#desolction

[freeddead]

▸   @desolction  ​ ⟶   ❛  is it my fault?  ❜   ╱   (  angsty questions , accepting .  )

Gerry cards his fingers through his hair, giving it a little tug as he does.  “No,” he answers, somehow unable to meet her eyes, even though he is telling the truth.  The answer comes so quickly to him, and he can no longer pretend he ever had a well-founded problem with Agnes at all, from the day they formally met.  “No, it’s not your fault.”

For all of Gerry’s life, he has been trying to fill in gaps with whatever makes the most sense to cram into them, despite his increasing awareness of the futility of the endeavor.  Every cause has an effect, and if you can figure out the order of that chain, you can either channel it for yourself, like his mother tried to do, or put a stop to it, like Gertrude is striving to do.  He is still coming to terms with the fact that, while the Fears operate in some predictable ways, there are many things in life not ruled by them, which don’t have clear reasons behind them.

Still, there was the impulse to find the cause and effect, even where none existed, to give a name to the thing twisting up his insides.  And then, he did find the word for it—jealousy—and realized it was the most foolish thing it could have been.

“I’m sorry I made you think it was,” he says, the words coming out of him in a rush before he gets it in mind to take them back while he fumbles for a cigarette as an excuse to keep his eyes downcast.  “I don’t know—whatever my problem is, it’s not you.”  His cigarette catches under his lighter, and he inhales deeply.  Sighing, feeling a twinge calmer with the smoke in hand, he continues, “I mean, I’m usually about as personable as I have been, but I figure I owe you the apology, anyway.”

[freeddead]

▸   @desolction​   ⟶   ❛  ?!  ❜   ╱   (  hospital visit , accepting .  )

The minutes pass by at an agonizing pace.  Gerry is trying to distract himself, fingers drumming out a rhythm on the plastic bedside railing, but looking around the barren white walls and thinking about how he has got to focus on something other than his boredom and impatience just makes both of those things worse.  He is supposed to be getting some sleep, but he can’t, and more importantly, he doesn’t want to, even if it would whittle away the hours a little faster.  He just wants to be discharged so he can go do something useful with himself.

He had a little brush with the Stranger this time, which might be a good thing if you looked at it from the right angle.  Maybe it meant he and Gertrude were getting close.  It scuttled off once it realized he was all scar tissue and eyes—in a word, useless.  It looked worse than what it was, and he already feels fine.

He looks over when the door to his room swings open, the yellower lighting from the hallway adding some much needed variation, and is a little shocked to see the willowy figure of Agnes Montague silhouetted in it.  “Oh, hey,” he says.  “Thought you’d be Gertrude.”  Or one of the nurses.  Or really, anyone other than who she is.  Despite the two of them spending more time together recently, it didn’t occur to him that she might come see him like this, but here she is.

“I’m fine,” he answers before she can even ask it out of obligatory politeness because that is just what one does when somebody else is in the hospital.  “They’re supposed to be letting me out soon.”  They don’t have a good reason to keep him as far as he’s concerned.

“You know, if I had a pound for every time the Desolation came to visit me in the hospital,” he starts and then trails off.  “Actually, I brought it with me last time; it didn’t come visit.  So, I’d have one pound.”

[freeddead]

〝   @desolction​   ⟶   ❛  I can’t change that, and I can’t change your mood.  ❜

Gerry drops his eyes to the ground and scuffs his boot against it.  “Yeah, I know,” he says a note of apology in his tone.  Agnes has really never done shit to him, other than having her whole soulmate thing with Gertrude, which she evidently isn’t exactly thrilled about.  It’s complicated, that entire situation, and it really isn’t anything to bristle over or hold against her.

It isn’t just her, though; he is this way with a lot of people, preemptively lashing out because… well, it is the easiest option available to him, he supposes.  Most people leave him alone after a time or two, or he just never has to see them again because of the way his profession works.  But he and Agnes are going to be orbiting each other for… a while, it seems, so he guesses it wouldn’t kill him to treat her with a bit more fairness.

“I’m not mad at you,” he offers with a vague hand gesture in her general direction.  He then brings that hand to tug absently on one of his earrings.  “I’m just complaining for the sake of it… about the situation.”  He breathes a humorless laugh, and the wisp of a smile that crosses his face vanishes almost as soon as it appears, and he clears his throat.  “I’ll… shut up.”

〔  norman fucking rockwell  〕  〢  accepting .

[pyreshe]

livvy is angry today. too angry to handle agnes with kid-gloves and tiptoe around her feelings; there is a part, no matter how small, that agnes played in her current situation. the woman had allowed them to end her life and in doing so, she’d lined livvy up like a domino whether she’d meant to or not.

@desolction​ : “i’m not sure how to keep you safe.” 🔥

her very existence is nothing short of divine permission to try again.

“ that time has passed, don’t you think? ” livvy’s voice is cold. her back to agnes as she shreds an old paper receipt with her fingertips, she mutters, “ why couldn’t you be alive still? ”

[arcxivist]

@desolction​ xxx

____________________________________________________________

        He could feel the others power just from the close proxcimity, he couldnt help move his right hand to his left tracing the scar left by one of the same enitiy. While thinking of ' His reason' he couldnt help but smile slightly. Part of the smail was of love and happyness but there will always be pain behind it...

      ❝ My Boyfriend is one part of my reason,the other is to protect my friends... from what I have forced them to see...❞

[freeddead]

@desolction​ said: ❛      why  do  you  want  to  burn  it  for?   ❜

your accomplice in the cracker barrel arson | accepting

“I just… want to make sure that it doesn’t hurt anybody,” he says, although that is not expressly true.  It is partially, but not totally.  He does care, on some level, about people getting hurt, which is why he has been running around with Gertrude in the first place, trying to stop the end of the world.  Not only because he lives here, but because there are a lot of other people here who don’t deserve to die, either.

He realizes that he cares about others more than Gertrude does.  He has seen the way that she regards others a lot of the time, too cold and matter-of-fact, there to do a job and then get out again.

But he can’t really get on Gertrude because he is not perfect in that regard, either.  It is not as if he is some wholly caring saint who is only motivated by the desire to help others, and Agnes knows that.  God only knows he has been nasty enough to her in the past that she’s not going to buy him being some choir boy or whatever.

He catches the corner of the book with his lighter—again.  He must seem pretty one-note to her by now.  “I also just don’t like them, it’s hard to explain.”  They are what he feels ruined him, but he doesn’t want to tell her that.  “I just think, the fewer of them, the better.”