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AL PACINO AS HAROLD JERICHO. KATE WINSLET AS ANNE JERICHO. DILLON FREASIER / JASON SCHWARTZMAN AS PAUL ‘JERRY’ JERICHO. NICK NOLTE AS LEWIS DODD. ELIZABETH MOSS AS GENEVIEVE JERICHO. ROBIN WEIGERT AS PAMELA EILISH. RUTH NEGGA AS EDITH WALLS. ANGOURIE RICE / HANNAH MURRAY AS AMELIA JERICHO. RIDGE CANIPE / ANDREW GARFIELD AS ANTHONY JERICHO. ALEXIS LLEWELLYN / TRACEE ELLIS ROSS AS MYRA WALLS.

#[passes out from exhaustion]#* JERRY / ABOUT

dustangel:

he latches onto her before she can finish her sentence. the moment his fist encases her wrist she freezes, her shock sapping all rage from her expression. she flinches, recoils — it can’t be helped. when these kinds of things happen, she expects the worst result. it simply never occurred to her to guard for such a happening against jerry of all people.

it’s over in a flash. jerry turns from her in shame and edith watches with the sensation of tears pricking her eyes. she brings the hand in question up to her chest, cradles it with the other despite an absence of physical harm. “jerry ?” she calls out quietly. it isn’t the calm of accommodation, but of controlled anger and heartbreak. when he doesn’t reply she shuffles to the doorway of the bathroom. she can’t say whether she looks shaky as she feels, and it doesn’t occur to her that the tears have begun their descent down her reddened cheeks.

“i do love you. more than anybody.” every word is genuine, including the darker ones that follow : “but if you ever put your hands on me again, i don’t know what i’m liable to do.”

“i know. i’m sorry. i know.”

it scares him, how easily he had resorted to physical violence. it reminds him so much of his parents when raising him in savannah. he hates to think about his childhood and how unhappy his family was, he hates even more to think that’s what he might be becoming. their exchange is finished. jerry can’t fight her anymore. he reaches for his cigarette pack knocked onto the floor and draws one in anxiety and loathing of his own self.

“maybe this isn’t working.” it never did work, he thinks bitterly. he sticks the cigarette in his mouth and lights it, pushing back his hair. “maybe we should stop.”

#dustangel #YIKES #* JERRY / THREAD

@dustangel

he doesn’t look to see edith at the door. he sips his cup of coffee and presses the cigarette to his lips. he doesn’t turn the pages of the document in front of him because he already knows what they entail.

“she filed for a divorce.”

#dustangel #here we are baby...#* JERRY / THREAD

dustangel:

“and if i was ? would you have been too blind to notice or loved it all the same ?” it’s a lofty accusation based on past experience. she realizes they’re veering into dangerous territory now ; bringing up semantics that come with painful memories. she wants to change the subject as soon as possible. “he doesn’t give me anything i don’t get on the road. and you know that, jerry.” an accusatory finger. “this is about you. he makes me laugh and you can’t stand it, because you can’t do it. you can’t stand seeing me happy if it’s not with you.”

“i thought we loved each other!” it’s an outburst that doesn’t fit his body, his posture, his person. jerry has buried rage from when he had been a boy clotted in his heart like mud. he has guilt that makes his fingers tremble. being around edith now only makes those feelings worse, makes them rise in his throat like bile -- leaving them to come out unexpectedly and viciously when she goes too far or drinks too much. his hand is clasped around her wrist that points at his chest. he stares at it in shock and throws it down.

he heads for the door.

#dustangel #[SCREAMS]#* JERRY / THREAD

memesgaloor

ask my character about anyone in their life!

playable characters, npcs, anything! ask about relationships, current ones, failed ones, poke and prod them for answers about people that mean a lot to them!

#please....#* MEMES

hey psa once i get a release date for the punisher maria is getting a solo blog! she’s been temporarily removed from here.

#ooc.

dustangel:

in the early days of edith’s career, when she’d been playing coffee shops in new york city, helen would receive photos and news clippings in the mail. it was a daughter’s desperate attempt to convince her mother that distance was for the best. nowadays, with limited time and gained notoriety, helen rarely receives those souvenirs of time. what she’s gleamed of jerry’s character comes not from personal experience, but magazine columns and televised images. he seems so self-assured on screen and on print — self-trained, even, to make up for a pedigree he lacked at birth. whatever the descriptors, he is opposite in this moment.

she sighs and she softens. now is not the time for bad impressions. “i haven’t said thank you yet. for … well. you know. we got a lot to be grateful for.” helen wonders how can jerry stand despite the weight of what he’s seen. she’s tried to keep her mind on the now, everything one step at a time, for fear of grotesque images infecting the mind. after a moment of averting her gaze to wring her hands, she stares at jerry with a forced determination. “edie tells me things, you understand ? and i know … i know what you two have done.”

it becomes apparent that she’s been planning to touch on this topic all along, from the moment she stepped off of the airplane. it’s the reason why her husband isn’t here in this moment : there are things he doesn’t need to know about, troubles she won’t let him cause. “i’ll tell you now i don’t think it’s right. i don’t think you ought to mix up the business and the personal. but it’s not my call, and anyway that don’t matter now. we’ve got to be a team, you understand ?” there is a despairing effort to search his eyes for comprehension. they need to be able to trust each other, and most times trust is impossible with fear in the way.

“yeah. yes.” he doesn’t waste time with explanations. jerry’s keeping his tone just above an ingratiating whisper, nodding attentively at her words and keeping his responses short and to-the-point. he’s spent too long running from personal matters; it’s about time he try and mend some for the better.

he scans the hallway around them to avoid meeting her gaze. it’s hard, when she commands such a presence. helen walls stands out with her wide shoulders and wise features and head that’s held above everyone else. he curses himself for hanging his, for not making eye contact despite her face being the only to look at here. she’s searching him up and down, he feels it: the certain regarding a person gives when searching for the sins of another, to determine a pre-judgement, to decide if they’re worth having an association with. he owes her something. something that might make this easier for her to swallow.

edith and jerry are more than just a simple kiss on the cheek when parting at dinner. and they’re not less than a night of heavy drinking followed by a frosty invitation to the hotel room upstairs. they linger somewhere in the place of sexual encounters that involves real feeling, real care, real pain. it has never been nothing. jerry is well and cornered at the unfortunate end of a hallway, with the wall to his back and an intimidating figure of a woman to his front. the feeling is that of a snarling lion facing him. finally, he returns his stare to her.

“it’s not-- i don’t know what she tells you. i’m -- i guess what i’m trying to say is that it’s not all bad.” his skin feels flushed. there’s something nervous about his movements. “i don’t hurt her. i don’t try to, at least. i think i’m a little lost -- i’m not good with words. ignore that, i’m sorry. you don’t deserve this. any of this.” i love her is so close. on the tip of his tongue, even.

#dustangel #hes nervous!#* JERRY / THREAD

scriose:

‘ i mean, it’s not. ’ backpedaling isn’t really in chris’ nature, so he tries to direct them down a less destructive path, instead. ‘ it’s not fine, it’s not — fucking whatever. i’m not blind. i know it’s not fine. ’

this is where he freezes, uncertain as to whether or not he’s had his touching privileges revoked.

‘ you know i love you. barry. ’ his fingers twitch at his sides. ‘ but i don’t come baggage-fuckin’-free. it’s selfish to trap you. to think you want this. ’

“i hate guys who -- who guilt-trip like this.”

he’s laughing. is that odd? mimmi’s long turned the other direction. barry does too.

“i have baggage too.” louder, “i have baggage too. i’m going home, man.”

#scriose #)))))))))))): !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#* BARRY / THREAD

helodrama:

‘ actually, i need you to do one more thing. ’ a pointed look to the blender he’s just helped repair.

‘ i need you to kill me. with that. ’

“uh.”

“what?”

#helodrama #* MARCUS / THREAD

dustangel:

“you and i gonna have to talk.” it’s the morning after her arrival, and helen has left the room where she and her daughter shared a hospital breakfast. all throughout the silent meal she had sensed jerry’s presence outside the door, anxious and protective ; she pictured him pacing or biting down on his fist. they hadn’t had time for conversation, in the heat of things. helen touched down on foreign soil with no more than a suitcase in her hand, a husband by her side, and a determination to save her child. it isn’t the first time edith has stolen the show.

the hysteria of that night — the longest of her life — has subsided. she insisted that her husband visit later. in her heels she stands a few inches taller than jerry, leaned against the sterile white walls with a renewed calm about her. though she’ll admit she’s the least traveled person she knows, there hangs about her a world-weariness much different than the serene quiet her daughter has been known to bring. that’s how it’s supposed to go, she’d say. a woman has a hard time so her babies don’t have to. and yet, look at where they are.

she knows edith well enough to guess that they aren’t safe talking here. these walls are paper thin, and there are too many attentive ears. it takes a few moments of shuffling down the hallway before she realizes that jerry hasn’t begun to follow, and so she looks over her shoulder with an expression that suggests little patience. “nobody’s bitin’ you.” // @dooweets

“wh -- sorry, ma’am, i didn’t--”

he delivers his response quickly, embarrassed for not understanding that this moment is their opportunity to speak. perhaps it’s the few days without proper eating and sleeping that’s taking a toll on his people skills, in and out of hospital rooms and signing papers blindly without much more than a few words. not to mention he’s kept communication with edith’s parents to a minimum, only answering any questions they may have or informing them of business and health-related issues. he hasn’t spoken to edith because of their presence. he hasn’t called genevieve or the children once. jerry’s knowledge of cues for social interaction have been put to the side for a moment to focus on the more important tasks. sadly, it shows.

“sorry.” he repeats it. he feels hollow. he’s hardly in belief that things have come to this; in his work, life is fast-paced and cosmopolitan and any news is good news, functioning only as fodder for the american people to increase business, for edith’s passionate music and his notoriety. now, things move slow. his being is trapped by walls of basic colorings and fluorescent lights. the general public has no idea that their favorite folk star has nearly arrived on her death bed, because of a blade taken to thin wrists. he’s so nearly pushed the image out of his mind. jerry follows helen down the hall, jogging in pace.

a hand goes on the nearest railing when they reach a safe stopping point, “what’s the hold-up?” eyes glance past her figure to the words printed on a nearby poster: welcome to our home. the phrasing puts a bitter taste in his mouth that he attempts to swallow. “is there-- can i do something?”

#dustangel #HES SO SHORT HERE #* JERRY / THREAD

papa-evershed

#FUCKING UH WORM #I WAS JUST TELLING ALLI... ONCE WE GET A RELEASE DATE MARIA IS GOING SOLO #MARIA TAG!!!

dustangel:

edith nods. it’s a low blow and they know it ; a cornered creature can only bite. “do you think you’re better than me ?” she lets that question hang. her sudden gaze is sharp and penetrating. “you’re happy for me, but better than me. why don’t you call your children ?” he closes the door and edith springs up from where she’s sat on the cold toilet seat, her voice a harsh whisper. “leave it, goddammit it. you don’t know subtly either way.” // @dooweets cont.

he ignores it. “oh, you think that’s an insult? telling me to call my family?” he laughs, but there is no humor to his voice. a hand pushes back the hair from his face while the other grips the sink. the rage is building in his voice, “edith, let me remind that this is something we both consented to. unless, i guess, at the time you were too fucked up on whatever the hell that hippie gives you. given your current state it wouldn’t even be surprising.”

#dustangel #THIS IS SO YIKES #* JERRY / THREAD

"say what you want about him. at least he’s happy for me." @ jerbear again about doc

meme i guess

jerry snorts. “you don’t think i’m happy for you?” he gets up and shuts the door of their bathroom in case of any listeners. “edith, your definition of happiness must come from whether he offers you a joint and a liquor bottle.”

#dustangel #YIKES #* JERRY / ASK

"i’m up, okay." Also @ doc

meme im too lazy to find

“edith.” he’s trying to talk quietly, but it really comes out in a saliva-coated whisper. “the police are here.”

#dustangel #* DOC / ASK #bigfoot back at it again

bonnmot:

@dooweets

‘No, look, I’m the private detective, alright? It’s right here,’ he’s holding up his card, right in their face, and tapping it with his free hand. ‘Private. Detective. It’s not so private that it’s fucking unknown.’

“man, what i’m trying to ask is, what’s the diff?” he holds up his own card in rivalry. “you’re a detective, i’m an investigator, i feel like i read somewhere in an oxford dictionary that’s the same thing.”

#bonnmot #long time no see... hello boo #* DOC / THREAD