#publicabsent

         the bang of the door that leads out to the alleyway echoes against the brick, the impact punishing carrie immediately for setting a foot outside the door. it’s unnecessary, she already regrets storming out of rehearsal. at the very least, she had excused herself. poorly, and unconvincing, and at least five people in that room would doubt whatever lie she comes back with. carrie knows the worry shared by her girls comes from a place of care, but, now, when all carrie wants to do is shrivel away from the light, she wishes they just wouldn’t see at all. carrie could lie to the choreographer, she could lie to those observing the rehearsal, and carrie could absolutely, without a doubt, lie to her father. but she couldn’t lie to her best friends. and they were right, something was wrong. 

         she’s started seeing things again. and, no, it’s not a nightmare. yes, she’s sure. more than mirrors and windows, the shapes of people have grown more solid as carrie’s fear increases, and now she’s worried that people will find out. it feels like a ticking time bomb, one that happened to explode during rehearsal when a foggy shape slipped behind one of the dressing room curtains. carrie saw it out of the corner of her eye, and darted.

         it’s fine. it’ll be fine, she just needs some air.

         what the fuck is wrong with her?

        the darkness of the alley swallows her vision whole, and carrie blinks up at the sky, hoping her vision clears and adjusts to the sky that can light her way. in the city, it never gets all that dark, anymore. still, it’s dark enough that carrie doesn’t notice the mousy little teenage girl until she looks back down. for some reason, it doesn’t startle her. she doesn’t- this girl that carrie has no idea who she is. a stranger, definitely not someone who went to her school. but she’s so small, and so quiet that the darkness has eaten her up, and those big, round, dark eyes are devouring something on their own. carrie wishes she didn’t look, wishes she hadn’t followed the girl’s gaze because what’s waiting for her- is dead. it looks dead. and it’s not real, so why is the other girl looking? carrie, impatient, a sharp bubblegum pink that doesn’t quit, snaps at her.  “ what the hell are you looking at? ”

“ no, i suppose it don’t clarify much. ” auggie drawls. (the origins of his wound. expressing that detail kinda slipped his fuzzy mind.) he stares at the small gash in his hand. a filthy handkerchief clings on for dear life.

it's hard to explain to someone what's wrong. he didn't want to worry anyone. he certainly didn't want to worry his new friend, either. the medium had found herself at the park, crawling with spirits. it seemed like the best place to be! crazy fun park was, indeed, crazy fun. party till we puke! though, the reality of it was that gonzo? he wasn't doing well. if it was even possible, he looked more pale and his eyes more sunken. the veins on his neck seemed to travel to his face, making him look more sick than anything. the fact of the matter was that gonzo was slowly disappearing. his body was breaking down. he was being forgotten. the memories are what keep him alive.

          ABILITIES  &  SUPER-POWERED  THEMED  PROMPTS 

@publicabsent asked: ❝ you need to rest. you’ve done more than enough. ❞

            HIS   CHEST   ROSE   AND   FELL   IN   A   QUICK   RHYTHM.   HIS   breath   shook   each   time   he   breathed   out,   eyes   wide   with   adrenaline,   and   then   he   fell   to   his   hands   and   knees.   Smoke   drifted   in   the   air   around   him,   the   fire   that   surrounded   him   had   died.   Leo   had   pushed   his   limit.   It   went   beyond   what   he   was   used   to,   and   his   body   was   screaming   at   him   to   rest.   This   time,   he   thought   he   better   listen   to   it.   

            AS   IF   THE   GODS   KNEW   HE   WOULDN’T   LISTEN   TO   HIMSELF,   a   voice   drifted   in   his   ears.   Someone   was   kneeling   down   beside   him,   care   etched   into   the   tone.   Right.   He   had   been   trying   to   help—   save   someone?   Judging   by   the   ash   pile   that   laid   a   few   feet   away,   he   assumed   correctly.   

@publicabsent sacrificed: "Want some tea?"

           "no, thanks. i don't even like tea."

           at this point in his life, the witch drinks plenty of it. however, he does so like one might medicine: bitterly, forever wishing it could be in another, more desirable format. though peter has tried to find a few alternate ways of brewing potions, he's found that tea remains the best way to mix ingredients together— so he sucks it up. he drinks tea now.

           at the very least, it makes him feel closer to his long-deceased father.

❝ these guys aren't even gonna do a cool shootout after all this — oh.❞

nettie's falling asleep on him.

leland goes quiet immediately, peering down at his dozing company.

they'd been watching some old western on tv — although it wasn't one of the more exciting ones leland had seen. not enough train robberies or cowboy stuff, honestly. couldn't tell you what the story had been about, either. he and nettie had missed the beginning. either way, the credits are rolling now — and leland finally realizes he's been chatting to himself for a good minute.

oh god, now he can't move. it's not allowed. she actually looks relaxed, for once. no tell-tale knit of worry between her brows.

leland hopes this means she feels safer, here.

siobhan gives the smaller girl a soft, kind smile as she reaches for her hand. she'll gently place her hand over top of hers, a soft gesture that she truly meant. ever since they all witnessed kevin's dusting, it had been traumatizing for them all! especially for siobhan, who had been essentially attached to the hip with kevin since they had died together. sure, he was an asshole but he had been the only thing she knew prior to death, which had become a comfort to her. sure, she felt free since he was gone but she also felt empty. like she didn't know what to do with herself.