philomelia

[philomelia]

peace has always found cassie: she supposes that is a good thing (she ignores the part of herself that is nothing but a hungry mouth, gnawing on her bones as if it will find the taste of chaos). peace is another word for boredom. it leaks into worry, into an anxious starvation, into the sort of want that defines cassie. she does not like this version of the story, so she offers another: a house that has never known peace, that creaks beneath the weight of fullness. she imagines her sister has not left-- athena, as loud and as overwhelming as any other battlecry, back home again, just like mother wanted. that would at least help the boredom.

not for the first time, she considers if there is something wrong with her, and then she tries to figure out who's fault it would be. not her own, of course, but maybe her mother's. or her grandmother's? every fault must take root somewhere and, of course, the easiest place to look is in some faraway past (her grandmother smelled of dust and always got her a christmas present that was about two years out of her age range: that is the sort of behaviour that would inspire any sort of cardinal sin, cassie was sure of it).

" donkeys are just like chickens, " cassie said, because she'd had enough of mourning herself. her own thoughts were her worst enemy-- it was best not to entertain them. " i mean, every animal is just like every other animal. you give them attention and feed them well and, you know, make sure you don't lock 'em in some dark, rusty cellar . . . and they usually love you back. " it was just like having siblings. or a best friend. " i guess i wouldn't know too much about that, though. i've never actually had a pet. my mom is just about allergic to everything fur - related. it's why she could never be a pet psychic. you heard about those guys? they're crazy. "

but her mind is distracted mid - rant, because viktor is being sweet. she fixes him with her best smile (for all the dishonesty that naturally curls itself into her vile mouth, this gesture is entirely true). " could you write that down for me? cassie rike, the good sister. i'll show it off to everyone i meet. " value is, of course, born from how many eyes you have on you at any given time: viktor's eyes are worth at least twice the world in gold. " it sucks that you don't get to pick your family. i'd have totally picked you. "

it is that easy: the truth has never burned. then again, the burn of a lie has never been enough to stop cassie from telling them. if anything, the sticky taste of them makes it all the better. " nah, " she said with a shrug. the car roars beneath them, seemingly angry that it hadn't been paid much attention in the last few minutes. " what's your dealbreaker? what would make you hate me? or, like, what would make you hate someone you love? "

viktor frowns,  because he remembers something similar from his own childhood  —   but he imagined his siblings there,  too.   he imagined them being a real family,  one that shared love and came together as people who knew each other and cared for each other,   not people who were forced together by some strange, rare circumstance that their father never really explained to them,  not soldiers fated to save the world together along with their brother who was only just deadweight and treated as such.  he wanted normalcy,  he wanted a family,  he wanted love,  he wanted to be a part of something,  but none of those things ever seemed obtainable.  they were only dreams that left him feeling even more empty.

❝  it’s a nice thought, ❞   he says,  because he doesn’t think it’s silly.    ❝   sounds—  peaceful.  and not the bad kind.  ❞    the bad kind is isolation;   that kind of peacefulness never did him any good,   it was just all he knew.   he starts to laugh as she goes on,   amused.   ❝  a donkey farm?   i know a little about chickens.   not much about donkeys,  ❞   he admits,  still grinning back at her.   ❝  i think i could adapt, though, ❞   he teases.

 things are better between him and his siblings now,   so he feels slightly guilty for the way he talks about them — but no matter what it’s like now,   what he went through for the first thirty years of his life is still there,   still rotting in him.   they can try to move forward together,   but they’ll never make up for how they got here.   his head nods slowly,   thinking over her words — because maybe that’s what he needs,  some acceptance.   ❝   i guess it’s not all black and white.   ❞    he can move forward with them,  they can learn to love each other the way they should,   but maybe that resentment,  that hate may always exist under the surface.   they just have to find a way to keep looking up.    ❝  i don’t think you’re nothing,   either,  you know.   i think you seem like a good sister to have.  ❞    one who is kind,  who’s validating — someone viktor would’ve loved to have by his side growing up.    

viktor feels a sense of relief as she agrees,  not just for himself,  but for her,  too.   he can tell she may need that — a family outside of her own,  one she can choose.   he can understand that;   choosing his own family when he was more lost than ever is such a big part of why he’s alive today,  he knows.   ❝  then,  you can count on me,  ❞    he promises,   nodding his head back at her.   he hasn’t really allowed himself to think of the same,   nothing specific anyway,   so he lights up when cassie seems to have an answer.   ❝  oh—   uh,   i don’t know.   is that a dealbreaker?  ❞  

[philomelia]

very rare, very small starter call while i try to collect cassie muse.

[philomelia]

she watches him struggle to sit up, a fight with his own body. her hands long to reach out, to soothe his shoulders, to ensure that the pain splintering his features never finds a home there ever again (agony was meant to be endured alone, though: she averts her gaze for just a moment, attempting to grant him a little scrap of privacy). her gaze runs back to him seconds later. how desperate she is to look at him sometimes -- she'd find herself pathetic if she really thought about it, which is why she decided tonight was not a night to be introspective. it's too late and there's too much blood flaking beneath his fingernails. " you're welcome. just don't go bragging about my services elsewhere. i don't think i can handle looking after anyone but you. " that is the privilege of being a younger sister: she has never had maternal afterthought forced upon her. that is not to say she hasn't been stung in other ways, just that she knows when to count her blessings. " of course they won't mind. they probably won't even notice. " ghostly little cassie has been unnoticed for so long, she knows how easily her mother's eyes can pass over what she doesn't want to deal with (there is a pleasure in knowing she is too much for her mother to devour anymore). as if on cue, the rain relents for a moment of pure silence, cut through by the shuffle of footsteps down the stairs. she locks eyes with charlie, suddenly doubting her words. " uh oh. "

does cassie want him not to leave, or to stay? same action, same course : he'll bleed on the furniture all night, until the bruises have settled into puddles of purple on his freckled skin, and he can justify dragging himself back to life. but it seems different : to be withheld because she doesn't want him to bleed himself to death somewhere else ( which he won't ) or to be invited in, to be offered the kindness of a couch to stain with his filth. whatever it is doesn't really matter, he guesses. but charles, for better or worse, has always been obstinate about care ; insistent that he does not deserve to receive what he has not given in equal or adequate share. cassie leaves it ambiguous, and in some ways, that is easier. it can be about safety, and not kindness. he can smile ( which hurts his face ) at the invitation to stain the couch rusty, and can say, " if you don't have it, don't worry too much. it doesn't hurt as bad at it did an hour ago, " with a wave of his head. some of the blood is beginning to dry, pricking at his skin. he scratches at it, flecks coming away under his fingernails. " but . . . i guess you've kept me alive this long, so i can stay. " he makes reluctance seem casual, the way he tries to sit up straighter, his ribs smarting at any movement more intense than his rising lungs. where he should be staying is the hospital, but but cassie has the advantage in that she won't charge him a few thousand bucks for being hurt on the premises. " your family doesn't mind you taking in strays? "

[philomelia]

unexpected visits are usually horrible. most of the time, it's her mother (she has started doing this thing-- well, it's funny really, if that's your sort of humour-- where she holds cassie face and tells her that she looks so different). cassie has spent hours in the mirror, looking for these differences. her hair is still short and tucked behind her ears. her hands are still always muddy, even if she's just cleaned them. there's still a sharpness to her body and a softness to her smile. if she could find these differences her mother was so obsessed with, she would cut them out, but she can't, because she's fine. tai is a nice visitor, anyway. she isn't going to touch at cassie's face and pretend something is wrong. " i've been having plumbing issues, " cassie says. it's a little bit of a lie. a half - lie. it's the closest to the truth she's been in a while. she brushes her hair back behind her ears, a nervous tick- but one much nicer than the nail-biting thing she did when she was still a teenager. " i mean, seriously, my kitchen is disgusting, you can't go in there. but a guy's coming out tomorrow. i've been elbow - deep in sewage sludge all morning. i'd hug you, but, bleh. you'll get cassie all over you. "

if there's a harsh stench coming from cassie's home,   tai may already be too accustom to sitting in her own filth,  surrounded by many others doing the same,  blood peramanently soaked into their belongings and death something she'd become far too accustom too.   even years later,  it's all too easy to fall back into that place,  barely noticing whatever may be coming from cassie's place now --- other than the cleaning supplies,  which catches her off guard as she barely gives cassie a greeting.   ❝  a bit?  ❞   she asks,  eyes glancing beyond her for a long moment before her eyes finally land on cassie's,  and she starts to settle,  a softer smile tugging at her lips when her eyes meet cassie,  the same warmth rushing through her body as it does every time she's with her.  but it's not lost on her that something's off,  and after a moment,  her brows furrow into more concern.   ❝  hey,  are you---  ❞   she trails off,  unable to stop herself from allowing her eyes to look her over,  her stomach suddenly in knots.   ❝  what's going on?  ❞   she asks,  immediately brushing past any desire to be careful with whatever it is that's happening,  getting right to the point. 

[philomelia]

after cassie's sister dies and cassie leaves home, she attends grief group counselling sessions in a church's basement. this is where she meets elijah, the priest that will eventually pretend to be possessed, and maria, her best friend. the coffee is shit.

[philomelia]

yellowjackets, season 2 [pt. 2].

dialogue prompts from the second season of showtime's yellowjackets.

trust me. i've been where you are.

i thought you'd be more excited to see me.

you should get the hell away from me. i'm poison. i ruin people.

i killed my best friend. the only person i loved. the only person who knew me.

that 'something' that was in ___ is in me.

why didn't you wake me up?

is there a chance it could be us? you and me?

i gotta take care of myself, too, okay?

if you're done crying, i can tell you some stories.

where are you? we need you here.

you are so close to being on the other side.

aren't you the last person who should be giving me legal advice?

i'd rather keep the past in the past.

are you even trying to be happy?

i know you're too evolved for online dating.

i just want to know that you haven't given up on love.

you should be responsible for something other than yourself.

you know i don't deserve your friendship, right?

we're all like this. aren't we?

i never even wanted to be a mom.

life doesn't tend to turn out like you think it will.

it was all really complicated. i'll tell you all about it someday.

it's you and me against the whole world.

we thought we lost you.

i just think it's time we woke up.

i would be dead without you.

i need to know why the fuck i'm still here.

all my rational instincts are just kind of screaming.

you aren't welcome here anymore.

shouldn't you be in therapy?

i really need you right now.

when you look at yourself, what do you see?

the truth is all around you, but you refuse to see it.

i'm sorry. i should never have pushed you away like that.

i'd never ask you to wait for me.

does a hunt that has no violence feed anyone?

how much do you remember?

i love this song.

i know there's a lot of pain right now, but let it out.

you're lying to me, and i want to know why.

you hear it, too?

we all need things we can't have.

you're a good person. i'm sorry for ever making you feel otherwise.

you are nothing if not proactive.

i can't get rid of it. it's a part of me.

i thought you loved all of me, like i love all of you.

it's gonna be okay. we're gonna be okay.

i can't imagine being here without you.

you're not going to solve shit with talking.

this isn't something that therapies can fix.

you're gonna have to look me in the eye.

it's no secret we're all a little fucked up.

what exactly are you suggesting?

our lives are not that bad.

i did it for the good of the group.

i knew i wasn't the only one who felt this way.

didn't we swear we would protect each other?

do you google yourself a lot?

disappearing is not as easy as they make it look on tv.

i need you to leave while you still can.

you don't have to be one of those people.

i appreciate you trying to teach me forgiveness. it's a nice idea.

it was supposed to be me.

you're a good person. you really don't belong in this place.

i'm not ashamed. i'm glad i'm alive.

you're like, an honest-to-god detective?

i know this is a lot. but i'm a friend. and everything is gonna be fine.

is this what you wanted to happen?

it's called a narrative. try to 'yes, and' a little.

what about a story you haven't heard before?

i never wanted to be in charge.

you were always the favorite.

there's nothing to be afraid of, you know?

i'm not supposed to be here.

how could it not have been me?

go ahead. i'm right behind you.

[philomelia]

they are sharing gloves, one set split between two (cassie knows that one of her hands is going to end up hating her-- red knuckled and shaking a little, the risk of frostbite drawing dreadfully near). she doesn't care too much, though. it is hard to care about anything other than the beauty of this place. " this is only the second time i've ever seen snow, " she admits. " my mom usually takes us wherever's the warmest when it gets to winter. she can't stand it. she says the cold weather breeds spirits. " as with most of what her mother says, cassie couldn't work out if this was a joke. it probably wasn't: her mother trades in old wives' tales, pretending they are a currency that has existed since the dawn of time. cassie steers their steps so they're walking back towards the hot chocolate stand, a small loop in on themselves.

her hands are red around the knuckles despite being hidden in her pockets for most of the walk. at least she managed to wear a scarf, it being fashioned neatly around her neck. robin doesn't mind christmas but every time a big holiday rolls around, she silently wishes for her mother. her grandmother's greyhound got delayed due to a snowstorm so she'll likely come for new years instead. while her father scrambles to make them a nice christmas dinner, she's out here with cassie until she's got turkey on the mind. robin stops and takes the glove with a little shake of her head, slipping it over. it's still warm from cassie's own hand occupying it. "thanks." she rubs her gloved hand together with her uncovered one. "i could use another hot chocolate."

[philomelia]

cassie is NOT having a brat summer, she's having a "my mom thinks i'm possessed and wants me to see a priest about it" summer

[philomelia]

↪     𝑺𝑬𝑻𝑻𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑴𝑷𝑻𝑺 , updated .     (  a  collection  of  various  settings  meant  to  inspire  drabbles  or  be  used  as  prompts .   )

001.   the seaside ,  as the sun is setting .

002.   a cabin in the middle of the woods .

003.   a picket-fenced home in the suburbs .

004.   a dark bus stop lit only by street lights .

005.   a private jet miles high in the sky .

006.   a funhouse’s room of mirrors .

007.   an office building ,  bustling and busy .

008.   the back row of an empty movie theater .

009.   a run - down motel room .

010.   a loud house party on a suburban street .

011.   a university lecture hall during a class .

012.   the rooftop of a very tall building .

013.   a great ballroom during an elegant party .

014.   the back of a wailing ambulance .

015.   the wine cellar of a large mansion .

016.   behind the school’s gymnasium .

017.   a boisterous bonfire at the lakeside .

018.   an otherwise empty parking lot .

019.   the shady bar of a noisy , dark club .

020.  the grounds of an empty summer camp .

021.   a large hedge maze ,  easy to get lost in .

022.   a neglected or derelict treehouse .

023.   a spacious ,  light-filled meadow .

024.   an underground illegal fighting club .

025.   an abandoned scrapyard .

026.   a large penthouse overlooking the city .

027.    an apple orchard in the middle of spring .

028.   an empty playground with squeaky swings .

029.   an extravagant greenhouse .

030.   the base of a large waterfall .

031.    a spacious walk - in closet full of lovely clothes .

032.   a solemnly quiet hospital room .

033.   the dark depths of an abandoned mine .

034.   the deck of a fishing boat at night .

035.   the thick crowd of an audience at a show .

036.   a long ,  winding road .

037.   the scene of a violent crime .

038.   a fork in a hiking trail deep in the wilderness .

039.   a cramped dressing room .

040.   a dusty antiques shop full of relics .

041.   the street of an unfamiliar city at night .

042.   between the tall shelves of a thrifted book shop .

043.   a building abandoned during construction .

044.   a house without power or running water .

045.   a mysterious trail found in the woods .

046.   the back of a taxi stuck in traffic .

047.    the inside of an elevator that won’t move .

048.   fairgrounds during a large event  (or after hours) .

049.   a garden bountiful with flowers or produce .

050.   a childhood home or bedroom .

+   30  more  setting  prompts :    1 / 3 / 2024

051. the site of a horrible accident .

052. a closed pool , after everyone has left .

053. a home holding horrific memories .

054. by the side of a dangerously quick river .

055. a private hotel room .

056. a police station in the middle of the night .

057. a ferris wheel carriage under a sky of fireworks .

058. a lavish , invite - only party .

059. a public transit stop as rain is pouring down .

060. the back of a taxi going in the wrong direction .

061. the underworld .

062. a dusty , forgotten attic .

063. on the set of a television show or movie .

064. a lighthouse overlooking the raging sea .

065. in a post - apocalyptic bunker .

066. on a ship hundreds of miles from the nearest coast .

067. on the rooftop of a perilously tall building .

068. a tent pitched in the middle of the woods .

069. a crowded stadium during a football game .

070. the morgue during an identification .

071. an otherwise empty library during a late study session .

072. a place that feels familiar , yet you've never been here before .

073. a long hallway that seems to stretch on forever .

074. a signpost at the start of a hiking trail .

075. a bar or tavern bustling with life .

076. the dance floor of a masquerade ball .

077. inside of a car parked in a secluded area .

078. at the edge of a cliff overlooking a large lake .

079. inside a very old house with very old haunts .

080. the antiseptic interior of a space station .

[philomelia]

whenever she grabs a snippet of charles' life, it is almost impossible to let it go. you can't remember her name? how do you forget a name? will you forget mine? tell me what lipstick she wore, and if the kiss was any good, and if you loved her, and if you thought about her when you kissed me (cassie doesn't say any of this because, despite the fact she cannot reflect on most of what leaves her mouth, she knows that she'd sound crazy). but she imagines this younger version of charles with his fumbling hands and his softer eyes-- she wishes that little cassie had met him, at least once. they would have been good friends, she imagined, and perhaps they would have kissed much sooner. " yeah, " she nods, an answer to a question he almost asked. his eyes are on her lips. he has such lovely eyes, and such lovely lips, and, really, it's unfair how lovely he is. she turns her body towards him. it is time for a story : she wishes they were huddled around a campfire. " his name was james bella. i thought that was an amazing name. a girl's first name as a boy's last name? i was in love. i was also ten. i rode by his house on my bike every single day, then i fell off my bike in front of him, and he came to patch up my knee. then he kissed me. and i never saw him again-- also, i'm pretty sure i made up his name. or, athena did, at least. you're a much better kisser. but you didn't kiss my knee wound, then my mouth, so . . . points deducted for that. "

is she avoiding his eyes? that bad, huh? if it were possible for charles' face to burn more fiercely, it would've. his cheeks are already aflame with patchy heat, with the imprint of her hand and her mouth and her breath mingling with his own. he swallows, stumbles ( this is not what he's good at. his love is fierce and blood - stained and bruised, and so when he must be soft, he falters. ) and when she looks at him, he looks away now. " um . . . i can't remember her name, actually. i remember we were fifteen, her and me, and she was staying with me and phillip because her parents kicked her out. " that girl had been in a bad way, and she and charles had been in a tornado, not a relationship : they'd kissed, they'd touched, they'd done a little more with inexperienced, fumbling hands, and then she'd gone back to live with her shitty parents, and they'd lost touch. he remembers phillip's mocking admonishments of them more than he remembers the girl herself. he chances a glance back at cassie, and without him meaning it, his glance brushes over her mouth. the sharp warmth of her lips sticks to him. " we didn't work out. obviously. have you ever . . . " he means to ask if she'd kissed anyone ( hopefully, yes ) but he can't manage to get the rest of the sentence out.

[philomelia]

in a nightmare. yes, of course: they are becoming a strange regularity in her life. in them, she does not save her sister, and life is just the same (can it be a nightmare if it's just a reflection of your actual life?). " my brain does that sometimes, " cassie agrees. she wrinkles her nose at the pat, feeling very much like an overloved dog. " does it worry you? when other people have nightmares? that's quite sweet. "

Mim frowns performatively, unhurt by Cassie's words. "Unnice." And paps the tip of her nose—a little harder than it should (this is an apologetic gesture and retaliation)—with the palm of its hand like it is honking a car horn. "My sorries. For the nose hurt. Your brain was hurting. In a nightmare."

[philomelia]

i come bearing gifts. you're welcome. ( maybe after cassie helped shar out w/ some information? 👁️ )

cassie's smile is bright as she eyes the baked goods, wondering which one of the overly sugary treats could be hers (she hopes it's the vanilla looking one, with the chocolate seeping brutal - warm down the side: she has grown to like anything that tastes like rot or, at least, one day could-- this means cassie likes most things). " you're late. i suspected you'd be visiting today. " cassie stands in the doorway to her shop, the one gently perched below the climbing attic of her bedroom. it's not good to mix life and work but, well, she is only ever those two things, anyway. she's wearing bunny slippers: their eyes narrow at sharon as if they, too, suspect her of being late. " did something keep you away? " a hunch, that's what cassie has. her mother would stroke her hair and tell her that it was a psychic bleed, a feeling that was more than a feeling. cassie thinks that's stupid. but, hey, it sells, so she plays pretend well enough that no one really notices. " come on in, rain's starting soon. that's not me, that's the good old weather channel for you. anyway, i'm glad you're here. i needed a little help with some thing. two things, really. "

[philomelia]

as much as i obviously adore golden retriever weird guy teenage cassie, i think i would love more threads of her in her listless young adult years... just a little lifeless, a little possessed, a little quieter and more reflective. this is a mini starter call for just that.

[philomelia]

cassie can't imagine it-- pain has always been so foreign to her. it is strange to know that she craves the gentle slither of violence (but all children are innately selfish, she has learned this through dealing with her younger sister: it is merely natural to want what she has never experienced). to suffer has always seemed incredibly holy. stained glass windows of mouths screaming to the heavens had haunted cassie's dreams ever since she decided being a teenage girl just wasn't enough. though, she doesn't think she wants to be a werewolf, either. it does look painful, the whole changing thing, and cassie doesn't think she'd look very good with claws and fangs. nature kind of sucked, anyway. if she was going to be anything, she'd be a ghost, since they got away with so much.

she sparkles under malia's glee as if to say : yes, exactly, aren't i being so good at dealing with all of this? she cannot deny she likes the surprise on malia's face as much as the other girl must like the lack of it on cassie's (it feels as if she has done this whole thing right-- she has conquered a tricky social situation, she has navigated her way closer to a new friend . . . these things are still childishly important to her). " i guess puns are kind of the lowest form of humour, but i can't think of anything funnier to say. i'll prepare better jokes, you know, for next time. when someone else reveals they're a were - badger or something. " she smiles, quickly inviting malia into the joke. " i can run. if you want me to. i'll be real slow in these jeans, though. "

the response is an unusual one ( or so she imagines, naturally she doesn't go around flaunting this side of herself to the general public to test how sharp their pitchforks are ) and it leaves pause. until this moment she hadn't realised just how much she was banking on that fear, pessimist in her views. all she has known is running : should it not be natural that all those she encounters would eventually run away too ? her surprise is comical : eyes reverting their splash of colour in a sudden return to earth. the teeth take a little longer to sheathe, pain encompassing her gums.

❛ it's not the part where you make puns, i'll tell you that. ❜ a comment not made in annoyance but more a slow amusement beginning to surface : giddy with relief. it's not quite acceptance but it's a small step in the right direction. ❛ —it gets worse, you know. the shift. ❜ as if cassie might be missing the point, as if the taster alone hadn't grounded her into the severity of what she'd witnessed. the full process is gruelling ( she'll spare it from anyone if she can, bones splintering, skin rending apart and leaving rifts, mouths that split to reveal a beast anew ) and her mind a separate entity when she reaches that point. ❛ that . . . doesn't make you want to run screaming for the hills ? jeans or not ? ❜ disbelief runs rampant, a tease of her own seeping through alongside.

[philomelia]

yellowjackets, season 1 [pt. 1].

dialogue prompts from the first season of showtime's yellowjackets.

i still get chills just thinking about it.

i'm going to talk to you like an adult. is that okay with you?

i don't talk to reporters. but i'm guessing you already know that.

shouldn't we say a prayer first?

remember, anger can be good.

this already does not feel like a meaningful conversation.

just admit you did it on purpose.

you're the best friend i've ever had.

it's a good luck charm. now nothing can touch you.

i took the red cross babysitter training class. twice.

does that usually work for you?

you are so mad and yet so wrong.

i take it you know why i'm here.

i have a lot of theories, but do you want to go first?

talk about someone who didn't want to be found.

i come bearing gifts. you're welcome.

are you making fun of me?

for the record, i was trying to save you.

look at me and tell me what you mean.

i guess i didn't make much of an impression.

you're not out of the woods yet.

what about you? any secrets big enough to crash a goddamn plane?

dying is nothing to be afraid of.

we think we know what we're doing, but really, we have no clue.

if you want me busting kneecaps, it's gonna cost extra.

you should've brought your rifle.

are you sure this is a good idea? what if the neighbors see?

you can learn so much about a person by going through their personal refuse.

you're not that much of a bitch.

i didn't come here to fight crime.

home? yeah, what's that?

you two are the worst for each other.

it's so easy for you to judge others with your perfect life, right?

what's the point in having connections if you can't use them?

you're beautiful when you're honest.

do you know how weird you are?

uncomfortable silences make me uncomfortable.

i don't know about you, but i'm really scared.

i just need my best friend right now.

the worst is behind us, okay?

i know you're not asleep.

i'm different from what people expect, and it scares them.

the police are coming. we have to go. do you understand?

i think bad things happened here.

you said you wanted to make up for your misspent youth.

i know when you look at me, you don't see someone you should be afraid of.

if i win, you have to tell me something personal about yourself.

r.i.p., sorry. it was worth it.

i'm like a well you whisper your secrets into.

i've heard the official story.

you had to know i was like, totally in love with you. right?

it doesn't matter how shitty they are. it still fucks you up when they're gone.

i think the ghost decided it was time to get some sleep.

you've never been good at being anything other than yourself. it's your superpower.

i don't know how much longer i can keep doing this.

you taught me how to be like this, you know.

you make people feel like things are gonna be okay just by showing up.

if we can laugh at all this, maybe it'll help us feel better.

you know, you never get the time back. none of us will.

are you seriously doing magic right now?

when did you fall out of love with ____?

you're so not fine. do you think i can't see that?

you poisoned me. why?

have you ever heard of mutually ensured destruction?

i was just going to keep you company, if that's okay.

you won't tell anyone, will you?

[philomelia]

yellowjackets, season 1 [pt. 1].

dialogue prompts from the first season of showtime's yellowjackets.

i still get chills just thinking about it.

i'm going to talk to you like an adult. is that okay with you?

i don't talk to reporters. but i'm guessing you already know that.

shouldn't we say a prayer first?

remember, anger can be good.

this already does not feel like a meaningful conversation.

just admit you did it on purpose.

you're the best friend i've ever had.

it's a good luck charm. now nothing can touch you.

i took the red cross babysitter training class. twice.

does that usually work for you?

you are so mad and yet so wrong.

i take it you know why i'm here.

i have a lot of theories, but do you want to go first?

talk about someone who didn't want to be found.

i come bearing gifts. you're welcome.

are you making fun of me?

for the record, i was trying to save you.

look at me and tell me what you mean.

i guess i didn't make much of an impression.

you're not out of the woods yet.

what about you? any secrets big enough to crash a goddamn plane?

dying is nothing to be afraid of.

we think we know what we're doing, but really, we have no clue.

if you want me busting kneecaps, it's gonna cost extra.

you should've brought your rifle.

are you sure this is a good idea? what if the neighbors see?

you can learn so much about a person by going through their personal refuse.

you're not that much of a bitch.

i didn't come here to fight crime.

home? yeah, what's that?

you two are the worst for each other.

it's so easy for you to judge others with your perfect life, right?

what's the point in having connections if you can't use them?

you're beautiful when you're honest.

do you know how weird you are?

uncomfortable silences make me uncomfortable.

i don't know about you, but i'm really scared.

i just need my best friend right now.

the worst is behind us, okay?

i know you're not asleep.

i'm different from what people expect, and it scares them.

the police are coming. we have to go. do you understand?

i think bad things happened here.

you said you wanted to make up for your misspent youth.

i know when you look at me, you don't see someone you should be afraid of.

if i win, you have to tell me something personal about yourself.

r.i.p., sorry. it was worth it.

i'm like a well you whisper your secrets into.

i've heard the official story.

you had to know i was like, totally in love with you. right?

it doesn't matter how shitty they are. it still fucks you up when they're gone.

i think the ghost decided it was time to get some sleep.

you've never been good at being anything other than yourself. it's your superpower.

i don't know how much longer i can keep doing this.

you taught me how to be like this, you know.

you make people feel like things are gonna be okay just by showing up.

if we can laugh at all this, maybe it'll help us feel better.

you know, you never get the time back. none of us will.

are you seriously doing magic right now?

when did you fall out of love with ____?

you're so not fine. do you think i can't see that?

you poisoned me. why?

have you ever heard of mutually ensured destruction?

i was just going to keep you company, if that's okay.

you won't tell anyone, will you?

[philomelia]

she is struck, briefly and temporarily, by the fact she has never truly had to suffer. despite the appearance of poverty that climbed through their tents and trailers, there was always enough food to go around (her grandmother has funded their more insane expeditions: her mother's reputation as a d - lister also earned them some favour whenever they were close to struggling). when she was eight, she had stuffed her pockets full of cheap sweets at a local store, but that was the closest she'd ever gotten to desperation. it hadn't been real, anyway. it had just been the mimic of need-- she had heard that other kids did it all the time, so therefore she must do it. she had felt nothing afterwards and the sweets had hurt her teeth, so all in all it was a failed attempt at suffering. losing her sister is the closest she's ever gotten-- perhaps that's why it feels so intense.

she ignores the feeling (it is a consumption of the self-- if she hands overself over to the ache of her loss, she will have no choice but to crawl over him and sob, her head resting in his lap: this is romantic in thought, but the actuality of it would be just a self - soothing tragedy). as with most things in life, cassie decides how she feels and play - acts that feeling until it is a reality. she's gotten so good at it that it would take a cassie - expert to notice. " a bandit! " she laughs. " a regular dodger, i see. well, i think that you would have been far too cool for little cassie. doesn't that suck? i think i would have admired you from afar and been too scared to talk to you. you'd live on in my memory as a childhood crush, though. like austin addler from texas. "

a softer memory for them both, really. but that is not what they have been granted (she mourns, terribly, the lives that had not happened for them). it is a loss that might seem silly, but is no less ripe because of it. " chic means cool. and this place is definitely cool. you can be cool and a bit broken, i think. " she stretches out her ankle, feeling his warm hands against her skin. she wants to touch his cheek as he looks at her, but she decides that would be too much for them both. instead: " you have the nicest eyes i've ever seen. " a beat as she takes in her own words. she does not usually speak without thinking. maybe she's too relaxed. " i'll break my other ankle if you keep looking at me like that. "

little charles doesn’t resemble his older self. if that small boy, hair red as flame and eyes brimming with tears because the older kids had done something or other to provoke his anger, had he known he’d learn to hurt, wouldn’t have angered so readily at every prodding word. maybe he would’ve clung onto what he’d had, flesh to bone, to make sure he didn’t lose it to his anger. but then : had charles never lost anything, he wouldn’t have known how to clutch onto every scrap of life until his fingernails bled. it wasn’t a lesson he’d wanted a learn, and it is not a lesson he wants to repeat, because it had destroyed him, made him into another creature, leaner and harder and more determined. he’d rather be that soft, angry child again, but that boy had lost so much, too much, to survive.

“ you don’t need to worry about little charles. he was better at shoplifting than i am now. security never bothers to chase kids more than a couple blocks, even if they notice them taking stuff, ” he says, with a deformed smile that night lovingly conceals. not that petty theft had been a honorable endeavor for him, but as with his park benches and alarming ability for violence ( does cassie know, as she plunges her mouth into the carrion of him? does she see that there is a power beneath the surface of his skin, a gleaming coal - black coat of blood that belongs to his mother? does she know everything he can and would do, if it was life or death? ) he’d stolen because he’d needed to. he settles down on the floor across from her, wary of splinters, and and peels off his sweater, warm even against the bitter bite of the evening.

“ hm … i don’t know what i’d call this place chic. i mean, i’m not sure what chic means exactly, but i think decrepit would be the kindest i could go. how’s the beanbag chair? ” his eyes, adjusted to the darkness, look to hers, as he rubs his palms together, and reaches to her blanket to extract her hurt ankle. “ lemme take a look at what we’re working with. could be you’ve got a fracture, and you’re actually just being brave about it. you know, to impress me, of course, ” he raises his gaze back to hers playfully, before looking back to his work. “ whether it’s broken or not, i can’t do much, but it’s probably better to know, right? ”