#redruins

“lakewood?   nobody expected you to stay.”   but i hoped you would.   that somewhere amidst the chaos that unraveled,   where your own mind turned into the enemy,   that the familiarity would remain:   nothing else could change.   let yourself be grounded in the world labeled 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎.    a shrine to a scar,    haunted images dance over your eyelids when they close,    the glint of a blade,    your own ricochet.    is the blood not now on your hands too?    tell yourself that it was over,   returned to lakewood like you were not its own sacrificial lamb.   it started again,  old foe at the bottom of wren lake and you still can’t close your eyes.

the 'woodsboro truther' forum is open on her phone between them, an obvious 'joined' label at the top of it, making it clear that not only has sam obsessively read through the lies being posted about her for weeks, but she'd subscribed to it, as if there was anything she could do to put an end to it. other than complain about it to her roommate, who she's sure was tired of it by now, but quinn was so far removed from it. she didn't want to show it to her sister or to mindy and chad; it'd only worry them more. sam doesn't remember the last time she's had friends like this -- people to turn to, to rely on, to find comfort in. she'd sworn off everyone except for her sister, telling herself that was all she need, especially with all the time she had to make up for -- but she saw the way tara was with mindy and chad, and how they'd become her family, too, so maybe after a while, it just became natural to find a similar comfort in their roommate. especially now, after fighting her way through another exhausting day of mindless ridicule, she just wanted to turn to someone else who may not be looking at her the same way everyone else who didn't know anything real about her might.

her body freezes in place, not out of fear from the person in front of her, but she thinks that if she moves, she might ruin something herself. it's what always seems to happen, something always gets in her own way, and she's usually the culprit despite all her efforts to just be better. eyes stay locked on lottie's, until whatever she's found stuck in her hair is free. she doesn't care what it is or how it's gotten there, all she really cares about is that there's someone here with her now, someone close, someone touching her in a way that reminds her she's still real, no matter how simple it is. and it's thoughtful, too, something she gathers might come naturally to lottie, because when she's standing next to her like this, sara can feel that warmth.

❝   lottie—   ❞ van's voice croons, rounds around her name like a prayer and maybe they'd never been the praying type before they crashed in the middle of fucking nowhere and even now, they would never call it a prayer, but there's something in the air. something they can feel because lottie taught them how to. they don't know how to explain it. (fuck if i can explain any of it) she's tried to make sense of it all, but in the grand scheme of things trying to find a reason has proved to be nothing but a futile endeavour. it feels like screaming in the empty woods with nobody around to hear it. just miles and miles of trees and snow and abyss and them. just them, and the damn wilderness. ❝   c'mon. don't say that.   ❞ their brows furrow in confusion. how could lottie believe that to begin with? ❝   i'm pretty sure bad guys don't try to keep people alive. we wouldn't have made it this long without you. you .. you helped us hear when none of us could. lottie, you can't be the bad guy, because you've never been the bad guy.   ❞ van says it, and means it, with every ounce of conviction she can muster.

(‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎🥀 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎)‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎❝ oh no i wasn't– ❞ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎usually:‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎rose tyler can lie as if it were second nature.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎words spill out of her like they were always meant to be.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎only in two cases has that proven to be untrue.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎when faced with new life,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎where her references and cultural understandings seem to fly so far out the door she couldn't access them even if she wanted too,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎but also...‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎when ever she's caught doing something that makes her cheeks flushed.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎off guard,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎maybe slightly embarrassed‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎(although the humanly emotion itself dwindles day by day,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎she's met so many,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎she's known so much,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎that embarrassment starts to lose all meaning).‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎instead,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎she grins,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎bashful as she tilts her chin to her chest,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎blonde hair falling around to hide her eyes.

" and it smells like shit. "‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎her response is hidden beneath her breath,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎eyes dancing over a sea of grumbling stomachs and sweated desperation.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎even in the cold they're burning up,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎muscles eating themselves to give them the strength to wake up in the morning.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎a part of her heart hurts for them,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎in all her time on the sidelines‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎(even when she tried hard not to)‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎she took note of each girl.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎lottie's speed,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎tai's intelligence,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎van's concentration,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎and as much as she tried to avert her gaze–‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎soccer was hers,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎the team was once hers.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎aren't they hers once more?

❛❛ think you're one-of-a-kind? seen the resurrection act before. ❜❜ rare sarcasm bleeds around his lips, replacing the usual stoicism living beneath the cowl. the bat wouldn't often respond in such a way— bruce wayne would. the dark knight keeps to vagueness rather than curt retorts by the tip of his tongue. however, he often doesn't stay up for more than forty-eight hours either. eyes already strained, way past the point of a stinging sensation, he doesn't even want to envision the words that await him once he returns to wayne manor. by the woman's arrival, though— that seems in the distant future. irises trained on her, he wills himself to ignore the pulsing ache beginning to form in the front of his head. he asks an easier question.