#helltapestry

[foradecision]

     “— what d’you think the odds are that he’s actually listening, and not just waitin’ on his chance to go for a joyride?”  /  @helltapestry​.

#helltapestry #ii / i. hell is empty and all the devils are here.* #bilal: showing nate how to change a tire #nate: fascinating pls continue (^:

[boyomen]

          “— i’d love to help, but not as much as i’d love  not  to. plus, i’m a minor. you can’t actually ask me  shit  without a parent or guardian present.”  / @helltapestry​.

#helltapestry #ok this time i do actually need a verse / au tag LDMDFMF #anyway! i hate him have fun

[angerbright]

     “you hear that sound  —  ?  that’s the sound of me callin’ bullshit.”   @helltapestry.

#helltapestry #i. / what a young girl should not know. #>_> !!!

[foradecision]

     “hell of a mean right hook. remind me to stay on your good side.”  /  @helltapestry​.

#helltapestry #i. do not go gentle into that good night.*

[boyomen]

@helltapestry​ asked :   ‘ what are you starin' at, kid? ’

     you noticed the slim leather wallet as it was drawn from her blazer. notice the stony expression and the lifted chin and the  fuck this whole day  demeanor. she’s a cop. no — detective, most likely, someone from out of town, because the local police don’t dress like that no matter how many rungs of the ladder they’ve climbed. you know all the cops in this shithole, anyway. that’s the kind of place this is.  everybody knows everybody.

     and somebody died last night; the headache is still throbbing dully behind your eyes. doesn’t take a genius  — and you’re definitely not that — to figure why she’s here.

     so when she looks your way, you have half a mind to spark the blunt behind your ear just because you  can.  because she’s not on the clock to bag some kid on a petty drug charge and you both know it. your lip curls back a little, that smile that’s not a smile, like you’re over this conversation already, like you’ve been spurning everything you’ve laid eyes on since the day you were born.

          “nothing.”

     that’s all you give her. twitch of your jaw and a flick of your gaze to the curb where she’s parked. that’s not a regulation vehicle, you’re pretty sure, but it’s a minor detail. you don’t care enough to read the fine print. 

     you shrug instead, adjusting your backpack in the same motion. 

     the fingers of your other hand tap the edge of your skateboard before you drop it onto the pavement in front of you, one foot poised on top. somebody died. it isn’t your problem. right now it looks like it’s hers, and that suits you just fine. you swipe the blunt and tuck it between your lips — it only counts as  driving while impaired  if what you’re operating has an engine, right?

     whatever.

     you deadpan a parting sentiment, sincere despite how you  never  sound sincere, and you’re past ready to establish some distance.

          “nice car.”

#helltapestry #simplified formatting? check #alt fc? double check #this is not good writing but its fINE. IDK IF I WANNA KEEP #DOING SECOND PERSON????? #IM??

[angerbright]

did you have a nightmare? / deanna, bc i'm 2 lazy 2 accnt hop.

     a scream builds thickly in the back of her throat and her first waking thought is,  somebody walked over my grave.

     she remembers her mama turning that phrase,  years ago,  pulling the curtains shut after a long look outside.  it means chills,  she thinks;  that sudden,  skin - crawling shudder that makes your hair stand on end.  fitting,  present company considered.  that’s an easy memory.  the nightmare is fractured,  like a mirror after it meets a fist.  she looks down at her knuckles and finds them unscathed.

     “did you have a nightmare?”

     deanna’s face is thrown into shadow,  but she’s looking at her from the driver’s seat and there’s no misinterpreting that furrow of concern between pinched brows.  loretta wets her lips,  pushes strands of hair damp with flop sweat off her forehead.  when she’s handed a thermos lid full of black coffee,  seasoned with a little whiskey,  she takes it without complaint.  sips it,  slow and quiet.  the burn is a comfort.  the liquor loosens her tongue enough to speak.

     “—  it was dark.  like graveyard dark,  ‘n i couldn’t move.  don’t recall much else.”  it crawls back,  an inch at a time.  she feels bruised;  not the normal kind of bruised,  but bruised right down to the marrow in her bones.  it’s an exhausted,  full - body,  full - soul sort of ache,  and if anybody can understand that,  it’s deanna.

     she finishes her drink and holds out the lid,  wordlessly asking for a refill that’s granted without question.

     “feels like  …  i don’t know.  like it ain’t worth closin’ my eyes sometimes.  like  —  you ever gone on,  like,  a caffeine bender?  pumpin’ yourself so full’a that shit,  y’ couldn’t fall asleep if y’ tried?  thought i was so ahead’a the goddamn curve with that.  ‘course,  then you start crashin’,  ‘n that’s worse than anything.”  almost anything.  but it helps,  not being alone.  deanna gave that to her first;  then,  later,  so did frank.  she’s never been one to depend on other people,  mostly because she’d never felt like she could  —  not even her own daddy.  this is different.  something sacred,  worth holding onto.

     she polishes off her second serving and pulls a face,  both hands wrapped around the lid to soak up the residual warmth.  some of the tension is gone from her now.  her pulse is steadier,  more rhythmic.  her throat’s no longer holding onto that scream.

     the look she angles at deanna is authentic.  “moment’s past now.  how much do i owe you for the session?”

the war that saved my life  /  @helltapestry.

#helltapestry #cell. #i. / what a young girl should not know. #'too lazy to account hop' is the biggest moodflkjkFMG #also retta n dee still make my heart FULL. THANKS