liability.

𝓵𝓪𝔂𝓵𝓪 𝓭𝓪𝓿𝓮𝓷𝓹𝓸𝓻𝓽. he made the mistake of dancing in my storm. says it was p o i s o n. so i guess i'll go home into the arms of the girl that i l o v e the only love i haven't s c r e w e d up. she's so hard to please, but she's a forest f i r e.

[leilvs-blog]

rosalinverville‌:

While Rosaline does put up coloured lights around the diner during Christmas season, she’s not usually so concerned with adorning her restaurant with festive decorations. She knows, as well as any other citizen of Sallybrook, that the coming month was hardly a time for celebration, the march towards winter being as much as a march towards despair, and it seemed that most appreciated the simplicity of the diner that didn’t feel like it needed to compensate for anything.

She sees it on the faces of those who visits, especially from her older patrons, the effort to ward off the sense of doom with every gesture of nonchalance, the unease hidden behind every smile. It can be hard to escape all the conversations lingering with dread and anger now, so she was glad when it was Leila that came through when she looked up as she heard the door open. She watched her slip into a booth, and followed by seating herself across her, sideways, an elbow leaning on the table and her legs hanging out. “Got whole documents of those,” she chimed in in response to Leila, before interjecting her own lines, “unless you mean hey what’s up, then unfortunately I have very little to share.”

“What brought you here today? Leila,” she said, leaning back into the seat, her lips curled up affectionally. “It can’t really be the food, can it?”

Leila knows there’s no such thing as “safety” in Sallybrook and is under no impression that it was ever promised to them. Given the town’s history, Leila almost expected to be at the very least falsely promised. Hell, in her eyes it may have given some people a sense of safety which would have made them ideal targets for the Haunt. Wouldn’t that prove their desire for revenge? The last thing she’d be convinced of is that the Haunt chooses people at random and all she wants is some answers.

She smiles politely at Rosa before responding, “Now why would I ask that when I can see what you’re up to?” With another glance around, she had a feeling that Rosa didn’t have many options for good company. Sure, restaurant employees never should let a customer know their business isn’t wanted, but Leila knows there are always those that make it hard to even be civil. “Decor included, I’d say you have good taste.”

With fingers laced, she sets cold hands on top of the menu she doesn’t need to open. “Come on, give yourself more credit than that. This is what I call the perfect hangover cure - or comfort food, but tell me those aren’t the same thing.”

[leilvs-blog]

caroline-bishop‌:

“That’s uneven,” she bit back with a smile, gesturing to the crooked picture. “Bitch I’m back, fix your crooked picture.”  She put down the box and rummaged through it, tossing Leila a roll of bright, blue painter’s tape.  “Try that – it’s how I usually make sure my things look nice.”

She plopped down on the couch they had found on craigslist in the next town over.  It was worn and loved, but it was still comfortable.  She had draped a brightly colored throw over the most worn spot on the left arm, and it was perfect.  “I didn’t.  Do you want to order something and get this living room right?  Or should we take a break and hit the grocery store.  I could throw some stuff for soup in the crockpot while we work.”

Leila looks down at the level in her hands completely dumbfounded. She was a far cry from a hand man but she swears it was as straight as it’s going to get - until she backs up a few steps. A gasp escapes her lips as she reaches forward to readjust it. “Better?” Leila asks, but not out of malice. She truly wants this apartment to work out and look good at the very least. Although she can’t picture either of them going through the trouble of hosting any sized gathering.

With some eagerness, Leila nods at Caroline’s suggestion. “Less work sounds good to me. Chinese or pizza tonight? This is a serious question,” she adds. Both of which are her go to meals for hangovers, but she enjoys both on other occasions as well. “Your soup may be good, but I almost feel like this is how you’ll try to get out of work.” There’s a hint of playfulness in her voice, letting Caroline know she means well for the most part. Truthfully she’d be fine decorating the place herself, but in the past it’s definitely caused some conflict with other people. 

[leilvs-blog]

alicesolak‌:

Of course Alice picked up on her sarcasm, how could she not? It was something people often used on her, especially when she began asking too many questions. But it had never bothered her, and never bothered her from getting the answers she needed, and from acting kindly to everyone. “Thank you,” she said honestly, and sat beside her. How could she even approach this conversation? “Uhm…you’re Leila, right? I’m Alice.” she wondered if she knew her, if she had seen the news reports of her finding out her child had gone missing, if she had heard her story like everyone else in Sallybrook seemed to have. She hoped she had. She hoped she didn’t have to explain herself. 

Admittedly, Leila is surprised by the other girl’s persistence. She half expected her to shy aware from the created awkwardness, but social norms were often ignored in Sallybrook. There’s something admirable about her determination, but Leila knows all too well that it normally doesn’t end well for her. “Okay,” Leila begins. The introduction confirms her hunch that Alice didn’t wander over by chance. “Alice, let me save you the trouble of saying that if I wanted everyone who knew my name what my story was I’d write an autobiography. So if that’s what you’re here for, feel free to go home.” She takes a sip of her coffee as she considers how this conversation could become even mildly interesting. So she offers, “Or you can be creative and come up with another excuse. The choice is yours.” 

[leilvs-blog]

rosalinverville‌:

She woke up that afternoon overcame with the desire for indulgence.

It was a rare enough day, one where she had no plans to be anywhere, no obligation to anyone, and she may be way up in her head when the thought came over her but— she really wanted do something… grand. A party, a feast, even if she just buys a bunch of balloons and tie them to her chimney —  anything to add some noise to this calmness around her, lest she suffocates in the silence.

So after some aimless back and forth from her tv to her fridge, it felt only natural for her to conclude that perhaps she ought to leave the house for a bit. She didn’t want to call anyone though, no, she was more in the mood for chance encounters. And once the idea was planted, it quickly took root, and soon she was on her way to crash the local bar, a thought that at the same time, both elevated and distressed her, for reasons beyond her logical comprehension.

The sign of the Crooked Eye flashed before her, Rosaline thought fleetingly: Noise. People. Drinks. It was just about dinner time then, and the bar didn’t seem busy. The tension in her chest ceased, and led by her whims, she walked straight into the Crooked Eye Pub. Before she knew it, she was three beers in, dreadfully bored and determined not to make this a pointless outing.

“You—” downing the rest of her glass, she approached the bar, raising her voice loud enough for somebody to hear, though speaking to no one in particular. “You there,” she declared, whilst scanning for what she perceived to be other lonesome creatures—reflections of herself, except that she needed to feel better than them, be more willing to speak up, more willing to admit that there is a hole in her soul.

“Fancy a little game with me?”

Sometimes when everything starts to become too real for her, Leila seeks ways to dull her senses. Over the years she’s found that she needs a balance. She can’t be too tuned in to everything around her, but if she becomes too detached it never ends well between the reckless decisions and the consequences that always follow. 

More than anything she’s determined to keep a balance between living and protecting herself. Her mother made sure Leila was sheltered out of fear that she’d lose her daughter again. That was the problem though. When she went out everything was heightened for her - almost too intense. 

That morning was no different. Of course it didn’t help that she looked out the window expecting to see the Haunt’s most recent handywork. Although there wasn’t new signs of destruction, she started taking a trip down memory lane.

To stop herself she dragged herself to the Crooked Eye. It was the best solution she could come up with. She’d be surrounded by people and luckily for her they’d be more interested in forgetting whatever dragged them to the pub. It was comforting to her knowing she wasn’t alone in the suffering. 

Leila raises a brow when she hears another woman’s voice. Truthfully she isn’t all that interested in social interactions or whatever Rosa has planned, but there’s something about her that intrigues Leila. “Sure,” she says simply after finishing her third drink. “What are the rules?”

[leilvs-blog]

avercyy‌:

Avery tried not to make it habit coming into the Moonlight Diner. It was too depressing with all the old folks sitting in their booths reaping the benefits of their senior discount. Or the teenagers who lacked the creativity to come up with a more original hang out spot scarfing down fries after school. It reminded them too much of either what awaited them as their future in Sallybrook and it was much too upsetting being reminded of their own adolescence living here. 

They attempted to suppress their existentialism towards Sallybrook in the deepest corner of their mind. It had to take a backseat to their need for something savory and deep fried. Avery was much to impatient to be bothered with the courtesies of having a waitress escort them to a table and took it upon themselves to find someone they at least half recognized. 

Jackpot! 

It was the girl who had some form of town gossip swirling around her that Avery couldn’t really care to remember, Leila. A fellow drunk and Avery’s shot at free french fries was all they cared about.

“Well, I hope this wasn’t a spot you were saving for anyone other than little old me.” Avery batted their eyelashes as they stared towards the ceiling for a story worth sharing. “Well, let’s see do you want the story about the raccoons fighting over some trash just outside? Or maybe the one about the Bible thumpers outside trying to help people find Jesus? I mean there’s very limited options here in Sallybrook.” 

Avery chuckled before leaning towards the other’s menu. “Hey, man. So long as there’s greasy ass fries involved I’m more than happy to help.” 

Not only did Leila consider the diner  a safe haven from all the holiday festivities that plagued the streets of Sallybrook around this time, it was one of the only places where she knew people came would mind their own business. No one walked though the door expecting to get their fill of the latest gossip. Instead they came here for comfort food. Which naturally meant that as long as Leila was even the slightest bit hungover she came here for their fries and a shake to forget the bitterness of the beer from the night before.

When an all too familiar blonde walked in, Leila flashed her a smile. “Ah, only Sallybrook’s finest. Aren’t you glad to be back?” She asks. It goes without saying that Leila’s much happier about the situation and sometimes feels bad for nagging the blonde to come back. Avery was able to get out, but there was something about Sallybrook that made Leila stay regardless of the nightmares. 

“What do you say we go mess with those bible thumpers later? We’ll show them hell’s got a place reserved for the of us and there’s nothing they can do to save us.” She knew there were much better things to do, but she had a couple minutes to kill. “Anyway do you know what you want or is it just a fries kind of day?”

[leilvs-blog]

caroline-bishop‌:

@leilvs

Getting an apartment with Leila was simultaneously liberating and depressing.  At least when she was home she could pretend that her time in Sallybrook was a temporary purgatory – something to endure, to push through until she reached the other side.  But this added a degree of permanence that she was having a difficult time accepting.

But it was Leila.  And it was freedom… way more than she had under the watchful eyes of parents who had never stopped treating her like she was made of glass – especially this time of year, when Caleb was on everyone’s minds.  And with Noah reappearing from whatever hole he had crawled into.  It was illogical how angry she was with him for doing what she wished she could do herself, but it didn’t matter.  She would allow herself to hang onto it for a little longer.

The box was heavy in her hands as she climbed the three flights of stairs, smiling a little as she shouldered through the cracked door.  The apartment wasn’t much, but the ceilings were tall and the exposed brick added far more character than anything she had every been able to afford in Boston.

“Honey, I’m home,” she called in a teasing voice, looking for her new roommate.

Truthfully Leila originally considered this a temporary housing solution, she knew that Caroline’s company was better than her family’s. Plus it distanced herself from the ash the fire left her room in after the bonfire and everything else that happened that night. Of course it helped that Leila knew Caroline had her own family to worry about than attempt to pry into her life.

Having some time to herself, Leila started hanging up decorations. Among those were some of her old paintings in hopes that it would inspire her to get back into it as well as some polaroids to help convince her to leave every so often. Despite everything going on around her, she was determined that this year she would continue to do what she needed to in order to not lose sight of what was important to her.

The creak of the door caused Leila to advert her eyes from the array of pictures she knew weren’t evenly spaced. “If we’re announcing our arrival, I’d prefer we use something like ‘BITCH I’M BACK’ to really make an entrance. Just a suggestion,” she was only half joking, but thought the other girl may get a kick out of it. “Tell me you got groceries though. I’m hungry.”

[leilvs-blog]

alicesolak‌:

@leilvs

Maybe it was a bad idea, maybe she should have known better, but the pull in her chest told her she needed to do it. Needed to get answers from someone, from anyone, and right then, there was only one person who could potentially give them to her. She found her at Oldtown Coffee, where she went on afternoons to treat herself to her favorite blend of tea. She wasn’t working, but instead sitting at one of the tables, potentially waiting to start her shift, or on her break. Alice ordered, but did not take her eyes off of her. When she walked up to her table, she had her cup in hand, nervous energy surrounding her. “Leila, right? Do you mind if I sit down?” 

The thing Leila enjoyed most about her part time job was that Oldtown Coffee was never busy. At most there were two customers escaping the craziness the riddled the town of Sallybrook. That was exactly what called the girl into the shop the first time. She found a safe haven within its walls. Things didn’t change over the years so although most people avoided their place of work or even anything that reminded them of it, Leila happily left the comfort of her bed to get some studying done at the quiet shop. Or so she had hoped. She looked up at girl that approached her and tried to place her. “Ah yes, clearly this chair is much better than any of the other ones - especially the ones on the other side of the room,” she replied with her usual shield of sarcasm. “If you’re going to sit here you might as well do it.”

[leilvs-blog]

𝔀𝓱𝓮𝓷 ᴅᴇᴄᴇᴍʙᴇʀ ғɪʀsᴛ 𝔀𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮 ᴍᴏᴏɴʟɪɢʜᴛ ᴅɪɴᴇʀ 𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓽𝓾𝓼 ᴏᴘᴇɴ

While it seemed as though the rest of the world engaged in month long debates regarding the first date they could blast Christmas music without scrutiny from their neighbors, Leila held onto her belief that there wasn’t a “right” date in Sallybrook. She refused to allow herself to be distracted by this facade of happiness when children continued to go missing, houses set on fire, or any of the oddities that the residents of Sallybrook seems to have become indifferent towards. This isn’t to say that the girl always hated Christmas. In fact, her excitement kept her awake during the holidays. Unfortunately since she’s been back the Christmas spirit hasn’t affected her the same way.

So, in an attempt to escape the long reach of a overplayed Holiday playlist, Leila slipped into a booth. Of course she could have gone home, but she knew once she did her organs would be floating in alcohol. It was only the first day of December. She figured she could take it easy one night - there were only twenty-four more to go. In response to the figure approaching in her peripheral vision, Leila felt all of her muscles simultaneously tighten. They didn’t relax until she recognized the person who now sat across from her. “I hope you brought stories to share. Everything looks good and I know my eyes are bigger than my stomach. So I give you first dibs on whatever I can’t finish.”

[leilvs-blog]

calsamuels‌:

3:48 PM. Tuesday. After last night’s sad group of customers ( one cried about his mommy issues, one was a virgin, and two of them lasted less than thirty sad, sad minutes ), Cal needed a drink. Normally 3:48 in the afternoon was not quite late enough for her to start poisoning her system, but she had a lot of clients tonight that she wasn’t looking forward to at all ( especially Frank, the one who usually liked to make her call him doctor. fucking psycho. ). Yes, Cal needed this drink, and she needed it now, so she walked from her little apartment over to the little grocery store on the corner to pick up some crayons for Liam and a bottle of tequila for mommy. Today was going to be a good day, she decided.

That is, until some dickwad crashed their cart into hers, nearly causing Cal to break the bottle in her cart. Before immediately going to cuss them out, she looked up, recognized the face in front of her, and batted her eyes. She tilted her head to one side, letting her words drip like chocolate off a chocolate fountain.

“Do I know you?”

Even though some time had passed since Leila moved in with Caroline, she still would let chores slip from her mind. That is until it became unavoidable like her empty kitchen. The unmotivated part of her tried to convince the other parts that she didn’t need food. In fact it would have let her speed up the process of getting into the holiday spirit - meaning too drunk to remember or notice anything when sober Leila would have been worried by every single detail. 

Up ahead, there was a figure the wove in and out of the isles like a ghost. Instantly Leila went into overdrive and tried recalling how many times she had seen them pass or if she even recognized them. Her thoughts consumed her until the clash of carts acted like an alarm clock. “Fuck!” The syllable escaped in an exhaled breath before she made a quick check behind her. Whether real or imaginary, Leila sensed underlying tones of hostility in the other girl’s voice. “No and apparently you don’t know how to look where you’re going either. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have places I’d rather be”

[leilvs-blog]

indigcisms‌:

location: the streets of sallybrook date: november 14th status: open 

Indigo moved through the streets, camera in one hand and her coffee in another. Her mind moved nearly as fast as she did. The investigation had slowed, nearly crawling to a stop, and probably wouldn’t have enough things for the podcast this week. It was too late for her to do a different topic, and postponing the podcast was barely an option.  Frustration bubbled within her. She’d become pretty popular and had a name for herself in paranormal investigation, and she had fans, actually fans that looked forward to the twice a month podcast.

Her stop was sudden as an idea popped into her mind. A bit of her coffee splashed out of the to-go cup. She turned to the first person she saw. “Want to be on my podcast?” She asked, bluntly. “I’d be forever in your debt.” An interview with a Sallybrook resident, her audience would love it, and she’d be able to spin it, no matter how it turned out. 

If it weren’t for the amount of distrust Leila had for the general public, she wouldn’t have been dragging herself to her place to take a nap. In November, she thought it was more crazy that some people allowed themselves to sleep in public  just sprawled out on a couch with their belongings beside them on the floor. More accurately, what surprised her more was that she would sometimes see these people wake up from their naps and not bother to check that they still had all their things. 

As if she had a sixth sense, Leila turned her head in the direction of another dark haired girl who reeked of desperation. “Tempting,” she lied, but figured it’d spare the girl’s feelings a little. “But I’m not interested.” Without waiting for a response, she started walking away. Despite different circumstances, the whole situation felt all too familiar to her. It wasn’t that she wasn’t particularly well known either so she knew that if she agreed, there was no doubt that the Haunt or her past would have came up. Hell, there were people more eager for her to get her memories back than she was. 

[leilvs-blog]

marinaogden‌:

     A coincidence; the sudden fire erupting across Sallybrook. It was obviously due to some kind of human error: poked the fire too much, followed through on a dare to get as close to the fire as possible, not knowing basic fire safety at least not like the youth the department visited did. The youth who would vanish at the hands of a serial killer; the fire chief would rarely say aloud. Those kids were dead, sinking in the bottom of a river because people like Marina couldn’t do their jobs right. They couldn’t smother a single fire without the loss of life, and the police couldn’t catch a single murderer even if all the evidence was dangled right under their noses. 

     Contempt cast a shadow across their features, numb fingers tugging and rubbing at their eyes in the unforgiving cold of an upcoming winter. No one went out in the winter; of course, the murderer would strike then with no prying eyes to assert some name that would sound familiar. Nevertheless, it was not a problem Marina could worry about without sinking into some ethereal plane of thinking of which they would sacrifice time spent helping people, fighting tiny grease fires, helping elementary children cross the street and not get ran over in the process.

     Marina did not look good in bright, blinding orange. That not being an opinion, but a fact. Dark colors, nude colors suited them better whether or not her personality popped like a bright pink lily. The air was filled with the chatter of high-pitched voices and enthusiasm. With her help, they hadn’t heard a horn honk all morning and as children drifted by she was reminiscent to smell those homemade lunches of her own childhood. The tenderness and care put into them were always exemplary. 

     And then there it was, the first beep of the day once the ‘slow’ sign had been flipped towards the driver in the car and yet a couple of passersby seemed to like their chances nonetheless. They shuffled, quick enough to make a physical barrier in front of the lingering crowd. “Woah, woah, woah. Slow down there.” They abrogated, a hand held out as the impatient driver whizzed by followed by plenty of others. It was of no help the bulk of both school traffic lay in the heart of town.

Even without Leila’s unique experience with the Haunt, she wouldn’t have believed that these houses “mysteriously” caught on fire. In Sallybrook there were never coincidences and it would take a lot of evidence to convince her that freewill existed or that the residents of town weren’t just puppets used for some angry witches’ entertainment. As much as she hated to admit that fear kept her heart beating, there was anger somewhere in the back of her mind. No one asked for this treatment, but did that mean anyone didn’t necessarily deserve it?

She looked down for a moment to readjust her scarf as if it could also readjust her memory. Perhaps if she remembered small details, she could feel like she had some power over the Haunt. While she didn’t enjoy people prying into her social life, the thing she hated the most was that she couldn’t answer their questions even if she wanted to. 

The sound of the cars that sped by surprised her and caused her eyes to widen. There were countless days when she imagined herself getting into a car and drive at much higher speeds to watch Sallybrook disappear in her rearview mirror. 

At the sound of the other woman’s voice, Leila instinctively got defensive. “What the fuck do you mean ‘slow down there’?!” In an attempt to emphasize her point, she gestured towards her feet that hadn’t moved from their spot on the curb for at least a minute. “You can’t move any slower than being stationary. It’s no wonder you’re dressed like a pumpkin attempting to direct traffic which you can’t even do right.”

[leilvs-blog]

teganhq‌:

November 30th: 10:23am, somewhere near the harbor. 

With the salted breeze crashing against his face as he ran in the mornings, it was impossible for Tegan to not think about home. Brighton seeming to have the same vibe as Sallybrook just with fifty times the people. The smell and sound of the waves crashing beside him pained the back of his head. And how he has yet to talk to his parents since he moved to Massachusetts. All he gave them was a simple ‘I’m not coming home for a while.’ text. And that was it. They were surely worried about him. Probably unsure if  he was even alive.  But he couldn’t worry about that. Couldn’t think about them. That was the point to moving to Sallybrook in the first place. To start over and not dwell on the chaos he left behind him. 

He halted to a stop, placing his hands on his knees and taking the chance to catch his breath. It had been a little too long since he ran this much. Getting back to peak physical shape would not be an easy task. And he only had himself, and his nightly habits to blame. Once he was semi-breathing right again, he looked up and around, noting that he once again ran without paying attention to the street names and was now very lost. 

“Oi” He coughed out, his accent never fitting in to the New England town. “How far are we from that coffee place ??”

It was the fresh motivation to work on a new goal that dragged Leila out of bed that morning. Not long ago she first vowed to herself that she would go out and live her life rather than retreating into the safety of her bedroom walls. Of course that was until weeks of sleepless nights were kicked off by intrusive thoughts that didn’t intend to stop. So, a mostly rested Leila found herself at the Harbor to try to find some of that beauty she once saw as a child. 

She brushed her long black curls from her face as she looked out into the water. Surprising herself she found calmness in the repetition of the water’s movements. Leila learned the hard way not too long ago that if she spent too much time at once near the water, she’d find herself transported twelve years back in time. With that reminder, she began making her way back to town in an effort to not push her luck too much when her day had just begun. 

Too engrossed in her own thoughts, Leila jumped at the sound of someone else’s voice. Instantly she turned in their direction and tried to identify the boy. “Depends which one you want to go to, but I’m guessing Old Town coffee. I’d say it shouldn’t take you more than ten minutes to get there - especially if you keep up the speed you were going,” she answered, taking note of the light redness that stained his cheeks. Then, against her natural instincts, she asked, “Long way from home?”

[leilvs-blog]

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