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philomenafm · 4 years

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(NATALIA DYER, DEMI GIRL) - Have you seen PHILOMENA CARMICHAEL? PHILLY is in HER/THEIR SOPHOMORE year. The WILDLIFE SCIENCE MAJOR is 20 years old & is a TAURUS. People say SHE/THEY are WHIMSICAL, PATIENT, APATHETIC and UNPREDICTABLE. Rumors say they’re a member of CALLOWAY. I heard from the gossip blog that SHE CONCEALED MURDEROUS EVIDENCE (JAMES. 21. EST. THEY/THEM.)

ive done sm switches bt. she is the one. she is the one i love. trust me. ples. this is an old intro n im frankly. too lazy 2 read it bt. i love her a lot shes very good please like her

TW CANCER, TRAUMA, DEPERSONALIZATION / DEREALIZATION DISORDER ( ALT. DISSOCIATION ), DEATH, DECAY, MAGGOTS.

aesthetic.

wildflowers in your hair and bare feet against moss, binoculars and maps, madonna beating out of half-dead speakers in a half-dead van, whipping wind, jumping off cliffs and rolling down hills, a bandaid wrapped around each finger, cryptic bumper stickers and cryptids in the woods, facing the sun and letting the rays hit you, counting stars late into the night, dancing naked in the woods with nothing but fire to light your way, mismatched socks and lucky ribbons, hoarding a box of special treasures, shoplifting and diner-dashing, bleach against roots, pink sweaters paired with ripped fishnets and slip dresses with knock off uggs, willingly wearing crocs, glitter stickers, fungi and feeling one with them, lying down and decomposing, they’ll find us in a week. they’ll find us in a week.

basics.

full name: philomena brontë carmichael

nickname(s): philly, phil, etc.

b.o.d. - april 20th, 2000

label(s): the amaranth, the halycon, the neophyte, the wanderer, etc. etc.

height: 5′4″

hometown: woodside, ca

sexuality: demisexual

pinterest ( & her family pinterest b/c they’re my most developed family uwu)

stats

favorite song: wonderfully bizarre, bendigo fletcher / we can be defined by the things we want / i’ll be a life full of free haircuts from the one that i love / we’ll collect fallen out teeth in a candy jar / mice for the backyard peregrine falcon reservation.

background.

a middle child belonging to christopher and imogen carmichael - two stanford professors. christopher specialized in british literature whilst imogen specialized in the classics. hence the name.

the order of siblings goes as such: lysander, elektra, juno, philomena, and twins orion & valora. the deal was that everybody had a greek (or in juno’s case, roman) first name and a middle name inspired by a piece of british literature circa 1800s and under. a family of nerds, if you will.

so, clearly - right off the bat, their parents are … eccentric. they’re both in love with their respected topic, and with each other, and with their kids. the carmichael family is a happy family.

they each have their own quirks and whatnot - though philly’s always been particularly dreamy - even as a child, she’d spend hours watching clouds or caterpillars or the leaves blow in the wind rather than play with other kids. she wasn’t a shy kid - she just had her own interests.

hardship doesn’t hit the family until philomena is five and starts having splitting headaches. they’re slow at first - but as soon as she’s seeing spots and unable to walk in a straight line, doctor appointments are made.

it doesn’t take long for them to discover the tumor, though the official diagnosis of malignant ependymoma comes a month later.

it’s grade ii but slow-moving, small enough to not be as much of a threat as worried, but big enough where removal is necessary. philomena earns a scar and brings it in for show-and-tell. for two months afterwards, philly’s at radiotherapy monday through friday.

they’re lucky - philomena’s considered cancer-free by the next year. she’s babied at first - handled delicately, as if she could break if touched - but with five other children … it doesn’t last for too long.

and life continues as normal.

her personality doesn’t shift much over the next few years - she’s awfully independent for a kid, and awfully quiet - when she speaks it’s about faeries and bigfoot, about how the sky is so blue and if you listen quietly, you can hear the leaves whisper their secrets to each other. this is not odd.

she’s close to all her siblings, but she idolizes her older sister - elektra. elektra’s six years older and dyes her hair whatever colors she wants. elektra bought a knife off a seedy guy downtown. elektra threw away all of her heels and renounced god. elektra is god. her music is loud but it’s not heavy - it’s florence and the machine.

they’re opposites - elektra’s boisterous and feels loudly, philomena’s softer and feels…less. when elektra sneaks out, philomena keeps watch. they are a duo.

philomena is smart - but she’s fifteen and hates school. hates sitting inside all day. hates the same routine - day after day - it’s all the same. her parents’ routine is the same, philly feels contained and she wants to live.

elektra’s twenty-one and just bought a brand new spanking (used but not falling apart) 19-something volkswagen … van - using her entire savings account. she says she’s tired of routine, she’s leaving the next day.

naturally, philomena stows away in the back and isn’t discovered until they’re two states away and she’s got to pee. elektra nearly crashes the van in shock.

it’s an argument - philomena vs. elektra, then them vs. their parents, then their parents vs. the school, the state - it’s an ordeal. philomena switches to an online program in the end.

it hurts christopher and imogen - lysander’s not having any of their nonsense, juno’s betrayed and alone - the twins are twins. in the end, it’s alright. the carmichael family is a happy family.

philomena and elektra take their time - it’s not a road trip, it’s their new life, permanently on the road. they stop and explore often - they do odd jobs in whatever town they settle in. they dine-n-dash, they shoplift. they survive in their own way.

during particularly desperate times, they two resorted to identity theft & credit fraud - getting away with it only by ditching the cards once they’ve made it out of state.

she drops out of high school officially when she’s seventeen - they have to drive all the way back to california to deal with the wrath of their parents and to deal with paperwork, but it’s done. philomena doesn’t know what path she wants in life - but it’s not that.

it’s during this time that the episodes occur - philomena’s outside her body, philomena’s wrapped in cotton, her memories are not her own. she’s looking in the mirror and she doesn’t recognize herself. they take shelter in a city for six months, long enough for her brand spankin’ new therapist to figure out what’s wrong with her. she’s diagnosed with depersonalization / derealization disorder - they think it’s stress. philomena doesn’t get stressed. they think it’s trauma. she laughs - she never laughs.

there is trauma though, deep-rooted but somewhere inside - you just have to look for it.

you. just. have. to. look. for. it. look for it. look for it. look for it look for it look -

you were ten and she was thirteen, an off-trail hike in familiar woods in a familiar town, safe and familiar. it was your idea, to stray from the carved out paths, down creeks and up hills and round, and round again. you’re the one who spotted the scarf first, sticking up from the dirt and dancing in the wind like the beginning of reincarnation. it was not reincarnation, it was discovery. it was ruin. with curiosity drawn, you skidded down - with compliance, followed juno, followed your sister - clumsy in her steps and tumbling down quicker than you. you saw the corpse, but juno felt it. decaying flesh and maggot.

and she left juno, just like that - just five years later, when juno had finally gone to the end of her wits. philly up and left. abandoned her.

philomena and elektra leave the city after that therapy session. they do not return. she’s always been good at hiding her secrets.

three years later and her parents want philly to have a higher education - desperate for it, really - worried for her future. it’s a battle that she loses, getting her ged and applying to a local college in florida in shameful compliance.

they’re there for a year until philly gets (expectantly) expelled from the community college & the two of them are banned from the town they’d residing in up until that point. they don’t talk about it - but boy, was it one hell of a time.

they found refuge in preaker, a town that seemed to suit them well - it suited elektra’s desire to travel up and down the east coast, and it intrigued philomena enough to the point of her being content with staying. soon after, philly officially transferred to yates for her freshmen spring term & theyve been here since.

(whenever anna brings cillian uh. he’s in here too he’s been traveling w them fr like 3ish years. i just cannot rewrite atm KDSGLSDKLGKFGHLKSL bt hes here. n hes sexy. n we love him. bro3tp)

OH. hey yeah the secret. errmm. tht’s on cillian. philly just hid the evidence. no they didnt kill someone yes they did no they did not <3 yes

personality & facts.

she’s quiet but she’s confident - her voice sounds like rustling leaves, if leaves smoked a pack of cigarettes a day.

often underestimated - philly’s petite and looks like she’d fall over if a plastic bag blew too close to her. she’s independent - for the most part. elektra is the only person philly takes orders from.

has always been considered odd - weird, strange. still talks about the trees as if they’re listening, as if they’re old friends. she’s vague and doesn’t elaborate on the things she says.

believes in pretty much any superstition you throw her way. luck is very important to her. if you ask her if the earth is flat, she’ll say probably. believes strongly in bigfoot and the lochness monster. has personally seen aliens, and loves ghosts almost more than herself.

she can be amusing - whether you ‘get’ her or not, her outlook is often bright - she talks about the negatives the same way she talks about the positives. can be seen as naive or gullible, but she’s plenty smart. even if half of her education has come directly from google.

philly doesn’t laugh. a smile, yes - often, in fact - not always reaching her ears, or bearing teeth - but these are not indicators of her happiness. philly is consistently content. she thinks many things are funny - she still will not laugh.

her voice is often monotonous - she doesn’t sound dreary, she sounds far-away. her voice carries. her emotions are often unknown to others.

is apathetic in most situations. she’s hard to bother - she’s incredibly patient and enjoys the company of most - tolerates them at the very least. it’s hard for her to express her emotions, because she feels them so little that it’s very nearly not worth it. her affection is not verbal - it’s small touches and gestures of kindness, love in her own way.

is a fan of knock-knock jokes and bad puns. she won’t crack a smile while telling you them, nor does she expect you to laugh. she just enjoys them.

she owns a motorola razr covered in puffy stickers - hasn’t ever had a smartphone. she’s a fan of emoticons. her favorite is :o)

has a lot of bruises and scratches and scars - she’s often getting herself into pickles. there are always, at the very minimum, three bandaids on each hand.

she has insomnia, so she’s awake often. is often seen wandering town - even when she shouldn’t be, even when it might be dangerous. her intuition is delayed. when she does sleep - her dreams are vivid and fantastical.

keeps a box of memories - sentimental bits and pieces she’s picked up over the last few years. there are a lot of buttons and postcards, but any teeny tiny object will do.

her style changes every week - most, if not all, of her clothes are thrifted. one week she’s baby spice and the next she’s lydia deetz. she combines pieces from different styles often - she looks like a barbie clothed by a child. she feels most comfortable like this.

will either patch-up the clothes that get too worn or reuse them in some way. sometimes donates the clothes she gets tired off - isn’t minimalistic, but she’s learned to keep only a small amount of possessions.

the only consistency is her lucky ribbon - it’s pastel yellow and silky and as thin as a shoelace. she ties it onto her outfit of the day, everyday. if she loses it, she’s lost. elektra has a matching ribbon (& so does leo fowler eyes emoji)

has no problem with minor theft - she only takes bare minimum, puts herself and elektra first and that’s how it’s always been. she tries to be good while in preaker / yates - would hate to be forced out by mobs with torches and pitchforks

currently living in calloway while elektra stays in their van, florence - sometimes philly stays there during the weekends.

they used to live in motels on the occasion, the cheapest room, and more often than not they’d both go home with strangers for a comfier bed and a hotter shower.

it was a common occurrence - she didn’t sleep with them - but somehow, she weaseled her way into their homes anyway. has come out mostly unscathed, on most occasions. this has been a practice ever since they’ve been on the road.

really, truly - has not slept with anybody, had her first and only kiss at thirteen with a frog. this doesn’t bother her. edit: her first & only kisses hv been w leo fowler. this is important

will consume anything you put in front of her - isn’t picky.

listens to whatever they’ve picked up along the way but she likes instrumentals the best. her second favorite genre is 1990′s and 2000′s top hits. they’re nostalgic for her. third favorites? florence, of course. fleetwood mac. the bird and the bee.

loves storms - will go out in the rain and will risk her life for it.

owns a pair of roller-skates and is often skating rather than walking. unless she’s on grass - then she’s walking barefoot.

has many hobbies, and gets bored of them often. her favorite hobby is welding. she’s not certified.

also, juggling.

also, accordion.

the kind of girl who’ll do any job you give her. odd jobs are her favorite jobs. babysitting is her least favorite - but she does it anyway. has lost children before. have they ever been found? not by philly.

dyes her hair blonde often and cuts her own hair - bangs included - finds it cathartic, likes the itchiness of bleach.

everything she does is often in pursuit of feeling free, alive, and meaningful.

( like her frequent visits to the woods, late at night when the moon is high and full. it’s freeing to dance around a fire, stark naked in the cold. builds immunity )

comes and goes wherever she pleases, nothing & nobody can stop her. she knows to respect nature. exudes natural trust energy <3 dont know wht tht means but

the trust expands to animals as well, she has a certain knack for getting them to like her. has too many ‘pet’ rats that reside with her, alongside a baby raccoon & a few crow pals. has a new animal companion everyday, but she doesn’t contain them or force them to stay. edit: she hs a tabby cat named pail, now. named in honor of her mother, bucket.

leaves her window in calloway wide open because of this, because her window is conveniently right besides a tree with sturdy branches. good for animal smuggling, sneaking in and out, hiding, etc. etc. world is her oyster.

though her room in calloway is ??? frankly a mess ??? already ??? usually keeps most of her possessions in her memory box but she’s also turned her room into a mini labyrinth of knick-knacks. very cozy, but very nest-like. think of howl’s room from howl’s moving castle.

wanted connections.

how did you get in here ;; someone whose room she perhaps crashed at late at night, mysteriously. she refuses to explain where she’s come from. she’s gone before you wake. they could literally not know her at all she’s just sleeping halfway under their bed like <3 thank you <3

ma’am this is a wendys ;; someone who sees her constantly <3 doing outlandish shit <3 bc lets b real. shes weird. shes a weirdo. why do u think she wears the same hat everyday. (she doesnt wear hats often) anyways. they probably dnt even like her? just think shes very strange?

im literally going to dissect you ;; someone who. wants to figure out philly. pick at her brain. wear her shoes. kind of in the same category of above in this general like. ur fkn weird. bt they wna figure out why <3 they wna play therapist <3 jokes on u she hates therapists

liddle thief in the night ;; someone who has caught her stealing. or dining n dashing. either/or. perhaps both. she steals a lot :/

oh like. friends n stuff ;; of any closeness. ppl she talks 2 conspiracies with, ppl she goes on late night walks with, ppl she explores with, ppl she steals with, ppl she smokes with, etc. etc. ppl who bring her out to parties cos they like her funky little ways when she gets drunk n tries to climb atop everything <3

thts nice. anyways ;; this is fr like. literally anything unrequited. philly doesnt like <3 a lot of ppl <3 In That Way. so its basically just. ur muse thinks shes very neat n she thinks ur muse is very neat bt platonically. she doesnt do hookups or anything n if she does i tend 2 like. run purely based off of chemistry even with. most of her connections in general.

uuhh. anything ;; HLKDGKSDLKGHLKSFDSHGKFD i nvr rly hv a lot of connections up fr philly bc shes like. a very unpredictable muse n i think its usually better to just. throw her in! n see wht happens! we cn still plot obv n come up w some fun things bt fr the most part shes very organic

#yatesintro #cancer tw #trauma tw #death tw #dissociation tw #maggots tw #murder mention

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druid-for-hire · 5 years

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UNSWAYED PT. III

(pt i) (pt ii) (pt iii) (you are here) (pt iv) (pt. v) (epilogue) (askblog)

this one’s got some revisions/retcons/refinings and new content. there will be some minor rehashing. this edition is more on the drama eurydice goes through on the path to find orpheus, orpheus’ deterioration in the Beyond, little bit of persephone and even littler bit hermes, finding orpheus, and finally getting to leave

thank you @supercantaloupe, @sonyalone, @unholy-boi, @s-aint-elmo, @ferretteeth for helping author this & help out w ideas and all!! sasha, u esp.

ok.

sits down and rests my old creaking bones in a rocking chair by the hearth and lights a pipe

gather round kids. this one might be a little long

one note:

on the same night that orpheus falls, persephone, when she finally composes herself enough, marches up to hades. the fury is still present in the vitriol with which she speaks. “you can’t have done that,” she says. “you can’t have just thrown him away. he didn’t sign any papers. you can’t make him work.”

“there were no papers,” he agrees, “but prisoners do not get papers.”

ok jumping back to kind-of-present

it’s taking a while to find orpheus. (too much of a while)

in between work and searching for him, both of which already take up so much of her time, eurydice... makes her attempts to craft a new guitar. hades took orpheus’. he’s going to either want it back or want a new one, and right now, she doesn’t think she can manage the first. it’s going to be important to their escape, she thinks, because she isn’t planning on staying in hadestown forever

but she’s not skilled, and making a real, good, balanced guitar is incredibly hard. she’s not trained. it never comes out good enough, never remotely close to a properly tuned instrument, much less the guitar that seemed to fit perfectly around orpheus' hands. and she doesn’t have a lot of time

so as it turns out, stealing back the original is the more feasible option

problem being: it’s a trophy. hades didn’t smash it, but it’s locked away with his other little “victories,” and he’ll notice it missing eventually

(those other trophies are other relics from other daring humans he’s had to deal with in the past. no one has come as close as orpheus)

but she does have more buffer time than usual because it's also a reminder of the martyr and the fact that his marriage is in the shitter so it's been put out of sight (and out of mind), so she's got a few days or more before he'd notice it's gone

as she keeps searching for orpheus, telling her story and getting help and word of her spreading...

eurydice stirs the town as the ladle stirs in the pot; out of all the feelings her story wakes, the most dominant—and most important—is the anger.

and for the first time, somewhere in some could-be-anywhere part of Hadestown, someone says no.

the age-old, unmoving, immovable hadestown, begins to... change. there’s persephone’s crack in the wall, and then there are others, and then they join, and then there’s unrest, and then there’s the threat of riot.

(which i know i already established but shhh im reiterating my point for this:)

unholy-boi: hades was at least formerly hands on enough to give orders, to scrape down new souls, to preach about the wall

now he locks himself in his office, head in his hands, unable to handle the idea that he’s losing control, and every MOMENT he spends locked away he loses control more, but he needs to think, he needs to think, he needs to think--

The fates are at his door, they sing horrible music, things he doesn’t want to hear, lies and twisted truths to manipulate the king. except he’s not being manipulated at all. this is all him, he knows it--this is just him and his paranoia and the workers' rage beginning to boil on his doorstep.

the god is hidden away in his office and hardly lets anyone in. he isolates himself and Persephone barely even visits this winter anyway.

he wonders if the martyr boy really did fail.

(no, he tells himself--he did fail, because his goal was to get him and his lover out, and now both of them are damned here forever. all of this? an unfortunate side effect.)

hades... was very nearly swayed by orpheus, but took his “obligation” to a city (that he’s already lost) over the slightly breaking voice of orpheus, and the rumors. however when he sent orpheus away, things only got worse. but how could he just crawl to pull orpheus back now? would that not be sacrificing his iron will? his grip of steel? how can he turn to go back if he’s already made his decision? moreover- how can he trust bringing orpheus back will fix anything at all?

a lamenting reprise from hades with orpheus’ guitar would be cool. i don’t know if it’d be in character or appropriate to the story but. its been a fun thing ive been tossing between my hands

it probably starts when he accidentally kicks it over--there’s a trophy room, but he hasn’t cleared a space for the guitar yet. he kicks it over, and when it hits the ground the strings hum Menacingly at him

after the song he puts it away--out of sight, out of mind

show them a crack.

and they’ll tear down the wall.

besides the immediate danger orpheus is in and his voice failing being drives to find him as soon as possible, eurydice also has to worry about the fact that persephone won’t be there to help her soon. the hadestown debacle happens on the onset of proper spring

persephone, for once, is grateful that hades keeps her late. it means she can help the lovers. for so many weeks she sends that boy’s voice on a wind straight for Eurydice to keep her going

but later is not never, and to the surface one day she goes, and bitter with the absence of his wife Hades drives them all to work harder

which strains Eurydice for time and energy even more

things are harder when she’s gone, as always—eurydice has less time to track him down, and without persephone’s sing-sing wind, pinpointing him is more difficult.

Hermes is there at the station to greets her when she returns to end the winter

“how is he doing?” “not well.”

“you think they’ll make it?” “i don’t know.”

hermes asks her, “how long?” how long will orpheus last? how long will it take for them to find each other and leave? how long will it take until hades finally snaps? persephone can’t answer any of them

(hermes knows, of course. but he has a role to play)

the summer roars to life on top, but persephone can’t stop thinking about the lovers underground. she knows that orpheus won’t make it through the summer. she sneaks down below for two weeks in june and in that time, a hurricane devastates the surface without her to control it.

the sing-sing wind returns with a straining melody and eurydice wonders. she’s grateful, but she wonders

and... one day it doesn’t. she feels the breeze, but there’s nothing on it.

nothing.

i’ve fucking had enough, eurydice decides. i’m stealing that fucking guitar, hades be damned.

in the sleeping hours of hadestown she sneaks her way up to the palace, dodging searchlights and finding havens, already at an advantage because she’s scoured Hadestown so long and made allies in so many places

and when she makes it up to the palace, the... the guards, the hounds, all of them are... either missing or intoxicated to shit. which is odd, she thinks, but doesn’t question it

she makes it to the trophy room (after a Lot of searching, because she doesn’t have a map)

she walks in and marvels in awe at all the trophies

she wonders about the histories behind all of them

to be honest, she doesnt know that this is where the guitar is, but it’s a pretty good guess (and the right one)

and then there’s a sound at the doorway. eurydice freezes. there’s nowhere for her to hide

she turns, and... it’s persephone in the doorway. persephone, who should not be here.

they lock eyes for a moment, and then she points at a locked case in the back of the room and keeps on walking. whistling loudly. a very “nope, nothing here at all” move

... well, works for her

eurydice breaks off the padlock, gets the guitar, and flees

musing on kampê for unswayed because i really dont want her to just be a two dimensional villain:

- homegirl is bitter. she used to rule the underground. she was the queen of the dark, and every god and titan knew her name, and hades did fear her too.

until. well.

and now she’s practically half-forgotten—a footnote. she hates it. hades and persephone are both her younger and yet they came into her realm, and she was shunted aside to this dismal little hole, and she has to answer to him and she fucking hates it. no mortal up Top or even in hadestown remembers her name. if an old dragon like her has no place out there... if she can’t make herself known in the outside world anymore, then she’ll fucking sear herself into the minds of the people she has, in the only way she knows how

(it should also be noted that homegirl is. unstable. i think kampê sort of violently switches between abhorrently vicious to weirdly sweet and manipulative and anywhere in between depending on the day/time/situation)

(also, she wasn’t always deaf. but being even older than the world, than hades and persephone, things... happen)

also, part of how she keeps everyone here is 1) working them to death and 2) telling them that they’re needed here, and that hadestown is an oasis of stability outside the chaos up Top

orpheus is not doing well.

orpheus forgets.

orpheus wears down.

(orpheus gets sick.)

whoops! That’s An Issue. but still he works, because no one can rest long, and the coal dust and ash and smoke and stifling heat do him zero favors

his focus drifts; he loses track of eurydice, of his songs. the work is first and foremost

you ever get worked so hard and pushed past your physical limit that u get like, spots in your vision and want to throw up? yeah thts orpheus

orpheus doesn’t stop sneaking off every day to the spot at the edge of the Beyond. he doesn’t sing out for help anymore, but... he sits, because he knows that it’s important. this place, where he sang out for a lover he doesn’t remember anymore with songs he no longer has

(cue Flowers but for orpheus, in quiet & faltering breathy lines)

he’s “forgotten a little thing called spring”

kampê still comes after him to drag him back to work. sometimes it’s wordless; sometimes she yanks him to his feet by the straps of his overalls, sometimes all she needs to do is put a hand on his shoulder and he’ll get up and shuffle back into the mines and smokestacks

other times she asks why he’s still doing this, why he’s still out there. other times she tells him that there’s no need to come out here anymore. he shouldn’t have in the first place. out there--it’s no better than here.

the times when she yells--few and far between, because fetching him is hardly much of a chore anymore--he winces, since it’s not like she has the finest grasp on volume control, being deaf

the scene we see is her sing-speaking some fucked up reprise of hey little songbird, beckoning him to come back and taunting him; i didn’t write this one out but i imagine there’s some fun things to be had with the “vipers and vultures” line

and orpheus sing/saying, in this cracked, hoarse voice, “I wanna lie down forever”

he’s. so tired

(also singing his voice, long since shredded, sorta finally collapses in this one and i don’t imagine him having another sung line after that)

the canary in the coal mine isn’t dead yet but he will be

eurydice goes into overdrive after she steals orpheus’ guitar back

(she strums a few notes on it, and it hums warmly of sunlight in her hands. her chest fills with something indescribable. god, she missed this)

she takes more risks. sneaks out farther and strays out farther. skips out on work, keeps cutting close, nearly gets caught more often than she did before

eventually. finally. finally, she finds him, almost unrecognizable in the crowd masses, but she catches him alone

and she calls out to him, her arm outstretched, “come home with me.”

so i’m going w the “recognize her right away one” and following what i wrote in the first post

BUT: the callback to “come home with me i” with orpheus’ forgetting in “come home with me” “who are you?” is Too Fucking Good and I ended up writing my own lyrics to a “Come Home With Me III”

i’ll post it somewhere. i’d link the google drive link here directly but then tumblr would nerf this post off of the hadestown tag.

you can play off of that if you want, toy around with it as a sort of small canon divergence to this au, but for the main one i’m rolling with what i already did in the first post... it’s unfinished btw there’s this small section i’m stuck on but i didn’t wanna delay this post anymore for something so minor

eurydice sees how much the beyond has ground him into the dirt—his eyes are sagging and half-lidded, dulled and shadowed and barely focused on her, miserable but too exhausted to feel

she sees this plenty in the ver. w/ Come Home With Me III before he remembers her, and for a moment in the other version before his eyes light up with recognition and suddenly it’s like some of the soot has sloughed off of him with the way his whole face lights up

also she shoves his guitar at him and he’s !!

it’s. horribly out of tune though. he’s tuning it while they talk a little

but either way: the steam whistle blows, the signal to get back to work, and orpheus is immediately lowkey fearful and trying to get back before kampê catches them

eurydie is completely “oh hell to the fuck no i JUST got you back after MONTHS of searching you are NOT leaving”

orpheus is just afraid of what kampê’ll do if she sees them together, he doesn’t plan on leaving her -- he doesn’t hand her back the guitar, after all

again, kampê isn’t the most stable

then uhhh Whoops they spend too long there and she catches them, a la Papers

cue panic

cue tousling w/ eurydice and somehow getting kampê still enough (probably w pinning) to try and listen to Orpheus and she's just waiting to kick his ass because no music is ever gonna sway her, boy

(the dogs get placated by a few chords plucked out)

he can't sing, but he plays

and the other workers listen, and are moved

they are moved by eurydice's act of coming here after him

by listening to orpheus sing of love

by listening to orpheus forget, and deteriorate

by having spent months listen to their love last and finally succeed with eurydice's arrival, this stalwart notion of hope

they didn’t ignore it. everybody knows the walls have ears

and they join by accompanying orpheus' song with the heavy metal sounds of the factories

they stomp, they clang, they turn grinding gears that crash and pound, in synchrony

(where the little wheel squeals and the big wheel groans)

it’s a percussive song that they make

more than a simple tune, a steady beat, more than just the music of machinery

it shakes the entire Beyond with the force of the determination of a thousand weary souls, of the hopeless regaining hope for the first time in centuries

Forced through the percussive force of the entire Beyond, implicit in its rhythm and shake, is the old song. all of this old and rusted metal, all of this harsh machinery, all of it singularly resonant in the notion of la, la la la, la la la

kampê feels it all through her feet and it rumbles in her chest, it shakes her to her very core and rattles her down to her bones, twists in her gut and forces in her fear and awe, and awe and wonder, and... something else

eurydice feels her loosen under her grip and backs off from pinning her and she still doesn’t move

at some point she lurches forward with her fist raised--orpheus doesn’t stop playing but he does shut his eyes, thinking oh god this is it, and eurydice rushes forward to pull her back

but she just... punches her fist into the ground by his feet

she feels everything not only through her feet but up her arm, more directly to her chest, to her heart, to her head

at last, swayed, feeling far more of something other than fear or anxiety or anger than she ever has in a long time...

she lets them all go

ok ngl there’s some blank spots here. i’m blanking here. idk how to transition

but

it's an entire exodus out from this tiny secluded part of Hadestown

The Great Beyond empties itself out and Kampê is left behind

the move is headed by Orpheus & Eurydice and the mood is very similar to the exodus from Egypt by the jewish folk in the movie Prince of Egypt

including the dark lighting, teal against the warm orange-yellow of their torches (lamps in this case), the wind, the craggy rock, everyone together, overall just the general tone

so during this walk from the Beyond to central hadestown with orpheus & eurydice more or less alone at the front is when Promises happens

it’s. a hell of a lot sadder here, but also a lot softer and more tender

orpheus’ lines are spoken like with Come Home With Me I / II coz he ain’t singin’ anymore. he can’t

and that’s the thing, he can’t sing anymore.

all those things he said in wedding song, all his promises--that his voice would convince the world to give them everything they need

orpheus... doesn't have that anymore, or at least not nearly as strong, or traditionally lovely as it used to be

his voice was cut into pieces from the nasty shit air in the places he was sent to work

all he has is his guitar, and while he’s good at it, his real strength is in his poetry--it’s his voice and his words that makes the rivers and the trees and birds sing along

the people of the Beyond may have been inspired to percussion by his guitar, but they were more swayed by the notion of their love that was built up over the past few months ever since he got banished

so like. to walk with eurydice and be by her side for as long as he lives, is really all he can really promise her at that point anyway

it's not even that he doesn't have anything and broke the promise that he’d sing them all they needed. he can’t even do that anymore

the voice that charmed her, that said he’d provide for her, is gone

would she love him now, he wonders, if the great poet can no longer sing

and many thanks to @sonyalone for contributing this:

he offers his devotion to her. the only thing he has that’s worth anything, the only thing he can do. and when he does hes so afraid that he'll see in her eyes the understanding disappointment, the pity and "i suppose so" that he fears, but he finally raises his head and he cries because her eyes are shining with joy and love and hope. thats all she ever wanted from him. she just wants to be with him, voice or no, amenities or no, and hes never felt so loved

he weeps, and she weeps--from grief and relief and love--and they hold each other close

sheltering under each other

and they have never been more secure in their love

he walked the whole length of the railroad into hell for her, he survived in the pit for her, she scoured the underworld for him, she came for him and she's keeping him

and the return of all these workers startles everyone in central hadestown and a lot of the work gets stalled out

which, of course, draws hades’ attention.

tune in next time for more on this shit ✌️

(pt i) (pt ii) (pt iii) (you are here) (pt iv) (pt. v) (epilogue) (askblog)

#hadestown #hadestown au #hadestown fanart #unswayed au #hadestown musical #my art #my work #look i KNOW the guitar is too small but also I don't care #edit 6/26/19: forgot to include some stuff re: the face-off with Kampe and Promises

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loversandantiheroes · 7 years

Text

Like Blood Running Warm - Part 1

Author’s Note: Happy Spooktober. A couple weeks ago I mentioned how this song made me want to write a Vamp!Clara AU. This is the result of that. Part 1 of probably 2 or 3 if they remain this sort of length. Big thanks to @longjackets, @nikkidee, @kingandcrook, and @infiniteregress17 for the beta help.

Summary: A snowstorm strands a group of bus passengers at a near-derelict station overnight near the Colorado border. One of them just can't seem to get warm.

Rating: T (currently, AO3 link is pre-tagged for the later stuff)

Warnings: Angst by the bucket, Terminal Illness, Simm!Master being...Simm!Master and thus a walking dumpster fire, Implied Past Drug Use, Implied Harassment.

Word Count: 5799

AO3 Link: here

Did you call for the night porter? You smell the blood running warm I stay close to this frozen border, so close I can hit it with a stone Now something crawls right up my spine That I always got to follow Turn out the lights Don't see me drawn and hollow Just blood running warm

- Mark Lanegan, "When Your Number Isn't Up"

- 11:07pm

John Smith, the night porter, sat in the break room of the bus terminal. He should, by all rights, be keeping post behind the counter in the booth, even at this late of an hour, and he knew that. Pointless, though, wasn’t it? An old portable telly spouted crackling spurts of weather reports at him. Worst snow in a decade, record lows, blah blah. He could’ve guessed that himself looking at the drifts forming outside the sliding doors, which he would have to keep shovelled out unless he wanted to end up buried in here. Buried alive with shitty instant coffee, a vending machine that half-worked, and a telly he couldn’t even get a decent signal on. His employers, stingy bastards that they were, were too cheap to provide anything new or at least decent on the premises. In the lounge, where most stations would have the new plasma or LED or god-knows-what-the-fuck-ever craning down from the ceiling or mounted on the walls, there were instead tiny coin-op televisions. Bloody ancient things with built-in radio dials bolted to the arms of the benches and chairs, popping and crackling to life at the generous price of 30 minutes for a quarter.

John had no bloody idea why the hell the relics were still installed. Honestly, he didn’t know such things even existed until he took this post, but the real shocker was that somehow they still worked. By all rights, they shouldn’t be able to pick up a signal anymore, save for the radio dial, not after the big push from analog to digital broadcasting. Converter box wired up to some kind of main switch maybe, that was the best he could figure. Mystery of the fucking universe, or might as well be; tech was not his area. But it made him feel something. Kinship maybe, he thought, cradling the battered porcelain mug of coffee and trying to work some warmth into the joints of his fingers. Old and busted, but still working. Last legs, maybe, but some life still crackling inside.

He’d moved to the States for the sake of his health, that was the joke of it. Christ on a bike, that was the fucking joke. The belching exhaust of a passing lorry in Glasgow last spring had left him doubled over and hacking against a lamp post. Not that a cough was that unusual, he’d been a smoker from the age of fourteen. He was used to the hack-and-rattle first thing in the morning, or when the seasons changed from Damp and Warm to Damp and Cold (Scotland only had the two seasons, really). But this time had been different. Not quite worse, but deeper, like the first signal of the flu.

He’d gone home to his flat that day, made tea, and emptied his tobacco tin into the garbage. Good fucking riddance. Something welled up in him then. A change of scenery would be good. He was nearly fifty-six years old, and he’d never even left the country. Wanderlust, he’d called it at the time. Not entirely untrue, but a little too grand. All he’d wanted in that second was to run away. It wasn’t as if he had any real ties to Glasgow anymore. No friends to speak of, all those were gone. Family either dead or distant. He spun his wedding ring unconsciously. No children. That was almost a relief, considering.

Once he decided to go, he’d sold everything but his clothes and his guitar. Sentiment was only the half of that. He’d never admit it, but he’d simply found the idea of travelling halfway across the world with nothing but the guitar too foolishly romantic to give up. Then on the emptied floor of his flat he’d laid out a massive map of the continental US, closed his eyes, and flipped a coin at it.

He’d spent six good months in Colorado, taking odd jobs and occasionally even sitting in on open mic nights at a local bar, plucking out something of The Velvet Underground or Bowie, and chalking up the slow but steady weight loss as stress and an aversion to American food. Then the cough had come back.

Small cell lung cancer. The fast moving shit. The sort that dug its nails in and decided it lived in you now. Gentrification of the lungs. Radiation or chemo might have bought him some time, but that was the best it could offer. But the pricetag on a few more months was entirely too steep. One look in the clinic window at the thinning husks hooked up to IV drips with pallid eyes and piebald pates, and he’d been out like a shot. On his way to work that night he’d bought a pack of cigarettes. If he was gonna die, he’d at least do it with a full head of hair.

John leaned over the break room table, rubbing at his temples. Too busy feeling sorry for himself to think fucking properly, he inhaled just a bit too sharply. The heating in the bus station was rubbish, the glass windows and sliding doors too thin to keep the cold out, and the electric heater he’d dragged in himself, in a feeble attempt to keep his toes from freezing during the long winter, barely managed to take the chill out of the break room.

Cold air needled into his lungs, and he choked, sputtering and coughing so hard it made his bones ache. Hot coffee sloshed over his hands, and he swore, or at least tried. He needed air to curse, and his lungs weren’t having any of that nonsense. He pounded on the table, sloshing more coffee and overturning a plastic tumbler full of spoons. As the fit subsided, John fumbled in his pockets for his handkerchief and spat, folding it away and trying to pretend he hadn’t seen it come away from this lips bloody.

John sat with his head between his knees until he could breathe evenly again, the sound of the telly all but drowned out by the rush of blood in his ears. At last, he stood, sopped up the mess of coffee, and stumbled out to check the departures and arrivals. Departures from Shotton had been cancelled even before John had limped to work in his jeep. The last two drivers had waved him off as he pulled in, climbing into their own cars to get the hell out of Dodge and back home before the snow settled in with any real intent. Now the roads were closing, and that meant he might be stuck here alone, hacking his lungs up over bad coffee and worse telly until the snow plows went out.

“Fuck,” he muttered. The arrivals list, which had been a string of delays when he’d come in, was now almost completely cancelled. All but one. 11:20 from Cheyenne. Delayed, but still inbound. Wonderful. Snowed in overnight with a busload of pissy tourists on their way to Denver. Wouldn’t that just be a time. “Of-fucking-course. You couldn’t even give me one miserable night off, could you?” he growled at the ceiling.

He kept swearing as he pulled his winter gear on. He’d read once that swearing helped with pain relief; maybe the blue streak would keep him warm. He struggled this balaclava over his head, wondering if it wasn’t time for a haircut. He was a little too proud to still have a full head of hair, grey or no, and had let it go a little wild after the move. Insulation, he told himself. Too fucking cold to trim the hair back, be liable to freeze to death before the cancer gets a chance to finish the fucking job.

Laughing, John wound his scarf around his head.

- 11:34pm

John had most of the entry cleared and shook down with rock salt and sand, when he saw headlights. The bus lurched up through the drive, crunching and shuddering its way up through the snow to the sheltered entrance.

John leaned on his shovel and flapped a thickly-gloved hand as the bus ground to a stop in front of him. The door hissed open, blowing a gorgeously welcome gust of heated air at him. The driver was a new guy, a round-faced man with close cropped hair and a frankly terrible goatee. “Fuck me ragged,” the driver called down, grinning, “I’m gonna get held up by the Michelin Man.”

John made a gun out of his right hand and popped his thumb. Ka-chow. “You’ll want to get inside,” he shouted through too many layers of damp wool.

The driver frowned, motioning at his ear. “Can’t hear you, pal.”

He waved again, palm in, fingers curling. Come the fuck in.

- 11:40pm

There weren’t many passengers, thank God. John counted heads as they shambled in, jamming his gloves into his pockets and fiddling with his scarf which had gone stiff with frost. Seventeen or eighteen, including the driver, who’d pulled off to try and park the bus proper while he still stood a chance to get it moving. An old couple cooed and laughed over the coin-op televisions. A young black woman in a pea-colored coat almost as heavily padded as his own gave him a nervous smile as he struggled out of his balaclava. She asked hopefully about coffee with a London accent that made him do a double take.

“Or tea or hot chocolate?” she went on in the sort of bright tone only the incredibly anxious and incredibly exhausted can achieve. “Anything hot, honestly, I’m not fussy.”

John grunted, both in effort and assent. He’d worked up a fair sweat out there, and the wool was stuck fastidiously to his head. He bent, trying to pull it up from the back, and heard a second voice with an unmistakable Blackpool twinge.

“Easy, mate, you’ll pull your whole head off by mistake.”

Cold fingers brushed at the nape of his neck, curling into the wool, helping him pull. And then he was free, spitting lint and rifling a hand through the haphazard sprawl of his hair.

London giggled behind her hand. Beside her now was a second, significantly smaller woman who was holding his snow-crusted balaclava out to him. For a second, all he saw were her eyes, wide and brown and faintly crinkled at the corners as she smiled up at him. She was lovely, far too lovely, and he was far too old, and oh Jesus Christ he was staring.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, trying to flatten the beast his hair had become. “Uhm, the coffee machine’s on the fritz,” he said, gesturing at the line of vending machines and utterly missing the excited upshoot both women’s eyebrows did when they heard his accent. With a touch of annoyance, he noticed the out of order sign had dropped once again and was slowly soaking into a puddle of slush. “I’ve got a kettle in the break room, but the coffee’s instant. But there’s quite a lot of it, at least, so.” He shrugged, grinning awkwardly and trying not to look at the short one with the big eyes.

“That’d be amazing, I’m frozen,” London said, bouncing on her toes.

“Right, well, have a seat, I’ll go and get that on.”

“I’ll give you a hand,” Blackpool said.

London scoffed, rolling her eyes. “No accounting for taste,” she muttered.

Blackpool stuck out her tongue.

John glanced at her sidelong as he opened the door to the break room. She noted his hesitation and gave him a quizzical look. “You on your own tonight?”

John frowned. “Yeah, why?”

“Then I will definitely give you a hand. You look fit to keel over.”

The frown deepened into a scowl.

She laughed. “Oh, go on, your eyebrows look like they could shoot laser beams when you scrunch up like that.”

He pushed through the door after her, shrugging his parka off and pretending that he wasn’t trying to hide a smile, unsure why he should be hiding it other than that recurring little prickle that said she’s too pretty and you’re too old and have you forgotten you’re dying?

“I like the accent. Where in Scotland?” she asked, already filling the kettle as he stripped off his overalls.

“Glasgow.” He spared her a glance over his shoulder, cocking an eyebrow. “You’re from Blackpool?”

“Ooh, jackpot, well done.”

“Not the sort of accent I expected to hear coming in with the snow in the arse-end of America. I had friends there. The other girl, London, is she with you?”

“No, not really. Met her at the station, actually, we’ve just been headed the same way. Fell in together a bit. It was just nice, y’know. Familiar sort of accent. America’s so bloody big, makes you feel a little less alone.” Her gaze shifted outward and for a moment she was gone, the over the hills and far away sort of gone, hands still trying to seat the kettle without the help of her eyes. On the third try, she finally managed to set the it down on the base properly and click it on.

“Oh. I know that look,” he muttered, sitting down to try and struggle his overalls past his boots. “Someone’s homesick.”

“Something like that.”

He opened his mouth, but the well-meaning platitude he’d meant to give was lost in a deep, lung-rattling cough. He bent double, hugging his knees, eyes squeezed shut, and told himself over and over again it will pass, it will pass, it will pass. Spots burst and swam behind his eyelids as his body protested the idea. The muscles in his body froze up, lungs refusing any command except get out get out get out. All at once the darkness seemed to deepen, wrapping around him, swallowing him up. There was a bizarre sensation of detachment. Like he was falling into himself, as if his body was some hollow thing he was floating around inside like a sensory deprivation tank.

An arm curled around his shoulders, holding his body up, a cold hand rubbing circles on his back. Blackpool’s voice came floating through the black from miles off like sweet woodsmoke.

“Hey, c’mon breathe, breathe, you’re alright.”

At last, his muscles unlocked, and he sucked in a great whooping gulp of air and coughed again, half-retching as Blackpool shoved a crumpled wad of tissues into his hands. John sat shaking as his breathing leveled, swimming back up into the peaked fluorescent light. The coughing was old, but the blackout, that was new. New and decidedly not good. Blackpool’s hand still rubbed at his back. She was still there. He swiped at his mouth with the back of his hand, and as he blinked the tears out of his eyes he saw a smear of red across his knuckles. Fuck.

Blackpool looked down at the blood on his hand, eyes wide with concern and something else he couldn’t quite place. Something that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Her pupils were dangerously wide, irises a thin sliver of copper that seemed to pulse and flash. A fresh shudder rippled up his spine. Lack of oxygen, he told himself. Surely.

“You need a doctor,” she whispered, searching her coat pockets and finally producing a phone in a chipped blue case.

He grasped her hand, shaking his head. “I don’t.”

“The hell you don’t,” she hissed. “You’re ill.”

“I know,” he said, and that stopped her. He sighed. “Just, please, trust me. An ambulance couldn’t make it through this mess anyway. No point. I’ll be fine in a minute, I just need to catch my breath.”

She stared him down, mouth set and grim. For a long, horrible moment he felt close to talking. To actually saying it. He hadn’t actually told anyone about the diagnosis. There was nobody to tell, and somehow that was the worst of it. He was going to die here alone in a shithole of a town thousands of miles from home, and nobody would know. Loneliness hit him in a crushing wave. He saw himself reflected in the dark of her eyes, drawn and pale and hopelessly lost.

And then she sighed, and his shoulders dropped, and the moment passed.

“What’s your name, Glasgow?” she asked finally.

“John. But mostly people call me the Doctor.” She gave him a funny look and he shrugged. “Old nickname. Long story.”

“No doctor for the Doctor, though?”

He shook his head, resolute.

“Well, then fuck that,” she said flatly. “Glasgow it is.”

He rasped a laugh that set him dangerously close to coughing again. “Suppose I’m supposed to just call you Blackpool, then?”

“It’s only fair.” She smiled tentatively. “But it’s Clara, for the record.”

- 12:03am

Blackpool - Clara - handed out hot water in little styrofoam cups. John followed behind with sachets of coffee and tea bags and tiny packets of sugar. London, who Blackpool said was named Bill, squealed happily when he produced a pyramid-shaped teabag out of his pocket.

“Oh that is gorgeous, you’re a lifesaver, mate.”

Blackpool had moved onto the driver, whose name tag was emblazoned with “MASTERS” in off-kilter lettering. His cheshire grin slipped sideways into a leer as she handed him the cup, his fingers lingering on hers a little too long.

“Cheers, love,” he said with an overblown wink and an equally overblown mockery of an English accent.

Blackpool’s face went stony, and she jerked back, moving on quickly to the elderly couple. The grin on Masters’ face spread even broader.

Bill fidgeted, her own smile fading fast. Her eyes flitted around like nervous hummingbirds, lighting on Blackpool, him, the ceiling, the floor. Anywhere but the driver. John clenched his jaw, hands making a decision for him before his brain stood a chance to intervene, accidentally fumbling the handful of coffee and sugar and knocking the cup of still-steaming water out of Masters’ hands and into his lap. The room was entirely too cold (and his kettle frankly a bit too crap) for the piddly amount of liquid to be hot enough to actually hurt him, but the man yowled like it was boiling.

“Ach, so sorry mate,” John crowed, playing up the Glasgow in his voice to the most ridiculous degree he could that still stopped short of Rab C. Nesbitt territory. “The cauld goes fae my joints, sorry, like, I’ll get ye some towels an’ a fresh cuppa, dinnae worry about it.”

He trotted back to the office, more than a little delighted at the sour look on the driver’s face. How’d that saying go? Like a rottweiler licking piss off a dandelion. That was the one. Beautiful.

- 12:15am

John ran out an extension cable and a power strip for the ones needing a charge for their phones, which unsurprisingly was all of them. Reception was shit, and the storm was only half of it. No wifi, either. He made apologies, gesturing at the desperately out of date equipment. “Give them another ten years, and they might actually catch onto the indoor plumbing fad.”

Blackpool gave him a wink and a thumbs up over the top of her phone. London rolled her eyes and lamented the absence of Netflix, rather loudly at that. Blackpool shook her head and set to poking half-heartedly at Candy Crush.

London wandered over, leaning back against the desk where John sat. She had apparently memorized the names of the other passengers and ticked them off to John as she sipped at her tea. She pointed out the elderly couple. “Melvin and Tilly. Their granddaughter just had her first baby, they’re going down to visit. Spiky hair over there is named Dan or Dave or maybe Doug, he talks a bit too fast for me to really catch it. The cougar with the long blonde hair is Susan; loves badminton, very straight though, shame. Oh, that over there, that’s Dee. Or D, like the letter, not sure which.”

“And of course, you’ve met Clara,” she gestured at Blackpool, who was still flicking through her phone. “Late twenties, maybe early thirties at a push. Used to be an English teacher back home, I think she said. Didn’t like talking about home though. Breakup or something, I dunno. There’s a sore spot there, I didn’t want to poke. I did learn, however, that she likes Jane Austen, souffles, and apparently, older men.” London tilted her head at him pointedly, amused by the way John’s gaunt cheeks colored as he stared fastidiously at his shoelaces. She tutted. “Oh you poor bugger. Five minutes in and you’ve already got it bad. Don’t worry, mate, same here.”

“I really d-”

“Oh like hell. You absolutely have, of course you have. I’m not stupid. And I mean it’s not like I can blame you. Look at ‘er.” She lifted her hands again at the other woman as if her existence was the only proof needed. In fairness, it probably was.

John nodded solemnly. “Alright. So what next, fisticuffs? Rifles at dawn? You can get in an early dig at my honor if you want, I’ll let you go first.”

She laughed. “Naw mate, she is way out of my league. Out of your league too, now that I think about it.” London put a playful elbow in his ribs. “She still likes you though. I can tell. Haven’t seen her smile at a single bloke until she saw you.”

He cleared his throat. “And uh, what about the driver? Masters. What’s the deal there?”

London’s smile evaporated. “He’s a prick,” she said flatly.

- 12:40am

“Alright, the suspense is killing me,” Blackpool said at last. She’d taken to pacing around the lounge with her phone in her hands and had veered out of her path to the front desk suddenly.

“I’m sorry?” he said, blinking.

“You said people called you the Doctor. Why?”

John waved a dismissive hand. “It’s really not that interesting, honestly.”

“C’mon.”

“Why do you want to know?”

She rolled her eyes, laughing. “Because I am dying of boredom. And because, quite frankly, I like listening to you talk.” John fumbled his pen. Blackpool didn’t seem to notice. She tilted her head. “How’s your cough, by the way? I suppose I shouldn’t bother you. Talking might actually be a bad idea….oh god, I am rambling aren’t I?”

“I hadn’t noticed,” he said dryly.

“Right. Well. I’ll just, uhm.” She motioned away.

“I had something of a reputation when I was younger,” he said suddenly, not really wanting to tell but wanting her to leave even less. “Drugs. College,” he shrugged. “Nothing terribly shocking, but also not very legal. Used to get folk turning up at all hours on my doorstep, worn out or strung out or heartbroken. I’d find the right remedy in my bag of tricks to calm them down, get them talking.”

“A stoner psychologist?”

“Basically.” He leaned back and spread his hands. “The Doctor is in.”

- 1:17am

Boredom took over rather quickly. D-or-Dee, a youth with a partially shaved head and a pocket full of quarters went around feeding coins into the slots of the tiny mounted TVs, looking for one that still worked. For awhile, several of them crowded around to catch the weather reports - snow, lots of; we now return you to your regularly scheduled programming - but it quickly became apparent that the only thing on this late was going to be infomercials and horrible sitcom reruns. The tiny knot of people dispersed, and the youth settled for twiddling the radio dials, trying to find a signal in the squelch and static.

“How do you manage alone here at night?” Blackpool said, leaning over the front desk and swirling the last dregs of her instant coffee as he scratched at a newspaper with a pen. “This place is practically prehistoric. I keep waiting for a dinosaur to jump out of the ladies’ and come charging out to eat us.”

“Alas, it’s never been quite that interesting. But I manage, mostly.” John wiggled his pen at the desktop, heavily populated with familiar nightshift detritus: thin paperbacks (Vonnegut and Iain M. Banks stuff mostly), crosswords, at least three newspapers, and an mp3 player half-hidden under a pack of L&M cigarettes. A stack of monitors to his right showed crackly footage from security cameras in the station; two from the lounge, one in the hall by the lavs, and two outside at the front and back entrances. He gave them a cursory glance and saw nothing amiss. Then looked again, brows knitting together. That wasn’t entirely true. Something wasn’t quite right, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. He checked the doors again and did a head count, lost count, tried again, distracted by the way Masters was leaning over three chairs to talk to London, who was resolutely ignoring him. John felt the first twinge of a headache at his temples. What the hell was he missing?

And then Blackpool’s arm darted in front of him and grabbed the mp3 player and the cigarettes in one quick swoop that left him blinking.

“Oi, Quick Draw McGraw, give over!”

Blackpool shook the cigarette pack and gave him a disapproving glare. “Seriously?”

He scowled. She seemed to bring that out in him. “I’m old enough, miss, honest. I’ve got ID, I can prove it, even.”

“These can’t be doing your lungs any favors.”

“When did you turn into my mother?”

“Well, if you’re going to be like that I guess I’ll just have to take your toys away,” she said coolly, slipping them into her pocket.

John scoffed. “You really want to be stuck in here with a crotchety old bugger going off nicotine? Trust me, it won’t be pretty.”

“You ought to take better care of yourself, y’know.” The playfulness hadn’t gone, not entirely, but there was a genuine edge of concern.

John felt heat creep up his face and grumbled, fiddling with his hair. That inexplicable urge to tell her hit him again. Christ, he was pathetic. Was this all it took? A pretty face and a kind word, and he was ready to fall on his knees and confess. It was a sin anyway, wasn’t it? Suicide by inaction. Jesus. Get ahold of yourself for fuck’s sake.

Blackpool held up the mp3 player. “Got anything good in here?”

“Depends on your definition of good.”

Music warbled faintly from the earbuds as she shuffled through his playlist. “Bowie. Lots of Bowie. Miles Davis. Screaming Trees. And...Peter Andre?�� She gave him a look that was just a hair’s breadth away from mocking.

“It got stuck in my head, ok? It was either download it or put a plastic spork in my ear.”

She laughed, properly laughed, round face all crinkled up, rocking on her elbows. Any indignance he might’ve felt fled immediately. He watched her laugh and felt a little of the malaise drain from his limbs.

Blackpool shook her head at him, eyes sparkling. “Well, that’s good to see.”

“What?”

“You. Smilin’.”

The corner of his mouth twitched. He hadn’t even realized.

She patted his hand. A fleeting touch, but enough to make his heart catch almost painfully. “It looks good on you,” she said.

“Oh, flattering an old man,” he said. “If you’re here for my many many riches, as clearly evidenced by my glamorous, high-paying position, I’m afraid I have bad news.”

“Shut up,” she smacked his shoulder lightly.

“I just thought you should be aware!” he carried on, blustering his way through the blush that wanted to creep up his cheeks again.

A sudden burst of static made the both of them jump. D-or-Dee cheered happily, having finally found a radio signal that wasn’t just weather reports or bad country music. Violin strings cut through the crackle and pop in a lilting swell. A guitar crawled in in response, sweet and slow as molasses. John recognized it, an old Fleetwood Mac tune from the Peter Green days.

Melvin, the old guy, was on his feet suddenly, tugging at his wife’s arm. Tilly cackled, called him a sentimental old goat. And then she went to him, smiling sweetly, hands clasped together, one arm on his shoulder. They revolved slowly, beaming at one another.

A few others joined them, Dave/Dan/Doug, the youngish fellow with spiky hair, offered his hand to Susan, a woman about John’s age who laughed musically and joked about breaking her hip, but went anyway. D-or-Dee snatched up London even as Masters was moving closer and twirled her away while the driver was left sneering. A cold little prickle crawled up the back of John’s neck as he locked eyes with the driver. He was going to be trouble. Before sun up, John was certain, he would be trouble.

Blackpool’s hand was on his again, her eyes locked mistily on the elderly couple. “Dance with me?” she asked suddenly.

He sputtered, half-laughing, an immediate refusal on his lips, but then she turned her head and he saw the tears in her eyes. He knew that look. It wasn’t wistfulness but hurt, like an old wound had suddenly reopened. John felt his heart perched on the edge of something he didn’t want to name, teetering, ready to fall. He could let it, knowing at once he’d give anything to take away whatever pain had filled her, and chastised himself for the foolishness.

As if he could. The plows would go out in the morning and she would be on another bus and that would be it. And anyway, he was old enough to be her father and not likely to see the last snows of the season melt. Nothing lasted, not ever. The kid turned the music up, and John felt it working in his chest. A little miracle, a little spark crackling away inside. Old and battered and still playing something sweet and strong enough to make him feel. Maybe that wasn’t all the music. Maybe.

Nothing lasted, but maybe it didn’t have to last to be worth it.

John squeezed her hand once and made for the door. The security monitors dragged his attention for a split second, but he kept moving. Whatever it was, it could wait another five minutes. Blackpool held her arms out as he rounded the desk. He hesitated, swallowing hard. People were watching. London looked at once hopelessly amused and somehow proud. She grinned at him and popped a double thumbs-up, giggling. The driver looked significantly less pleased. The man’s face had gone rat-like and sour, staring at them both with such utter contempt John could almost feel it on his skin, slippery and unpleasant like motor oil.

But Blackpool’s eyes were turned up to him, wide and dark and too full. You wave and you wave with your wide lovely eyes ran through his head with a kind of sick-sweet flush. He went to her. London pumped her fist discretely in triumph.

“You’re cold,” he said as she curled around his shoulder.

“I’m alright.” She took his left hand with her right. Should’ve felt odd. Probably. It didn’t. She led and he followed, trying to pretend he was more than a gangly wreck of limbs and mad silver hair.

She settled against him, fingers worrying over the ring on his hand. “I hope I’m not,” she paused, pressed her face to his jacket, tried to start again. “I dunno, overstepping or something. I don’t want you to think I’m trying to put the mack on a married man.”

His eyebrows flew up. “You’re putting the mack on me now, are you?”

“Shut up,” she said, but there was a chuckle in it.

“I’m not married anymore. It’s sentiment, I suppose. Maybe just habit by now. Just never taken it off.”

She looked up at him, searching his face as if looking for the answer to something she didn’t quite want to ask. She seemed to find it. He could guess; a ghost of that same hurt he’d seen in her face. “I’m sorry,” she said.

John’s mouth went painfully dry. “You too, eh?” he asked.

She nodded. “We weren’t married,” she said, so quiet he could just barely hear her over the music. “But he was going to propose.”

“I’m so sorry.”

Her breath hitched, and she swayed a little in his arms, head down low on his shoulder. John turned them slowly, putting his back to the room, giving her what little privacy he could. He stared out the window. The snow was coming down harder, big fat snowballs of the stuff forming new drifts in the track he had cleared. The sky outside was a dull, muddied pink, the snow drifts colored orange in the streetlights. Blackpool wept discreetly, not making a sound, but he felt tears soak through his hoodie to his t-shirt, and wondered that even those felt cold. He pressed his hand into the small of her back, thumb rubbing absently against her spine, and he tucked the top of her head under his chin. She smelled faintly of lilac soap and deep, bitter chocolate.

“Thank you,” she said as the song ended.

“What for?”

“For being kind.” She looked up at him again, and he watched the last of her tears spill down her cheeks. “That’s rarer than it ought to be.”

A commercial for Thompson’s Water Seal replaced Peter Green, and the other pairs drifted apart. John barely noticed. Her eyes skimmed down over his face, pausing long enough at his lips to make his heart beat faster. She couldn’t possibly...

A cracking from outside made his head snap up, and John watched as a heavy branch bowed over the power lines, cracking and popping. He swore, dropping his hand to his belt where his maglite hung, just as the branch gave way and fell.

In the split second before the darkness descended, John finally registered what had been wrong with the cctv feed. As light as it was outside, even at this hour, the inside of the station was brighter, and he saw himself reflected in the plate glass of the sliding doors. Six feet of wiry thin Scot. Face a little too long, a little too drawn now, but eyes as bright and cold as the night outside. His hands hovered in midair, clasping nothingness.

Of the woman in his arms, there was no sign. Blackpool had no reflection.

#whouffaldi #twelve x clara #doctor who fanfiction #twelfth doctor #clara oswald #vamp!clara #bc I haven't actually gotten to do a romance/horror au ever #let me live

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themockingcrows · 7 years

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Whisper Just For Me: Ch. 10 - Scattered Pieces

Following a traumatic experience, you find your attention divided in twenty directions at once while you pick up the pieces of your lost evening and ruined day. You're certain you have all the pieces accounted for and it's time to finally take a rest.. till you realize the most important piece has fallen through the cracks. You can only hope you can find him before it's too late. This chapter is SFW cw: vehicular accident, medical treatment Ao3 Mirror: [X]

The driving hadn't been nearly as hard as you thought it would be once you took into consideration the brief disconnect of time from realization of what needed to be done to actually fulfilling the act with a borrowed body. The finesse wasn't there, but driving was indeed happening to the tune of a soft radio and John's panicked voice in your ears. …. DAVE. Dave, Dave this is bad, Dave pull over what if something happens. Am I dying? Am I dead?? ….

You wanted so badly to comfort him, but no amount of talking was going to comfort that fear. No. No, nothing was going to happen, John. Everything was just fine. You had this entirely in control.

The oncoming car did not have it in control.

A single moment was all it took, oncoming driver unaware of your vehicle as they pulled out onto the road, failing to look before springing into action, winding up in front of you before you could even hope to slam on the brakes and stop. You jerked the wheel sharply to the left, tried to lessen the impact, tried to do anything that your panic would allow you to do. Everything was going wrong, everything was going wrong oh God you couldn't think of how to make this be a bad dream.

One second you were driving. The next, you were becoming weightless as you heard John's scream come first from inside your head, then outside of it as the sound of metal grinding on metal rang out alongside a crunch. A sharp squeal of tires and John screaming. You screaming. Your borrowed voice and John's melded together before pain hit you and things went black as the final attempts to escape this situation failed.

You didn't remember your own death, and yet your last thoughts were a prayer that you weren't about to remember John's as you raised your hand to clasp tight at the pendant and tug the chain taught without even thinking.

- - - - - -

Everything ached. There was a throb to your head that you began noticing was strong enough that your heart beating made everything feel too warm for a moment. You saw colors pulse behind your eyelids with every hint of a thought. Each inch of your body was in painful stasis.. and at least one potential broken bone judging from the radiating field of Nope that came from your right leg. Make that two. Your nose ached as if someone had punched you full force, and attempts to breathe out of it instead of your mouth was impossible. Something felt lodged in there, or swollen.. Hard to tell.

You finally opened your eyes and stared at the ceiling with its yellow tinted light and breathed deep the scent of bottled air and disinfectant. Curtains encircled your rooms borders, keeping it safe from an open hallway that lay beyond your blanket clad feet if your guesses about the unseen approaching and departing footsteps were right. Your glasses weren't on, so you couldn't be positive about anything beyond these blurred shapes and fuzzy edged lines.

A machine softly chirped just behind the edge of your bed, and after a bit more looking you realized just what all you were hooked up to. A pulse-ox clip covered your finger, bulky but barely there pressure of plastic letting them keep track of your vitals. The coil of an IV was stuck in the back of your hand and taped in place, which also explained why your arm felt so chilled. You were kind of glad you couldn't see clearly, able to resist the temptation to lift the blankets covering you to try looking down at your leg, but you appeased yourself by lifting a hand up to gently test your nose. Aside from pain and the stuffy feeling, it seemed that there was a bandage setup on your nose and over the edges of your cheeks to guard the bridge.

“John!” a familiar voice said from somewhere to your right. Shit, you hadn't even noticed anyone else was here, let alone so close. You blinked a few times in quick succession as Jade surged into view, crisper the closer she came. “Oh, John, you're finally awake again, I was -this- close to pinching you to wake you up. How do you feel? Do you need more painkiller? Should I call the nurse?”

“Again?” you asked quietly, racking your brain. You were pretty sure you'd remember being in the hospital, let alone getting here. “We were at the aquarium and then.... Jade, how'd you get here?”

“I'm your emergency contact on things, remember? Me and your dad? I think he might have been busy or his phone was on silent, but I answered after the first ring or two,” she said while rising from the chair she'd been inhabiting, setting aside her book and phone for now before leaning over you and hugging you tight as a vice. “It was a hell of a wreck, you're lucky you got out of it with a messed up leg and a bump on your head... What even happened, were you speeding? The other person's a bit messed up from their airbag, but they were on the far side. Could've been much worse.”

Oh thank God, there hadn't been any deaths. “My car..”

“Basically totaled, yeah, they had to cut the door to get you out, it wouldn't open right. We'll figure out what to do about that later though.”

“I don't.. I don't remember any of that,” you said with a frown, brows furrowing. “How long was I sleeping?”

“A few hours, not too long from what they told me. You were plenty awake and worked up when you first got in apparently, but you started napping before I got here. I've been waiting for you to wake back up this whole time. Augh, have you got any idea how scary it is to get a call from a hospital like that? Worded all ambiguous like you might be on your death bed and they don't want me to panic on the way over,” she said, and your chest clenched painfully when her words slowed to a wobble and her wide eyes filled with tears. Fuck. She hardly ever cried, shit, fuck, what had those idiots SAID? Who were you going to complain to later about unnecessarily freaking out your family? Who was going to taste your fists once you could get up and about?

“Shhh, I made it though, right? I'm okay now!” you tried to say hurriedly, awkward about how to fix things aside from pointing out the good side, tried to point out the positives and run a wild headlong gamut to keep the bad as far away as humanly possible. You were just one guy, though, and it didn't always work.

Jade flapped at your attempts to be soothing and removed her glasses so she could rub her sleeve over her eyes and dry them, snorting to stop her snuffles before they could get worse.

“Don't even do that! Don't, it's okay, it just kind of hit,” she said with one more huffed snort to clear her sinuses and breathe easier. “Oh, right, right. Your dad knows what happened but he's not getting home till late apparently, he had to go out of state for business and the drive back's taking a while. I don't think they're going to admit you, but they were kind of ambiguous.. Once we're sure one way or the other we can tell him to either come here or go to your place when he's free. Sound good? I don't even know how long they're going to drag their feet just keeping you in the emergency room, a ton more people have come in and things have sounded hectic just since I got here.”

“Sound good, more like sounds -great-. I hope you at least kept him calm?”

“Calm enough as anyone can be after getting a message,” Jade sighed. “Damage done but at least soothed a bit. You waking back up and not showing any bad signs is great. You're all alert and making sense.”

You spent some time chitchatting, keeping each other calm and then going back to the usual routine of snarking and joking around. Your glasses frames had snapped from the airbag, but with a bit of medical tape and a promise to get your spares later or order another set, the gift of sight was returned to you. After more brief visits from a nurse checking on you over the course of a few hours, and administering some more exams, a doctor came in and discussed options with your x-rays in hand, and eventually got you sent off to get a cast put on. The break didn't seem serious enough to require surgery and there hadn't seemed to be any clots or venous damage, but there would be a few long months of being in a cast before you'd be given the okay to walk normally once more. Jade convinced you to go for a lighter blue cast on the premise of her wanting to draw all over it and dark blue not being good without paint markers on hand. It seemed you'd gotten exceptionally lucky. A broken leg, a nose that had to be re-set and bandaged, cuts and bruises along your face and forearms from the airbag, whiplash and mild concussion. Considering how terrible everything could have gone from start to finish, you were grateful for how things went. More updates to your father via Jade were met with excited return messages, happy that you weren't going to be facing any surgeries or more imminent problems and promising that he'd be sure to cook some of your favorite foods for you over the coming weeks while you healed.

With a prescription for pain medicine, a fresh set of crutches and several numbers to call related to followup care and information left by the police relating to your car, you finally were released to the world again with the recommendation of coming back if certain symptoms or signs began to appear. No need to end up in ICU over being stubborn, right?

Jade laughed at your awkward gait but helped stabilize you when you wobbled, unpracticed and impatient to get the pressure off your palms and armpits. It was quite a feat to get back home in the darkness and settled, but with Jade helping, everything went just fine. You were given access to remotes and fruit juice, and she even helped set up some snacks to keep near you on a tray, ready and waiting when hunger struck so you wouldn't have to hobble all the way to the kitchen and back with something clutched in your teeth at three in the morning.

It took till you were almost entirely settled, drowsing and relaxed and finally cozy to realize that something was off.

“... Dave?”

Jade looked over, then around, waiting for the usual thump or rush of breeze. When none came, she looked back towards you as you started to pat at your chest in a panic.

“Jade? Jade, where's the pendant?”

“It might be in the bag your other things were in, like your wallet and stuff,” she said, going to snag the plastic bag emblazoned with the hospital's logo, rooting through it. “..Hm. Wallet, paperwork.. Cast care. Pamphlets.. I'm not seeing it in here. When did you last have it on? The hospital?”

With growing alarm, you sat more upright and glanced around, rubbing at the part of your chest where the pendant usually sat. After having Dave around for so long as a constant force, suddenly not having him nearby felt... wrong.

“I don't remember being at the hospital before I woke up. Where could it have gone? Would it still be in the car? I had it under my shirt all day, and I don't think Dave took it out when we switched..”

Jade frowned a bit. “Switched?”

“Yeah, we uh. ..I don't know how, but it's like he was in control of my body for a while? I don't know how it happened and it wasn't on purpose, don't even get that look on your face,” you instantly followed up, noticing the wariness in Jade's eyes increase. “We were on a date and something happened and suddenly he was in control of my body and I was just kind of stuck watching everything happen.”

“Well, could it be in reverse again then? Maybe you absorbed him or something during the wreck,” she said, lifting a finger to signal she needed a moment after her cell began to chirp insistently from her pocket. “Just a second, John, let me go take this.”

“Sure, take your time,” you say, trying to wrack your brain harder. Where the hell could it have gone? If Dave wasn't here, then you had exceeded the range of the pendant in one way or another. Maybe you could get Jade to check her car, make sure it hadn't slipped there. Or call the hospital to check and see if they'd spotted it. Really, the best option would be for you to be in different spaces personally, since you could see Dave so clearly now, but you weren't sure you were up to it or if it would really be a good idea.

..When had you last seem him, though? Before the car accident for sure, he'd been driving and it was terrifying to be in a moving vehicle with no sense of the boundaries of your own body anymore. You couldn't remember being in the hospital prior to waking up with Jade at your side, which was apparently nothing shocking according to the doctor. Traumatic incidents, repressed thoughts that may probably come back or may be lost forever. Sounded a bit weird to you considering it was just a broken leg, but then again you were into the fine art of parapsychology, not the intricacies of standardized psychology and the depth and breadth of variances for trauma responses. None of which were being helpful with remembering the last time the pendant had been around your body's neck.

“John? Your dad says he's willing to come this way if you want, but because it's so late he wanted to be sure you felt up to it. Backup plan is to bust in with a waffle iron in the morning,” Jade said, hand over her phone as she popped his head around the corner to pass along the information.

“What? Waffles? Uh, yeah that might be better if he's okay with it. I don't want him to go straight from being on the road to here, especially if I was going to maybe sleep soon.”

“Maybe sleep? Were you planning on staying up now that you're back?” she asked, hand over the mouthpiece of the phone to muffle her words. “Sure thing. I'll pass it on,” Jade promised as she ducked back around the corner.

You had to get up. You needed to know where Dave was. There was no way you could sit idly by and rest or relax knowing that the last time you'd been able to talk, things have been very very strange. What if he was still in the wreck with the pendant? What if it had been stolen? Who would even steal from an emergency patient, you wondered, but didn't have to think too hard. The world was full of good people who just wanted to help, but the world also held a lot of people who really should reconsider their job. How would you even find him if a theft HAD happened? How could he get hold of you?

While Jade was busy, you reached for your crutches again and struggled to get yourself up with only a few hard wobbles and a pained wince soon as your foot went downward. You didn't thunk it on the floor at least, but the difference between it being up and down was staggering as the difference between being hooked to an IV full of painkiller and fluids and coming down from it with only tablets to see you through your recovery for the foreseeable future. The aching throb slowly starting up was a pretty good indication of how bad this could get... you were glad you couldn't remember the actual break at all.

Dave wasn't in the apartment. Maybe he was down by the car? Or.. Or maybe at the hospital still, where was your phone? Jade didn't say it was in the bag, maybe it was but was out of sight. Or maybe it'd been in the car still? Oh, god. Your mind raced a million miles an hour as you locked up, looking between the plastic hospital bag and the front door, trying to debate your options.

“John, what the hell are you doing up? Couch! Go put your foot back up and lay back, you just got home, don't make things worse so you HAVE to go back!” Jade said as she returned, phone call apparently done in time to bust you red handed. “What's so important that you're needing up right this second, do you need the bathroom or something?”

“No! No, Jade, we need to go back to the hospital. Or my car. Or.. Or the curb by YOUR car, I don't know, we need to move though,” you insist, taking a determined crutch step towards the door before Jade could block you and try once more to guide you back to the couch. “Jade come on, we need to find Dave! I don't know where he is, this is important, it could be really bad!”

“What could be really bad? John, he's dead, I don't think he can really get any deader, and I'm sure he can at least wait for a little longer wherever he's at,” she urged. “It should be fine to wait till morning. I'll call the hospital, see if they have it in lost and found or something, let them know to keep an eye out and we can check back when it's actually morning. Maybe go from there after your dad visits. Sound good?”

You waver. Your leg is starting to throb even more, and the fire is racing up to your hip, down to your ankle, and lighting up more panic in the back of your mind. You were also realizing you were absolutely exhausted. What time even was it? Three am? Four? Did it even matter when you were this tired? Time had blurred the longer you had been in the hospital, and even now it was a bit blurry when you tried to focus on it and take in just how much time had passed between the normal wonderful morning and afternoon to now. “...But.. I can't just leave him somewhere, he's probably worried or scared. What if the last time he saw me I was unconscious or getting moved into an ambulance or something?” you asked, resisting a bit more before allowing Jade to gently escort you back to the couch.

“Dave's a grown dead person, he can be patient, John. Surely he'd be able to tell if you died?” Jade pointed out. “Yes, he's important, but right now you're hurt and I don't think he'd like you hurting yourself more for him. Wherever he is, he'll still be there in the morning, I'll be sure to find him with you okay?”

You sank back on the sofa and lifted your leg hurriedly to its formerly propped up position, relief flooding you again and fatigue roaring behind your eyes. That little bit had sapped more strength than you thought. Holy shit, you could sleep for a fucking week..

“...Yeah. Yeah, you're right Jade. I'm just worried,” you muttered, not protesting when she came to carefully take your glasses off and set the damaged frames aside on the coffee table. “I don't want him to be alone and scared somewhere, I want him here with me.”

She grinned a bit, at least you're pretty sure she did. Jade was close enough to make out the fuzzy edges of her mouth, and the position changed.

“You really do care about him, huh.”

“Well, yeah. I love him, Jade, I'm not kidding about that. I love him and I'm worried and I don't want him upset,” you say, pausing to let out a yawn that snuck up on you from behind and started to steal your consciousness away. “I don't want him alone anywhere ever again, if he doesn't get a say in it.”

“Just try to get a bit of rest right now,” she urged. “Your dad'll be here in the morning, you'll get your medicine in you again, and we'll be able to go find Dave. I'm going to crash in your room since the couch has you for now, okay? If you need me just holler. Your crutches are by the side of the couch.” “Where's my phone?” “I think it might have been in your car, let me go check your pockets,” Jade said, going back to the plastic to rummage around, smiling when she found it. “Oh hey, only a crack on the screen, not bad,” she said. “Do you want me to plug it in for you?”

“...Yeah. Yeah that might be better. Turn off the alarm, I don't want it on for the usual time, I don't think you'd appreciate lurching awake to that loud of a remix.”

“I figured not,” she said with a snort, pausing to rummage in your pant's pockets once more just in case the pendant was somehow there. Maybe Dave just wasn't talking? Could ghosts get hurt in accidents? There'd been talk of a 'switch', and such an unknown thing was making her more cautious. No dice. Damn.

Jade sighed and finally switched the light off, clunking along softly to the bathroom, then to your room after to continue shuffling around to get things plugged in and organized. You heard her toss and turn a bit to get comfortable, your own mind wandering in the dark to the tune of your rising and falling breaths.

… It was so quiet here without Dave rustling papers and knocking things over. It -felt- wrong. There was no cold kiss to your cheek, or pressure on your chest as he moved around, no glints of red at the corner of your eye. Jade was so close, but you still felt lonesome. Dave had been a constant in your life for so long now that suddenly having him gone was just... awful. You grimace and try to fight the bubble of anxiety in your chest and stomach down enough to sleep, grateful when your dreams picked up the slack and took you under.

#Homestuck #John Egbert #Jade Harley #this fic is a fic full of #johndave #my fic

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illyriantremors · 7 years

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Beneath the Stars Chapter 15

Chapter: I II III IV V VI VII VIII IX X XI XII XIII XIV

AO3 Linkage

Summary: Rhys and Feyre heal their relationship and confide in each other about their feelings towards each other. Sleeping under the stars may or may not be a thing that happens. :)

Chapter 15

“Hasn’t anyone told you it’s cold out here?”

Rhys didn’t look at me when he spoke. Just kept his attention peacefully fixed on the skies above. “Hasn’t anyone told you you’re a smartass?”

“A smartass who comes offering warmth.” I shook the sleeping bags so that they crinkled audibly. Rhys held out his hand, not getting up.

“What - you want to stay?” He nodded. “Out here? I think the tent would at least be warmer.”

Rhys chuckled darkly. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’d just invited me to bed with you, Feyre darling.”

“Please. You know what I meant.”

“Haven’t you ever slept beneath the stars, Feyre?”

Again, he held out his hand daring me to scoff one more time and I knew he’d stay out here all night if it meant he could still be a gentleman. A stupid prick of a gentlemen, undoubtedly. But a gentlemen nonetheless.

I tossed him Mor’s sleeping bag and laid mine next to him. I tried to hand him the spare pillow I’d brought, but he shoved it back at me gesturing to his own. “You don’t want it?”

“Nah, I’m fine. Besides, I figure you could use your beauty rest.”

We settled into our adjoining nests and then found ourselves with nothing but the nature of the lake surrounding us. The sky was mercilessly clear of clouds allowing the stars to shine hotly above us. Up here, tucked high away in the mountains, the smog of the city wasn’t so horrible and you could actually see the stars with some decency, connect them with your fingers to trace constellations and stories that lasted millennia. It was a real shame, I thought, looking up at that gorgeous expanse how often we missed it below the mountain where we trapped ourselves, to deny ourselves such an ethereal beauty on a daily basis seemed a crime. I could have gotten lost in it forever.

“I told you it was worth it,” Rhys said quietly next to me. I watched his breath come out white, dancing on the air as he spoke.

“Technically, all you did was ask a question that implied it was worth it, but you didn’t actually say it, so…”

“Do you also remember me calling you a smartass because that one definitely wasn’t implied.”

“Mmm.” I hummed low in my throat repressing the urge to throw the first insult I could think of at him, however ridiculous it might be. “Fine, you’re right.”

“Come again? I didn’t quite hear you. Neither did my phone. Give me a second to get it out so I can record you-”

“Prick.”

“Ah,” Rhys said, giving more weight to his next words. “So we’re back to that again. I call you darling and you call me prick and we pretend it all means… what exactly?”

Finally, taking courage from the little silver and blue embers burning billions of miles away against that dark ripple of velvet, I rolled my head to the side. Rhys was already watching me keeping a tight check on his emotions to see what I would do.

And it was odd then how in that moment alone when I could barely see him, when he was swathed in robes of darkness that shadowed his face, cast shadows around his body that swept beyond his back like the promise of wings and adventure, huddled in a small dingy bed of fabric that striped away the pressed shirts and polished shoes embodying a formality and a regalness only he ever found the power to invoke, that I discovered he had never been more handsome.

And I wondered if I hadn’t said what I’d said to him not because I thought he could never want me in all the ways I fast learned that I craved him, but because I was too scared of the possibility that he would want me like that, want me the way no one else in my life had.

“Feyre?” His voice was a soft, rich velvet to match the sky. “What… do you want?”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I know I texted you a thousand times, but Rhys - I want you to know I’m sorry and that those things I said, they had far more to do with me than anything you could have ever done. You’re perfect.”

“Ha,” he snorted with some degree of derision. “I am far from perfect and I deserved what you said. I haven’t exactly been fair to you. I told you once that I wasn’t snooping about just to get in your pants and I meant it, but that doesn’t justify the way I’ve thrown myself at your feet like a lap dog for the past several weeks - since I met you, honestly.”

Now it was my turn to adopt the derisive tone. “You weren’t exactly alone, you know. I flirted back. I showed up at your door every time I caved under pressure for whatever absurd excuse I’d concocted for why I couldn’t just deal with my own baggage. I’m… I’m the one who asked you to touch me in the cafe to make someone jealous.”

The last admission was almost physically painful. To me, it was the final nail in the coffin, a low blow that I didn’t envision he could move past, especially not when I’d called him a cowardly mess right afterwards for helping me.

“You can say that you flirted and teased and pushed too much all you want, but I’m just as much to blame, Rhys. I’m just as big of a - a mess.”

Rhys physically moved his entire body onto one side now so that he was completely facing me. His brow furrowed sharply. “You are not a mess, Feyre. You are beautiful and you are intelligent and you are capable and every single one of those is far from a mess.”

“How can you say that,” I stopped to swallow my hesitations rising in my throat like a bed of thorns that would choke me down, “after how horribly I’ve treated you - used you in my feeble attempts to run away from life - when I could say the same thing about you and know that you’d never believe me?”

The cold, white smoke that left him as he released his breath was more like a strangled gasp in his chest that shuddered to get out, fear or doubt the only things keeping it from escaping.

“Two years ago, there was a party over spring break. My sister was seeing this guy who was going to be at the party and she begged me to take her. She was only a freshmen, just a year younger than me and I knew our parents would kill her if I let her go - kill both of us if either of us went.”

I shifted onto my side the same way Rhys laid to better listen. His voice became deeper and more twisted with pain the further on he went.

“I was only a sophomore. I had no idea what I was doing except that I thought I was being a good big brother keeping her home and not telling our parents, but she snuck out after we’d gone to bed.”

Rhys stopped talking. It was dark, but I could feel his muscles straining, his voice struggling to get out and admit what I knew he was leading up to. Only one thing had ever made him sound so sorrowful before, so haunted.

“My mom got a call in the middle of the night from her,” he said, his voice near to shaking. “She was drunk and out of her mind and couldn’t find her boyfriend or anyone that she knew. I was asleep. Dad only told me later after everything happened about the call. He’d wanted to be the one to go and get her, but mom insisted she do it. My sister had called her after all. Her and dad had never quite clicked the way she did with mom.

“The hospital called us an hour later. My sister had found her keys and gotten in the car. She was about to drive off when her boyfriend caught up her. She wouldn’t get out, so he got in and my sister took off and when he tried to get her to slow down, she barreled through a red light and hit a car - mom’s car. She’d been drinking.”

My body went still as death as I listened. How he wasn’t crying, how he could even get the words out…

“You run away from your problems, Feyre, by flirting back with me. But you didn’t cause any of your problems. The world around you treated you like dirt. And you’re overcoming and I’m so proud of you. But me? I - ah….”

His breath hitched and a dry sob heaved out of his chest. On instinct, I drew myself closer to him and nestled my fingers in his hair, rubbing soothing circles over his brow with my thumb to calm him. “Sh…” I said. “It’s okay. You can tell me.”

“I am a mess, Feyre. That’s why I stayed away the past week. You hit it right on the money whether you meant to or not. I created my monsters and came chasing after you when I knew you were off limits. I could have told my parents about the party and that would have been enough to keep my sister home. She would have listened. She knew where the lines were when it came to their rules, but I told her I wouldn’t snitch if she’d just stay in and she left. It’s my fault she died. Her and mom both.”

“No, no, no, no, no - Rhysand.” I couldn’t believe he saw it that way, that he could think so horribly of himself.

But you were a little… shall we say intense in the kitchen and I don’t know if that beer was intended to be your first or your twentieth.

I’m not drunk.

Just go home and if anything happens on the way home, you can call me and I’ll help you, okay?

The words came back to me with startling clarity, shattering through me with a fresh understanding that brought pain and so much empathy along with it. “That’s why you insisted I have your number,” I said. “The night of Lucien’s party when you took the beer away from me? It was because of your sister, wasn’t it.”

Slowly, closing his eyes to fight against the tears I could feel beneath my thumb as I stroked across his face, he nodded.

“Rhysand,” and I said his name with such surety, that his eyes snapped open at the sound. “What you did was not monstrous or damning. It was human. You did right by all of your family, then and now. And if you don’t believe me, you really only have to look at your friends to see how you’ve taken care of them - taken care of me. Your sister, your mom - it wasn’t your fault.”

He reached up to hold my hand and our heads pressed forward until they were touching. I nuzzled against him, back and forth, soft and soothing as the night. “You are extraordinary, no more a mess than I or anyone else.”

Beneath me, his skin was warm to the touch. I ran my fingers down his neck and pressed small circles along his shoulders. He never let go of me once.

“Feyre…” he said, my name trembling off his lips.

I unzipped my sleeping bag and found that his had never been zipped up in the first place. Our arms wound together until we were pressed chest to chest and he was huddling in my arms. I inhaled and the rich mix of citrus and jasmine that came off him, melting me to my core. It no longer felt it right to question what we were or could become, to doubt his affection for me. So I didn’t hold back in clinging to him, reaching lower on his abdomen until I found bare skin beneath his shirt to rest on and continue to rub gentle, healing touches to.

His arm snaked under me. My head came to rest at the crook of his shoulder. He peered down at me and held my face in his delicate hands.

“I find I very much want to kiss you right now,” he said. Save for my heart beating rapidly in my chest, I didn’t dare move.

“So what’s stopping you?”

A small, cruel feline smirk graced his lips. “I fear that if I started, I would never stop. And I’m not sure I’d like my first kiss with you to come after I’ve become such an unraveled mess.”

“That’s okay. We can settle for other kisses.” I tilted up as much as I could until I could reach him and pressed a hot, lingering kiss on his jaw and felt him quake against me. “But do please explain why you would deny a willing woman in your arms the simple pleasure of kissing you on a night such as this.”

His chest rumbled with laughter, a movement I rejoiced in feeling. “Cruel, wicked creature.”

“I liked it better when you called me beautiful, intelligent, and capable,” I purred and pressed another kiss further along his jaw, continuing the trail lazily down his neck, one slow and throbbing kiss at a time.

“I want to start over,” Rhys said while my lips journeyed across him. “I want to earn your trust again.”

“You already have my trust - obviously.” The words were mumbled into his skin. Rhys snatched my chin in his hands and gently tugged until I was forced to break away and look at him.

“I want to kiss you far away from anyone else,” he said. “Not somewhere where I can hear my brother snoring one tent over or where my cousin might intentionally intrude. I want to take you somewhere and make you laugh and smile like you did when you realized you were one of us this weekend. I want to kiss you not simply because the opportunity to do so is there, but because you deserve to be kissed romantically, impossibly, passionately - to the point of not even knowing who you are or where you stand without it.”

My blood raced for him, the only thing greater than my desire to take him now the need to see his promise fulfilled and all that it might entail.

“Do I get a sneak preview or…?”

Rhys barked with laughter, heedless of the night and passengers unknown who might be trying to wrestle with dreams and sleep. “Greedy,” he whispered nearing his head towards mine. His nose scrunched up mischievously as he spoke.

“With good reason.”

Another ghost of a laugh and then, and then… his breath was hot as it filled my skin. His nose scraped lightly down my cheek as he deeply took in the scent of me and whispered my name with a sultriness that could have melted the sun. “Feyre…” His lips touched down right at the corner of my mouth, so close and yet unbearably not close enough. I could have moved just a fraction of an inch and caught him, let him taste me and cash in on that promise early, but I paused letting him take his feel of me as his lips rested moist and loving on my skin.

We wrapped ourselves in each other for the rest of the night, falling asleep under the stars pressed as tightly together as we could fit. It was then I learned what real dreams were made of.

I had never slept so soundly in my life.

We got back early Sunday afternoon after a rematch of who could tear down their tent the fastest. Azriel won - again, but this time both he and Mor looked pretty smug about it.

I had homework to do and probably could have done with a good shower, but I wasted no time after checking in with dad in going to the hardware store and picking up paint. Dad went with me and helped me settle on just the right shades of violet, black, and blue.

I spent the rest of the afternoon locked away in my attic, homework and responsibilities be damned, and I painted and painted and painted until I saw nothing but endless, eternal night full of stars on every wall.

#myfic #beneath the stars #beneath the stars: a feysand fic #bts #feysand #feysand fanfiction #feyre #rhysand #acomaf #acomaf fanfiction

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How much will car insurance cost if I decide to buy a 2000-02 Chevy Corvette?

"How much will car insurance cost if I decide to buy a 2000-02 Chevy Corvette?

I have a clean driving record; I have never been in an accident, no tickets, no nothing. I'm not saying its true but I heard from a friend that it cost about $500 a month for car insurance for the vette?

BEST ANSWER: Try this site where you can compare quotes: : http://saleinsurancequotes.xyz/index.html?src=tumblr

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How much will car insurance cost if I decide to buy a 2000-02 Chevy Corvette?

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need my insurance to be 1500 or less ....any insurers would be a great help a few months ago a had a 1000 quote fully comp now i cant get lower than 2000. need help.

Car insurance without a driving license?

I know there are insurance companies in california that sell car insurances without requiring a driving license. does anybody know some of these companies and what is the average price of this kind of insurances? thanks

""Is it cheaper to be put on your parents car insurance, or get your own?""

I'm 16 and I need car insurance, would it be cheaper to be put on my parents, or get my own entirely?""

Where can I get laibality insurance for a medical assistant?

I am looking for insurance to covoer myself for Medical assistant

Do I need insurance on a 50cc moped/scooter in Oregon?

...and if so how much? I'm looking at a 1986 honda spree and saw that it gets great gas mileage, registration is cheap, it's perfect for me. I'm a poor college student, working part time, and am in need of a money saver. So an estimate of insurance IF I need it would be great! :)""

Guestimate how much i will have to pay for insurance?

In MA, a 1994-95 honda civic hatchback 120,000 miles,im 18 and didnt take driver's ed. This is my first car. All i have is a permit for 4 months.""

Health insurance question?

Had COBRA insurance, terminating, looking for health insurance. One health insurance has turned me down. Am on SSDI and have a condition that needs outpatient surgery monthly. Anyone have any suggestions?""

Cheap Car Insurance?

Whats the cheapest car insurance

I need to find health insurance?

I missed the open enrollment at my work and I need to find affordable health insurance. I really dont make that much money so it really does need to be inexpensive.

Will my insurance cover it?

My dad is taking me off the insurance and my coverage will end at the end of February. Anything I get done through February, as long as it is before the 1st of March should be covered, correct? I know insurance companies don't reimburse immediately. It usually takes a couple of weeks. But anything should be covered within that month right? Thanks for the help.""

Pregnant And Can't Get On State Health Insurance!! What Should I Do!?

I'm so pissed off!! I have tons of medical bills stacking up and I am on no health insurance! Because I live with my parents and am under age 21 (I'm 20 and will be til May), and I already have one son. Thankfully he's covered. But I have all these bills that are stacking up and won't be able to be paid off because by the time I get on anything it'll be past the 3 month time limit for back pay!! I live in MN and the problem with getting my parents income is my mom and dad both have new jobs, but my dad was laid off his old job so how the hell am I supposed to get his stop work form filled out by a company that no longer exists!?! I can't get on anything unless I have their income!! Even tho' I'm 4 months pregnant!! This is so f***'d up!!""

""Im 21years old,male with a mazda miata 2001. My auto insurance to too high. where can I get cheaper insurance?""

Im 21years old,male with a mazda miata 2001. My auto insurance to too high. where can I get cheaper insurance?""

""On average, how much does car insurance cost for a 17 year old male?""

Dear reader I am a 17 year old male. I am searching for car insurance once I get my driver's license I will be required to pay for my own car insurance. I want to get an average cost (monthly) for someone my age- regardless of the company I am not sure what factors play into a policy's amount- however, if it does matter, I am a straight A student with a 4.2 GPA (scale of 4.0)- I have never been convicted, nor prosecuted for a felony or anything of that sort. To sum up, I am quite responsible for a male my age. Please do not be rude in your responses I appreciate your help PS. the car that I would be driving is a Toyota Camry 2005 (all paid for). I also live in the state of MD""

Is there an option to suspend auto insurance coverage when you are not in the United States?

I am in the United States and have liability-only auto insurance coverage. I will be on vacation (out of United States) for about a month and my wife (also on my insurance policy) would be out of the United States for more than six (6) months. Based on preliminary findings, it seems that not having coverage (break in coverage) would impact future insurance premiums. What is the best way to save money as well as not impact coverage? Is there a concept like - suspend coverage for a while that when we are not in the country and not pay for that duration? Thanks in advance.""

How much would full coverage insurance cost on a 1965 Silver Cloud 3 Rolls-Royce?

Male driver, clean driving history.""

""I got a loan to pay for a car, is it paid for or finance (insurance purposes)?""

I got the loan from a credit union, I used it to pay for the car, but I am not sure if I should select paid for or financed when filling out the application for car insurance. Help please!""

Anyone in California need a quote on Insurance?

I sell Insurance.

Insurance costs between 1.0 and 1.4?

i just got my driving licence and im trying to buy used car.. im looking at insurance prices and was wondering how much difference i would have between 1.4 engine and 1.0. im in my mid 20's and was wondering if u could get a car with bigger engine then 1.0 and still pay reasonable price im looking for only few years old small car.. nothing flashy.

Question about switching auto insurance?

Currently I'm with state farm and I recently changed back accounts without telling them accidently so now I am a month behind and they took away my coverage. I am thinking about switching to a cheaper insurance company but would I still have to pay state farm the rest of what I owe for the 6 month contract I have with them?

Does anyone know of a sporty car that's not considered a sports car by insurance?

I like the grand prix but i want a company that is still in business thanks

Car insurance companies accept no claims bonus from Lebanon?

Does anyone know an car insurance company that accepts no claims from international countries? My mother wants to use hers from Lebanon (Asia) to help reduce her quote.

Car Insurance?

I just got my license and my parents bought me a used car (03 Nissan Sentra). It has insurance under my mom's name, but not mine. Can I legally drive that car and if I do get into an accident driving it, will it be covered?""

How much would I pay for car insurance?

Im 19 and I was just wondering what would be a good estimate for how much I would pay for car insurance on like a normal sedan.

Do I pay the excess on my car insurance when a claim is made against me?

I know that I have to pay when I make a claim on my car insurance, but im not sure if when someone makes a claim against me if I have to pay the excess in that instance?""

Is there a way to get really cheap car insurance like $50 or so?

I've had some really minor things (all but one not my fault) on my record recently and my car insurance is over $200.00! I tried to get some quotes from other places, but they were all about the same. What do poor people do in this situation? I can't afford this and it is the most basic coverage I can get from Gieco.""

How much will car insurance cost if I decide to buy a 2000-02 Chevy Corvette?

Which insurance is better?

Which insurance is better health or life?

What is general insurance?

i want to know abt general insurance.

How much might my car insurance be?

I want to know how much would my car insurance be if im sixteen and im driving a 94 dodge stealth. I am also a guy. I know sports cars cost more to insure so could you please include the price of insurance for a normal car as well??? Located in Tampa, Florida Thanks for any help you can offer, -Kyle""

Insurance company won't give me enough money to fix my car or get a new one-- what do I do?!?

I got into a car accident a week ago, a truck driver backed into me while I was just stopped at a stop sign. He admitted it was his fault, I had witnesses that supported my story, and his insurance is willing to pay me, BUT since my car is a 1996 Corrolla with almost 200,000 miles on it, the cost of repairing the hood and fenders and everything exceeded the amount my car is worth. Their estimator said the amount of damage is about $2500, so they consider it totaled. Now the choices they are giving me are that they'll take the car and give me $1700 (which won't be enough to get another car), or let me keep the car and give me $1200 (which won't be enough to repair it). I think this is really unfair since the accident wasn't my fault at all and now I'm being told I'm going to have to pay to either get a new car or fix my old one out of my own pocket, but I've tried arguing with them to raise the amount they're going to give me and they say they're not legally required to give me any more money than what my car was worth. Is there ANYTHING I can do? I'm a poor college student and really have no money to be spending on something that I couldn't help :(""

Can you drive your parents' car without insurance?

i am 16 and live in Washington and I was wondering if I had to pay my own insurance to drive their cars.

Getting Health Insurance?

I recently moved to New York City and the health insurance is expensive here. I was living in Virginia with my family and they still live there. Can I apply for Virginia health insurance, even though I'm living in NYC?""

How much price of the car drops after a accident occurs?

Rear ended............. car bumper is damaged honda civic ex sedan 2008 ?? The insurance wanted to estimate a diminished value for car and I just want to be prepared to know around how much would be rational. Thank You so much.

How do you buy insurances?

I don't care which insurance it is, you look up complaints there is a looooong list about all of them.""

What are the cheapest cars to insure for a 17 year old boy with just 1 month of obtaining a full uk driving?

license my budget for the car is 500-2000 for my first car im going to be looking at getting insured under a parents name with over 20 years of driving experience but they dont want to put no claims down on my insurance so i will be a additional driver. Please give me a big list of cars you suggest within my budget to purchase a car for 500-2000 pounds as i dont have a car yet and need a cheap one for a run around and i need cheap insurance. the insurance has to cost 2500 maximum for the cars you suggest

What is the best auto insurance carrier?

Hi everyone. I am shopping for car insurance and want to know the best but most affordable out there. My mother thought to put me on her policy with Progressive and I would pay her for the insurance, but they were going to charge her over $500.00 to do so. My friend has gotten into two accidents and hasn't had to pay nearly that much , and neither did her dad when he put her on his policy. So my question is, which is the best, most affordable insurance? Any help would be greatly appreciated! Thank you. :D""

Fuel economy and average insurance prices of mitsubishi 3000gt?

I'm thinking of getting a 1991 Mitsubishi 3000gt. I would prefer the VR4 (DUH!), but if I can't find one(Right now I can find 3, so I'm not too concerned), I'll just get the SL. I don't want the base model. So what is the average fuel economy of this car( vr4 and sl)? And the average insurance prices? Anybody have experience with owning this car? I've heard that it's fairly cheep to insure, because it's considered a coupe by insurance companies, instead of being recognized as the high performance sports car that it is. Is this true? And is it as fun as it looks? ;)""

What is the relationship between the MOT & car insurance?

My daughter had an accident whilst without an MOT. She has fully comp insurance but as her car was stationary and she was hit from behind and she has an independent witness. The other driver's insurance will have to pay. But does her not having an MOT present any problems? Thanks.

I'm 17 and taking lessons shortly but don't know how to get cheap car insurance?

Why do people get life insurance?

Ninja 250 insurance for a 17 year old?

I have no wrecks tickets or anything on my record for driving a car. I want a motorcycle because they are cool and get like 2-3 times better gas mileage then my car. The problem id my parents complain they are dangerous and thy also say the insurance is like 3 times as much. I live in the U.S will the insurance be a lot, if so can you give me a estimate per month? Also since a 250 is cheap and not very fast will that make a difference in safety and insurance price?""

Best Car Insurance for 17 year old.?

I'm a 17 year old male. My GPA is just below 3.0 last time I checked it. I think its somewhere around 2.5. I've had my license for almost 10 months now. I've been driving for a year and a half, no accidents. Nothing like that I'm a good driver than most crazed kids my age. With my job I currently make about 150 every two weeks I hope that goes up once summer comes around. My grandmother wants to put me on her car insurance and she told me that the car I plan on buying would have to be in her name, and I'm ok with that. When I buy it do I get both our names on the title. She has metlife and my mom has gieco which is the better of the two. And how can I work it out so they dont have to worry about it if i was on there insurance i would pay my part but i want the cheapest possible and im wondering what to expect for a down payment and monthly rates. Thank you If it helps I plan on buying a 2001 Chevy Cavalier and yes its a 2 door so my rates will probably be higher.""

""By looking at these charts, can you understand why the U.S. needed health insurance reform?

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/10/03/health-care-costs-_n_3998425.html

Question about homeowner liability and earthquake insurance?

So, let's say the neighbor's swimming pool cracks open in an earthquake, and the water runs down the hill and floods my house. Let's say the pool owner has earthquake insurance. Would that insurance fix my flood damage? Let's say the pool owner has no earthquake insurance but I do. Would my insurance cover the act of God that broke somebody else's pool?""

How much does it cost do get a lawyer to file for Bankruptcy (Chapter 7)?

I am a single person, low income (waitress), just suffered a major medical expense and no insurance. I have lots of credit card debt, no car, house or student loan debt. How much would it cost a lawyer to file my case with bankruptcy court? Thanks!""

Why is my insurance quote so big ?

I am UK resident from 2009. I got my drivers license 6 months ago. It's from Latvia, which is in EU. Now when I search for car insurance, the cheapest one is 5,000 GBP. Should I change it to UK license, will it reduce the price ?""

Is insurance affordable under the Affordable Care Act?

Window tints ticket insurance rates?

does a nonmoving window tint ticket , affect my insurance rates if i pay if off and keep the tints on, here my problem i am under my parents insurance plan and my dad would not let me keep my tints if i keep getting pulled over for them. i have alot of money and i just want to keep paying for the tickets. money is not the problem, i just want to know if i pay the tickets off will it show on my insurance or anywhere else?""

How much wil my insurance go up?

I was just recently in a car accident. It was my fault I hit a truck and totalled my car. The truck didnt seem to really have damage I hit the metal ball where you attatch a trailer the hitch. I have fred loya car insurance. how much will my insurance go up? Please. will rate best answer.

I would like to buy a car.How much is the price of the car insurance about? I am going to buy a 1300cc car.?

I am buying a used car from a private party. What do I need to do before and after buying the car?

Before: carfax, test drive, mechanic check... anything else? After do i need to register it in my name to my state dmv within a certain amount of time? I talked to my insurance ...show more""

How much will car insurance cost if I decide to buy a 2000-02 Chevy Corvette?

https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/car-insurance-help-uk-cassiopeia-najera"

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