#bestvictim

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Teddy appreciates the smile. Tegan reminds him of Mili -- nothing short of the highest compliment -- and it makes his chest ache to remember. But he’s veering off track, isn’t he? Something strange. Something weird. Something that might just be his imagination, really. And wouldn’t that be embarrassing? To get all... bent out of shape over a little overactive imagination. But he trusts Tegan not to mock him. He hopes.

It looked a little like Dad on the stairs-- Oh. Oh, maybe that is it.

   “Fair enough. I can’t imagine that you would show up very well on photos anyway. At least.. not in the ways that people would like.  Which I think is fascinating in itself. The sheer destruction, the warping of media forms but a presence that can not be possibly be captured on them.“ There’s a strange little delight in the way that they talk about it. As if there has been some previous experimentation with bizarre forces and the impact they have on media.

media is valid…ONCE

bestvictim replied to your post: quiz… for friends & mutuals only bc like… ur the...

i got damien…i feel like that’s really on brand sksksksk

it was a thought said carelessly; tossed out into the open without much forethought–– one of audra’s more divisive habits. she glances over at them, a friendly smirk planted on her lips. “oh? just me then.” she grins at that–– couldn’t tell you why, necessarily. but it tickles her all the same. mad audra denbrough in a sea of the rational and well-adjusted. but that wasn’t true–– this was horror. and even prestige horror has a role to play in the untangling of some kind of deeper existential angst. anyway, if tegan doesn’t want to talk about the ennuis of being alive, she won’t force them to.

“no no, i’m fine. just fancied myself a philosopher for a minute, i guess,” she says, throwing tegan a crooked smile. comfort is not a necessity. audra is playing off the weight of her comment a little bit, but it’s nothing she can’t handle on her own. she feels bad for being so flippant about it because she can sense that she’s made tegan a little uneasy. if they’d mentioned wanting a smoke, she certainly would have taken them up on it.

“–i don’t fucking stick out.”  it’s punctuated by tegan pointing their blow pop directly at him, almost as if it were a knife.  they’ve been on edge recently–then again, hasn’t everybody?  so maybe tegan’s a little harsh, a little mean?  they can just chalk it up to the stress (you know, of just staying alive).

“besides, why the hell do you care.  is it a crime to be a little weird.  are you a fucking cop.  you gonna tell me what to do.  really, i have all day.”  a smile, mocking and fake, sucker between their lips.  “c’mon, baby.  hit me.”

“you don’t have to.”

“i’m not saying i don’t want to know them. but i don’t want you to feel… obligated. to tell me anything.”

her hand lifts and she taps her fingers ever-so-gently over the back of tegan’s hand, their cold, hard tendons. then she drifts to their hair, absently sweeps the end of one icy-blonde lock back and forth with her index finger. inviting them to stay. to make themselves comfortable. you don’t have to hide, says the gesture, but you don’t have to be more open than you’d like to, either.

“unless you mean you have. like. literal. things. inside your head. phineas gage style. in which case, i’d rather not know. i can’t date someone without a frontal lobe.”

HEY  LA  ,  THEIR  WIFE  IS  BACK.  arms wrap around tegan  ,  her chest pressed to their back  ,  hands clasped around their stomach.  a kiss to their neck, their shoulder.  “  hi  ,  baby.  missed you.  ”