good that Tobias was there, however, he wasted no time in coming to her aid but it was only a graze, but the amount of blood that was spilling from her wound was enough to make one think it was really bad. Shaking her head Cristine tried to get Tobias to move because the spray of bullets was getting worse.

                    “I’m fine— it’s just a graze, we gotta get out of h–”

She was cut off from the bullet that she heard buzz past her and find its place in the man that was trying to help her. A gasped out groan left her lips as the crimson started to spread through his shirt already and Cris was putting aside her own pain and released her side to push down on the wound. Oh how she’d gotten bad at this, caring about someone and not being able to keep her calm in the moment. It just brought back far too many memories of the loss of her son, how the blood made her hands all slippery making it difficult for her to even breath let along press down on the wound properly

                  “Shit— shit, shit! Hey, no, it’s okay. It’s fine, you’re fine.                    I have this, just don’t move okay? I’m gonna get you                    outta here, just don’t fucking move.”

Maybe if she repeated the words don’t move it would take back what had happened, hell, she’d told Charles that so many times even after his body had gone motionless for good. Shock was a bitch on its own but to a nurse who had lost the most important person in her life with one bullet it was more of a traumatic experience. 

But she’d save him, she had to, Cristine wasn’t as useless as she often felt. Soon help came and they were both protected from the deadly damage of the bullets and the two wounded healers were taken back to a more safe environment where they both were tended to— if only Cris could breath from the panic that had swelled within her, if only she could clear her mind like she was trained to do as a nurse. If only.

[gallagherista]

[criistrod-blog]

remainingelijah:

If it weren’t for Cristine, his last breath may have taken place on the side of the road. He remembered the beating in a series of pain and darkness. Each kick was harder. Each punch broke another bone. His gun had been thrown aside and the gang took their sweet time to leave their message behind. They were taking the car. They didn’t have to take his life in the process. Elijah wouldn’t have done anything. He was outnumbered and his odds were drastically lowered when his weapon was taken from him. It didn’t matter how vulnerable he was. The gang was vicious, as if they had to prove something to a higher power. Elijah wanted to find help, but every part of him hurt and his vision wouldn’t stop spinning. It seemed like a dream when Elijah thought about where he was now. He was in one piece, his wounds healed. He was a map of scars, though Elijah didn’t care so much about what he looked like under his clothes. He had to survive somehow and it wasn’t as if many people saw him without clothes. If they did, he wondered if they would be surprised by how many markings he acquired or if they were all equally as marred. The deepest traumas were in Elijah’s mind. Nightmares, shaking, an ability to fall asleep. It was like rolling a die, each side with a new symptom to torment the man.  He wanted to be free of the chains. His wishing however fell on deaf ears. There was no one to save him other than himself.

He shook the thoughts away as he exited the museum and saw Cris by the truck they had used to get to New York. He closed the distance between them, figuring he’d help her with whatever bags remained. The sharpness of her voice caught him off guard. He wasn’t used to an edge there. “Easy solider,” he hummed, standing in her line of her sight. “It’s only me. I wanted to ask if you needed help.” A small smile tugged at Elijah’s lips. “You okay, Cris?”

Elijah, was the last person Cristine had expected, this world didn’t have any room for gentle people and kind hearts-- Cris had learned that the hard way and she knew that Elijah had learned it as well, yet somehow they had found more in one another than the woman had ever thought possible. None of this was how anything was supposed to be, she had plans for her life, she had plans for her sons life-- there was so much that she wouldn’t get to do all because of what had happened to the world. Everything had gone to shit and Cristine didn’t even have a chance to fully appreciate what she had, now--- now it was just all GONE and she didn’t know what she was supposed to do, more so, Cristine didn’t know who she was supposed to be. 

Her words caught in her throat, the tension easing from her shoulders a bit before she took a deep breath, her traveling companions tone calming her down a bit more than she was even willing to admit. Shifting back a step she cleared her throat, chocolate gaze dropping almost in shame for being so guarded--- so god damn damaged, then again, they all were damaged and broken somehow. Some more than others and some in different ways, but all together, they were shattered pieces of what they used to be, Cristine no more than anyone else. 

The bags were pulled closer to her body at the offer of help and inquiry of her well being, it was a protective stance, not that she didn’t trust Elijah, hell out of all the people there Cristine probably trusted him the most. It was just out of habit, out of instinct. “Sorry--” She waved a hand at the building that he had just come out of before Cris exhaled and eased up on the bags she’d pulled closer to her body. Letting him have the heavier of the bunch as she nodded to confirm that she was indeed okay-- which very well could have been a lie. “Yeah, I’m okay, just... y’know, a new place-- still trying to get used to the new scenery--- How are you doing?” Automatically switching gears Cris let her dark gaze shift over Elijah, assessing and motherly as always. It was her way of coping, of making herself feel better-- of staying fucking sane. 

[ianmickgallagher]

[criistrod-blog]

ianmickgallagher:

(insp.)

[naruto-roleplayers-den-deactiva]

send me a 🔫 and my muse will be shot in front of yours.

[scaredandhungry-archived]

TRIGGER WARNING. ( or: send me a  ‘ 🔫 reverse’ for my muse’s reactions to yours being shot )

[voicelessconfessions-deactivate]

[crisroe-blog]

What Doesn’t Kill You Makes, You Wish You Were Dead | | Self- Para

[criistrod-blog]

crisroe:

“She also understood there was a hole in her heart where her son should be, that she was a wicked, selfish woman for wishing him back.”                    ― Shannon Celebi, Driving Off Bridges 

                                     [music]

Keep reading

[oneeyedandlost]

[criistrod-blog]

noticingtheunnoticed:

(insp.)

[carefullytangled]

Visit Original Link

[criistrod-blog]

dysturbian:

She Used To Be Mine | Sara Bareilles

[hayleydeep]

Visit Original Link

[criistrod-blog]

City And Colour // Like Knives

[chasethenightmares]

[unpious-blog]

ahs : asylum sentence starters.

[criistrod-blog]

assumeworst:

❛   i do hope you know what you are in for. the loneliness, the heartbreak, the sacrifice you will face as a woman with a dream on her own. ❛ 

❛   you don’t have any idea of what i’m capable of.   ❛  

❛   just remember- if you look in the face of evil, evil’s gonna look right back at you.   ❛   

❛   well, hot damn.   ❛  

❛   you know how this goes. you make a sound, i bash your face in.   ❛  

❛   there is no god, but there is a santa claus!   ❛  

❛   nutmeg makes all the difference in the world.   ❛  

❛   mental illness is the fashionable explanation for sin.    ❛  

❛   all monsters are human.   ❛  

❛   god always answers our prayers… it’s just rarely the answer we’re looking for.   ❛  

❛   i’m blessed with the gift of total clarity.   ❛   

❛   i see you found my little… hobby.   ❛ 

❛   one day, i’ll bury you.   ❛  

❛   i always wanted to know what it was like inside the mind of a killer. now I know.   ❛

❛   you think i’m crazy? oh wait, that’d be you.   ❛

❛   i’m goddamn plucky, remember?   ❛

❛   this is a mercy killing.   ❛

❛   i am tough. but i’m no cookie.   ❛

❛   we are vultures. attracted to the scent of rotting meat.   ❛

❛   lies are like scars on your soul. they destroy you.   ❛

❛   let’s get this over with, shall we?   ❛

❛   that’s not what i’m hungry for.   ❛

❛   the world is wrong.   ❛

❛   there is no god. not a god who would create the things i saw.   ❛

❛   self-doubt is a sure sign of sanity.   ❛

❛   you are one sick twist.   ❛

❛    i don’t believe in god. but I believe in evil. i have seen it up close and personal.    ❛

❛   you have no idea what it means to have lost you.   ❛

❛   you can shave me bald as a cue ball   &   i’d still be the hottest tamale in this joint.   ❛ 

❛   shall i kiss you   &   make this all go away?   ❛ 

❛   don’t worry, she won’t bite. i took her teeth.     ❛

❛   under all that piousness   &   fidelity, there’s a real darkness.   ❛

[criistrod-blog]

With a small grunt Cristine tugged the duffle bag from the back of the Trailblazer she had arrived in, the bag held all her belongings the only things she could call her own now. She still didn’t know what she was doing here, or why, there really wasn’t much she had to live for anymore. At least that was what she thought, she wasn’t even sure if her brother and sister were still alive. They had only been separated for half a moment but that was long enough for Cristine to not only lose her entire world but for her siblings to get lost. Sometimes she felt it wasn’t enough, the hope she had in this horrible world, as sad as that might have been, it was just difficult for her, especially since it was only a short while ago since she had lost her son.

Pulling the strap of her bag onto her shoulder Cristine was about to close the trunk when she saw it, the red and blue checker board backpack with yellow straps. Her breath caught in her throat and it was taking everything in her to not burst into tears right then and there. Gingerly she reached out and took the bag in her hands and pulled it closer, a lump rising in her throat as her chest began to ache. It was far too soon and she should have gotten rid of this thing before now. The only thing it would accomplish was making her grief even more difficult to get rid of, or rather, harder to ignore. Cristine had to admit that every night she woke up calling his name to be sure he was alright only to find that he wasn’t there, reliving the horror of losing him all over again. Just holding his bag now was like reliving that horrible day when the bandits took her son from her, as if the world wasn’t already a shit hole, they had to make it worse for her. Even though the world was shit and Cristine had lost her parents and the life she knew before, at least she had her son. But now all of that was gone and although she believed her siblings to be alive she knew that Charles, her son, was not. She’d been there when they had ripped the life from the child and it was the day her world actually ended.

Sniffling softly Cristine regained her composure, shooting a glance over her shoulder before she tucked the bag gently under her arm, as if doing anything to it would be a sin. Clearing her throat she slammed shut the trunk door and shook her head, wiping at her eyes with her sleeve before she realized someone else was there and her defenses went up automatically. “Can I help you with something?” She half demanded, her tone a little more bristled than she wanted but Cris hoped it did the job done of warding the person off.

[buenotastv]

[jenytrindade]