𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐇 / ℕ𝔼𝕊𝕊

why would you make words a CAGE for your own bird, when it sings so sweet; the s c r e a m i n g, heaving, FUCKERY of the world ? why would you offer a name to the same old tired PAIN, when all things come from nothing, and, honey, if nothing's G A I N E D ? my heart is thrilled by the still of your hand, it's how i know now that you understand. there's no plan, there's no r a c e to be run - the HARDER the rain, honey, the sweeter the SUN.

[philcmenabadadink]

leofcwler‌:

“What, the tights?” he asked, still taking them in. Her whole outfit, really. Leo had the urge to reach forward and attempt to remodel an area that had fur barely clinging on, hot glue chunk dangling off the edge of her skirt. In the end, he ended up leaving it - it was admittedly endearing, and when he finally ripped his gaze from her skirt to make eye contact, he was grinning widely, “Don’t think they’d fit me, to be honest. But we can try sometime, I like a challenge.” Leo wanted to make a quip back about her cotton candy, happily eating the chunk he’d torn without much care. However, Philly’s next words had him narrowing his eyes somewhat. Besides her petite stature, there wasn’t much about Philomena that screamed she was in need of protection, and Leo would be quick to claim that he was up in the running for being the least jealous guy he could think of. And yet, something didn’t sit right with him, attempting to shrug it off when he could feel a slight sneer appear on his face, “Whatever. You do you,” was all he said on the topic, grabbing the sharpie at the other end of the table that he’d used to make the faux smoking break poster and handed it towards Philly, “What about me, then? Would you kiss me or bite my tongue off?” While his outfit was far less DIY than Philly’s was, it was still quite a loud one. The rips in his jeans were obviously homemade, the tears oddly placed instead of immaculately torn with care that store-bought ones would be, including one that was dangerously close to showing off his entire crotch. His shirt was neon pink with two different purple shaded hearts inside each other, a cheap thrift store find he needed the day his shirt had been stolen while playing basketball back in Tallahassee, “What’s the Sharpie for? Don’t ruin my poster.”

“I don’t think you’d fit into anything else - the tights are particularly stretchy.” her fingers wrapped around the fur in an attempt to control the mess of fuzz - instead, clumps of awkwardly-cut fur fluttered to the ground, mingling with the trampled popcorn and dirt. “We could swap clothes. I like your clothes. You can rip my clothes - I wouldn’t mind.” Philly shoved the cotton candy into her mouth once more, matching his narrowed eyes intentionally - though not mockingly; it was more like her attempt to understand why he was looking at her like that, as far as she was aware she had done nothing wrong. Others had looked at her like that before too - but none were Leo; it wasn’t icky but it wasn’t feel--good either. She reached up and poked his cheek, “Does it bother you?” a pause - “I don’t like this face.” and a face-squish. “Stop it.” Static noise filled her brain at his question - an invisible ‘error’ sign on her face as Philly considered the question, “I don’t know - both. Would you mind if I bit your tongue off? I’d put it back, or at the very least preserve it for you.” It was - difficult to keep eye contact with him, eyes falling to the holes in his jeans - a finger looping through one of them ( not - the one by his crotch, because that’d be frankly - odd, not that she thought Leo would particularly mind, if not be surprised ) and giving a small tug - testing the fabric. “You’re cheap,” Philly repeated - not referencing his clothes by any means - taking the Sharpie from him and taking a step back, “I’m fixing the prices for my turn.” She turned away - walking towards the sign and crouching besides it - heels of her very worn, very old, Oxfords digging into the ground, “Ten for biting, twenty for kissing, thirty for ... I haven’t decided yet. Should I add a price for kissing virginity? Virginity is expensive,” Juno had told her that, once - after threatening to sell her to the neighbors, reminiscent to a bad Wattpad fanfiction. 

[philcmenabadadink]

leofcwler‌:

“Thanks,” Leo said blandly, despite the fact that he was grinning at the comment. Eyes trailing down Philly’s form, it felt like her entire outfit was a discombobulated mess, like every section of her belonged to a different cartoon character and they’d merely slapped each part onto her as an experiment, to see how it would turn out. Leaning forward, Leo pinched at the fabric right beside her knee, letting the material stretch somewhat before snapping back into place, formfitting along her legs, “Nice tights,” he snickered, still reaching into her space to pluck a piece of cotton candy and shove some into his mouth. Leo was lucky that cotton candy all but disintegrated within seconds of touching the tongue, had he been eating anything else he probably would’ve choked, “You’re replacing me? You. Seriously?” Leo hadn’t meant to sound mean, but merely a few days ago Philly was explaining to him how she’d never kissed anyone outside of the steamy peck she’d apparently shared with a frog at the tender age of - what was it? 14? 13? “And you plan on… actually kissing these people or? Just biting their tongues off and making them pay for it?”

With her spare hand, Philly smoothed out her skirt - white with a fur trim; like she’d supersized a Bratz dolls’ fit. She had glued the fur on herself - clumps of hot glue just barely noticeable underneath - a proud project. “You’re welcome,” she hadn’t minded Leo’s eyes on her - there’d been years of it from strangers, whether it was her body or the clothes she’d decorate it with. “Do you want to borrow them? I think you’d look grand.” attempting to bat away his hand from her cotton candy - she missed, lips forming a slight pout for a moment before returning to the often blank expression Philly wore, “You don’t know where that’s been.” His disbelief wasn’t surprising - she knew it was a questionable decision, a reasonable reaction to it - still, Philly rocked back on her heels, head tilting, “I told you I was waiting for an opportunity. This is one, isn’t it?” Curiosity had knocked her off the boat - maybe it was Leo’s own comfort in his sexuality and promiscuity that sparked it; or maybe it really was a suitable opportunity in her eyes. Either way, she tore away another piece of cotton candy, “Yes,” she said, without specifying whether it was towards kissing or biting the strangers - pausing for a moment, “If I feel like it. Depends on what color they’re wearing. Do you have a Sharpie?”

[philcmenabadadink]

leofcwler‌:

Paying more attention to his phone than the kissing booth he was supposed to mandate, Leo didn’t bother looking up from Twitter when he noticed someone approach from the corner of his eye, “Only a buck but I’m charging $5 for tongue,” he mumbled, finally glancing up from his phone to stick his tongue out at the person standing on the other side of the booth, goofy grin on his face, “Kidding. I’m technically on break,” pointing out the shitty homemade sign that said smoking back in 15, “waiting for my replacement. However, exceptions have been made in the past, as long as you’ve got some chapstick on you.”

Balloon darts was a decidedly more difficult job than Philly was anticipating - not that she couldn’t have handled it, but after the terrible incident involving the gauged eyes of a stuffed animal prize and a crying child ... she’d been decidedly moved to a position where she was less likely to emotionally scar the children. “You’re very cheap,” Philly noted upon walking up to the booth, a nod and a faint smile following suit - fingers pulling apart cotton candy to shove, gracelessly, into her mouth. It was more like she’d walk out of a clown house - rainbow striped tights running up her legs and triangles painted underneath her eyes; it was clownin’ time. “Oh - that’s me. I’ve been reassigned here.”

[philcmenabadadink]

blakeknx‌:

“Is it just me or does that girl have the loudest fucking breathing ever?” Blake asked, gesturing toward someone sat in his group that he didn’t particularly know well. “I can’t breathe through my nose either, but I’m not fucking blowing wind like an Anemoi.”

As with most situations - Philly had little to know clue how she’d ended up in that particular group, glancing up from her bracelet-making process to look at the mouth-breather, brows knitted together, “She’s just testing the air quality.” She looked back at Blake - pausing for a moment before beginning to also, breathe through her mouth - quite very obnoxiously (and yet - completely unaware of how obnoxious it was).

[philcmenabadadink]

leofcwler‌:

Leo blinked at Philly’s confession, unsure if she was being serious or not. Either way, it had him snorting, nodding slowly, something that could be described as a fond grin appearing. Of course, she did, “Yeah? Me too,” he had the sudden urge to reach forward and tug at her earlobe gently, a move he’d pull on an old girlfriend when he felt endeared and had no proper way of knowing how to show it. She’d hated it, and he hated the idea of comparing her to Philly, who was already far more interesting to Leo anyway, “Grew up in Tallahassee. Where I got the lovely accent from,” as if to prove his point, he purposely drawled his words in an accent even heavier then his natural one, “You actually try to steal a boat out there then? What area?” One thing Leo had noticed in the short time he knew Philly was that he was never really sure about what was going to come out of her mouth. He wasn’t one to think before he s laleapt, but she practically put him to shame with half the things she said without caring, “No, I’m not a sex addict,” he replied, unable to keep himself from chuckling, “I just - I like it, yeah, but…  don’t know. I do it whenever, wherever. Whoever.” The opportunities just have never presented themselves to me in a way that was appealing. Should he have been offended by that? Probably not, considering he’d never actually outwardly attempted to hit on her before. Which was rare, for him. Felt a bit wrong, when it came to Philly, even if she was obviously attractive, and weird in the sort of way that Leo loved. She was fascinating, and different, and he liked talking to her. But the idea of hitting on her still felt off. The touch to his chin had him automatically poking his tongue out to lap at her finger, “Maybe I like flies. Dunno if you’ve noticed, but I’m a bit of a frog myself,” Leo’s fingers paused at their work on her roller skate when she asked about Finn - a bit of a shift from insomnia. Glancing over his shoulder to make sure his aunt hadn’t come back over to them, Leo shrugged and gave her a sheepish smile, “You should try melatonin. It’s some bullshit organic sleep aid, but it actually kinda works. We’ve got a fuck ton here,” There was a long pause, as if Leo wasn’t going to answer her question, before finally mumbling, somewhat under his breath, still a bit paranoid Marjorie could hear, “He drove his car pretty high. Wrapped it around a tree,” The slap to his hands startled Leo somewhat, the gentle hit unexpected. It still had him grinning, even after bringing up such a morose topic, incapable of stopping their sudden, childish game when he slapped at Philly’s hands once more. Leo listened to her talk - he liked listening to her talk, liked how gravelly her voice was, something else that was surprising about her - all the while working on the laces, smiling so wide at this point you could see all his teeth, “God… you’re something,” he finally concluded, proudly unravelling the laces of the skate he was working on, “Didn’t think to get skates your own size or something? There’s a skate shop on the boardwalk y’know, I’m sure they’d have something in your size.”

There was something about Leo grinning at her that left Philly feeling strangely satisfied - as if she just did something, as if Leo’s smiles were reserved only for her; she knew they weren’t, seen him smile plenty of times for others - but still, the feeling was there. “What did you do?” A pause and a smile, small but there, “I like it.” her words were genuine - felt genuine, “Do I have an accent?” Philly felt as if she knew the answer already - an overwhelming no, just a voice that mimicked TV static. For being born and raised in California - her words had always lacked infliction; it’d only gotten worse after her smoking addiction. “Oh - I don’t remember the area. Very south.” She decided that the sound of his laugh was a good one - eyes caught on him, studying his features with intent. Maybe odd - though she hadn’t considered that. “Whoever?” Philly repeated, a pause between her words that left something - something, whatever that was. She didn’t catch it, either way, “Neat-o.” And then she nodded, again, determining it a suitable answer. Her stance on sex was - complicated, maybe - years of her siblings feeding her, young and gullible, misconceptions and purposeful lies that still stuck in her mind. It was something she would’ve - and should’ve - sought out to figure out herself, but living in the van for the last five years wasn’t ... ideal, for those activities. It was, in part, why Elektra would sleep at strangers’ homes instead of the van some nights - a need to relieve herself of that urge while Philly explored ruins in the middle of woods or played pool against older men in bars she shouldn’t had been in. Philly wiped her finger off on Leo’s shirt, nose twitching, “Maybe - you’re not very slimy, though. I’ve tried melatonin before - it dimmed my dreams.” Naive at times but not stupid - she recognized a delicate topic, a delicate situation - so she leaned in closer to catch the words on his breath, “Oh.” another pause - as if she were absorbing the information and storing it away in her memories, letting it sit with her, “He’s still with her.” she said, finally, quiet enough just for the two of them to hear but still sure of it - before slapping his hands again. He had nice teeth - Philly noted, the kind of teeth she begged her dentist to keep once, to no avail (something about regulations and sanitation, clown school rules). “What am I?” her eyes drifted from his to the laces, now untied, a small ‘barnacles!’ muttered under her breath in face of the defeat, “They’re expensive. I’d rather wear my sister’s old pair. They work just the same.” She patted the skates fondly before standing back up - gripping Leo’s shoulders as she wiggled her right foot free, her sock with a pattern of raccoons and trashcans now on full display.

[philcmenabadadink]

kelsoed‌:

@philcmena.

Romy sat on the ground, one skate clad foot stretched out in front of her, the other bare save for a sock with a series of cartoon french bulldogs heads pulled down to expose her ankle. She’d taken a rough fall, knee bleeding and the palms of her hands scraped. “Does this look sprained to you?”

Skating in rollerskates a size too big was truly a struggle - Philly working on tying her shoes as tight as she could - many knots into the process, opaque tights split at the knees from previous injuries. They were striped, purple and orange - a horrible, PB&J-esque (or, alternately, a stereotyped witch) combo. “Maybe,” she decided after glancing at the other’s injury, “Unless you have thick ankles. Then no.”

[philcmenabadadink]

📲 philly

jack: are you participating in the raid?

jack: seems like something up your alley

jack: feel like youd be able to sneak past the guards too

philomena: NO

philomena: [...]

philomena: ALRDY TRIED

philomena: BANNED FROM AREA 51

philomena: ON 'SHOOT ON CITE' LIST

[philcmenabadadink]

📲 philly

jack: truly haunting philly.

jack: want to give me a hint? we can play hot and cold but with the head

philomena: VERY COLD

philomena: AREA 51

[philcmenabadadink]

📲 philly

jack: haven't you ever seen dog with a blog

jack: [...]

jack: my sister used to really like it i swear i wasn't watching it for my own enjoyment

jack: cute dog though

jack: had a lot of personality

philomena: DISNEY IS A MONOPOLY

philomena: REFUSE 2 WATCH

philomena: I KNOW WHERE THE HEAD IS

[philcmenabadadink]

leofcwler‌:

“Again? You might steal a boat again?” Leo’s glancing at Philomena with narrowed eyes, trying his best to decipher her. It felt impossible to truly understand what Philly ever really mean or where she was coming from, and Leo’s current dilemma with her statement lied in the fact that he couldn’t tell if she was being serious or if she was taking on the pseudo role of Kiera Knightley he’d gifted her with. Either way, he nodded once, as if to prove that he approved of the risky endeavours involved with stealing a boat, “You have a way with words, y’know. You somehow managed to get my mind off of head. That almost sounds like an oxymoron. So you’re, like, totally virginal and shit then, huh? Total white wedding in your future? Are you… like, religious? Saving yourself for marriage like Billy Idol was hoping for?” Unsure of what to make of her opinions on poppies, Leo decides to drop it in the meantime. He’s sure that she must’ve picked up on the look he flashes her, brows furrowed in confusion and mouth hanging open slightly - mildly dumbfounded but somehow still intrigued and a touch impressed with how quickly her brain came up with half the shit she said, “Occasionally? What’s that mean? You nocturnal?” Working on the multitude of knots Philly had conjured up, probably just to annoy him, Leo couldn’t help but scoff when she commented on his aunt, shrugging afterwards, “Yeah, she’s okay,” he said casually, as if embarrassed to admit that he loved her as much as he did. Already feeling guilty at treating the topic as breezily did, he quickly continued with a sharp, “I think she always wanted a daughter, y’know? Did I already say that? She did. She had a son, but he was an okay kid, so I think she was still pretty happy. But then she died and she took me in, so. Now I think she wants a daughter more than ever, kinda thing. But she’s super cool. She’s not really funny though, so that sucks, but my uncle’s funny, so it’s okay,” Words spewing out of his mouth as if a boiling pot of water that uncontrollably overflowed, Leo bit at his lip as if that could help physically stop himself from going on further. He winced, grateful for the distraction Philomena gifted him with when he saw her red knees let out fresh beads of blood where she skinned them, probably screaming in protest at the movement, “Cut it out,” he said sternly, slapping her hands away, “I can do it. Your knees are gonna snap in half if you fuck ‘em up more,” Leo insisted after finally untying one of the skates, “Quadruple-knotting didn’t work out very well, did it? Still ate shit, so. Maybe you can just stick to double-knotting them next time, lemme keep some of my sanity,” he huffed, ignoring the accidental implication of this - whatever this that was going on was - continuing.

“I have a warrant out for me in Florida,” She said - casually, as if everybody had a warrant on them in Florida - not offering much to explain the boat ordeal. It was like she was filled to the brim with stories, stored and ready to fumble out from her lips - bits and pieces, only - refusing to give full stories or explanations. She’d always been like that - vague and near intangible, like she had just stepped out of a folktale. “Are you a sex addict?” It was the only conclusion that could come to Philly’s mind - eyes wide and curious, gazing up at him for an answer, “No - I’ve kissed a frog when I was thirteen, so I couldn’t be. I don’t want to marry - the opportunities just have never presented themselves to me in a way that was appealing.” She spoke of it as if it were something a businessman would sell in a commercial. ‘Sex for only $9.99! Shipping and handling not included.’ And, afraid of scams, she’d change the channel. Her brows furrowed at the look Leo gave her - Philly putting a finger beneath his chin in an attempt to shut his open mouth. “Flies.” As if it were explanation, and then, “I have insomnia,” it was the most definite answer she had ever given him, “I’m awake a lot more often than not - how did he die?” Her voice was quiet - at least aware of the sensitivity of the topic, though apparently not enough to not ask the question in the first place. It was a different family dynamic than hers - though Philly hadn’t seen her family in years; she loved them dearly, just felt too restrained in routine. She had no explanation for why she never visited. Things were sometimes just like that. She slapped his hands back, like a game, “That just means I get peg legs, remember?” There would’ve been a tone of hurt, or offense, that he had forgotten so soon - if her voice hadn’t been nothing but monotonous gravel. “They’re a size too big. If I don’t tie them tight they come flying off.” Philly explained, a small huff to match his, “I have smaller, quicker fingers. I can untie them faster.” it was insistent - as if she wasn’t struggling over the laces on her remaining skate.

[philcmenabadadink]

📲 all contacts

jack: i got fired today

jack: think it had something to do with all the whistle jokes i made

jack: so anyway i'm looking for new employment! i'm super cute and eager to please

jack: here's my headshot [ https://i.pinimg.com/originals/8c/cf/ec/8ccfec7d5cb3c92265cbf153523eb9b5.jpg ]

philomena: DOGS CANT TYPE

[philcmenabadadink]

anyone you think might be in on this?

“I don’t know what you’re referring to. Bigfoot.”

[philcmenabadadink]

mxdcotes‌:

“I’m off the clock,” Max said for the third time to a man that kept pestering him for a refill after having been told this every single time and also cut off, by himself, an hour earlier. “You’re behind the bar, aren’t you? Don’t seem very off the clock to me,” the older man complained, gesturing toward him. “Who’s running this shitshow. anyway?” he said, implying Max was the shitshow and not the overall establishment the disorderly man seemed rather loyal to. “If it smells of shit in here, it’s likely from the hot air coming out of your mouth. Haven’t taken a proper breath in hours,” Max mumbled, barely reacting when the man impulsively threw a patrons glass in his direction, missing by a good few feet but unfortunately splashing a few guests with Long Island anyway. Exhaling as security rushed to drag him out of Heights, Max moved to begin cleaning up the mess, apologizing to the individual that seemed to get the brunt of the soaking. “Sorry. We get a special breed of customers that sit at the bar. You’re safest at – Probably at an entirely different bar, honestly.”

By no means should Philly had been allowed inside the bar; she was underage, terribly so - lacked the ability to hold her liquor, not that she was a fan of it in general - and yet, there she was. Sitting there, dressed as the ghost of a Victorian era child; yellowing nightgown and hallowing eyes that gave anybody a long-lasting chill if they’d stare too long. It was her mood of the day. She’d been sipping on a Shirley Temple, forcing the bright red cherry down with her straw until it was a crime scene at the bottom of her glass; paying little attention to her surroundings. It wasn’t until she felt the cool splatter - the darkened spots of her nightgown, that Philly looked up, blinking in confusion, “Oh,” she touched the ends of her hair, soaked in alcohol and carefully crafted ringlets ruined - nose wrinkling for a moment, “It’s okay. He’ll get what’s coming to him.” It was both vague and frightening - voice devoid of emotion, just wide unblinking eyes now staring directly at Max.

[philcmenabadadink]

leofcwler‌:

Unsurprisingly, Leo’s brows fly to his forehead when Philomena admits to her inexperience. He didn’t judge - or at least tried not to - but it was hard to imagine anyone their age being completely virginal. Then again, she was more than a bit odd. She could’ve either been lying or had just skipped handjobs in general and had jumped straight to orgies with the Russian Mafia. Either way, Leo found it hard to grab a read on her, but he still tried to sober his expression with a quick clearing of his throat, “The Devil, huh? Probably cause they’re so lame. The Devil’s woke, I hear. He’s on the fence when it comes to head, too. Find me someone whose got a decent goose neck goin’ on and he’ll give you anything you want for free,” Leo’s not sure why he does it, does it with everyone no matter who they are out of… habit, mostly? Starts talking to them like they’re nothing but bros, as if half of the things he comes up with are appropriate. But he barely knows Philomena, and as odd as she is, he’s fond and she’s a lady. He doesn’t say this out loud, doesn’t apologize for his poor choice of words, since he can imagine Philly wrinkling her nose and protesting at being called a lady, but it’s the truth. Leo’s mom would have a fit if she’d heard the way he was talking to her right now, “Your flyer’s like it,” he protests, pointedly waving them in her face and giving them a shake so that they begin to flutter due to the interruption, “And I think you’d make a cool pirate. My first crush was on, uh… Kiera Knightley? Is that her name? From Pirates of the Carribean. And she ended up being the king of pirates, so.” Glancing down at her busted rollerblade, Leo’s tugging his shirt back on quickly so that it’s not so awkwardly intrusive when he wraps an arm around her waist for support, guiding her towards his house that he’d only just left without further hesitation, “Hey, what’s wrong with poppies? They’re pretty ugly, I get it, but. They have feelings and shit. Like ugly people. We only sell them for a few weeks in November anyway, so. Just book those weeks off and you’ll probably be fine,” Leo lets out a frustrated groan when he tries to turn his doorknob to find that his aunt’s already ten steps ahead, locking the door the moment he’s stepped out and forcing him to reach into his back pocket awkwardly to clutch at the key ring he has back there, “I don’t like sleeping until it’s late. Too much free time to waste. But I’m working the opening shift, so. Gotta be up early. C’est la vie,” Unlocking the front door, Leo hesitates before turning towards Philomena, smile on his face soft but… somewhere along the lines of a grimace, “My aunt’s pretty weird. You’re pretty weird so it’s whatever, but. I don’t know. Whatever. Welcome,” Tossing the front door open, a high pitched angry voice is already filling their ears within milliseconds of stepping into the quaint house, Dutch flying out of his aunt’s mouth so fast even Leo has trouble keeping up with it, “Rustig worden!” Leo’s shouting back tactlessly, never having a problem with shouting at his aunt when she was hysterical like this if it meant she’d shut up, “Jesus fuckin’ Christ - are you gonna help my friend or not?” There’s a few seconds of awkward silence where his aunt merely stares Philomena down, obviously trying to decode whether she was just another one of the many people Leo brought home or in some other category entirely, “Philly, this is my Aunt Marjorie. Marj, Philly. She has resumes for you to look at. And cuts for you to fix,” Another few, long, seconds of silence before Marjorie must decide that she’s okay with Philomena’s presence, nodding once and flashing a quick smile, “Welcome. I’ll give you coffee. Take the wheels off her and bring her to the kitchen,” Rolling his eyes the same moment his aunt rounds the corner again, Leo’s crouching before he’s even thinking about it to untie the ties of Philomena’s roller blades, glancing up at her through his lashes as he does so, something a bit bashful appearing on his features, “See? Bit of a wack job. You okay?”

He’s caught her attention now - not that he hadn’t had it before - but she’s fascinated by his take on the Devil, eyebrows furrowing in consideration of his words, “Anything you want for free? Who - who’s receiving? The Devil? Or?” her hand drops from her ribbon, stuffed into the pocket of her skirt ( she sewed it in herself; there were never enough pockets - she would make cargo skirts if she could ) as she, apparently, considered sucking off the Devil, “Never gave head, either - he might throw me in one of his despair pits if I were try, and I’m trying very hard to become a ghost when I pass.” She doesn’t mind the vulgarity; it’s natural to her - growing up surrounded by siblings and years on the road combined turning her into someone with thick skin; impenetrable. Her eyes flicker towards her posters - again, as he shakes them in front of her - this time reaching out and clasping her hands over his, momentarily, before sliding the fliers out from his grasp and back into her possession; they’re hugged to her chest, securely. “I think so too - I might steal a boat again.” Philly nods in approval of his choice in women - mouth opening to comment on her thoughts of the documentary when his arm snakes around her waist; a momentary fight or flight response before accepting it without fuss. Her cheeks, however - are out of her control, heat spreading across her face in a natural response. If it had been anybody else - she might’ve sprayed them with mace by now; she’d dealt with her fair share of men who thought it was alright to put their hands on a women matching their daughters’ age. But Leo wasn’t a threat - or well, he didn’t feel like a threat - “Poppies are bad luck,” she says after a moment of her brain faltering, “Carmichaels die in poppy fields.” it’s - well, it’s a fairly odd thing to say; and Philly offers no further explanation of it, “and November’s an awfully long ways away.” she could only hope that their van would be fixed by then - she liked Livingstone and the people, but there’s something about settling down for too long that leaves her feeling itchy. “I don’t sleep - much, either. I sleep occasionally.” Her nose twitches at being called weird - though he’s not wrong and she’s used to it - a force of habit. Regardless - she nods in comprehension, stepping inside and staying by the door - another habit. “Rustig worden,” it’s a mumble underneath her breath - repeating Leo out of fascination. She picked up a few phrases in a few different langues here and there - but nothing beyond; it became a collection of sorts. “Hi - “ is all she really manages to get out, momentarily stuck in her thoughts ( it wasn’t unusual ), before Marjorie disappeared into the kitchen. “ - I like her,” she states - not realizing Leo’s bent down before her until she actually looks down, “oh - I quadruple-knot my laces.” She proceeds to crouch down - much to the protest of her bloody knees stuck to her skirt - leveling with Leo as her fingers start tugging on knots, “Safety and whatnot.”

[philcmenabadadink]

tmacneil‌:

“thanks for driving me home,” tatum was crammed in the backseat of some shitty car, it was late and the glitter she’d meticulously applied earlier in the night was smeared down her face, a fallen disco queen. there were five people in the backseat, two too many people for the small thing, and tate felt like a sardine packed in so tight. the car was silent, too uncomfortable for tatum, and she cleared her throat to break the quiet, “was real worried when that cop showed up, fuck, i can not get in trouble with the law again. i’m a strike away from prison. solitary confinement, probably, ya’know? hey, does anyone mind if i juul in here?”

“i just want taco bell,” her hands gripped the wheel tightly, knuckles white and face relatively void of emotion, “crunchwrap supreme.” it hadn’t been her car - she wondered whose car she was driving, whether they were in the car themselves or if this was technically considered car theft - she hadn’t been at the party either. philly had simply ( like she always managed to do ) found herself in a situation she had no memory of putting herself in. crunchwrap supreme. “me neither, i don’t know how to drive.” she kept looking for the stick shift, feeling confused and frankly, bamboozled, at the lack of one. phil took a sharp turn, turning the wheel with all her might as if it were a go-kart ( or, alternately, her van which was considerably harder to navigate ) as she spotted the desired taco bell drive thru; eyes on the prize. “what’s a juul?”

[philcmenabadadink]

leofcwler‌:

“Dope. Me too,” Leo reasoned, an entertained grin appearing at Philomena’s bluntness. His fondness for the smaller girl was probably obvious from the first moment they met, a small bundle of odd awkwardness without even realizing so. Immediately Leo wanted to be around her as often as possible, “Hook hand would make handies shitty,” tactless as always, Leo made a jerking off motion, papers that he’d collected in hand rustling in protest, “peg leg would be cool, though. I could see you hobbling around with one. Eye patch, too. Pirate Philly’s kinda got a ring to it,” Momentarily, Leo wondered how Philly would react if he reached forward and grasped at her hand to guide her back to his place. It felt risky - Leo wouldn’t even have been surprised if she whipped a fork out of nowhere to stab him in the hand if he tried, “Honestly, I think she might still be a witch. You should give her one of these bad boys,” he mentioned, shaking the stack of paper in hand to signal he was referring to her resume’s, “Pretty sure we’re always hiring.” Ready to turn and guide her back to his place just a tiny bit down the street, Leo raised a brow curiously at the sudden contact, her words and the tug of the shirt’s tag causing him to scoff, “What the hell -,” feeling the tag himself, Leo huffed, shrugging in the next second, “Fuck, eh? What can you do. Didn’t really sleep last night,” his last sentence was muffled when he easily tugged his shirt over his head, shamelessly standing shirtless in front of Philomena in the middle of the street as he eyed his shirt, attempting to readjust it so that he could put it on properly, “Dunno how I didn’t even fuckin’ notice,” Before putting it back on, he proudly showed her the vintage Scream logo, accompanied by the Ghostface Killer underneath the title, “My aunt’s not a big fan, doesn’t really like when I wear it to work but I’m a free agent, so.”

“We’re poor together, then,” her eyes met his as she nodded, firmly - chin jutted, matter-of-fact. It was hard to determine where Philly’s emotions lied at any given moment - much less feelings, which were often fickle and complicated. She wasn’t logical by any means, with a head filled with nonsense - but she’d never experienced passion, no strong pull of an emotion to guide her anywhere in particular. Even with Leo, whose company she had easily favored heavily over the other Livingstone residents, it was hard to determine what she felt. Did she like him as much as she liked hurricanes, or peanut m&ms? Or did she like him like the thrill of stealing from Walmart? Even more so - had she ever liked anybody in those ways? Her lips split into a wider smile, more full - subconsciously twisting the yellow ribbon tied firmly around the strap of her tank top ( it was lucky, she insisted multiple times - wore it wherever she went, hopelessly lost without it ), “I’ve never given a handie - that’s how the Devil finds you - so it’d be terrible regardless,” Philly had never been ashamed at her lack of ... experience, she figured it’d happen one day - she just wasn’t in a rush to get to that day. That, and she had so many stories buried deep in the back of her mind ( mainly from her siblings feeding a tween-Philly exaggerated horror stories ) that it hadn’t sounded ... worth it, to begin with. “Think I’m going to start dressing as a pirate, I’m feeling particularly inspired now - Elektra’s got to be my first mate, that’s natural - but I won’t make you walk the plank - unless you keep arousing my fliers.” she wagged her finger, non-seriously - bottom lip curled forward in the form of a light pout - the equivalent of getting lectured by a toddler. “Do you think she’d hire me? I’d rather be a witch’s apprentice than florist - I get the urge to cut up yellow roses whenever I see them, and I won’t touch poppies.” She scooted back - head tilted, curiously, “Why didn’t you sleep?” Part of her felt as if she ought to look away, it was only polite, but she didn’t - still curious though for a different reason. Philly had seen a bare torso before, obviously, she wasn’t a sheltered child - but it was different, it was Leo’s bare torso - and she didn’t look with any intentions in mind. It was similar to the way she’d look at mannequins, simply curious by anatomy, wishing to reach out, but, because it would be rude and frankly odd, refraining to do so. “I didn’t know Anti-Santa had his own clothing line,” Philly remarked, as if that were an ordinary statement - and as if were common knowledge, “I don’t blame her, his mournful wails are reportedly heartbreaking.”

[philcmenabadadink]

benjigates‌:

“I don’t know,” he said, squinting at the wound. “Maybe three? I mean, it’s a fifty pack. Think I’ll be okay,” he assured Philly as he took out a few of the band-aids and handed them over. “There’s also Neosporin. Want that or are you keeping it au natural?” he asked.

“Three’s a good number, I don’t like even numbers.” she fiddled with the band-aids, scanning them as if she were examining how vibrant the orange was, exactly, a simple shrug to his next inquiry, “My sister wouldn’t like it so much if I had to cut my legs off at the knees due to infection and I haven’t got anything else with me besides my own spit, so - Neosporin it is?”