your skies are not kind.

                    thoughts of her family usually jaded her mind. thoughts of how much she wished she could escape but also knew that she didn’t have the guts to get up and leave. reluctantly, lauren almost gave her the bottle because she couldn’t brace the taste of alcohol once again. it was disgusting, but the buzz she felt in her body helped her make sense of why people always drank it. to forget, right? “just because my mother fucked you doesn’t mean you know a thing about her. she’s sweet to you, i’m sure … i’m sure she’s still sweet to you, but you don’t realize how evil she can be.” the words came out quickly, and now lauren was ready to rag on her own maternal figure. she avoided talking about her to anyone — therapists, counselors, her brother — but that was because she swore to herself to keep her secret. but ember was one of her secrets. “snow is cold, and there are no nice looking boots that actually keep your feet warm. or dry. unless they kill like, twenty animals to make one pair.” shrugging, lauren leaned back and let her head fall back and stared up at the ceiling, barely noticing the other drinking until the bottle was back in her hands. “i don’t actually hate the state…” she mumbled, more to herself. “i just hate that i’m here right now, i hate that snow happens when it shouldn’t, and i hate that no one understands me or my life.” anyone would realize how ridiculously bratty they would sound saying those last few words – except for lauren. her whole life was a whole big act, but there were things she kept to herself.

       Ripley offered a smile, a true and genuine smile, at the woman. “ His name is Brayley. A good kid that takes after me a little too much. ” People have told them that Bray was quite literally a mini him. Only, he was interested in fashion photography than nature and animals like himself. Still, he took after his love for photography.        “ Maybe if this date doesn’t go to hell, you can meet him. You guys would get along. ”

@softstouch·

          “I’d love that, Ripley,” she insisted. Out of pure curiosity, and perhaps self preservation, Ember remarked, “How long has the other parent been out of the picture?” She learned to stray from a heteronormative narration, with the world changing. It was ignorant to assume gender of anyone and on a first date, Ember didn’t want to appear ignorant. Especially since we knew this guy could have children, so that’s a step in the right direction here. 

          AS BUDDY HOLLY PLAYED from the speakers acting as a soundtrack to the diner, eleanor nodded her head once at the others request as she used her foot to scratch the back of her leg. she was always hyper aware of how she looked in her work uniform which she found (similar to the rest of the establishment)  incredibly tacky. eleanor could handle it, though she didn’t have much of a choice, just as long as she didn’t have to hear how historically inaccurate it was by her parents ever again…and her uniform had pockets; she never did know what to do with her hands. turning on her heel with her hair straight hair flipping behind her, eleanor went back to the bar and took out a glass and a ceramic mug. pursing her lips at the half-empty coffee pot–she’ll have to make another pot sooner or later–and poured it into the mug, leaving enough room for cream or sugar. she brought the mug over to the table, commenting that the small cups of milk or cream were on the other end of the table before she’s back at the bar, pouring the rose coloured lemonade. eleanor finally brought the glass of lemonade over and took out a pen and pad of paper from her apron. she opened her mouth to ask what she wanted to order from the menu but she was a little taken back by the others invitation and compliment. it didn’t reek of the same amount of creepiness that it usually did when it came from old men. “thanks i guess.. i’m named after some powerful woman in twelfth century europe,” as had been drilled into her from childhood by her mother despite the assumption most people had that her parents simply loved the beatles. ‘ no, my last name is not RIGBY ‘.  peering around at the empty booths and bar stools in the diner, this woman was her best bet for tips at the end of the night. if the other had not noticed by now, however, eleanor was not much of a talker. the girl turned back again to go to the kitchen, shaking a pile of fries onto a plate before going back to the table and placing the plate down in the middle and sliding in opposite her, stealing a fry and taking a bite. “you like chips?” she asked. ‘ Well, that’ll be the day, when you say goodbye, yes, that’ll be the day, when you make me cry ‘ sang from the speakers.

       ‘ AND MAYBE NEXT TIME we come, you could actually have a smile on your face ‘ 

grabbing the scribbled on receipt paper and the three one dollar bills, eleanor rolled her eyes and shoved the bills and receipt into the pocket on her apron. it was safe enough to say, waitressing was not her calling in life ( not that she imagined it was many others ) but at least her coworkers were able to fake it. nonetheless, coupled with her lack of desire to attend post-secondary school and complete lack of any extraordinary ability, this is where she found herself. dressed in a uniform consisting of a blue dress with buttons down the front with white fabric around the short sleeves, a white collar, a white apron tied around her waist and black shoes. god, was this the type of life she envisioned for herself? 

now that the one table had left and besides pamela, a diner regular and a notoriously slow eater , the diner was empty..that was until she heard the all too familiar sound of the bell being rung by the opening of the door. eleanor looked up at the person and gave a small smile, going behind the bar and grabbing one menu with one hand, and set of utensils which were neatly wrapped in a napkin before placing them both on the table. “hiya, welcome to the hound dog diner. did you want something to drink? or we have a special ‘ pink lady ‘ lemonade on special this afternoon.” eleanor said, her tone rather cool and her accent as thick as ever, as she slid her hands into the pockets of her apron.

sometimes, especially after the great war, ember found herself on auto-pilot. the traumatic experience of having to save the country from the fire and flood that was astroth and rin’s reign had left her a shell of the woman she was. she would get in her car and drive. she’d hop on i-95 and just go. it was nearly three hours of listening to shitty podcasts on spotify before her stomach began to grumble. she kept peering at the signs, hoping to the gods that they’d advertise something. anything.

bold what applies.      talicize what sometimes applies.      repost don’t reblog.

i.   DRACULA.   cold to the touch. flickering candles. cold breath upon your neck. billowing white gowns. midnight strolls. pearl trimmed bands. indulging in your deepest desires. the fall from grace. the fear of outsiders.  bloodstained sheets.   dark imaginations. something lurking in the shadows. the urge to run away. glowing eyes in the darkness. the scent of garlic.   preying on the weak. the power to both bring and take life.

ii.    THE   PICTURE   OF   DORIAN  GRAY. old bookshelves. kisses on the hand .  a devotion to the finer things in life. prizing youth and beauty above all. paying the ultimate price. the pursuit of pleasure. blood red sins painted over in white snow. a drug-induced stupor. breaking the heart of the one you love. losing what’s left of your humanity.  

iii.   FRANKENSTEIN. frantic sketches. the stench of something rotten. unorthodox beliefs.  a scream from the woods.  candles burning out. dangerous knowledge. contemplating existence. the crunch of leaves. the chill of winter in your bones. dark ambitions. prometheus reborn. the contrast between life and death .

iv.   THE   COUNT   OF   MONTE   CRISTO. false accusations. taking justice into your own hands. divine justice. elaborate schemes.  playing upon others’ weaknesses. the solitude of the ocean. an ever-changing identity. dissatisfaction in your life. an alienation from humanity. escaping from prison.

       The man never knew what to talk about and was doing his absolute best to keep things interesting. To learn more about the woman in front of him without overstepping any lines. “ I’ve never been up that north or east. ” He admitted but heard stories of how beautiful it was. New York City he had been for some jobs though. “ The city is certainly it’s own world, ain’t it? ” He admitted.        “ North Dakota, born and raised. ” Ripley mused, almost proudly. “ Settled down here when my son was six and have no plans on moving anytime soon. ”

                though ava was the one to blame for her constant infidelity ( and there was a lot to unpack there ) lauren seemed to blame ember for the affair. unfortunately for both parties involved, ava would strike again and lauren would feel forced to keep her lips tight about everything. “nope, definitely cannot think of anyone worse. literally.” the last word was given with a little huff — stubbornness was common within the wolfe family. but lauren had to be the most stubborn, always needing to have something to prove. deep down, she knew that she was being irrational … but admitting that would mean she’d have to admit to every moment she was irrational, and there weren’t enough hours in a day to recall every moment. wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, glanced toward the fridge and then forced herself to take another drink without ice. “i just don’t know why my family decided to live in new york state where there’s snow all the time when we have enough money to live literally anywhere else.” she always had to complain about something, despite her life-long dream of being on broadway. either way, she sat down on the couch across from the woman and hugged the whiskey bottle like it was a teddy bear. 

            ADRIAN    GIVES    HER    A    QUIZZICAL    LOOK…    “   what  are  you   ?     a  fucking  philosophy  major   ?   ”     he  utters  the  words  with  disdain  .    then  she  helps  him  and  he’s  trying  to  reach  for  the  right  reaction   ,    he  grumbles  a  rushed   ,   “   thanks   ,    princess   .   ”    not  that  he  means  it   ,   he  never  means  anything   .    “    i’m  glad  you’re  sorry   ,   ”    and  then  he  lets  his  eyes  roam  over  her  body   ,    it  had  been  a  least  a  month  ,    what  with  break  there  had  been  a  definite  dry  spell   .   “   you  wanna  grab  coffee   ?   ”    he  knows  it  makes  him  look  like  a  real  asshole   .    he   didn’t  realize  he  simply  needed  to  scratch  an  itch   .   “  what’s  your  name   ?   ”