#shapeslain

[godblooded]

@shapeslain​

“ it looks good on you. ”

the good doctor represses the urge-- the curling desire to just touch the other woman’s hair. it’s simply that, an urge. she’s accustomed to those, intrusive and constant as they may be. but there’s a smile on her face like most don’t get to witness. a casual beast in solitude is she, and in her solitude, she does not exactly make friends. allyson is not a friend so much as she is someone alana feels like some cosmic force she doesn’t believe in put in her path to just-- apologize for her life. karmic payback for a history of hellish social interaction and downright betrayal. allyson is a person that’s kindred to the gunslinger. she leans her cheek upon the heel of her hand, charmingly broad grin on full display. periwinkle baby blues are bright as a spring day. she’s more alive than she usually seems. 

which is a feat. 

“ not that -- ...i think anything would look good on you. ”

she stumbles words awkwardly, suddenly worried the implication is it might not have looked good. an alana tendency-- overthinking, so deep in her own head even something as casual as allyson makes her fumble her words. alana waves a hand as if to dispel the words just spilling forth from her mouth, and it’s the only thing that keeps her from continuing to talk. 

try not to make an ass of yourself, dr. bloom. 

[godblooded]

can you walk - pretend this is from @shapeslain for alana ❤️

“ think so. ”

she sounds quiet, far the fuck away. like she’s a thousand miles from this broken stairwell she’s sitting in. her cane’s on the floor, distant from her, and glassy blue eyes tilt up to meet allyson’s gaze with a long stare. she blinks and it sounds like a viewfinder.

“ not sure. ”

honesty.

“ where am i? ”

hannibal’s walls echo with the memory of her left behind. she can hear her voice laughing, catch a glint of blood pooling from a doorway. she watches it gurgle. this used to be her second home.

now it’s just a husk, housing a body that doesn’t feel like she’s in it.

[godblooded]

allyson approaches alana from behind to loop her arms around her. alana's hair sticks to her lipstick, gets into her mouth, when she leans down to kiss the crown of her head. "you're awake incredibly early this morning."

“ mm —? ”

allyson’s perfectly correct. it’s still dark out. the dogs are even still snoozing, piled high and wide and dense in a fluffy heap that breathes in synch. her eyes wander over fondly before they turn that same immeasurable fondness on allyson. it can’t be collected, but if it could the color of the feeling would be baby pink, a delighted rose. the television is a large rectangle flickering brightly from the screen. the plethora of awkward contestants means that, as is her usual, the good doctor has been analyzing reality tv.

it’s a habit. and a guilty pleasure. it’s just fun to pick out what she knows is a lie. allowing her to discover something like 90 day fiancée is a hazard — she’s burned through so many seasons of big brother. this time… it’s still 90 day fiancée. it doesn’t matter, admittedly. she might’ve been paying attention at some point but she’s not at all any longer. it’s just a soft glow so she can make sure the pups are there, a comfort. her lips quirk into a smile almost reflexively.

she said allyson’s perfectly correct. she thinks, heart constantly full, allyson’s perfect. haunted thoughts have a way of dissipating in those eyes for a second. after that, they feel like they’re less daunting.

“ i’m just having one of those nights…. mornings… days. ”

too awake? too awake.

[godblooded]

@shapeslain (x)

she flushes a deeply embarrassing shade of blush for just a moment before it finally abates, belying emotion, leaving it laid too open for allyson to see. that’s okay, because her smile widens, and she reaches up to wrap her arms around the other’s shoulders (carefully, oh so carefully) for a hug. effort, yes, and she’s grateful for the slightest height a cowboy boot’s heel affords.

shy and yet, weaseling ever the closer. she won’t ask forgiveness.

“ mock me and i’ll hurl you into the chicago river in december. ”

the good doctor couldn’t be more than an overly exuberant teenager for brief swatches of time. she deserves it. she was never comfortable when she was young-young. allyson feels like the kind of cage one chooses that isn’t a cage at all, but a facsimile of one, long limbs meant to envelope protectively. it makes alana feel far safer. she leans up jokingly to murmur in allyson’s ear, false intensity thick in her tone.

“ i’ve survived it. it’s not a death sentence. ”

[archiveshelassos2]

❛ WHY IS IT ALWAYS SUCH A SURPRISE? The moon, I mean. Even though we know it's coming. Every time we see it, it makes us pause. ❜ Her dark eyes shine at the twinkle of the stars and the majesty of the moon. She smiles a smile to conjure the entire warmth of the sun. It’s meant to provide comfort, or at least ease. She’s not so certain she accomplishes either. In silent desperation, she prays to gods she’s not even sure she still believes in to provide her with the words that might make Allyson smile, too. 

Sometimes there’s solidarity in silence, though. 

Diana returns her smile to the moon. She never takes for granted that she survived the day long enough to witness its beauty. Dawn is never guaranteed, so this? This, she will cherish. 

@shapeslain​ sent ✐ for a starter