PARACSMIC.

is it living or dying that makes me afraid?

paracsmic // a world of fucked up, independent, original characters, all brought to life by zero. 21+ mutuals only, highly selective. not for the faint of heart.

rules // muses // prompts // my edits

she holds the red solo cup in her hand, taking small sips of what could be considered really cheap beer. it wasn’t good, but it was something to occupy her hands, something to stop them from trembling in the very least, save she spill the contents onto her clothing.

lulu’s legs are stretched out in front of her, toes perched towards the sky as she lifts her chin and stares at the vivid shocks of color that flash across the sky. each one is beautiful in it’s own right. the sounds used to scare her when she was younger, but now she’s gotten used to the random explosions ( partially because junior is junior ) and it’s more of a comfort than anything else.

the sound of a camera going off, the gentle flash of it’s bulb has her glancing over in gus’ direction, a slight flush spreading across her cheeks. “thought you came to take pictures of the sky,” she says, handing over the almost empty cup of beer for him to take a final sip if he should choose to. “it’s quite beautiful here, y’know.” they’re one of the many groups among a field, a space left to the wilds in it’s own moment.

and it’s nice to indulge in city things, every once in a while. pull her out from underneath that constant shell she’s set herself into. a particularly loud bang causes her to shift slightly, and out of the corner of her eye she sees junior running across the field, somehow having gotten hold of a roman candle, releasing his own bursts of energy into the stars above.

“y’know i used to be afraid a’these. scared outta my wits. but junior, he always loved ‘em. got his hands on ‘em whenever possible. kinda desensitized me to the whole ordeal. now i’m just….” she stops, takes a breath before continuing to speak. “i’m in awe of their beauty. that something temporary could hold so much color and light.”

its hard to imagine a time when lulu had been afraid of fireworks given her brothers inclination toward them. gus could name five times off the top of his head when junior had produced random fire crackers, smoke bombs or even roman candles seemingly out of thin air. he always seemed to have some kind of danger hidden away in those hoodie pockets.

made sense that she hadn’t been afraid of them for long.

his eyes moved back to the sky - the last few brightly colored blasts were beginning. the grand finale. he took it all in. the beauty, the colors, the noise. he was glad the twins had drug him out of his house. glad for all the the craziness that seemed to come along with lulu and weston. glad he’d met them and they’d accepted him as a part of their lives.

“don’t forget my olives this time,” she says, mocking tone before she pulls up the application for the local pizza place. lulu is tempted to ignore her brother’s wishes, per usual, but after seeing him shove money into their secret ‘hiding’ space, she figures she can indulge him just this once.

“you’re gettin’ half of a pie with olives. i don’t want  that shit on my side.” fingers tapping against the illuminated screen, she places the order. pizza. pasta. wings. hell even a bit of dessert. it was an indulgence, but she was hungry and figured that after selling a pretty picture at the art gallery this evening, she should reward herself for a job well done.

pushing up from the couch, she pads her way over towards the mostly barren refrigerator. it’s got a few drinks in it, at least, and she chucks a bottle of gatorade over at junior before taking a water for herself. it’s not much, but it’s something, enough to quench their thirst and combat dry mouth.

she turns on the television in the corner, a low iteration of some old television show playing in the background for nothing other than noise. despite the raging night life outside their window, it was still too quiet for lulu to be comfortable. she’s still used to the screaming neighbors when they lived with johnny marks, in the small garage apartment that they’d made into their home for a few months.

and there were no train tracks like there used to be near their old house from their younger years. for a while, she had to listen to the sounds on her phone because she was unable to fall asleep without it. now, she managed otherwise, but it was still difficult sometimes. the sound of a doorbell being pressed knocked her out of her stupor, and realizing the time, she went and grabbed her wallet out of her bag. 

she gave the kid a tip and grabbed all of their food items before dropping them onto the coffee table before junior. he was already about to dig in before she sat down, so she let him, but managed to throw a couple of unused napkins in his direction - just to be on the safe side.

“busy night?” she asks, tilt of the head as she glances over at her currently ravenous brother. he must have done something to work up an appetite like that.

junior shrugged at the question as he shoveled another bite of pizza into his mouth. fingers plunged into the open can of olives in front of him, dropping a few extra black chunks into his mouth to ‘enhance the flavor’ as he liked to call it. it was a ritual he’d done with every pizza he’d ever eaten - as far back as he could remember, that is - because too many olives was never enough.

“not really. just hung out with some friends.”

lies tumbled easily from junior’s lips, they always had. so easily, in fact, half the time he couldn’t even discern whether or not he was being one hundred percent truthful. to call anyone that junior spent time with a friend was almost laughable. but he knew that once he made it home in one piece and without an officer or two escorting him back, she wouldn’t pry too much.

“this ain’t no regular ghost, lady.” she says, and there is anxious energy running through her veins. so much that she’s sure she could power a whole small town with the amount of electricity pumpin’ through these veins. her hand fidgets and she reaches up to draw a piece of hair away from her eyes, before leaning both hands on the counter in front of her.

“this…it’s something different.”

how the fuck was she supposed to describe this? she didn’t know what the hell it was that slipped through and into her friend, only that it was slowly taking apart her found family dynamic one by one. tyler had nearly committed suicide just shy of two days ago, and erik is a fuckin’ mess by anyone’s standards, but he’s turned jumpy, really on the edge of his seat. neither one of them can stand to sit still for more than a few moments and she still doesn’t know what’s going on.

“it…i don’t know how to put it into words,” she says, her voice low just in case anyone else were to enter the shop. she doesn’t need to be called out for being a dumbass more than she already has been, since, y’know, this was her fault and all. “i’ve been havin’ these hallucinations. there one minute and gone the next. lil’ flashes into things.” 

she tries to summon up the courage to tell kori everything, and it all comes sputtering out in a mess of jumbled words and half-finished phrases, by the time she’s done she’s breathing heavily.

“please tell me there’s somethin’ you can do to…i don’t know, fix this shit.”

kori pieced together emma’s fragmented thoughts. hallucinations, terror, the overwhelming sense of doom. kori had felt the shift in energy in town. the animals were hidden away. people were acting out more and more. she had tried to chalk it up to the change in seasons but her instincts knew better. something dark had been unleashed upon their little town and this girl in front of her had done her part in unleashing it.

madelaine wants many things in this apparent death and that’s mostly for people to suffer in ways that she has done. for them to feel the consequences of her actions when things go awry. 

she sighs, trying to flit through the inner most workings of her mind, a random jumble of different thoughts and ideas that are constantly flowing through her brain. it’s hard to focus, and the noise is so loud sometimes that she twitches slightly. it comes across as though she’s receiving a bolt of energy or an anxiety shiver that works it’s way up her spine. 

“your kindness is enough,” 

she says, shifting to stand towards where mira currently stands. watching as she stands there amongst semi-rotting foliage that litters the ground. this place has long since been abandoned, there is no caretaker that comes to wash the stones away, to cut the grass.

“i appreciate you coming to talk with me. sharing bits of your own life. it’s fascinating, seeing how others manage to work through struggles and such on their own and overcome potential downfalls.” she’s rambling now, words leaving her lips just to hear the sound of her own voice. 

it’s overgrown and yet somehow, there is an eerie sense of peace surrounding the area. madelaine cannot explain it, but it brings comfort. maybe it’s’ the accumulation of lost souls coming to comfort her, she is not aware, but she likes coming out here sometimes. it’s quiet and refreshing and just. it’s a reminder that things never turn out as they’re supposed to.

“revenge is best served cold, they always say. i don’t know if i’d prefer it icy or steaming hot. guess it probably depends on the situation.”

 she says, chancing a smile in mira’s direction.

“do you speak with the dead often?”

she asks, a tilt of the head. she’s curious about mira’s own experience with those in the afterlife. secretly, she’s wondering if she’s the favorite, but considering she just unloaded a whirlwind of emotions onto mira’s plate, she’s assuming that she’s not.

“i didn’t used to.” she answers the question honestly. “for a long time, i didn’t talk to much of anyone - i was so scared to be seen as the weird girl talking to myself because other people couldn’t see what i could.”

she turns away from the makeshift graveyard. she can’t stomach the sight of other spirits creeping into the clearing to mourn their own loss of life - and being forgotten. 

“my mom taught me that i should talk to spirits more. you have a story to be told and you want someone to listen.”

there are some spirits that are angry, tired of living in a world where they couldn’t be heard. those spirits are dangerous. if just talking to someone and letting them know that there’s at least one person in the world that can still see them - hear them - and feel their pain helps ease that pain? she would.

“no problemo.” 

she says, sitting on the ground with her back to the wall, knees pulled up towards her chest. the comic book is handed off and she’s holding onto the bag of treats, not yet bothering to indulge herself. the night sky is beautiful above them, full of stars and a lack of light pollution brings out the different shades of blue and black that culminate to create a palette that would rival most painters.

fingers reach up and brush through her long hair, let loose from it’s usual ponytail. she rarely lets it go free, except in moments of quiet and calm. the moonlight illuminates the angles of her face and she glances up to catch sight of cd, a small smile spread across her face.

“quiet night’s aren’t always bad, y’know,” she says, a shrug of her shoulders. if only all nights could be quiet. the downside is that a night like this usually needs to be balanced out with a day full of bloodshed, and she doesn’t want to get involved in something of that magnitude.

sometimes camila wishes things could go back to normal, whatever that contained. she doesn’t quite remember what it was like before the outbreak happened and millions of souls were lost to whatever is causing this plague upon the world, wretched and sour in it’s own right. she stretches her legs out and lets a small sigh leave her lips.

“you ever wonder what you’d be doin’ if the world was different?” she asks, a tilt of the head as she glances up towards him. she thinks about it often enough, but she still doesn’t have a hold on what she would want to do herself. 

would she be good enough to do anything other than this?

 the idea of being police again enters her mind, the idea of wanting to do nothing but help. it falters, because it feels like a time so far fetched that she can’t fathom anything but this. “i wonder if the world went to shit for a reason, cause people didn’t seem to care about what was really happenin’ out there.” 

cd thinks over the question for a moment. he didn’t want to say that the end of the world as they knew it had given him a purpose - that putting a rifle in his hand and a target in front of him was the best thing to happen to him - but it wasn’t entirely false either.

“i’m not sure. i was never really good at anything before.” he stared up at the sky thinking about the life that he could have had. “college could’ve been cool? maybe for video game design or something.”

this is the most he’s talked about his interests in a long time. most people didn’t tend to ask - or care - what was happening before the world ended. they didn’t care that he’d spent countless nights wide awake beating a video game that he’d just bought that day and had refused to put down. how many mornings he’d gone to school barely able to keep his head off the desk and his eyes open because he’d spent the early hours of the morning grinding out video games. 

the gesture left eleanor on alert - junior, being nice out of nowhere? she figured he was only stringing her along until he could use her for distraction tactics or something else in the wilderness, but alas, she could deal with it for now. 

a slight wince when she put weight on her ankle, but she still managed to see when junior wiped the cheeto dust onto her shirt. rolling her eyes, the duo started back in the direction of where they thought they’d seen the cabin. darkness was encroaching and they were slowed by eleanor’s ankle. 

forty-five minutes to an hour later, they spotted a small clearing. things hung from the trees, little bits and bobs and somethings she’d never seen before

lights were on inside the building, illuminated curtains in the windows were enough to signify the fact that there was someone inside. eleanor could only hope that they were friendly. leaving junior to his own devices, she shifted towards the window and leaned her head against it, listening and looking through the cracks for someone - surveying the area before knocking on the door.

glancing back at junior, she shrugged her shoulders and bit the bullet. a heavy knock, fist rapping against wood, and the sound of shuffling from inside. eleanor crossed her fingers behind her back, and junior came up from behind her. at least they’d be facing whomever was behind that door together. 

gave ‘em a better chance if they had to fight to the death. granted, they’d be at a disadvantage, seeing as how their only ‘weapon’ was now inside junior’s stomach, but she was sure they’d manage well enough. she’d go out kicking and screaming if she had to, most definitely.

what junior lacked in survival instinct and poise, he made up for in enthusiasm. if he had to go out fighting, he just might - or he could stay behind eleanor in case a quick getaway was needed. eleanor was injured, it would take her a while to hobble away from the door and whatever was behind it would catch and kill her before it could catch him.

the door creaked open.

nothing.

there was no person - or creature - on the other side. but they’d just heard movement a second before? confusion knotted junior’s brow.