#pulpyfiction

[redrightwrench]

we're a team, aren't we? (from elora @ thomas!)

“If you want to be, I guess. Might not be the smartest move for you… people around here don’t like me.” And yet, a whisper and tingle in the back of his brain told him that she wasn’t going to be so easy to get rid of. She wasn’t his sister. Thomas didn’t have any siblings, thank god; mom and dad could hardly handle one fucked up kid. Two would’ve been so much worse. Still, she found comfort him. No one found him comforting… but even when they first saw each other, Elora hugged him tight, and now they sat next to one another, leaning together. In an act of gentility, he reached out his hand to link his pinky with hers. “Wouldn’t want you to get hurt by association.”

[groveraven]

i am not the love you knew before. (@ shanna from jude!)

"You look so much like him..." She said softly. God, that the girl found someone who looked so much like Jack, claimed him as her new father. Shanna had stopped using Lorna's visage to keep him around in dreams with how grating it was for the parasite-host relationship; Lorna did not want certain things said in her voice, and she was beginning to fight back.

A clawed hand moved upward ever so gently, the pads of her fingers tracing over his cheek, where Jack's sideburns would be. One of many little differences between this man and her deceased friend. "You're more soft spoken. You don't have that talk show voice... you have his kindness, though, the kind he tried to hide. Having a soft heart in cults or showbusiness is dangerous work."

[bloodenkids]

"Take a breath, focus." (from Jude to Lucy ❤️)

Her hands had blood on them. Not Jude's blood. God, she wouldn't be able to focus on anything if it was his... Lucy could still feel the adrenaline coursing through her, the fear. She almost lost him forever.

"He fucking got away. He was trying to hurt you to get to me... I'm going to– ...Jude." Her breath was shaky, and she could barely form sentences, her mind running with thoughts of anger and grief; even if the anger won out before the grief was needed, this was dangerous. She kept her hands up, not soiling him with them, but she did lean into him, burying her face into his neck. Breathing in the smell of him, she did her best to calm down.

[horrorcomeshome]

@pulpyfiction asked for the Lanternkeeper

His smile was easy, but it would be a lie to say it reached his eyes. Those eyes were a bit too maddened, a bit too calculating. "My tattoo? It's cuneiform. You know, most of our modern knowledge of Sumerian writing exists in context; there aren't enough artifacts to decipher even close to the whole language. Fascinating, isn't it?"

Alexei rolled up his sleeve slightly to reveal the symbols that encircled his wrist, another line descending downward to cover a scar across his forearm. He laid his arm on the counter for the other to inspect, his free hand grabbing his drink to take a sip. "Any tattoos, yourself? You must have an interest in them to notice... or you enjoy ancient languages."

[miidnighters-a]

@pulpyfiction | continued from ☾

Isabell Ellinor Crawford should be dead and dusted for two and a half centuries now. She's no stranger to the despair of a life missed out on. She was younger than Lila when it was all taken away from her, and she looks it in the soft curves of her baby face.

"No? You may not age but you certainly get older, darling." Bella muses, sounding very unlike the 22 year old she looks. "You can trust an expert."

She flicks eyes over the other girl. Thinks about fishing out a cigarette of her own. Refrains, for now.

"You certainly don't look like you'll get any wiser."

[bloodenkids]

☮ = waking them up after a nightmare. (from jude to lucy!)

It wasn’t an uncommon nightmare for her. The events of the last broadcast of Midnite Mayhem lived in her head no matter what she did. Always, it resulted in sickness in her stomach, an urge to fight even against her body in her sleep, claw at anything near her. Even though she wasn’t awake, she was digging her stiletto nails into a nearby pillow… especially as a moment of clarity came over her. The man tied up was not her godfather, but her lover. As she was near screaming in her dream, a whimper escaped her waking lips; one beautiful brown eye was plucked from the socket, left to rot, his skin riddled with burns and metal from the other tortured. Jude, Jude, were she to lose you, all that would be left was inhuman hatred.

Lucy finally did scream as she was shaken awake, her eyes flying open. Her brain still not functioning properly, she took a second to realize who was in front of her, and yet the moment she did, her hands flew up to smooth over his face; a thumb brushed over his eyebrow and lid to feel the curve underneath, the other checking for other blemishes or wounds. As reality set in, her breath hitched in a sob. “You’re safe… I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

[bloodenkids]

"You're here with me." (From Jude to Lucy!)

"It's better than being with anyone else... I'm glad I have a friend right now," Katherine said softly, managing a smile toward the boy. It wasn't a situation for smiling, generally, but Jude did make things better. There was still time left for training and interviews. Things wouldn't go to hell just yet. She'd help him make it in the Games as far as they both could, and maybe even farther than her. "I wish we'd met before... there's rumors about people who sneak past the fence in District 12; I could've run into the woods and found you on the other side. It's so strange to think we were so close, but we never had the chance to know each other." Of course, it was all daydreams. It never would be true, and it likely never could've been. But, wasn't it nice to imagine a world where they could've been happy?

[redrightwrench]

“wakey wakey”

Send “wakey wakey” for my muse to stumble into the room, barely awake, bedhead all over the place, and still in their sleeping clothes.

He'd been barely awake when he heard some commotion going on in the main room of the house he was now staying in. As much as he tried, Lonny couldn't quite figure out exactly what was going on, just that someone was cursing. Not a great sign. Jolting out of bed, he quickly stumbled his way out, his shaggy hair sticking up at odd angles, threadbare pajama pants almost hanging off his hips; in his hand, a large flashlight he could use as a bludgeoning weapon if needed.

"Whuissit?" he called out before he even turned the corner. "What's happenin'?"