no-class beat-down fool

Riley Wenck. Twenty-three years Down Under and another twenty-three among the evergreens. Come over sometime for Talking Heads, yeah? Hell, even Hawkguy had a Hawkgirl.

[gabe00122]

Visit Original Link

[riley-wenck]

Same as it ever was.

[ruth-davies-deactivated20140108]

I could really use a whiskey right now.

Or any kind of strong liquor, for that matter.

[riley-wenck]

Nothing's been coming in for me, either. Maybe the Gods are all dried up.

[robertafterdeath]

Oh my God.

[robertafterdeath]

-

[Get used to it, okay. They said that about a lot of things. You just move on, get used to it, it gets better after the shock.]

I’d prefer being ‘flat-out dead’. That’s kind of what I was trying to do, but I ended up here instead, so that’s disappointing. 

[riley-wenck]

Dead, or just not alive? 'Cause I didn't love living so much, either, but this isn't the worst gig. Flat I don't have to let, plenty of cassettes to listen to--I got something called a GameBoy a couple weeks ago that I still can't believe is real. There are perks. 

[ruth-davies-deactivated20140108]

Today is the anniversary.

81 years. God, help me.

[riley-wenck]

You've been keeping track for 81 years? I mean, I'm no expert on Dealing with Death, but that sounds like it's... I don't know, maybe not such a top-notch idea. 

[robertafterdeath]

Oh my God.

-

Where the hell did I end up, why is it cold—?

[riley-wenck]

Oh. Oh boy. Uh... Well, we aren't all that sure on what or where or--or how, really. Or anything. 

But the cold goes away, kind of. You get used to it. And it's better than being just flat-out deadset dead, so it's--I mean, after the whole shock thing, it'll get better.

[classicrockneverdies]

Visit Original Link

[jbaruchel-blog]

[maxinehales]

Hear Me | Maxine & Riley

[maxinehales]

-

Riley’s hands were on her shoulder, comforting her in every way that he could. How did comfort work when you’ve been stabbed and you know there weren’t any hospitals, any doctors to tend to you right away? There probably were dead doctors, but those were people out of Maxine’s reach. Besides, there was no such thing as death within death. Only a void. And she was sure that the gods wouldn’t ever give her an easy way out. Her face pressed to his shoulder before she could sob again, the continued stream of tears soaking his shirt.

No, enough, she willed herself. Stop it. The pain still jabbed at her abdomen and shot through her whole torso, but she wanted to stop everything. She hoped the next time she would see him, she was going to be normal and act normal—well, look where they were now.

Wait, he asked her a question. Two questions. What happened? Did someone do this to you?

Maxine peeled her face away slightly, her light blue eyes glassy and her nose puffy and her face blotchy. Much, much clearer out in the open. But that wasn’t even a concern. “I…” she swallowed, her breathing shaky as she inhaled and exhaled. Her gaze dragged down from the evident concern in his eyes, down to his neck and collarbone. “Luke. It was Luke.” That was all she could muster up and say. There wasn’t any point telling him the guy stabbed her when the wound was right in front of him.

His hands were steadying her at her waist, and she made an effort herself to keep herself up. Her hand gripped his sleeve and she weakly uttered, “Take me home. Please.” Home. Somewhere. Anywhere. She didn’t want to pass out. She wanted to be okay. She didn’t want to stay out in the cold any longer.

[riley-wenck]

Riley wanted to touch it. Her. Touch--touch her, there, where her hand tried to hold all the blood in. He wanted to help her hold all the blood in, but nobody could really do that, and it probably hurt something awful, didn't it? He remembered a foggy flash of conversation in grade school about stomach acid and how it burned all your insides right up. How much he hated puking. 

He made a move to put her hand over her hand over her gut, but only hovered there and then pulled it back. Did she just--did she, did--? It was kinda hard to hear her 'cause her voice was so dry and thick with tears. He could've misheard. Except she was pulling at his arm to keep herself up, and she wouldn't even look at him as she said it, and he just knew he'd gotten it right the first time. She hadn't tripped or fallen; this wasn't an accident, some self-inflicted clumsy spill. A person did this. This was a person.

This was Luke.

He fancied himself something romantic, Riley. Maybe not, you know, Andrew McCarthy with the car and the face--maybe more Anthony Michael Hall--but he definitely had a touch of Lloyd Dobler. And if anyone ever even talked bad about a girl he really cared about, he always liked to think he'd get all chivalrous and mad. But when Maxine stood there in the snow with his shirt-sleeve in her fingers and closed her eyes and said it, Riley didn't feel angry at all. He just felt sick. Sick, helpless, and scared.

Great way to feel if you're supposed to be someone's hero. He picked a spot in the snow to stare at so he wouldn't start crying too, or whatever, and she was begging to go home before he looked back. She was so pretty. Even bloodied and pink-nosed, even too weak to stand. And he wanted to take her home like she asked, but his place was so much closer, just over his shoulder. "Okay." He nodded once, twice, five times. "Okay, yeah. Yeah. I'm just--I'm right there," he said, pointing behind him where his footprint trail ended. "Is that okay? If we--if we go there?" 

It was another question that didn't need to be asked, and he tried to blink off his massive stupidity. Dipstick, he thought. And then he was sadder. God, he had so much Lloyd Dobler in him. "Try not to, uh... move? A lot?" Or was that spine injuries? Or was that head wounds? Whatever. it didn't matter. They were trudging slowly, he was trying not to walk too fast or take his hands off her or say anything else that might show how completely useless he was right now. It was a quick walk. It was the longest quick walk he'd ever had. 

[skippedtherabbithole-blog]

I think I may be catching cold. I wonder if that’s even possible in this world… I suppose I’ll be finding out, if it is. 

[riley-wenck]

Oh, it's gotta be. I've had a true-blue asthma attack here before--I've had a whole bunch of 'em. And if that's possible, colds have to be way likely.

[maxinehales]

Hear Me | Maxine & Riley

[maxinehales]

This was how it was all going to play out: she would be sitting on the snow, her head resting against the just-as-cold wall, bleeding out until she goes unconscious. When it’s all over, she’s going to limp or walk back to her apartment and think about the scenario that had occurred. She’s going to think back and see how stupid and childish she had been, taunting Luke like that. Maxine was thinking about it at that moment. She should have just walked away. She should have just walked away and flipped him off for the sake of satisfaction.

But this time, she was the one defeated.

She was so clouded in her thoughts that she didn’t hear the Australian accent that caught in the air—just her sobbing. Maxine had her lips pressed tightly together at her best despite the tears that streamed. She didn’t want to sob or cry. She wanted to handle it. No, she wasn’t going to be vulnerable. She wasn’t—

“Oh my god,” […] “oh god, are you okay?”

Her eyes shut tight and her jaw clenched. And then she gave in, weeping like the helpless person she was. She was weeping in front of him again, and this time, it was going to take a little more than her own conscience to assist in her recovery. Her hand clutched tighter to the blood and skin and fabric as she took a step toward him. She was so weak.

"Riley," she whispered, staggering when she got close, her non-bloodied hand gripping whatever she could to stay standing. But she could feel herself slipping away. Just any moment, now.

[riley-wenck]

She had shaky footing, and she swayed every time she took a step forward. Riley took it in: the sobbing, the bleeding, the rasp in her voice as she tried to say his name. He took it in and tried to process it, but he couldn't do more than turn it over and over and over like a rotten engine as he took his own uneven steps to get to her.

"Yeah," he said. "Yeah, it's--it's me. It's me."

What did he know about bleeding out? In the sixth issue of the Batman reboot, the Talon kidnapped the Dark Knight, starved him for nine days, and then stuck him through the gut. There were all these panels of how the dull red seeped into the grey of his uniform--how he fell to his knees and held himself. And bled from the mouth. Was Maxine supposed to bleed from the mouth? Was that the kind of thing that actually happened in the Real World, or in this Other World, or wherever bodies could be torn up and broken? He didn't know. Maxine's shoulder was quivering under his hand as he reached out to steady her, but he hadn't ever been a steady person, and there was only so much he could do. She didn't have an armored Batsuit. Her shirt was wet and her mouth was slack.

Maybe he should pick her up. Sling her over his shoulder, or do it bridal-style--like a wedding night, he thought dimly, and closed his eyes. Not a chance. Riley wasn't strong enough to hold her weight, what little weight she had. Of all the folks to find her, why'd it have to be him? But he was glad it was him. He could help, somehow. Probably. At the very least, he could stand here with her, and then sit when she collapsed, and just--I don't know, just hold her hand, or something, just wait for the ambo that wasn't coming. 

"What happened?" His voice, too, was a whisper, as if he was afraid that moving too much or being too loud would hurt her even more. She was so hurt. "Did something do this to you?" Was she allowed to talk, or was that a bad idea? Was he meant to keep her awake? No, that was another thing. Were the Gods gonna let her die like this, and--and if so, were they gonna give him even the chance of making her maybe not die? Oh, this was so much stuff. Riley wet his lips and tried to lean further into her, his other hand folding around her waist to hold her more upright. 

[maxinehales]

Hear Me | Maxine & Riley

She didn’t know how long it had been, trudging through all that snow. Trudging, staggering, limping. That hand that clung to her abdomen was tinted red, the blood seeping through her clothes and dripping down her pale skin. And the pain—it wasn’t like anything she felt in a good, long time. Not since the crash.

It hurt to breathe. It hurt to move. Yet, she continued to move, because there was absolutely know way she was going to let herself pool out in the open. If there was something that could be done, Maxine was going to do it—as weak as she was. She was already by the residences, and all she needed was to knock on someone’s door. Her hand brushed along the rough walls, pushing herself on.

But her legs were weak, already giving in. She wasn’t going to make it. Tears welled up in her eyes, and her brows furrowed in frustration, in hatred. Maxine looked over her shoulder, back at the footsteps and the miniscule specks of red that trailed all the way from the site where Luke had stabbed her. A sob erupted from her, and she looked on as she tasted salt, her cheeks wet.

She was almost there. She could do it. But she just couldn’t.

[riley-wenck]

Riley was walking outside to--to what? To walk. To get out of his apartment, clear his head, try to shake off that dream he kept waking up from with the redhead girl and the comic shop. It was the afternoon. He'd lent his GameBoy to Julie, and Ada was nowhere to be found, and he'd already read through the weekend's newest update on Batman, Iron Man, and the Flash. Someone had mentioned in passing the other day that there might be bushes growing berries by the farthest apartment building. He could make that walk. Twelve, fifteen blackberries--he could handle the sugar if it meant that taste like summer on his tongue.

He didn't get nearly that far. He'd only just stepped out of his building when he saw the steady stream of red in the snow--and how it carried all the way back to the trees, thickening as it got closer. He didn't--he didn't know how blood carried. He didn't know what he was supposed to do, or how he was supposed to save anyone--he wasn't prepared to play Doctor, and so Riley licked his lips and looked frantically from side to side. 

Maxine.

He couldn't be sure it was her, but he was so sure anyway, his whole heart pounding out the way she'd felt to wake up to and no, no, no, no. She was just an orange smudge in his vision, shuffling unevenly against the building next door. Maxine. Bleeding. He was sorry, stifled, fingers splayed at his sides because he had to help her but he didn't know how except to run over, snow kicking up behind him with each frantic step. "Maxine!" he shouted, his lungs fighting against the way the cold quickly turned the air sharp in his chest. 

Oh, it was her, all right. It was her hand on her stomach and all the red slipping through between her fingers, red like paint, like a melting crayon. The last time he saw Maxine cry, she'd hid her face. She wasn't hiding now. "Oh my god," he said, "oh god, are you okay?" Stupid. "Sorry. Sorry, that was--I just, I mean, I... Oh god, Maxine." 

[riley-wenck]

Julie got you whipped much?

You can't be whipped by a friend. I don't think.

[maxinehales]

I can't stop thinking about that party.

[maxinehales]

Doesn’t seem so bad, honestly.

But hey—I’m 100% sure you’ll get more of it. Kissing and stuff. We’ve got an eternity here.

[riley-wenck]

W-we, I... I mean. I mean, yeah. Maybe. I don't know. Hopefully more, uh, controlled kissing. And less dudes?

No dudes, is preferable.

[maxinehales]

I can't stop thinking about that party.

[maxinehales]

-

There’s that. When I was alive, passing out usually meant dicks on your face drawn in marker.

Luckily for you, I’m not one of those assholes. [Her smile widens as she averts her gaze, then it falters a little] But yeah, it should’ve been fun. You did a lot of spinning.

[riley-wenck]

I, uh... I sure did. More kissing last night than all the others, ever, added up, which--which, okay, wow, probably says something about the kind of life I've lived. 

[maxinehales]

I can't stop thinking about that party.

[maxinehales]

[She smiles.] Hopefully you got home safe. I passed out somewhere in Heath’s house, and I think Brendan came back to carry me home, since I was home wen I woke up. The guy’s a psychic.

[riley-wenck]

Oh--oh, no, I made it home. Somehow. Still not absolutely sure what happened between point A and point B, but I was good as rotten at that point, so I'm not gonna question it too hard. So long as I didn't wake up with any new tattoos.

[forgetting-julie-parker]

Another reason I usually avoid parties.

[forgetting-julie-parker]

Gross! Can we not talk about you blowing chunks? Because it’s only going to make me do it too!

Dim lights, Matthew Broderick… Sounds like a plan.

[riley-wenck]

I'll be there. Just as soon as I remember how to get out of bed.

[maxinehales]

I can't stop thinking about that party.

[riley-wenck]

Deadset. It was... it was something.