undeviled-blog

[undeviled-blog]

// HOLY DOODLE YOU WRITE HELENA SO WELL!

o mG I’M SCREAMING????? THANK YOU SO SO SO MUCH !!! THIS MEANS THE WORLD TO mE I!!!! i just started playing her last night and i’ve been pretty insecure about my portrayal so this is just everTHING TO ME THANK YOU!!!!! <3 

[undeviled-blog]

(  * &. X  )

Dark brows furrow as confusion settles upon her. They are made of the same mold, X hears Rice and the other men talk. They are clones, copies of copies, shaped into whatever it is they are needed to be. Friends. The word is foreign, non existent in these white walls. Laura does not have friends, barely understands the meaning of the word if not for her fluency in the English language. Green hues shift to the floor for a moment as she thinks it over. the light. How strange. X wouldn’t know what to do if Rice called her anything but X23 or animal. “They treat you with kindness?” the brunette asks with caution, like she fears the word will bring pain. She’s only ever been treated with such once. A gentle hand on the shoulder, a falling of the word child from an elder mans lips–her sensei, her trainer.

                                               And then they made her  k i l l  him.  

         the word kindness is easy enough to understand, and she has no trouble translating it. it does not confuse her the way the word HANDLER does, and she immediately opens her mouth to answer X’s question. is surprised when she finds an answer does not come so easily. yes, she starts to say. they are my friends. it should be so easy to answer her question, to ask if her handler withholds kindness as helena assumes she does due to her tone, but a feeling of SADNESS washes over her instead, a lead weight pressed against her chest as she fumbles for an answer and realizes she has none. she knows that they have brought her here, she knows that they have given her shelter, that they stand around her and harshly tell her why she must learn to fight, that it is her DUTY to god to terminate the abominations walking the earth with her face. but she can’t say that they are kind, and it is that knowledge that causes an intense wave of guilt to fall over her, leaves her hands itching for a blade. she’s UNGRATEFUL.           terribly, terribly, ungrateful. she should be able to answer her question with no hesitation whatsoever, and yet she can not. no, she starts to answer, and the bites down on her tongue so hard she can taste her own blood. there’s evil in her, causing this, a devil that has wormed its way into her bones---that is the source of the hesitation. if she believes that, then she can be forgiven. if she believes that, then they will forgive her. ‘ they tell me i can be saved, ‘ she replies instead, because this is not an answer, this is not a lie, and this is not a sin. 

[undeviled-blog]

(  * &. MRS. S  )

undeviled started following you

“Helena…” “What is it you want?”

     the question seems ridiculous to her, but her expression remains the same. what does she want? the answer is always the same: sarah. she wants sarah. but sarah isn’t here right now; she can FEEL it. sarah is somewhere else. but where? ‘ i want to see my sestra, ‘ she replies plainly, eyeing the woman in front of her. ‘ where is sarah? ‘ her name sounds almost unfamiliar on her lips; she had grown used to referring to her as sestra. but she wasn’t sure mrs. s would understand that, not when sarah was HERS first. the feeling almost sparks some dormant feelings of jealousy, but she fights them off, attempting at a smile that doesn’t look right at all on her lips.  

[undeviled-blog]

(  * &. X  )

Laura has seen a lot of things in her sixteen years. She’s seen grown men beg at her feet, she’s watched more of them poke and prod her with needles. She’s seen men with light in their eyes and men with nothing but vacancy. She’s watched people treat her like an object. Kimura looks at her with pure hatred, treats  her like an enemy but she’s her handler. It’s normal. (right?) no.              “Tomas and Maggie….they are your handlers?” she asked, confused. 

         the girl’s question surprises her, language foreign to her ears. handlers. it’s a STRANGE word,  one  that  she doesn’t  exactly  understand,  especially not given that her flat tone provides her with little to no context. it was an english word, surely, and while she was learning, some words were still confusing to her. rocking back and forth just slightly, a finger brought up to her lips out of habit, she lifts her gaze from pupok, the scorpion that remained with her everywhere she went,  and  meets the girl’s eyes,   confusion evident.   pupok’s mumbling makes it  hard  to concentrate, and she shushes him immediately;  he was her friend, perhaps her only friend outside of maggie and tomas, but   he  was  always  appearing  to  her  in  the  most inconvenient of times, distracting her during tomas and maggie’s lessons, which normally resulted in a few beatings and harsh chastising. she surely doesn’t need him now, and is pleased to have been distracted by the girl opposite her. she hears them call her X. a letter--what a strange name it is. she’s seen stranger, though.           ‘ my.... ‘ handlers ‘ ? ‘ she asks after a moment, testing the strange word out on her tongue. ‘ they saved me from the nuns who said i had a devil inside of me. they are--what is it you call it? my----friends? ‘ there’s an obvious sense of gratitude there in her tone, one that is entirely, sickeningly, sincere. ‘ they say i am the light. ‘ 

[undeviled-blog]

honestly it doesn’t matter what blog we’re on, me and tiffany will always have painful things together apparently. th ERES NO AVOIDING IT. the only thing worse than bonnie/elena threads are sarah/helena threads oH GO D WHO A RE W E WHY DID WE DO TH I S :///////////////////

[undeviled-blog]

(  * &. SESTRA  )

❛  yeah. yeah, i’m here.  ❜  guilt immediately floods toward her at all sides and suddenly she feels like she’s DROWNING in contrition, triggered by the light that seemed to illuminate helena’s formerly dull hues upon her arrival. as if she was some sort of beacon that she could hold onto, filled with hope and an unwarranted EXPECTATION that she’s not so sure she can live up to. the feeling cuts DEEP, slicing down to the bone and buries itself underneath her skin, where she can’t shake it no matter how hard she tries. and maybe she didn’t leave her then and she sure as hell won’t leave her now, but she did leave her. she stared her down through the barrel of a GUN and left her for dead, didn’t come looking for her after she got arrested by the police. it leaves a bitter taste in her mouth when she thinks about it, how she abandoned her just like everyone else had done her entire life.

        but she went looking for her. she’s here now. and that means something.

a disbelieving scoff latches onto the inner-walls of her throat because of course they did. of course they told her that she left. after, all isn’t that what she does best ? kira, felix, mrs. s. she left them once before too. she always leaves. always leaving, always running. but just because you do something enough times, doesn’t make it any easier. and what makes it worse is that she felt as if it was the RIGHT thing to do. but no one should be without a mother. a sister. a friend. no one should be without FAMILY.

          she’s tired. she’s tired of running.         ( and exhaustion cripples more than skewed reasoning and bad judgement. )

❛  i wouldn’t leave you again. d’ya hear me ?  ❜  her throat tightens. there’s a vulnerability that sarah has never seen before— she notices it in the way helena’s eyes suddenly gloss over and in the uneasiness to her voice. it tugs at something inside of her as well, but she grits her teeth, swallowing it down.  ❛  we’re gonna get you out of here, alright ? i promise.  ❜

        her bottom lip quivers just slightly as sarah’s hands continue to smooth through her hair, a feeling of unadulterated joy spreading through her, timid and fleeting. it’s sarah. sarah. sarah. sarah. sarah. the name repeats over and over again in her mind as if it’s a broken record, the most beautiful sound she’s heard in weeks. it drowns out everything; the rumbling downstairs, pupok’s  quiet muttering, even the sound of her own heartbeat. she latches onto it as if it is a lifeline, holding onto it as tightly as she thinks she would hold sarah if she could make her hands stop shakingshakingshaking. she doesn’t trust herself with sarah right now, doesn’t trust her hands to be soft enough or slow enough or clean enough.           but she’s so so desperate to touch her, needs to so badly she can hardly stand it. because there’s something in sarah’s gaze that she does not understand, something she’s never seen before, and if  FORGIVENESS  is a automatic offering she can’t imagine why her sestra looks at her now as if she needs something from her. it’s not that no one has never needed from her before, in fact, maggie and tomas used to talk about how much they NEEDED from her, but sarah needs differently. sarah does not need her hands to be weapons or her teeth to tear. sarah feels it. the CONNECTION between them. it’s why helena can’t understand why she doesn’t FEEL the love boiling under her skin, the  f o r g i v e n e s s  helena has never known.          like a child with an unquenchable urge to touch a flame, she reaches out with the hands she still doesn’t trust and allows them to loop around sarah’s neck, so cautious as if sarah is glass and she is made of stone. she breathes her in this way, grip tightening just slightly as her chin comes to rest on sarah’s shoulder as if she is a child, one hand absently coming up to trace the shape of her own lips. she needs to tell her, to say it, to thank her and to apologize and to ask her if she’s missed her the way helena has yearned for her, as if a part of her has been MISSING, but instead she only presses a small kiss to sarah’s shoulder, shaking against her small, seemingly fragile frame. she can’t react to her promise, can’t say that she believes her, can’t say that she doesn’t, can’t say anything at all because her sestra is here and she’s never needed anyone so much.          ‘ i have missed you, sestra, ‘ she finally manages against her.                                            ‘ i love you. ‘ 

[undeviled-blog]

(  * &. STRANGE GRITSKO SRAKA ?? )

There’s a few things one should know about Wade. Actually–just kidding there’s like an entire rap sheet but he doesn’t come with an instructions manual so mostly you really need to know the basics. Basic number one being–he’s crazy as shit. Now this is not in the sense that he should be treated as if he’s incoherent and not on the same level as anyone else–crazy in the sense that he’d shoot himself in the fucking dome if you paid him with a taco. Just one taco. It wouldn’t even take two. Just one. He’s also crazy because he’s schizophrenic. He hears voices, he has a lot of them but two major ones reign above the rest, they could be roughly sorted into two categories–his bat shit crazy side who would probably prefer to kill assholes and sing hakuna matata while doing so, and then what you could call his more common sense side. They tell him to do shit, help him make decisions and above all else have been with him through some pretty dark fucking times. Call them the development of a coping mechanism if you will. Either way they’re there and he totally talks to himself.  ~I think she’s talking to you.~                                                                    -Pretty sure the eye contact and fact that she’s                                                                                 looking at us gave that away.-  ~She looks like she stepped off the stage of Cats.~                                                                            -Oh that was such a nice production.-                                    “Does a bear shit in the woods?” Wade asked, arching a brow. Of course he was gonna eat his taco–he never wasted tacos. The mercenary slid a twenty across the table from one of the five billion pockets he had lining his belt, she could however get her own food. 

            she’s not at all phased by the mask, if anything she finds herself intrigued by his appearance and leans forward in her seat as she brings a hand to her mouth, picking at her lips out of habit as she watches him. there’s something about him that seems almost distracted, as if he’s shifting between multiple points of views, and she eyes him in an almost  enthralled  sort of way. she could hardly judge; she wasn’t exactly an expert at dividing all of her attention to one specific thing, either. unless it was sarah, of course. sarah she could give all of her attention. and occasionally pupok, the imaginary scorpion that rests on her shoulder dormant, voice quiet, leaving her to attempt to focus on the man. with no other voices in her head, it seems she has no trouble, although you’d be a fool to think that her attention isn’t equally split between the man in the mask and the tacos, because it totally is. ( okay, maybe she’s 65 percent focused on the tacos. no. definitely 80 percent. )             his words only lead her to arch a brow in confusion, gaze unwavering. ‘ if eating food means that one shits, and a bear shits in the woods, does that mean that all bears ‘ shit, ’ as you call it? ‘ the words leave her tongue softly, nearly mumbled under her breath, as she thinks back to tomas’ riddles, the ones he had rattled off to her as she’d let her forehead rest against the cool bars of her cage, hand coming to her lips as it does now. it’s not entirely spoken to him, but is definitely loud enough to be heard, and her gaze leaves his for a moment and then lands on the green paper he had presented before her, eyeing it curiously. it was a method of payment, of course, and she eyes it for several seconds, confused. why would he rattle off such a riddle to her, and then offer her a form of payment? did this mean he was planning on eating his tacos? rather than ask waste time asking, she simply reaches across the table for the taco, clumsily shoving it in her mouth as a hand comes to rest on the paper and slide it back over to him. 

         ‘ taco is good, ‘ she remarks, swallowing it down and giving him a nod of something that could be perceived as a thank you. 

[undeviled-blog]

     between clasped hands is a paper towel roll, the texture of the brown cardboard seemingly  familiar as she turns it in her hands as if it is a kaleidoscope of some kind, as if it is going to show her something different than the woman in front of her. rachel appears different, fragile, somehow, but helena remains unaffected by her discrepancy, is almost put at ease whereas once she would have been tense merely by the thought of their sister, the one sarah calls the pro clone. she knows only that rachel is not her sestra the way sarah is her sestra, the way the rest of the clones are, the way both felix and tony are her brother sestras even though there is blood separating them. with an almost hysterical laugh, she holds up the paper towel role as if it is a telescope, rachel’s face appearing in the small hole.                       ‘  you make excellent bulls-eye, rachel. ‘ 

[undeviled-blog]

       without invitation, helena sits down in the chair across from the man, eyes attuned to him, and more importantly, his lunch. her sestra is always telling her how important it is to speak with her words rather than with her actions, but considering that her sarah shot her once, she isn’t so sure she has a leg to stand on. of course, helena knows all about manners, she has been to many places and seen many things, and tomas always made sure to keep her from harm.                  ‘ are you going to eat this ?’         sarah would be proud of her for asking rather than reaching over into his plate, or so she tells herself, but it doesn’t matter because she is not here and their adventures are over and she is hungry. as if to gain his appreciation, she flashes him a generous smile that looks a little strange paired with her blonde main and lion-ish appearance, but hey, she’s trying here. 

[undeviled-blog]

                  you can’t bury GHOSTS.

[undeviled-blog]

    ‘  she loves insanely and obsessively. so all the shitty stuff she does, and all the horrible ways she goes about things, it’s all out of LOVE, and it’s all because she just doesn’t know how to love. she’s never been taught love. she’s never been shown love. love to her is probably very much tied with abuse and with PAIN and so that’s the only way she knows how to go about loving because she hasn't been taught otherwise. she hasn't had examples of real love. ‘

              SHE SAID I HAD THE DEVIL INSIDE OF ME.

                                                 * autoplay.

[undeviled-blog]

(  * &. SESTRA  )

❛  ——helena !  ❜  surprise and relief  f l i t s  amongst jaded features, the beat of her heart pounding LOUDLY in her ears. feet urge forward without hesitation and she takes the other’s face between both hands, thumbs smoothing away DISHEVELED bleached strands while she examines her. she looks paler, she notices, eyes blood-shot and sinking into their sockets.

                something in her own chest seems to sink along with it.

❛  jesus, wha’ the hell did they do to you ? are you alright ?  ❜  tone begins to rise, frantic with both worry and anger in equal measure. 

    it’s as if she can sense her, almost, as if some deeper part of her recognized her the second she heard her footsteps rounding the corner. she’d fooled herself into thinking it was her imagination, of course, and the idea itself wasn’t so far fetched. it was hardly the first time she’d dreamed of her sestra finding her here, taking in her arms the same way helena had wrapped her arms around her that night when sarah had been so alive under her fingertips, shaking and shaking and shaking and shaking, real and crying and a little bit bloody, that night when helena had felt rage curl up in her belly like a python trapping its prey, directed at anyone who dared hurt her, dared s t e a l her away, cut into her as if she was not both helena’s bandage and helena’s knife. she’d dreamed of all of them, her sestras, her brother sestra, kira,  her f a m i l y. so much so that she’d stopped being surprised when she woke up to find herself excruciatingly alone.      but she’s real now, realrealreal, and helena can feel her fingers weaving through her hair as if she is something precious, as if she is something to be protected rather than something to be terminated. helena feels completely and utterly weak at the thought, all the fight sent out of her as she allows her fingers to come up to touch her sestra’s cheeks, as if to confirm her presence. a smile pulls at her lips, but there are tears in her eyes, a strange sort of moisture she’s not become accustomed to. ‘ sestra, ‘ she answers after a moment, voice rough and quiet all at the same time. ‘ they said you had abandoned me. they said that you had left me here---’ but sarah is here. sarah is here. which means she was RIGHT. which means she did not leave her. which means, which means, which means. maybe. which means. maybe. she loves her back. maybe she loves her back. sarah is here. which means sarah did not leave her. ‘ you are here. sestra---you are here. i knew it, i knew it---i told them. i told them you did not leave me---’ 

[undeviled-blog]

I met your brother…

[undeviled-blog]

all you have is your fire and the place you need to reach don’t you ever tame your demons but always keep them on a leash