#divoutful

[satanless]

Mourning has never been on the cards when Heather Duke thought, and she did think, about the untimely passing of Heather Chandler. It always seemed like such a far off idea, one that would bring serene peace and tranquility into her life, and restore balance unto the sacred halls of Westerberg High — balance meaning that she was at the top of the pyramid. And just like that, things have started to fall into place. Things Heather Duke could only dream of.

Mr and Mrs Duke had overtaken Heather on their entry to the church, but plaid pine green finds its eyes on Veronica and JD, talking outside of the regal building Heather's still warm body sits in. “ I always knew that Heather's death would make this world a better place, I just had no idea it would spark love between the worst Westerberg's got to offer. ” @09011989 @divoutful

[satanless]

⠀⠀Prophetic visions come to him at night, but not at all the way they did in Caladan. Sometimes stronger, sometimes not — but in pieces, building, crafting their way from his hindsight to the very forefront of his mind. It didn't make him feel helpless nor powerful; instead, Paul found himself jaded in the midst of his ability, unaware of how to navigate or control it. The sand hadn't helped at all. Being in a place so unfamiliar could perhaps mean to be the cause of the discontinuity in his dreams, he thought. Regardless, the thin 'man-child' takes himself to a moment of peace atop a sand dune, feeling Chani trace behind him, and though he cannot see her, he knows she is there.

⠀⠀Knees buckle into a cradle, cerulean eyes slant as the sand restlessly hovers at his level. The sand could always track someone until it is covered by more – a problem never had with concrete or grass. He feels like it's telling on him, like he's a little boy in Caladan again, and it's hard not to feel such a way with everyone's eyes on him almost constantly. Muad'dib, take us to paradise. ❛❛ Do you ever get tired of this view? The sand never changes. I rarely see it move, and when it does, it's being thrown by the wind, or a worm has shifted it in its journey to the surface. ❜❜ A smile forms to the side, ever so slight, and melancholy in its tone. Maybe he longs for home, but he doesn't really know anymore. @divoutful– –

[09011989]

this whole society’s going down the tubes.  ⠀ @divoutful for j.d.

dear diary,     ⠀i’m beginning to think that j.d.’s resentment toward the world is starting to become my own. or maybe i’ve always been this angry. i find myself telling him the thoughts i normally save for these pages, and he feels the same — sees the world in the same way. sure, he’s a little intense, but he’s real. he doesn’t bullshit. that’s why i’m drawn to him, i think.

sanctuary is found beneath the harsh fluorescent lighting in the westerburg high cafeteria. a convocation for the only two people who haven’t let society’s rot infect them, eat away at them from the inside. the virus has made its way into her, but she can feel herself actively fighting it off, avoiding the contagion. instead, she sits in front of what she believes to be the cure. she inhales the scent of synthetic cleaning chemicals, tilting her head to the side. “ well. i’m pretty sure the best of society isn’t hanging around in sherwood, ohio. ” she quips, a playful smile making its way onto her face. her tone is laced with a resigned bitterness. you and i are the exception, though, veronica thinks, letting her eyes meet his.

she leans forward in her seat as she continues to speak, gesturing with one hand to the rest of the student body. “ and westerburg is a lost cause, ” a half-joke, spoken as gospel: something veronica has known for years and that j.d. will eventually come to accept. she lets out a short laugh, the physical reaction to stating something so obvious that it felt ridiculous to point it out.

[09011989]

i was just playing along.  ⠀@divoutful for j.d.

dear diary,     ⠀ my dark horse high-school sweetheart likes to shoot firearms in the house. i’m totally freaked. i don’t know why i keep hanging out with him. his anger at the world seems to be fusing with my own: the jolts of electricity that’ll be used to create a frankenstein’s monster of teenage angst.

bile begins to creep up into her throat, some pungent mix of cigarette smoke and a bag of twizzlers, guzzled down with black coffee and intermittent sips of J.D.’s coca-cola. she watches the smoke billow from the arm of the chair he shot at, the bullet lodged a couple of inches into its structure. “ your definition of playing is severely fucked, j.d. ”

veronica fishes through the pocket of her blazers, hand finding a loose cigarette, the other settling on her lighter. she brings the cigarette up to her lips, hand shaking as she cups it, lighting the cigarette with her other. she lets the flame flicker near her palm for a moment too long before letting it out. she takes a drag, praying that her hands stop shaking, that j.d. can’t see the discomfort that permeates through her body. she can’t bring herself to look at him, but in her peripheral she can see the gun, still dangling in his hand. she hears it before she has time to register what she’s said: “ i think we should break up. ”

[satanless]

Jennifer's body sits on the desk, 𝑏𝑢𝑏𝑏𝑙𝑒𝑔𝑢𝑚 𝑠𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑙𝑐𝘩𝑖𝑛𝑔 in between each of her rotting teeth, lips parting to the sound of each sorrowful sentence the slayer ahead says. Her eyes might reach the back of her head for the thirtieth time and the bell for lunch rang only seven minutes ago. Theorising ways Jennifer can feed without killing humans was only draining her, (not that there's much girl left to drain.) ❛❛ I am not fucking drinking pig's blood, Buff, that's some Carrie shit. Hell. No. This conversation is literally plugging up my pores right now. Like, why would I demote myself to economy when first class has treated me so well? ❜❜

A hand reaches for Buffy's soft hair, mannerisms only calm; a twirl of her finger followed by a sway of the head, it's hard not being thankful, after all, Buffy's found her way about being cool with Jennifer's... condition. But still, the girl will find some way to evade owing anyone a thank you. ❛❛ I totes appreciate you not telling that British guy about it, Buff, but I just, like, don't see the point in changing shit up. You can't exactly fucking exorcise a vag that's been cursed like, double the normal amount. ❜❜. @divoutful– –

[imacting]

@divoutful said: "Did you think to pack any vodka?" / from Clara!!

"No," Sophie chuckled. She wasn't aware Clara enjoyed the spirit. She flashed the brunette a cheeky smirk. "I'm sure that I can acquire some for us." Her fingers carded through her curls before fluffing them. A tug of her bottom lip between her teeth as she surveyed the crowd. Oh, working them would be a walk in the park. "How do I look?"

A meme lost in Sophie's storage units

[whatspoilers]

@divoutful said: you're doing this to spite me, and i know it. / from clara <3

Her eyebrows nearly disappear into black curls. "How presumptuous of you." She turns in place. Her right hand lands on her leather jacket. "We're both clever women, Clara. Think about the best solution." It requires two people who aren't co-located.

a meme I can't find

[imacting]

@divoutful gets a starter !

Sophie blinks at the younger woman. "A well-executed con's nothing like the silver screen." Lips purse together in disapproval. "Has River taught you nothing?" She'll be having a word with the other woman the next time they cross paths. "Really," muttered beneath her breath. She'd expected better from her friend.