Hell is empty and all the devils are here

Indie Shakespearians (sort of) by Grace

[forever-homosexual]

[properer-deactivated20160504]

@muultis

“I don’t know I think that Tyb is having pres at his.”

[muultis-blog]

     “I think I overheard him talking about going to the bar later.”

[affectorator-blog]

                 She’s crying. Or about to. Discomfort lights up his chest and he reviews what’s been said up to the point. He doesn’t spend a lot of time consoling people. He’s the type for it and definitely has the capacity— but he’ll avoid it if he can. No one can be therapeutic without needing it in return. His arms are pinned (albeit gently) and he’d like to reciprocate, but he’s okay like this. A breathy chuckle.

                  “ ’s just words, Julie. “

[muultis-blog]

     She’s being a little dramatic, isn’t she? The girl chastises herself and withdraws after a small squeeze. A deep breath, she discreetly rubs her left under-eye, and shakes her head at him. “Not to me. It means a lot that you have faith in me.” The wind rustles her hair and she has to push it behind her ear again. “I mean, you’re successful in an area famous for it not being easy. You worked really hard.”

[urydice-blog1]

‘  it was the frat shirt.

[muultis-blog]

     “If it helps, I volunteer at foster homes and orphanages.” (I’m not bad- I help).

[urydice-blog1]

‘  listen, you can’t be scared. of anything or anyone. scared girls end up either dead girls or dull girls.  ’   (  she has the chance , why not share some wisdom. the girl’s curious. there’s no harm.  )  ‘  be brave, and be smart. fuck anyone that says you can’t.  ’

[muultis-blog]

     She looks up in thought at the woman, blinking once as she takes in the words. “Is it hard to be brave, for you?” It’s tough for Juliet more often than not. She’s small, and has a soft, unintimidating voice, and would rather let people be than fight. 

[affectorator-blog]

                 Organically, his hands slide down her shoulders and he finds her wrists. It’s a gentle grip. Everything about him’s gentle but that’s all he can really afford to be. Every touch he isn’t warned about is startling, that’s just how it’s always been, so he’s glad she takes the time to keep it light, but still in the realm of affectionate. “ Everyone deserves to hear that, especially if they’re doubting it. “

[muultis-blog]

     He’s not trying to make her cry, but it chokes her up none the less. He’s just... so honest. Heartfelt and kind to her in her naïvety. She’s just a little girl, she’s just spoiled and undeserving, yet she feels like he’s never been anything but open to her. It seems everyone has something they say to themselves, these days. Secret opinions. Lies and fronts.

     It feels awkward to move so much. With a seeing person, body language doesn’t need to be felt. But it’s easy to slip her hands and trail them up his own arms this time (like a horse- you don’t touch a horse where it can’t see). She hugs him, loose and gentle, but still a hug. 

     “It’s not fair- you’re too good with words.”

[urydice-blog1]

(  oh, so it’s this kind of thing. she tries to relax, nodding as the girl speaks.  )  ‘  look, i stopped being scared a long time ago. i’ve known who i am for a very long time, and i’ve known that somethings i’d just have to fight for. and i fight for this. and i believe in this. so, no, i’m not scared.  ’

‘  besides, i can handle myself in a fight.  ’

[muultis-blog]

     It’s a confident reply, and Juliet feels passionless in it’s wake. how dull of her to just like animals, huh? No movement, no statement, just a girl. 

     “I wish I could say the same.” She’s small, she’s light, and she’s not quick on her feet. At best she can run fast- her track times were pretty good. But she’d never been the sort to have fights at school, much less win one. “You sound very brave.”

[urydice-blog1]

‘  uh, yeah. all the time.  ’  (   a beat.  )  ‘  why’re you asking?  ’

[muultis-blog]

     “Don’t you get scared-?           I mean, I hear they’re dangerous.”

     But she is no stranger to violence.

[muultis-blog]

@urydice

     “So you’re a transgender activist? Do you go to rallies?”

[urydice-blog1]

‘  wasn’t required. just thought you should experience some good ol’ diner wisdom.

[muultis-blog]

     “Was it the frat shirt?”

[affectorator-blog]

                She reminds him of eighteen years ago. Uncertainty in youth. Sandy sets a hand on either shoulder after some fumbling, grip steady when he finds it. This is part where he’s supposed to look into her eyes (swelling music or sad score) and tell her just the right thing, but he can’t do either of those things. “ What I know about you tells me you’re everything but not smart enough. “

[muultis-blog]

     She waits patiently (always be patient) for his hands to find her. It must be scary, being in the dark. But is that what blindness is? Darkness? She can’t believe so- people are too creative for that. 

     “Thank you.” She’s not good with compliments. The real kind, not ‘oh you’re so pretty’ or ‘I love your hair’- those are easy. It’s the emotion in people that makes her stutter, the sincerity, the honesty. And here, the intimacy. Because he has one less layer to base his opinion of her on. To make up for the silence Juliet touches his arm and hooks her fingers in his sleeve, tugging just enough to be friendly. The tactile affection never bothered her, honestly.

[urydice-blog1]

‘  not the point. back to the point: don’t be a dick. 

[muultis-blog]

     “Now when was that criticism required honestly.”

[urydice-blog1]

‘  please don’t kinkshame this nonexistent, hypothetical, example woman. 

[muultis-blog]

     “I never kinkshamed- just asked why. 

          -Admittedly with disbelief but y’know.”

[affectorator-blog]

             He does like the grounding touch. Holding hands causes less of a stir than touching a young girl’s face in public. Unfortunately. He’s got his body angled toward her (because he learned how to feign normalcy) and his head tilted to the side, ears twitching and listening intently. “ I’m thirty-three and I’m still not ready, Julie. Privileged or not, I think it’ll be okay. “

[muultis-blog]

    She appreciates the words. As a man she’s come to deeply respect and admire, his say means more to her than most. Daddy may have full faith and her mother no worries, but they were born into wealth and ability, like herself. Sandy made his way there by himself. But still-

    “What if I’m not smart enough?” She made impeccable grades, has a scholarship, but fears loom like shadows- dark, but a part of you. The girl squeezes his hand softly in a desire for comfort.

[urydice-blog1]

‘  both. unless she’s into that.

[muultis-blog]

     “Why would you be into that.”

[muultis-blog]

Cont. from this | @urydice

     “Figuratively or literally?”

[muultis-blog]

@affectorator

     “I guess I’m just afraid of doing things on my own.” She says quietly, looking down at the hand lain in hers, fingers folded comfortably at her lap. They’re of close skin tone- olive tan, sun-kissed and warm- and she quietly wonders where his ancestors are from. “I’m spoiled. I know that- sometimes I think I act privileged.” Oh, that’s an understatement, isn’t it? Be honest with yourself.

     “I’m not ready to be an adult.”