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julian-bolanos‌:

Julian shrugged lightly, starting the car and looking over his shoulder as he backed out of the parking space. “Not here.” He could have guessed at it but the truth was that he hadn’t traveled that much and guessing based on association with transient locals and dialects on television seemed flawed. 

“Just don’t lie to my mom about shit like that. She’ll do more than call you out.” He warned, his tone joking despite the truth of it. 

Clara looked out the passenger side window, lips quirking up slightly at his words of warning; not because she didn’t take them seriously, but because she knew that her foster mother was the same way. Peggy Jones was kind, nurturing and a fantastic hostess, but she was no fool. She didn’t necessarily call people out in public, but she always made it very, very clear whether she believed their story.

And so the brunette sat in silence for a while, watching familiar streets appear and disappear into a blur as they sped past them, before she suddenly decided to speak up again. “New York,” she said seemingly out of nowhere, waiting a beat or two before looking back at Julian. “I’m originally from New York. But I had a different name back then, and I haven’t been back to the East Coast in over a decade. I don’t mean to lie, but... Letting people assume I’m from Chicago is just easier. Or at least less complicated.”

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I will always remain soft for you. Despite a bad mood, a bad day or the bad thoughts whirring on repeat in my head, graze my skin with your fingertips and I’ll turn to running water every damn time. But even then, I love you in ways that not even the sea could ever comprehend.

you are my tide, waves and shore all at once.

@linkxarmitage

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evaxreid‌:

“Incredibly frail.” Eva responded without missing a beat, sounding clearly amused. It was typical to expect certain traits from the opposing gender, only because they had a whole lifetime of learning and anticipating these things. And some things, well, were simply the norm when it came to men.

Smoking still, the blonde had a little more to go, noticing from the corner of her eye as Clara flicked her used-up cigarette away. Eva always had been a slow smoker. She did, however, keep her gaze fixated elsewhere still, until she found out that Lincoln actually lost a fight, causing her to turn to finally look at the deputy, looking particularly gobsmacked. “Link lost?” she repeated, finding it entirely shocking. Link was not the type to lose fights. “This Brandon guy probably has a death wish.” It was the only valid reasoning she could come up with if he had the gall to beat Link.

Taking her last drag, she gave her ex-best friend a long, good look. “If Link and you break up, I’d never forgive myself.”

Clara couldn’t help but laugh at Eva’s response. Partially because she could imagine how pleased Lincoln would look if he knew that the blonde’s reaction to him losing a fight was complete and utter disbelief. Mostly because she didn’t know what else to do. If she didn’t laugh, if she didn’t manage to find any morbid amusement in how absurd the situation was, then she’d probably end up screaming her head off. Or breaking down crying.

“I’d say that Brandon has a lot of discipline rather than a death wish,” the brunette replied, looking up at the other. She didn’t necessarily mean to defend Brandon more than she was trying to state a fact, but nonetheless, she decided to qualify her statement. “Link is many things, but good at handling his temper is not one of them.”

Sighing to herself, Clara plucked another cigarette from her pack and lit it. “We’re not going to break up,” she continued, having a long drag before offering the pack to Eva. “But if we did, why would you need to forgive yourself?”

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well, well, well, if it isn’t the feelings i’ve been trying to avoid 

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brandon-flanagan‌:

Brandon snorted. “Philistine. You just can’t appreciate the finer things in life. Like those breadsticks. Do you remember the breadsticks? I dream about them sometimes.” He snatched the lit cigarette back and dragged on it, holding it high enough above his head that she couldn’t easily reach it, without looking away or appearing anything but nonchalant. “I’m pretty sure being pigheaded about something isn’t winning the argument, it’s just not admitting defeat. Just cuz the South’s still fighting the Civil War doesn’t mean they’re ever gonna win it.” 

They weren’t quite in their old stomping grounds, which was off closer to Auburn Gresham, but they’d wandered into Downtown more than once. The train meant you could go wherever you wanted if you had the time, and they’d had nothing but back then. “I always forget Chicago is pretty. You know? Go down by the lake and watch the sailboats and it’s … just fucking pretty. Feels weird whenever I think about it, like it shouldn’t be allowed to be pretty, not with all the shit here.” He sighed, still holding the cigarette above his head. “You ever miss it?” He wasn’t just asking about the town, though he didn’t clarify. 

Clara made a sound of protest when the cigarette was once more taken from her, brown eyes following the trajectory of Brandon’s movements with what could only be described as an exaggerated, petulant pout on her face. It occurred to her then that back in the day, she would’ve probably just climbed on top of him in order to try to take it back, as if straddling her friends was a completely normal thing to do. It only made present her wonder what on Earth past her’s definition of the word friends was. She’d been wondering that a lot lately.

“Not the city, no,” the brunette replied somewhat dismissively, electing to stand up and reach out to snatch her cigarette back instead. And she’d had every intention of leaving it there, but as she stepped back and studied his face, slowly tracing the features that were so familiar to her and yet so different, she realised that she just... Couldn’t. She couldn’t not say it. “The only thing I ever missed about Chicago was you.”

She held his gaze, expression entirely serious and uncommonly earnest, before suddenly looking down and clearing her throat. “So,” Clara continued, instantly taking a more lighthearted tone. “Are we hitting Bartoli’s or what?”

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                                          beware the broken people                                         they’ve learned how to survive                                     with shards of glass under their skin

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@linkxarmitage 

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evaxreid‌:

Their friendship had run long enough for Eva to completely remember numerous details, but at the same time, get them all mixed up. She wasn’t apologetic for the mistake, however, and instead continued on listening to what the other had to say. They were once friends, and that was that.

A few, good seconds of silence floated in the balcony, as the two of them simply smoked. But the blonde was merely waiting, knowing for sure that Clara would say more and actually vent, because that was simply who she was. And boy, was she not disappointed. 

Hearing that Link got into a fight wasn’t unusual, considering that he once beat up Judah to a concussed mess. Hearing that he literally went head-to-head against Clara’s ex was next level shit though. Suppressing her laughter, she bit down on her lip, looking elsewhere in the meantime. She could only guess what happened next. “Let me guess, Link was jealous? Why am I not surprised?” 

Over the years, Clara had come to find that there was a special kind of knowing amusement shared between good girlfriends when talking about the men in their lives---especially when talking about things that men did that drove them up the wall. And while 'good girlfriends’ was no longer a category that the two of them occupied, she had to admit that it was kind of nice to feel that sense of camaraderie, of shared suffering and understanding, if only for a moment. It was something that she didn’t really have with anyone else. “Because he’s a man,” the brunette replied with a subtle roll of her eyes. “And we both know how fragile the male ego is.”

Having one last drag of her cigarette, she flicked the cigarette butt away from her and took a long, deep breath, face shifting into a slightly more serious expression. “And then he lost, which didn’t exactly make it better,” Clara continued, staring down at her hands. “And then Brandon and I got into an argument, and he was just... I don’t know. It’s complicated.”

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jordan-fraser‌:

Jordan stared at her, it taking him a moment to wrap his head around what she just told him. “You used to work for the Syndicate?” he asked, wondering if Bax knew. He didn’t think someone with a criminal record could become a cop. It was strange to think about. The Clara he knew now, the one sitting beside him on this park bench, would never run with criminals. It was hard to picture her actually working with one. He almost wanted to laugh it off, only believing her because she looked so serious and it had taken her this long to tell him.

“No, I used to work for Wyatt,” Clara clarified, knowing full well that from Jordan’s point of view, there probably wasn’t much of a difference between the two. It was a distinction that she made more for her own sake than for the sake of accuracy. “Of course I knew who he worked for, but given that I was a teenager and my main source of income other than helping Wyatt was having sex with people for money, it seemed like the better choice at the time. At least Wyatt wanted me to use my brain.”

She looked away while having a sip of her coffee, seemingly ignoring the fact that she had taken the time to distinguish between working for Wyatt and working for the Syndicate, yet she practically breezed past the whole casual reference to prostitution. “Then I got picked up by a cop called John Jones,” the brunette continued, staring down at the cup in her hand. “And not only did he look out for me, but he gave me a chance to redeem myself. I was a CI for almost a year before he offered to take me in and move me here with his family. And that’s how I got out. Or at least, that’s the simple version.”

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It’s really a wonder that I haven’t dropped all my ideals, because they seem so absurd and impossible to carry out. Yet I keep them, because in spite of everything, I still believe that people are really good at heart.

Anne Frank, The Diary of a Young Girl

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evaxreid‌:

Maybe they would never be friends again, as their bonds were already broken. But it didn’t mean that Eva had to throw away everything she had learned about Clara and her life. This way, she got to use what was left of it. 

Taking another drag, the blonde’s gaze remained fixated elsewhere, this being her attempt in pretending that she wasn’t really talking to her. At least, not directly. Hearing Link and Clara have problems wasn’t nearly exciting enough as finding out that her ex-bestfriend’s ex had arrived in town. Sounding flat, she asked, “Which ex is this? The one that got you into all sorts of trouble?”

Clara let out a soft chuckle, an expression of morbid amusement and something akin to bittersweet, vaguely sentimental fondness flashing across her face. “No, it wasn’t like that with Brandon,” she started, flicking the ash off her cigarette and contemplating how to explain their relationship as simply as possible. If there even was a simple way to explain it. “I was the one who was always in trouble. Most of the time, he was the one who got me out of it. We were just friends. Or, I don’t know, maybe we were more than that. I haven’t really thought about it until now.”

Taking a deep breath, the brunette enjoyed the next couple of drags of her cigarette in silence, struggling to find equilibrium between her instinct to play things as close to the vest as possible and her overwhelming urge to vent. “He went up against Link in the ring at Chess Club,” she continued, making an effort to sound as neutral as possible as she turned to look at Eva for the first time during their conversation. “And no, I’m not kidding. Hollywood couldn’t make that shit up.”

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