@hollowtissue, claire dredge required a starter from damon salvatore.

" humans. always so predictable, yet endlessly entertaining. "

🚶

henrietta bowman was a member of cricket's congregation, the preacher's daughter. and for a while cricket even considered the girl a friend. she was a bad girl, rebellious and wild, much like cricket. it was henrietta who introduced cricket to her dealer, josiah, and got her to dabble in hard drugs. the girls did a lot of partying together after sunday services and before wednesday night bible study, and grew close. but just as soon as it happened, it was over. henrietta hooked up with a man rich enough to get her out of their shitty little town, who promised her a better life in a big city. and she left cricket in the dust with a habit, jetting off to somewhere glamourous in a shiny sportscar and wearing a fur coat. cricket's held a grudge since, her brown eyes turned green.

 “They’re ’s a 10, but…..there is no such thing as eye contact. You’re arguing with his sternum or belly button. “

there  was  such  a  look  that  passed  across  his  features  as  he  just  stared  down. ❛  yeah,  that  sounds  about  right. ❜  it  wasn't  a  lie. he  really  didn't  have  anyone  around  him  that  was  anywhere  near  his  height.

†  ――  @hollowtissue + "they're a 10, but..."

A hands runs at her forehead, brows drawn. “ did you just honk me on the head? “

get bonked, idiot // @hollowtissue

SO MAYBE HE did bonk her on the head. Is that such a bad thing? He's tired, she's tired, they're both tired, what's it matter? Why are his cheeks flushing, like she's accused him of some vile misdeed?

"NO, I BONKED you on the ass," he says, almost surprised at how snide he is (almost). "Yes, I bonked you on the head. What about it?"

there’s a flashlight in mackenzie’s hand as they walk towards the abandoned structure. fingers gripping the cool metal, she uses her opposite hand to push open the door, watching it get stuck on a bit of debris on the floor. the place is a mess inside, but she figured as much. nobody had been here in god knows how long - considering the fact that the last family that lived here died under mysterious circumstances.

and well, mac considered that to be a reason enough to investigate.

tucking strands of hair back behind her ear, she drags a finger along the table in the entryway, chock full of dust and god knows what other contaminants. this won’t be good for her asthma, but does she give a damn? not really. wiping the gross stuff off on her jeans, she beckons claire forward until they’re inside fully.

it looks like a normal house, but the air is a bit chillier on the inside, there’s a definite sensation that something is in there with them, but she can’t manage to place where or what it is yet. a spirit? a demon? who knows, but she’s intent on finding out. she’s ordered some decent ghost hunting equipment off the internet, currently contained in a backpack thrown on her back in a hurry, and she bends down, holding the flashlight between her teeth before she manages to unzip and procure a few items. 

a half-ass working spirit box is her current object of choice.

“this is supposed to use like…white noise to get the spirits to talk.” she says, like she’s watched enough ghost adventures to know what she’s doing, and looks over at @hollowtissue with a smile on her face. ( she doesn’t, but she’s gonna fake it til she makes it. ) there is otherwise silence around them until she turns it on, taking a few steps further into the house.

"oh ghosties, come out to plaaaay."

you’re only making this worse for yourself .

❛  how  do  you  know?    ❜  he  spits,  bitter  tone  as  he  shifts  but  he  ends  up  wincing  in  pain.    ❛  make  yourself  useful  and  put  some  damn  pressure  on  this.    ❜  he  points  to  his  wound,  blood  pouring  from  it,  wondering  if  this  will  be  it  for  him.  the  world  would  be  better,  people  would  be  alive,  not  being  stalked,  the  missing  people  numbers  would  be  low.

( @hollowtissue ) claire » adelyn : “I did feel sad, but articulating it seemed cheap to me.“

brow furrows, head tilting as she steps closer to rest a comforting hand over the other's. " it's never cheap to express yourself. " when the kettle starts to ring, Adelyn gives a gentle squeeze before moving around her kitchen to get their cups of tea ready. " at least it'll never be with me. " she returns to the island, easily sliding the mug to Claire & leans on her arms to cup her own mug between her palms. " now, how about we order take out & start articulating while we wait, hm ? "

👀 Do the mun and you get along? 

"The mun and I get along really well. Though Jared seems to take enjoyment on puttin' me through the wringer, sometimes. But I know his heart is in the right place. So whether we are up to angst or chaos, we are most always on the same page. Though the man cries about me more than I cried about Emily so...He's a big ol softie. Don't tell him I told you."

@hollowtissue, claire dredge sent to phoebe halliwell: cold, sender places their jacket over receiver's shoulders.

as phoebe walked through the chilly night, she couldn't help but feel the bite of the cold wind against her skin. it was a cold night. she knew that she couldn't handle this type of weather. she was so used to the sun when she was back home in san fransisco that she didn't bring anything warm when she came here. though, she has put on a small cardigan, she couldn't help but pull it tighter around herself, trying to shield her body from the icy air. despite her efforts, the cold still managed to seep through, sending shivers down her spine. just then, claire, her ever-attentive friend, with a gentle gesture, reached out and placed her own jacket over phoebe's shoulders. the warmth of claire's jacket enveloped phoebe like a comforting embrace, instantly easing the chill that had settled into her bones. phoebe turned to look at claire, touched by her friend's thoughtfulness. " thank you, claire, " she said, eyes on her friends, who doesn't wear anything other than a sweatshirt. " aren't you going to be cold though? i don't want you to freeze to death because of me. "

“Get ready for this... there's a Museum of Murder and Mayhem."

"that sounds right up my alley." they're in the middle of nowhere, some hick town along route 66, stopping to fill up the tank of their stolen truck. it's all tumble weeds and desert scapes here, except for the single pump chevron, a couple of airstream trailers parked out in the dunes, and apparently, a murder museum. cricket didn't know that kinda shit existed. are there really sickos out there, like her, with such a fascination with murder and destruction? enough to make a whole museum dedicated to serial killers and mass murderers? sounds fun. "we gotta stop by," she says, returning the gas hose to its holster and screwing the tank's cap back on. "which way is it?"

@hollowtissue liked for a ONE-LINER !

"I don't think standing here is going to do EITHER of us much good-"

CLAIRE DREDGE: IS IT AWFUL THAT I'M ENJOYING IT? 'on the contrary, my lady, i believe the mistrex of ceremonies, and many of the other fey, may take offense if you were not enjoying yourself,' delloso de la rue seemed to have worked rather hard in putting together this year's bloom ; hob could only assume that the purpose was to partake in the festivities and have a merry time. he, himself, was not necessarily in the position to enjoy their surroundings as much as claire might be, but that did not mean she should not be allowed to laugh and sing and dance, if she so chooses. only one of them arrived here with a mission. at least to his knowledge. 'enjoy yourself as much as you see fit, miss dredge. my judgement will not reach your merriment, i assure you,' @hollowtissue.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── ﹙ CLAIRE ﹚ do you have a light? | | | | | | @hollowtissue.

it's just his luck to make an improper exit from the party raging on inside —— silently leaving with a trusted pack he could feel tucked away in the front pocket of jeans , only for a handful of others to have the same idea minutes later. really , he probably could have lit his cigarette in the middle of the living room and no one would have batted an eye [ ... ] with the way it was becoming littered with empty red cups and stray bottles , a little ash falling towards carpet or leaving a couple burn marks couldn't possibly make much of a difference. it wasn't his house , ( truthfully he wasn't sure who it belonged to ) and it overall wasn't his problem. but fresh air did wonders ; and he wasn't that much of an asshole.

he'd only managed to get a couple of drags from his cigarette with back facing front of the home before the question came suddenly from his side —— and neck craned to find culprit who dared disrupt his moment of peace. but a forced demeanor of cold and off putting would slightly soften once he found someone familiar enough [ ... ] and the inquiry would fully register. fingers painted with chipped black would reach inside the deep pockets of baggy jeans to fish out a pack of menthols on the brink of death —— crushed and kept heavy with only a few remaining sticks and a classic bic lighter. it's swiftly extracted ; but instead of freely handing it over , his thumb would instead pull the trigger and offer an orange flickering flame. ( no offense ! but it's the only one he had. ) ❛❛ let me guess... someone stole yours? ❜❜

let's talk about mackenzie/claire's camp, shall we?

it's a small one, somewhere in the savage divide, near one of the small bodies of water that occur in the area.

for christmas mackenzie is stringing up decorations and finding a makeshift tree somewhere - ( even if she has to scavenge for days ) and she's got the genny's up and running to power christmas lights.

mackenzie might not know many plans, but she will absolutely craft a few plushies for claire for christmas, especially the pink and blue brahmin ones. they go on the foot of claire's bed.

they searched for days to find the right camp, ended up having to deal with blood eagles on one spot, honey beasts in another - eventually in the mountains, overlooking a cliff, they find a small pond that is free of any enemies.

their muscles are sore by the time they use junk to create a makeshift shelter, but by god, it's better than sleeping outside in the rain.

their aesthetics are very different - mackenzie likes flowers and claire is more of a rough and tumble type with the amount of arms she's gathered from enemies or looted from camps, but it's home, and it's wonderful.

@hollowtissue