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(  #𝚁𝙰𝙳𝙸𝚄𝙼𝚁𝙰𝙳𝙸𝙾  )    a  private  MULTI rp  blog  for  the fallout universe.  ft  (  ORIGINAL ) && ( SEMI DIVERGENT ) characters.  birthed  by  L.  this  blog  is  PRIMARILY iconless.  BLOG  FEATURES;  heavy  themes  that  are  USFW.  topics  include  and  are  not  limited  too;  murder,  drugs,  sacrilegious  ideology,  religious  trauma,  sex,  cannibalism,  sacrificial  rituals,  etc.  CONTENT  WILL  NOT    be  suitable  for  all  viewers,  please  curate  your  own  space.  in  order  to  interact  please  be  over  the  age  of  twenty  one,  mun  is  twenty  eight.  

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@loamrot sender follows receiver outside after a blow-up. ( roxi for liz)

The back door screen slaps loudly against the door jam as rushed footsteps sweep her down the decaying porch and its steps. She’d have to fix those, call Ty up for help so she wouldn't end up falling through and tearing her legs to shit. Though the notion of being torn up doesn't make her flinch, not right now – not when her chest feels like it's hosting hot coals and searing hate like a tea party. Her face feels tight and too hot, the wedge in her throat choking her from the inside as she tries to breathe through her nose. It wasn’t always like this was it? This acid inducing anger, this malicious wave of contempt that rose its head out of the depths of her being when faced with disrespect or injustice – no once upon a time she took it quietly. There's several names wheeling in her mind over who had possibly given her phone number to her parents, who’d betrayed her desire for no contact in some foolish attempt to mend a wound she’d cut off completely.

She shouldn’t have answered the phone, she should’ve simply let it ring off the hook and her answering machine do the rest – but still nestled in her ribs is a hopeful little girl. It's such a conflicting feeling, to hate such a small piece of yourself; but she does. The door slaps once more and Liz can hear Roxi’s boots tap against the porch steps before she’s looking over her shoulder at the brunette. Fingers are quick to swipe at the edges of her eyes, banishing any damning evidence that she was crying. The gesture only provokes her threadbare sanity and more tears spill over, air being pushed between her lips as she tries to calm herself down. “ ‘m fine! “ The words are rushed as she fans at her eyes trying to stop the free fall, the spilling over grief she’d never touched suddenly pulled from that damn wound. Fuck whoever gave her mother her phone number.