death's door.

&.  mama, take this badge off of me, i can't use it anymore. it's gettin' dark, too dark to see, i feel i'm knockin' on heaven's door. mama, put my guns in the ground, i can't shoot them anymore. that long black cloud is comin' down, i feel i'm knockin' on heaven's door.

[deathdoors]

@devourstars​   /   She enters the Apolskis house with a clatter, the door slamming behind her and car keys swinging around her finger. Shes are kicked off haphazardly, and her backpack is dropped to the ground with a thump — she doesn’t even live here anymore, but that won’t stop her. She notices baby brother sitting in the living room, and opts to resist the urge to hurl the keys at him ... instead launching herself over the back of the couch to sit next to him.  “  Hey shitbrain,  ”  She flicks his arm. 

     Kitty had never particularly grown out of the childish behaviors older siblings tended to exhibit towards younger, though if you asked her in this particular circumstance, he deserved it.  “  Any reason you stood me up for lunch today ?  All alone in a food court. I looked pathetic.  ”  Compatible shifts at the mall often resulted in brief moments of sibling bonding.  “  Hot date ? Or do you just hate your poor sister ?   ”  Probably homophobic, she would remind him.

[deathdoors]

apolskis, julian.

HE’S NOT ANXIOUS. and with the buffer of marijuana—all edge was removed, leaving the boy without cares. except for a couple. somehow, through the fog of drug - induced hunger, concern manages to weasel its way in. if only in bits and pieces. it spoils the high nonetheless. a fact supposedly agreed on when pippa takes tone. even if the response he offers is much less grounded—more humoured. a laugh, and he snags the blunt.

          ❛     fraternising?     ❜

was the word AMUSING on its own or did the CIRCUMSTANCES act the reason for his reaction. he couldn’t say. and neither did it matter much. another inhale, kept, then exhaled.

          ❛     i don’t know—it’s not like she’d wanna know, right? ignorance is bliss…     ❜

     She stares up at the ceiling. Maybe ignorance was bliss — after all, maybe they’d all have been better off with no one being anyone the wiser on the forever ago party that had seemingly ruined her life. Correction: they definitely would have been better off knowing, and Pippa fucked herself over, not any amount of alcohol or weed or self loathing. Julian Apolskis seemed to be her only consolation prize, and, even though she was warming up to him ... well, the trade off hardly seemed fair, considering a rift between her and Chelsea and being entirely broken off from Kevin.

     “   Hm. Maybe she wouldn’t. Until I start talking about offing myself long enough for your dick to get hard in a moment of bonding.  ”   He’s only gotten a chance for one hit before she reaches over and snatches the blunt back from him. She’s joking, and that’s clear, but that little drop of guilt that festers in her at even mentioning it means she needs to be much higher. 

[deathdoors]

whelan, thomas.

         we’re good. tom wants so badly to believe her, but something deep in his ( diseased ) lizard brain is telling him otherwise. danger! danger! DANGER! is the steady mantra flashing in between his ears like a big, neon sign. it doesn’t help that he feels trapped in the stuffy, crowded ( no thanks to him ) supermarket, but it appears that the feeling is shared by his newfound companion. or maybe she’s just tired of him making a scene. that seems a bit more likely. whatever the case, she tosses a bill at the cashier ( a small, lucid part of him almost balks… a twenty?! ) and leads him out of the automatic doors.

         exiting into the parking lot is of little comfort, but it does get rid of the sting of the florescent lights ( and of the people leering at him when they thought he couldn’t see ) and give him a breath of fresh air. he plops on the bench beside her, rigid and uncomfortable. the added quiet of the outdoors has only encouraged his inner struggle. he feels pinpricks up his spine, like spiders burrowing into his flesh. ( TRACKER. ) a hoarse whisper goads from somewhere left of him. or is it right? he doesn’t have the mental fortitude to disagree. it probably is one. someone from the store must have done it. he snakes an arm up the back of his shirt, trying to claw at the intrusion, but it’s higher up than he can reach. all for the best. he would have torn a hole in his back if he’d been able to find it.

         he jumps when pippa finally speaks, pulling his ( now sore ) arm back around to sit in his lap. so caught up with delusion he forgot someone real was with him. ❝ what? oh…  no, no, i don’t smoke. thanks. ❞ maybe he should start. no, he doesn’t trust himself around fire. or much of anything, for that matter. ❝ thanks for, um… helping, ❞ he continues, finally turning to face her. the not-so-subtle taste of blood fills his mouth. makes his teeth feel too big in his mouth. ❝ but, um… ❞ ( take it. YOU NEED IT. ) he swallows. ❝ you don’t have to, um… stick around, or anything. if you don’t want to. ❞

      Pippa looks at Tom sideways and through narrowed eyes, taking a long drag from her cigarette. He looks ... nervous, but not in the sense of a panic attack at a crowded store. Flighty and twitchy, like he’s only perched on the bench and about to take flight. Or run in front of a car. She feels bad for him, really, because while he’s jumpy and clawing and she doesn’t know that, she knows what it feels like to be on the verge of hysterical panic. Hers are usually choked sobbing sessions or fits of rage, more self-destructive and self-loathing than something that would make her a victim of circumstance, like he seems. But she doesn’t know him, not really. Maybe he’s tripping on something. 

     Her eyes narrow when he tells her she doesn’t have to stay, and she exhales more smoke.  “  Like I have anywhere better to be.  ”  She says matter-of-factly, though it sounds more wry and annoyed than it does genuine. She doesn’t have anywhere better to be than in a parking lot with her ex-best friend’s ex-boyfriend who just threw a — at least, from Pippa’s view — acid trip temper tantrum in the middle of the grocery store. That’s fucking SAD for her. As for Tom, well, he’d always seemed a little strange, when Kevin dated him, so there’s another little pang of sympathy there. Okay, so maybe he wasn’t tripping on something.

   “  Are you, like ... okay ?  ”  She asked him. She looks away from him now, staring out at the cars passing them by, and the ones in the lot. There’s a housewife loading groceries into the back of a minivan, toddlers at her heels, a couple of college kids sticking bags of chips and six packs into the trunk of their car. Boring, but she doesn’t exactly want to stare at him. But she feels a little uncomfortable now, and she wishes this was a joint instead of a cigarette, or that it was vodka in the bag instead of Coca Cola. Maybe she should offer to drive him home, or something. 

[deathdoors]

whelan, thomas.

         distantly, he can recognize that he’s just verbalized something that he shouldn’t have. maybe not so distantly. but despite the apology he tried to give out, he’s struggling to bring himself back to where he needs to be. just left of reality. somewhere where, whatever he has to deal with hissing in his ear, he can at the very least keep it to himself. this isn’t keeping it to himself. this is letting it leak out like water through poorly-kept pipes, full and close to bursting. much like his brain right now — has he always had such a terrible headache?

         there’s enough whispering going on that he can’t quite place where it’s coming from. is it the small crowd of people, or just some stray radiowaves hunting for him? maybe they’ve finally done it, finally poisoned him, and that’s why he feels so sick to his stomach. or maybe it’s the timing. maybe he hasn’t done enough to keep that monster at bay. his mind latches onto the idea like a hand around his throat, tightening his airways nearly to the point of suffocation. what if it’s both?

         someone is talking to him. someone who doesn’t get right up to his ear and start screaming like some horrible, twisted monster. ❝ what? ❞ he swallows, tries to force his guts from climbing up out of his throat. ❝ out—yeah, i don’t… want to be here, anymore. ❞ the lights are too bright, the sounds too loud, and yet… he feels dull. like he’s stepped out of himself. if only he could. on second thought, maybe he does that too much. maybe part of his problem is that he can’t spend enough time wearing his own skin.

         ironically, it isn’t until after he agrees that he actually recognizes who he agreed to go with. rookie mistake. shouldn’t he be better than that? at least it’s someone he doesn’t think is going to take him to some underground bunker and pull at his insides until they start making sense. the thought sends another wave of nausea crashing over him, but his mind makes a jump to another problem, instead. ❝ do… i didn’t buy anything. do you think they’ll be mad at me? ❞

     Pippa isn’t equipped for this — then again, she’s not equipped for much. She’s clever, even smart, but lazy. A life of luxury has lead her to dead end after dead end in terms of motivation, but luckily enough for her and for Tom, this requires more quick thinking and the boldness to say fuck it to a security guard and walk out of the store than it does a manual on how to handle a supermarket meltdown.

   “   I bought shit. We’re good.  ”  She promises. It’s not true, though there’s a bag cradled in her arms. She considers walking out with it, but considering how stressed out Tom looks and how annoyed the crowd looks at their drawn attention, she instead opts for struggling to grab a twenty dollar bill out of her wallet – more than enough for barren grocery bag, and with a sneer at the dickish clerk she hands it to, and then they’re leaving, the whoosh of automatic doors closing behind them.  It’s quieter in the parking lot, somehow, only the sound of cars rolling by on asphalt and the slight breeze. She sits down on the bench directly outside sighing deeply and looking up at him as she digs in her purse. She can’t tell if he feels any better with fresh air. 

   “   You want one ?  ”  She pats the spot on the bench next to her, speaking through lips held tight to hold cigarette between them before she reaches to light the end of it.  “  There’s also coke in the bag, if you don’t smoke. A-cola, not caine.  ”  Is this the right thing to do ? He still looks lost, but maybe it’s like an anxiety attack, and could be cured with a little nicotine, or he’s in diabetic shock or something, and needs some sugar. Her face is placid, lying in wait of response, but there is a little concern in her eyes — she knows Tom well enough to not want him to run out into the slow moving traffic of the parking lot, but she doesn’t know him well enough to know what the fuck is going on. 

[deathdoors]

apolskis, julian.

the sudden change of heart is suspected to be ALARMING to the other—then again, weren’t most things? but with no more convincing needed, julian’s own concerns dissipate. a path chosen and followed, there wasn’t much else needed from him. except added instructions… slow and steady wins the race. a glance tossed the way of teddy, a grin threatens—only kept at bay by the anxiety it’d surely increase.

         ❛     that’s for me to know and for you to DOT, DOT, DOT—     ❜

no better, was it? julian really should be more CAREFUL with theodore larsen. yet he feels a compulsive need to antagonise. in a light - hearted way, which to him meant next to nothing. surely the point of view of teddy was to differ from his own. still… 

          ❛     you trust me. don’t you, teddy?     ——     left.     ❜

     teddy wasn’t good at spontaneity  —  but if there was one thing he could do, it was follow along with the crowd. or in this case, juli. a lack of confidence had plagued him for many years, and maybe, he thinks, it all lead up to him driving somewhere he didn’t know because someone else told him too. like the world’s safest hostage situation, he thinks. but instead of a gun to his back and someone in a mask telling him to floor it, it’s just juli in his passenger seat and teddy’s unchecked need to impress his peers. maybe, definitely the band specifically.

     “    of ... — yeah, i - i, of course i trust you.   ”  teddy says, nodding, eyes glued to the road. he turns left. 

     does he? he has to think about how well he knows juli. he trusts him enough to think he isn’t driving to his own death, maybe, but ... as much as he considers julian apolskis to be his friend, teddy does wonder if it’s reciprocated. if maybe this is less a bonding moment, and more some kind of prank. it wasn’t like there was a long list of people that wanted to hang out with him. he keeps driving anyway. 

[deathdoors]

apolskis, julian.

@deathdoors​ !!

a blunt passed :     smoke clouds his vision, and julian falls back into the couch. it is softer than his own. more expensive too. although he figures just about everything in this room alone could pay for their mortgage. and then some. it makes her an unlikely companion. but not impossible. after everything they’d gone through—the good and the bad (mostly bad)—friendship sprouted like spring flowers in the cracks of pavement. so, there he was. in her living room where he wasn’t supposed to be, getting high when he wasn’t supposed to be.

           ❛     isn’t it wrong if i feel really bad about it?     ❜

     as usual, her parents weren’t home, and the large home the espina family lived in felt a little lonelier. as usual, she was high, and as usual, julian apolskis had somehow managed to worm his way into her day’s plans the second it involved being under the influence. it wasn’t that she didn’t like spending time with him — in fact, he wasn’t nearly as terrible as she’d originally though. but that didn’t exactly make her feel good about their interactions. nothing was technically wrong, they were allowed to be friends. but still: it wasn’t like they were exactly advertising their companionship to chelsea, even if she didn’t necessarily have a right to know.

     she inhales with expert ease before she looks at him through lazy eyes, half annoyed.   “   what, are you afraid about mommy catching you smoking at one in the afternoon, or chelsea catching you fraternizing with me ?   ”   she takes this opportunity to blow smoke in his direction after another exhale. 

[meme-archive]

send me a ❖ + a question and my muse will be forced to tell the truth.

[warfear]

indieresource​:

SEND ME A SHIP AND I’LL TELL YOU ─

where was their first date ?: what my muse would do to cheer your’s up: who wakes the other up with kisses ( and where ) ?: who would pour water on the other to wake them up ?: how my muse would wake your’s up: who would start a food fight while baking or cooking ?: who would suggest putting marijuana in the brownies ?: who said i love you first and how ( or when ) did they say it ?: who would get into a physical altercation over the other ?: who insists on purchasing a pet together ( and what kind of pet ) ?: who is louder ( in and out of bed ) ?: who takes more risks ( in and out of bed ) ?: who would bring up the word ‘daddy’ first ?:  what is their shared, favourite kink ?: describe their typical kiss: how my muse shows their love for your’s: their favourite ways to give affection: who is more dominate ?: who sings in the shower ?: who washes the other’s hair in the shower ?: who initiates shower sex despite being in a rush ?: who teases the other under the table at dinner with the family ?:  who has the weirder taste in music ?: who would initiate dancing in the rain ?: who would be the one to suggest marriage ?: what would they name their children ?: who would their children take after more ?:

[warfear]

fruityrpmemes-blog​:

send me a # to learn an unusual hc about my muse!

bonus points if you ask me to randomize it !

what’s your muse’s favorite album of all time / favorite artist?

how do they listen to their music? ipod, mp3, computer, cd, records, etc?

do they take baths or showers? do they prefer one over the other?

do they wear their hair down when they sleep, or tied up / braided?

how many blankets / pillows do they like to have on their bed?

what do they normally dream about? nightmares or nonsense?

do they wake up groggy or alert? do they like mornings?

what do they sleep in? pj’s, normal clothes, nothing?

what do they smell like? do they use perfume or cologne?

what shampoo scent do they like the best and why?

bar soap or liquid? do they like loofahs?

do they prefer sleeping alone or with someone else?

do they like the room cold or hot when they sleep?

do they stay up too late? do they like staying up?

do they know how to drive? do they like to drive?

do they prefer taxis / buses / subways, etc? or none of the above?

do they have pets? what kind? dogs, cats, etc?

do they prefer cats or dogs? or neither?

what are their phobias? do they have any at all?

what do they hate being teased about? are they teased often?

did they have any fears growing up that they’ve since conquered?

do they have a fear they want to conquer, but haven’t yet?

how do they show fear? sweating, shaking, blankness, anger, etc?

do they have a short temper? what’s most likely to set it off?

do they get scared easily? does loud noises, shouting, etc, scare them?

what are they most passionate about? what could they debate about for hours?

what do they never, ever want to speak of, ever?

do they have kids? do they want kids? if so, how many?

is there something they’d like to change about themselves physically?

is there something about their personality they want to change?

do they have good fashion sense? or do they just wear whatever?

do they critique others easily? do they judge from afar?

are they too hard on themselves over the little things?

are they the jealous type? what are they most likely to be jealous of?

are they possessive over their things? or over other people? both?

would they rather be alone or in a relationship?

what do they think about polyamorous relationships? would they do it?

do they have parents / parental figures? do they have a good relationship with them?

do they have siblings? if so, how many? do they like them?

do they have a big family or a small family? no family?

where would they want to live if they could live anywhere? why?

are they happy in their current living situation? why or why not?

do they like living alone or with another person / other people?

did they go to college, or are they attending? did / do they like it?

what’s their dream job / profession? do they have one?

if they could control one thing in the world, what would it be?

do they like tv shows or movies? or neither?

do they have social media? do they like it or hate it? obsess over it?

do they have a creative outlet? if so, what is it?

where do they see themselves in 2 / 5 / 10 years?

[deathdoors]

ant.

On a street flushed with people, Ant clogged the flow of traffic at the glint of something small and shining. As if it’d fallen out of the sky and landed at his feet. He bent at the knees to grab the item, squinting at the little iridescent glass atop of a metal circle. A ring, in the middle of the street. “ I’ll be…. ” Slowly, Ant closed his fist around it and rose to his full height, catching up with the nearest random who paced past him. “ Excuse me, know anybody lookin’ for a ring? ” 

     She’s not a liar. OR, well — she is a liar, but only about things that benefit her. It’s a good system: honesty is the best policy when it comes to the important things. However: all throughout high school, it was yes, Mrs. Smith, you did collect my test already, and yes, mom, it is Juli’s turn to do the dishes. So when she’s approached by someone, she slips very easily back into dishonesty. But she has morals, STRONG ones, and standards, and ... well, that ring did look nice. Even if it didn’t, she could sell it. Or maybe give it to her mom. That was a moral good, right ?   “  Oh my god, you are a lifesaver !  ”   

     Her smile goes uncharacteristically wide. Think, Kitty, think. What’s a good lie ? What’s a FUNNY lie ?   “   I keep meaning to get it resized. You’d think the man I’ve been dating for three years would ask my ring size before he proposed right ? All this worrying about it falling off not even for a diamond.  ”  In any other conversation, she would dive right into the archaic and patriarchal ownership of women, or you know — not pretend NOT to be a lesbian, but ... well, when a ring falls into your hands ... she sticks out her hands, prepared to take it. 

[deathdoors]

mike.

“what the hell am i supposed to grill if i can’t grill meat? fucking lettuce?” mike huffed, eyes rolling. he wasn’t upset about the whole venison ban, not one for deer meat, really. not enough to care, anyway. but cows? pig? he couldn’t decide if they were taking this too far or not.

     Kitty wouldn’t consider herself to be overbearing. But just because you don’t consider yourself to be something, doesn’t mean you aren’t. So: Kitty Apolskis was overbearing. Headstrong nature revealed itself rather quickly in any situation, and she was most comfortable ( and most headstrong ) when she was standing on a soapbox. Thus: his comment, standing in a rather barren grocery aisle, is met with indignation.  “  You know, all these animals are fucking sick and dying, and you’re most concerned about how you’re going to raise your cholesterol ?  ”   She scoffs, an eyeroll shortly behind, though she seems more sarcastic and haughty than angry.   “  I for one, am delighted that the horrific shit they do to farm animals finally has some consequences for consumers. McDonalds shutting down was like my birthday and every single fucking holiday rolled into one.  ”

[deathdoors]

pippa.

@deathdoors​

WHAT THE FUCK SORT OF COMMUNAL LIVING, hippie bullshit is having a picnic bench in the middle of a cafe meant to do for anyone except make him want to blow his brains out ? but here he is, welcoming fall with a hot chocolate and the rising urge to become another teen suicide statistic. he watches on with disgust, as actual strangers talk to each other, inching himself closer and closer towards the edge of the bench, physically repulsed by the sight. so when pippa takes the last free seat across him, he’s met with a semblance of relief. even though he doesn’t like her, at least he knows her, and the pressure to join whatever anti stranger danger campaign they’re promoting is off. ‘   you know in high school. in the boy’s washroom, someone wrote in sharpie that you’re a hussy. no one even says that anymore. i don’t know why they didn’t just say slut.   ’

     She’s only here because she’s high, and all she wants is some stupid fucking pumpkin pie. She doesn’t even remember the last time she’s had it — but October has barely come, Hallo-fucking-ween hasn’t even arrived yet, and Fort Elms had decided that now is the time to get in the spirit of the season. Warm carafes of coffee on every table at least make the air smell nice, and she’s desperately looking for a table to sit at so she can eat and leave. 

     Okay, well, she has another joint pre-rolled in her purse so she can go back for seconds. But after that, she’s leaving — and the last thing she wants is to get roped into a conversation with Lou Holstad. But then he’s talking to her, and it takes her a few moments to register what he’s even saying.  “  Uh, hi, Lou. I’m fine, thanks. You’re right, it has been a while.  ”   She glowers at him, just to prove a point, even though she doesn’t really care. About pleasantries or about him.  “  I’d throw you back the secrets of the ladies’ rooms gossip on you, but ...  ”  Her face is back to slack indifference. She blinks.  “  You were irrelevant, so.  ”

[deathdoors]

julian.

despite years spent together—they never did hang out much.   without the others, julian could count every instance on two hands.   maybe even one.   but he thinks he knows anyway.   WHO TEDDY IS.   it only takes a moment’s thought to shatter that illusion.   julian can stop to ask himself ONE QUESTION :     however mundane, minuscule, and insignificant, and he’d realise the answer wasn’t ever within his reach.   should they talk more?   does he want them to?   confirming what he did know, teddy feeds into the image already had.   boy scout.   julian replies with a scoff.

❛     yeah, i’ll believe that when i see it.   and probably not even then.     ❜

UNLIKELY he’d ever see such a thing, too.   or would he?   a lightbulb flickering alight, a posture straightens in response.   trees and dim houses pass them by as recognition ignites in the boy, previously uninterested in their surroundings.   not so much anymore.

❛     shit!   no, i know where we’re going now…   okay, next intersection—you make a right.     ❜

     Well, now he’s just more worried than usual. A refusal from Teddy to acknowledge the fact that he’s likely NEVER broken a rule in his life, at least not intentionally — I’ll believe that when I see it. And then Julian Apolskis is suddenly struck with a wonderful idea of where they can go past midnight. It’s almost comically obvious — even someone half as intuitive as one Theodore Larsen would notice that Juli was setting them up for something Teddy would definitely not want to do. 

     Begrudgingly, he turns right.

     His hands grip tighter on the wheel and he can feel that familiar feeling of nausea worming itself inside him, as he tries to lower heart rate that picks up a little. They could be going somewhere that could get them arrested or killed — and while Teddy had never known Juli to be entirely reckless, he knew him to have an anti-authority streak. And Teddy realises he might not just know Juli well enough to know where they’re going. It’s a sad realisation, considering how much attention and care Teddy puts into the band: he really WANTS to be liked by them. But he doesn’t really know them, right? He’s not one of them. 

     “   Where ...  ”  He speaks finally, swallowing the lump in his throat.  “  Where ... where are we going e-eexactly ?  ”

[deathdoors]

tom.

          @deathdoors​ ( for pippa ) !!

        since leaving work, things had… deteriorated. the original plan was to stop by the store ( for something stupid, something easy… something he could shove in a microwave and forget about ) and then head home and hope, by then, that his vicious bout of nausea would be gone. but walking into the store at all has begun to feel like a mistake, the prickle of eyes ( are they real? IS ANYTHING? ) taunting him with every move and the harsh glare of the fluorescents up above making his head throb.

         finding the right aisle, the same one he’s walked by dozens of times by now, is starting to feel impossible. ( it’s changed. they changed it. THEY’RE MESSING WITH YOU. ) someone is screaming in his ears, he can feel their foul breath on the back of his neck, as taunting ( more so ) than the eyes he’s convinced are trailing him.

        ( hey, FREAK. ) stop. ( LOOK AT ME WHEN I’M TALKING TO YOU. ) STOP. ( you know what’s going to happen here, right? YOU KNOW WHY SICKNESS IS TAKING YOU. ) STOP! it comes to a head, he just can’t take it anymore. whirls around to face the haunting figure demanding his attention, eyes wild and unfocused. ❝ SHUT UP! shut the hell up! leave me the fuck alone! ❞ he’s all but foaming at the mouth, ( RABID ) rage clouding his sight more than shadows ever did. it’s short-lived. the vision clears and he’s not facing his imagined enemies, he’s facing someone… more familiar.

         ❝ — sorry, i… ❞ he trails off, collapses against the shelf for support. he’s going to puke, he’s going to puke, he’s going to puke. ❝ i wasn’t… i don’t know what happened. ❞

      Pippa isn’t really a touchy-feely person. She’s not a complete monster: she’s not devoid of empathy, she cares about people ( those she loves, and, maybe unexpectedly, as a whole ) but sometimes paying attention to who needs it, and remembering it isn’t about deserving it is hard. So when she sees people staring and hears a commotion in the grocery aisle, there’s  quick spike of rage in her. Probably some bratty kid throwing a tantrum or idiot getting caught shoplifting ... and then she sees someone familiar, as she rounds the corner, and suddenly she’s angry for a different reason.

     She didn’t really KNOW Tom that well — but Kevin did. Pippa was always hyper-critical of her friends’ boyfriends and crushes, a natural response to loving them and, well ... being a critical person. She’d noticed he was ... sensitive, for lack of a NICER term she could place a finger on the definition of. And while, realistically thinking, she probably had been a little too critical of him — he’d always been nice to her. So that empathy in her: it’s ignited, and she doesn’t have to remind herself it’s not about deserve, because if anyone deserves it, it’s Tom.

     “   Fuck off maybe ?   ”  She hisses as she brushes past a grocery clerk who’s staring rather rudely, her middle finger serving as a second dismissal to the mother and her two children down the aisle, also looking on. The clerk mumbles something about security into his walkie talkie, and Pippa refocuses on Tom. She’s not good at this kind of thing: he looks like he’s about to be sick, pale and sweaty and bewildered, and she looks a little surprised too. 

     “   Do you wanna go outside or something ? The manager here is a blow-hard, and he’ll probably flip over this. I got kicked out for stealing a People Magazine.   ”   Her words don’t change from their usual phrasing, but her voice is quieter, to speak just to him, and maybe a little softer. Because even if she’s an asshole — she’s falling apart right now too, albeit very differently. If all else fails, she can just abandon him in the parking lot. 

[deathdoors]

natalie.

Pippa’s shift in tone, is a miniature whiplash.   (   the sounds of a kicked puppy tenfold were hard to power past.   )   Her smile wilts, faint concern tugging at the edges of pursed lips. It’s not pity  ― NEVER pity; it felt too deep a betrayal.  ― but some distant cousin. 

“     honest ?     “

Her head cocks in deep consideration. Her life was something akin to a bullet train ― sure there were trees, buldings, cow-shit … all the accoutrement of a small life, it’s highs and lows, but it was a BLUR in the windows. She never looked anywhere but ahead.   (   everywhere else was too terrifying to consider.   )

“     i don’t really dwell. too much shit to sift through as it is, no point in bothering with whatever i left behind.     “

Her cigarette, haphazardly balanced between two fingers, finds its way back to her lips somewhere near the tailend of her thoughts  ― muffling the word “ behind “. Her smile, temporary misplaced with a thoughtful line, now returns. Impish. 

“     drinking, my tiny friend, is simply a hobby.     “

Natalieland doesn’t have nearly the same ring to it. She shrugs. 

“     flushed a finger the other day … probably going to have to convince kai a few more times that i’m not going to become the fort elms ripper anytime soon. nothing too off-script.     “

     She scoffs, and rolls her eyes — maybe partying, or bar-hopping, or simply moping at the local watering holes were hobbies. But drinking alcohol might as well have been drinking water: it’s day to day, not a time investment. At least, if you asked Pippa.

   “   Uh-huh. And KUMBAYA and all that shit. Only looking forward, live every day as if it’s your last. I bet you leave yourself sticky notes on the mirror to remind yourself how cool you are too.  ”   She’s really in no position to criticize if Nat did, all things considered. One of them was nearly a doctor, and the other ... well, the other was Pippa. 

     She mocks Natalie’s motion of smoking, taking a long drag of her cigarette before she speaks again, face contorted into something like disgust. Hospitals had always freaked her out. Too clean, too clinical. Lots of old people.  “  Ugh, I’m gonna VOMIT. The only time I want to hear something medical if if you’re offering me painkillers you nicked from some hot pharmacist at work. Or if you actually started serial killing. Obviously you know who your first victim is. Snitches, stitches.  ”

[deathdoors]

julian.

FIRE MEETS GASOLINE.   that’s why they couldn’t be friends.   which wasn’t to imply he wanted to be—pippa espina had always represented what he hated most.   vanity, insolence, money…   but while on the WARPATH, julian found kinship.   and attachment.   because was what a party without banter over a blunt?   without snide comments and harsh digs?   she’s there, therefor he has to care.   it is the way he is, and regretfully so.   meaning that on the GUILT - TRIP taken over chelsea, he manages a detour the direction of espina. 

❛     because i wanted to check in on you!     ❜

no bullshit, no poorly concealed remarks—just god’s honest trust, and man, did he hate it.   it would be EASIER :     to throw back what’s being thrown at him.   and to not care.   this whole mess would be a cakewalk if he didn’t.   not that without this over - abundance of GIVING A SHIT he’d even be here to start.   julian’s here because—break up’s aside—chelsea meant something to him.   he’s here because he has the ability to relate and sympathise.   he is here, right now, because he knows a screw - up when he sees one.   and it’s not just pippa.

❛     because i kinda threw you under the bus, and—i didn’t mean to, and i’m sorry.     ❜

he’s his MOTHER’S SON, alright.   the emotional constipation—gifted by circumstance and not a dead-beat father—an unfortunate trait yet only a layer away from the kid sofia apolskis raised.   who means well, who makes amends, who tries.   he was an asshole.   nobody would deny that, and certainly not julian himself.   but a mask will never be more than a mask.   no matter how it stitches itself onto his face :     shaping itself against skin and bone, until its removal means all those mentioned, too.

❛     i just—i don’t get it, pippa.   and i want to get it!   i really fucking do…   i wanna get why you didn’t tell me, why she didn’t tell me—how this is even that big of a fucking deal.   ‘cos i don’t get it!     ❜

SHOULD HE HAVE KNOWN?   it was evident chelsea hadn’t meant for him to.   still…   that was something you noticed.   felt, even.   these last couple of years had made him reluctant, he knew that.  but not blind—right?   that night, he replayed over and over and over…   and while bits and pieces come to fit her story, he fails to find predated events that do.   they were friends.   they are friends.

❛     to be honest, i just kinda need you to tell me what to do here.     ❜

     She’s a little stricken by the sudden admission — he wanted to check in on her. It’s not the kind of begrudging moment of giving a flying fuck that she expects, nor one that she’s used to. Pippa is used to living in extremes, giving them out to people in either undying affection or blood boiling hate. She’s used to not having anyone check in on her, unless it’s an exhausted habit of making sure she didn’t drink herself half to death. And she doesn’t have that anymore, and maybe that’s why it feels all the stranger that he’s standing in front of her. Kevin hates her, Chelsea can barely look at her: Julian Apolskis is the only person who’s going to be checking in on her. 

     If you asked Pippa, that’s fucked up. 

     So she drops the frustration for a moment, and the self-loathing, and the refusal to talk about it like a grownup.   “   Well, it’d be kind of fucking stupid of you to think Chelsea gave me the old go-ahead on fucking you — so ... while I appreciate the apology ...   ”  She takes another long drag from the pipe between her fingers, before sticking it out in offering to him.  “  Maybe I should have told you to keep your trap shut. But I don’t think that it’s ...  look.  ”  

     She turns then, angling herself on the couch so she can look at him, properly. Tone is flat, and placid, devoid of the usual annoyance usually expressed towards him. It’s devoid of most things.   “   I don’t think she owns you or anything. And I don’t think for us, it fucking matters that we did anything. We’re not friends, it’s not weird. But she cares and part of me ... knew she would. But I did it anyway, because I’m a selfish piece of shit, and I suck.  ”  It’s matter of fact, though her eyes betray her with a hollow sort of sadness. 

     She is — it’s not the same kind of self-pitying WALLOWING she’s been doing. Pippa knows she’s selfish, and she knows much more often than not, she’s doing the wrong thing. Part of her wants to stop, maybe, because she’s scared of what will happen if she doesn’t. And the other part of her knows that it’s all she’s ever known. Stability is a learned trait, and she missed the lesson entirely. Recklessness might be a cloak, or a shield, or a defense mechanism: but not because she seeks to wreak havoc, but because she doesn’t know how else to EXIST.

     “   So ... what you should do is not suck. Fucking ... man up and be honest about ... whatever the fuck, and if it still doesn’t work out for you, you can come back here and we’ll put bleach in some of my margarita mix and go out together.   ”

[deathdoors]

soorah.

@deathdoors​ said:  “ i’ll give you credit : i guess you are listening to me . ”

“     i’ve been known to multi-task.     “

   (   not, however, always well, as her room-temperature coffee might’ve indicated.   )   She holds the door with her hip, chin nodding her in. Beyond the glassdoors, the library had been gated off into a tiny, colorful, alcove. Preschoolers, even eight or nine pudgy gremlins, simply would NOT exist in her stacks. She’d seen to it. 

“     we can gate them in after a head-count.     “

It wasn’t so much a helpful suggestion, but a statement. They would gate them in, and no child would wander out of sight.   (   easy !   )

     Emma was more than a little frazzled. It was the first field trip of the year — as far as having everyone hold on to a child guiding rope and making their way across the street to the local library could be considered a field trip. Or as well as anything with preschoolers could. A bunch of four and five year olds weren’t exactly the most exciting group of people, and, aside from the one seemingly glued to Emma’s skirt in her tiny balled up fists, most of them seemed anxious to get back to building blocks and picture books. She calls out some rhyme about one two three, looking at me! to them and claps her hands, and they veer off their course to place sticky hands against the glass door.  “  Well, at least they’re easily distracted.  ”   She smiles brightly at the children as they form in front of her in what’s more of a cluster than the straight line she’d hoped for.  “  All accounted for.  ”  She promises Soorah, as another one clings to the other side of her and two more sit down on the ground in front of them. After a few moments of Emma willing all of them to stand and reminding them they need to be quiet as mice while they’re in a library ( “ what’s a mice ? ”  “ our animal  from the letter M, they’re very quiet. ”  ) before she’s ready to guide them through the doors, waiting for a goahead from Soorah. She still looks overwhelmed, a little out of her element outside of the confines of the classroom.