#a2 tag.

[flaxsturbation]

           annie goes to the person she always goes to when things are bad, real bad — the kind of bad that leaves you feeling nothing: not sad, not angry, not even numb, just nothing. when it feels like world is out there and she is in here (wherever here is), alone and untouchable, only one person knows how to get her back to herself, and that person is her mother.

simon tried to talk to her when she got home. he expected to have another quiet, albeit lonely night spent watching old star trek episodes, looking for continuity errors, and was surprised when his sister walked through the door after her quote unquote super special night out with billie. but annie wasn’t in the mood to talk, not to him or to anyone. it wasn’t until she shut the door without waiting for her cat that simon knew whatever the hell happened, whatever was going on behind her bedroom door, it was beyond his help.

and so barbara expected the visit. she baked double chocolate chip cookies and made strawberry-chocolate milk and dusted off the shelves in annie’s room in preparation, just waiting for when she would drag herself out of bed, crawl into that dirty death trap she calls gertie, and come visit her mama, just like she needs.

when she arrives later the next day, annie is greeted by her father, all warm and inviting, who presses a kiss to the top of her head and ushers her in. richard isn’t good with this sort of thing, he’s too empathic and seeing annie cry only makes him cry. annie knows how this goes, she only gets a few moments to relish the way he still smells the same after twenty something years, like aftershave and humidor, and how long and encompassing his arms are. she wishes she could just stay in his arms forever — it’s safer that way — but then her mother is there to lead her away before they both end up needing her counciling. it’s only for the best.

“c’mon, sweetie.” barbara rubs big, wide circles against her back as they enter the kitchen. the way to annie’s heart is through her stomach but not even cookies are going to fix this, though that doesn’t stop her from grabbing one as she sits down. but it doesn’t taste like anything, it’s like her whole body has turned to fuzz and all that’s left is a scab where her heart should be. soon it’ll be ready to pick and then there will be nothing, just smooth, new skin — she’ll never feel anything again, the rest of her life is going to be characterized by nothingness, the inability to taste or touch or feel or hurt. she’s swallowed all those things, made herself too much like rubber and not even a shock of lightning is going to be able to fix this, even if it’s coming from her mom.

damn, maybe billie is rubbing off on her too much.

billie. this is all because of her. no, that’s too harsh, this is HER fault — annie’s fault — and billie just got herself caught up in her mess. but not too caught up in it. she can’t even think about it, just a flash of how her face froze when annie got up from her seat and annie’s head drops, her shoulders shake and suddenly all that shit about not feeling anything is right about the fucking window because she feels it right now, hot and real, every bit of embarrassment and heartbreak she felt not even twenty four hours ago. it’s all right here and it’s coming out onto her mother’s pretty white table cloth. she wants to stop herself, she does — she wants to suck all of it back in like snot and enjoy her cookies and kiss her mom and go back home and ask billie over for a game of extreme jenga but annie can’t do that. she’ll never be able to do that ever again because she’ll never be able to look billie in the eye again, not without feeling all this all over again. she’s such a fucking idiot.

“my sweet annie-bananie,” barbara frowns, walks over, wraps her arms around annie’s head and pushes her to her chest. the sobs only get stronger but barbara doesn’t mind — that’s what a mother’s chest is for. “start from the beginning...”

@blowejob is about to get rekt

[flaxsturbation]

            “i love boobs any way i can get them,” annie responds a bit too quickly, coming up under the milky white statue to inspect the perfectly rounded, far too symmetrical pair of marble titties that have managed to capture her attention this time. just a few feet away, a security guard is eyeing her suspiciously; he doesn’t like how close her nose is to the art. 

“...ugh, the THINGS i’d let aphrodite do to me, bills.”

@blowejob bc we need something small and fun.

[flaxsturbation]

           “I never half ass anything,” Annie responds proudly; she’s all about believably, though the turquoise handle covered in painted flowers and the pink barrel should be a dead give away. At Camille’s request, Annie turns the gun on the other woman, closing one eye as she attempts to line up her shot. “Alright, comin’ in hot.”

And hot it is. As cool as it is to shoot juice into your mouth, water guns don’t do much in the way of insulating a beverage and if she’s being honest with herself, strawberry kiwi juice isn’t all that good when it’s as hot as piss. Still, Camille asked and Annie always delivers, even if most of it does end up on her cheek. Hopefully her sheepish smile is enough of an apology. “Yeah, II was never the best at water gun games....”

@nosferatuinblue

[flaxsturbation]

                   “moths taste better than butterflies. you’d think they’d be better ‘cuz of the colors but nope.” a small nugget of wisdom from a small nugget, free of charge. some context would be nice but before he can ask, annie’s hand goes up. “don’t ask.”

@notyourgbf liked this for a starter.

[flaxsturbation]

                  there is nothing in the world annie hates more than grocery shopping. she likes the idea of having food, of getting to pick out all the delicious snacks she’ll enjoy over the next two weeks, it’s just the doing it that’s tough. usually she has simon take care of all that ( he does the shopping, she does the laundry ) but when billie said no, they can’t hang out after school today, she has to do some sort of replenishing because her pantry looks like a tornado hit, annie instinctually invited herself along.

maybe that wasn’t the right thing to do. it felt right in the moment — why wouldn’t she want to go with billie? sure, she was doing the worst thing in the world but if you do it with the best person, it all sort of evens out, right? — but the ride to the supermarket was silent, just as the walk through it is silent, and annie’s not all that GOOD at picking up signals but she knows when she’s not wanted. and it’s not just this, either; the last two weeks have been... weird, to say the least. billie’s seemed off, a little distant and a lot quieter than she should be and every time annie asks what’s wrong, if she’s feeling okay, if she’s mad, she is met with a tight lipped smile and a shake of her head. she is fine, they are fine, nothing to worry about here!

but it does not FEEL fine, not to annie. it feels heavy and tense and it keeps her from throwing boxes of powdered donuts into the cart, or from insisting that billie buy her the grow-them-yourself dinosaur eggs even though she really, really wants them. whatever it is — and maybe it’s nothing, maybe this is just what happens when you stay with someone for longer than a month — it’s been eating away at her, slowly but surely, to the point where annie isn’t so upset anymore, she is just annoyed.

“woah!” the jerking of the cart breaks her away from her thoughts and if it didn’t, billie’s hand yanking at her collar definitely did. she huffs, stepping back behind the isle as instructed, peering in between bags of baked potato chips. “what was that all about?” if she was to GUESS, it probably had to do with the couple staring blankly at the pretzels, nose turned up in the air. “—you know those... doilies?”

@blowejob rly wants to test me

[flaxsturbation]

          annie’s eyes narrow slightly (mostly because she SHOULD be wearing glasses) as she attempts to keep up with catherine’s signs. the only one she can make out is ‘you’ and ‘good’ — thank you, high school level asl 101 — and her eyebrow quirks, fingers coming up to playfully begin unbuttoning her mustard stained flannel shirt despite knowing damn well she was turned down. “we’re doing this? see, i KNEW there was a reason i skipped my bra this morning.” this morning and every morning, for that matter.

@kouphe (continued from here)