CATCH A TIGER.

                 “I’ve got bandages in my bag.”  Sh’s already digging them out, eyes darting back to the own wound upon his arm.  “How did that happen?”

        ❛  ahh  --  i dunno.  must’a brushed up against somethin’ and didn’t notice.  and uh  --  not that i’m not grateful or anything, but do you... always carry bandages, or ... ?  ❜

        “ oh, my…your poor, poor fingers. allow me to help you with those.”

          ❛  what the--  what the fuck?  ❜  he stammers, eyeing the supposed apparition with disbelief rather than fear.   ❛  jesus.  cool it, Mike.  just--  breathe.  niiice ‘n slow.  ❜ 

               “I’m a HUNTER. I’m working.”

        ❛ so ----- what, like -- buffy the vampire slayer or some shit? ❜        it’d be harder for him to believe, had he not experienced wendigos firsthand barely a year ago.  granted, he was still having a great deal of trouble processing her words -- sweet, bubbly Juliet, a hunter?  with a chainsaw, no less.  see, normally, he’d think that’s fucking hot, but at the moment, he’s just... utterly stunned, and his expression mirrors it.           ❛ you -- you’re kidding, right? ❜

                      “I know what you’re thinking. This is stupid – I’m aware of it.” It’s chilly, and the air is crisp and clean but she still swears she smells ashes. There is nothing left to the lodge, obviously having been burn to pieces, but seeing it feels more real the second time. Sam inhales and then slowly exhales. Her expression becomes wistful. How can a place give you such fond memories and horrific memories? Hands draw up to hold her arms close to herself, and she looks small. “I just – had to see it again.”

        ❛ i don’t think it’s stupid. ❜  his voice is quieter than usual, more respectful.  he wants nothing more than to reassure and console her, but he’s never been good with the feelsy talk, generally opting instead to crack a joke or pull the ‘macho man’ act to cover his discomfort.  there’s a brief silence as he watches her wrap her arms around herself ( almost for protection, in some symbolic way ) , his own hands finding their way into the pockets of his jeans.   ❛ you do what you gotta do, y’know? ❜

‘  my  psychologist  said  it  would  be  helpful  if  i  brought  SOMEONE  with  me  .  someone  who  hurt  me  so  i  can  address  the  issues  i  have  …  and  y’know  ,  get  better  .  ’  her  voice  is  ghost  like  ,  arms  WRAPPED  around  herself  (  as  if  to  shield  herself  from  HIM  and  what  happened  )  .  ‘  and  i  was  wondering  if  you  could  come  ?  ’  / @threefingered

       someone who hurt me.         hurt me.         ( hurt me hurt me hurt me HURT ME HURT ME )          the words resound in his head like a reverberating drum, twisting a knife deep into his stomach and tearing through wounds that had long since healed, or at the very least, scabbed over.  it had never been his intention to upset either of the Washington sisters, let alone hurt them ----- but then again, most of his good intentions often went awry, and he was left to pick up the pieces in their wake.     ❛ -- yeah.  yeah, definitely.  you heading up there soon, or -----? ❜

❛ that– that– that was ter– terrible. d-don– don’t ever let me do that again. ❜

       ❛ no promises.  you want one’a these? ❜   he retrieves one of the protein bars from his coat pocket and jostles it slightly so the wrapper makes what he’d consider a satisfying crinkling noise.          ❛ unless you’d rather survive off that... flavorless, store-brand piss water.  ----- i mean, lemonade.  which is... y’know.  that’s cool.  but consider: chocolate and peanut butter.  eh? ❜

He’s at the refreshments table, Styrofoam cup of hot chocolate in his hand, thousand-yard-stare in his eyes. Whatever he’s mumbling sounds an awful lot like ‘Therapy is good for me. Therapy is good for me. These cookies taste like ass. Therapy is good for me.’

      having learned from experience that the refreshments table was anything but refreshing, Mike had started sneaking in his own snacks for their breaks.  sure, maybe the chocolate and peanut butter cancelled out all the ‘good’ health that the protein bar’s peanuts were giving him, but hell, he’d take that over the slightly nauseated look his fellow therapy-goer was struck with.      ❛ another victim falls at the crumby hands of Lofthouse sugar cookies.  i know we’re all lookin’ for a way out sometimes, but that is not the way you wanna go, man. ❜

i’m sorry i’m not there, Bear // r.i.d

     ❛ well —— what’re you – what’re you even planning on doing?  do  you      want to SNUGGLE with me or something?? ❜ she snorts at the mere thought.

      ❛ maybe.  i mean, it is the middle of winter, and there’s a small part of me that sin-cerely doubts this place’s heating unit still works. ❜          he glances around at the dilapidated building they’ve holed up in for the night, taking in some classic, rustic sights, such as dirty windows, corner cobwebs, and the trademark makeshift mattress -- which he’d leave for Clem, of course.  he could manage just fine without it.         ❛ i’m just saying, that sweater’s pretty thin.  you can just... take my vest, if you want. ❜

     if he was trying to get her to smile, it worked. ❛ thanks, mike.       —— but i think my sweater’ll  keep  me  warm  more  than  you      could. ❜

      ❛ okay.  okay.  but just so you know, you’re severely underestimating my abilities.  i’m like a... walking space heater.   but hey, if you’re sure -- don’t come cryin’ to me if you get cold. ❜

mike… he came for me, he did.