#au tbd.

[facepeeled]

plotted starter | @dxmagedtwo

she hated dealing with heisenberg. badger and skinny pete were cool guys-- she liked getting high with them, playing first person shooters, crashing on their couch. so when they offered her a way to make some extra cash, selling the purest meth she'd ever smoked, she jumped on the opportunity. thought it'd be all up hill from there, nothing but stacks of cash, bags of crystal, and maybe even a house of her own one day. she was real optimistic. until she met their boss.

heisenberg was a total dick. a hard ass, condescending know it all in a pork pie hat. but he was a genius, she knew that much from the high his product gave her. she couldn't resist sampling the shit. what'd he expect from a junkie? she just hoped he didn't notice her bag was light. she might've done a little more than she'd intended to.

they were meeting for more product, all of them, in the middle of nowhere. she was nervous, paranoid, but that might've been because she was high. she handed over the wad of dirty bills she'd made from the last week, avoiding eye contact. something about him reminded her of her daddy. something about him was terrifying. "it's all there," she lied, playing coy.

[wulfmade]

reggy reggie reggeroni // @betraeyer // u asked I deliber.

' have you considered casual wear? ' socked feet, older but still perfectly good pair of sweatpants, and a worn sweater... that was the current garb of remus lupin. ' the effort is nice but if you ever you know. relax. it's perfectly allowed. ' cue the bowl of popcorn being handed over. ' it's a movie night. not a ballroom. '

[facepeeled]

continued from here | @godstrayed

most people craved order, rules, a semblance of that suffocating society from before the collapse. but cricket wasn't most people. she liked chaos and bloodshed, the smell of rot in the summer heat. she liked sticking her blade into maggot-infested skulls. she had only ended up with rick and his group of sycophants out of pure necessity. it was easier to get along with skilled fighters, trackers, hell every once in a while they even had a doctor. but she hated his rules.

negan was more of the same, whether rick wanted to admit it or not. they had more in common than he thought. a chip on their shoulders. delusions of grandeur.

cricket just scoffed. "order? is that what you call it?" murder, theft, and intimidation was more like it. still, she couldn't judge. if it weren't for rick's conscience, she was sure their group would devolve into criminals too. "do you think they'd follow you without the threat of a baseball bat to the face?"

[facepeeled]

@depictedblue | plotted starter.

cricket didn't like this new high school. daddy had decided she was old enough to join the other kids, smart enough to not be brainwashed by science classes and critical thinking. (she thought maybe he was just tired of homeschooling her, because it meant he had to actually act like a father, someone who cared about her education, gave a shit about her in general. he was pawning her off on the public now.)

the other students didn't seem to like cricket much. she was a homeschooled freak, a dirty slut, she smelled like ammonia and mold. but one girl took pity on her, it seemed. cassie howard. she was pretty sweet for such a popular girl, it took cricket by total surprise.

when cassie approached her with her nefarious plan, that made more sense. cricket was all for donning the ghostface mask. she couldn't care less if the students here lived or died, and her growing aggression and bloodlust needed an outlet. why not help cassie target her enemies? what were friends for?

she held up the cheap, dime store costume, in front of the mirror in cassie's bedroom. it looked silly, honestly. she scrunched her nose up. "do we really have to wear these?" she asked, tossing it towards the blonde. "i mean, why does it matter if they see our faces?"

[nitenife]

@daymiire​​ said: " this wasn't on you. okay? i swear... " / from Mari to Sunny! 

swear by your heart? swear by your life? whatever it is, sunny finds that, though it agonizes his little heart so, he cannot believe her. he wants to, but he cannot. no matter how much he argued with himself about it, the fact that he is a monster and twisted being that caused so much harm — that fact has dug its nails into his psyche. it breathes down his neck. we try to absolve ourself of blame. it hasn’t worked, and won’t. not as long as mari is around and alive, anyways.

it was her fault. it was her fault, someone seethes, she was the one who pushed us to the brink. it was her who failed! we did nothing wrong. of course it wasn’t on us. but petitioner for justice as the unidentified reasoner may be, sunny still dismisses him ( too scared, as always, to think your imaginary friend may be someone more. ) and lets guilt sink onto his shoulders and head; woe is he, genuinely. for someone who doesn’t want us to play the victim, you sure are good at it.

the young boy swallows the lump in his throat, unable to look directly at his sister. he’s caused her harm, ruined her play, ruined her life and now she says it wasn’t on him? laughable. he’s absolutely sure nobody else would say the same. well, maybe basil, but... something’s off with basil. sunny can sense that.

say something, say anything. sunny whimpers and pleads internally, begging himself to emote, speak, do something to show your sister that you’re listening. but is he really? he immediately attacked her statement with his own doubts. and his own affirmations? are they his? is he really willing to listen to her?  maybe. but he can only stand there, looking down at his feet. maybe the frightened shivering of his hands is enough to convey anything.