I'll be here singing 'til our heartbeats might slip back into that rhythm again
Whether it is or isn't the end, who cares? God knows that I could use a friend
--
"Forget it. We're done." The woman's voice pierced through the crowded tavern, followed by her stormy departure from her table, through the press of bodies, and out the door. Only two heads turned to watch her leave: the first, the woman's former companion, standing from her chair in protest with an arm fruitlessly outstretched; Second, the steadfast and watchful figure of the Mechanical Autonomous Guardsman.
M.A.G., from its usual position by the entrance, tracked the ebb and flow, the song and dance, the comings and goings of the place. Only a few ever minded its presence, and their protests were always swiftly dismissed. It's harmless. It's friendly. It's minding its own business.
The latter statement was only sometimes true.
It traced the movement back to its source; the woman's former companion. She was now slumped in her seat, face in one hand and drink in the other. As M.A.G. approached, it could see that her skin was flushed and her hair clung to the back of her neck with sweat. They must have had a harsh argument.
It stooped, lowering its lanky frame into the chair across from her. As its spidery fingers rested on the tabletop, her eyes shot upwards and met its own. Hers: dull violet, watery, bloodshot. M.A.G.'s: wide, unblinking. The woman stared, mouth drifting ajar. M.A.G. waved.
"Um," said the woman, pushing herself upright. She glanced to the left and right of her table, then briefly underneath it. Dissatisfied, she returned her gaze to the gleaming metal figure before her. "Who. What? Are you?"
A series of quick gestures and taps; I am Maggie, signed M.A.G.'s hands. Are you hurt?
She reached for her drink. "Whatever you are, if you're coming onto me, I have a girlf--" she broke off, then frowned. "Well, I did. Whatever." She took a hefty gulp of her drink, then slammed the cup down. The minuscule clack of the wooden bottom against the table's surface was swallowed immediately by the thrum of the surrounding crowd. Half of her remaining ale splashed out, drenching the table and her hand. She stared at it, squinting.
Maggie tilted its head. Do you need help?
The woman's gaze remained fixed on the tabletop, propping her head up with her elbow. "...could've told me she was unhappy," she muttered. "Instead of letting me take her out like a fucking asshole."
She began to trace shapes and figures into the puddles of spilled liquid with her finger. "How was I supposed to know?"
That sounds bad, signed Maggie.
"It's not like I had a choice to take that job," said the woman. Once again, Maggie's words slid off of her. Its fingers drooped, defeated, and it rested its hands on the tabletop. The woman rattled on, oblivious.
Maggie curled a hand around a nearby empty cup, like people do.
"And!" the woman erupted, bolting upright, "She was the one who wanted to get back with me! What was the point, then!? I thought this was going to be our big chance! I thought we were giving it an honest try!"
Her sudden bout of fury quickly faded, and she buried her face in her palms. "Damn it. Fuck." She began to mutter curses into her hands, and after a moment, fell silent.
Several minutes passed.
Gingerly, Maggie began to stand from its chair. The woman darted forward like a viper, gripping Maggie's wrist like a vice.
"No. Please stay. You're a good friend."
Maggie extended its empty hand and patted her gingerly on the head. Of course it would.
jukebox game, CD edition. Choose a number between 1 and 289 and reply (damn, I have more CDs than I thought I did). Then I'll let you choose a track. Unlike my vinyl, these are not in good alphabetical order. They are as they lie, and I will count accordingly. Includes the ones I am embarrassed of and the mixed CDs.
Send me an ask with a letter and number listed below, and I'll give you a headcanon or meta-headcanon hybrid.
A = AU T7S where this character or couple doesn't exist on the show
B = Babies, how many kids (or grandkids) and their names
C = Career (or career-change)
D = Date night
E = Emotional wounds
F = Favorite memory
G = Greatest regret
H = Hidden talent
I = Ideal honeymoon (or second honeymoon) destination
J = Jelousies
K = Knight of the Round Table or King Author character they most resemble in deed and/or personality (gender blind)
L = Love language
M = Missed opportunity
N = Necessary change to their characterization or relationship
O = Other TV show they could fit into and what role they'd play
P = Pet(s)
Q = Queer (LGBTQ+) AU headcanon/meta-headcanon hybrid
R = Reading preferences
S = Song that represents them
T = Tatoo(s)
U = Undercover caper they might undertake
V = Vampire, werewolf, or other mythological creature they would be / become
W = Wedding, big one or small one
X = Ten things I like and/or dislike about them
Y = Younger adventure or experience they had, pre-T7S
Z = Zennie interaction, positive, neutral, or negative (i.e. other characters' interaction or experience with Jackie/Hyde as a couple or Jackie, Hyde, or a Jackie/Hyde experience in the relationship)
@entropyking don't worry, i'm still planning on doing the other guy, but dogmark first!
I never really gave up on
Breaking out of this two-star town
I got the green light, I got a little fight
I'm gonna turn this thing around
(Read My Mind - The Killers)
And so, you walk. Miles since your feet began to blister, and countless miles yet to go. The severed ends of what once tied you home tangle and snarl behind you: caught in the fences you jump, the rides you hitch, snared around your ankles.
You've only been this far west once; you were ten, crammed in the back seat between your brother and the family's suitcases.
Here, your father's favorite radio station had long drowned, gasping beneath swells of static and unfamiliar mattress ads. Billboards and all the the respite they promised sailed past you, their siren's call totally lost on the captain of your family's four-door. Your jacket still carried a faint scent of home. You clutched it like a lifeline.
Here, you craned your neck until it ached, just for a glimpse out the window. Just to see the hills and bluffs you once knew, as they settled into ripples, into plains. For the first time, you could see the whole horizon. For the first time, you understood how small you were. Never again would you discount the safety of a roof and four walls, no matter who you shared them with.
No matter what it took to tear you away from them.
No matter what you lost as they crumbled behind you.
Tonight, you spend a third night beneath an overpass.
The stars might be pretty, if you could convince yourself to look. Instead, the heavy sky of concrete and steel, the thunder of traffic above. The night is warm, at least. You can rest.
But tomorrow, you will return to your feet. You will continue to walk, each step a further distance from the smoking crater you left behind. And countless miles yet to go.
