#ft. cyrelle

[rachelbflynn]

are you attracted to cyrelle?

"Cyrelle's gorgeous, and she's incredibly intelligent, determined, and fiercely loyal, but we've grown up together." There's enough pictures of the two of them throughout the years, knees scratched up and elbows covered in bruises, to fill a good five photo albums if either of their mothers were the type to do scrapbook. "She's the closest thing I have to a sister, so I wouldn't say that I'm attracted to her. Maybe it'd be more accurate to say I gravitate towards her," she smirks, amused at her space pun.

[fckaugust]

actually ✍ ( ignore the other one, i'm indecisive )

✍: for what my muse has written about yours in their diary.

disclaimer: this is all hypothetical, of course ! also, all spelling errors he inevitably would’ve made have been corrected with the exception of jake gyllenhaal’s name.

november 17th, 2010:

today that nice guy mx took me to meet a couple people he’s friends with. they were all pretty cool i guess, but it was kinda weird because apparently a lot of them knew i ‘replaced’ this guy named eddie. maybe i’ll try to meet him. anyway, one of them was named syrelle (i think) and i think she was my favorite. she was really nice and honestly very pretty too!

november 18th, 2010:

update: it’s spelled cyrelle. with a c.

november 22nd, 2010:

cyrelle learned i was born (and partially bred, you know my story! you’re me!) in west virginia and had me watch this movie called ‘october sky.’ she was talking the whole time so i don’t really know what it was about, but that’s okay. i think i liked that better than just the general concept of watching a movie in the first place. she’s really smart. like... really smart. i also didn’t really know what she was talking about because she’s so smart, but i still liked it a whole lot. she gave me a copy of the dvd. i looked it up to see if it seemed like i should watch it without cyrelle. apparently it’s a combo of our worlds, if you will: west virginia and space. and jake gylenhal jake gyllinhall jake gillenhall jake gyllenhall (sp?).

january 4th, 2011:

so apparently cyrelle’s mom’s some kind of famous actress? i don’t know. there seems to be a lot of weird judgment going on about her family which... i don’t get? everyone has weird family things going on. unless she’s part of the manson family (and i don’t think they were actually related or really a family... right? also wasn’t that in the 60s? rip sharon tate), WHO CARES ABOUT LOCAL DRAMA?!?!?!

july 18th, 2013:

so ‘the conjuring’ is coming out tomorrow. i think i might try to actually ask cyrelle to hang out - like, go to the movies with me, that kind of hang out. the one you see in movies. 

july 21st, 2013:

ignore july 18th, re cyrelle. i didn’t send the text and i don’t think i will. i’m gonna be that guy who says he’s in the ‘friendzone,’ ew. i hope someone punches me if i ever say that or call myself a ‘nice guy’. or wear a fedora. so anyway, [ stuff about other people ].

september 20th, 2014:

i was so worried cyrelle and [insert various other names] were in there. i hate that i was thinking about all of them and i still couldn’t just... go in. i was so close. and now nina’s dead because i’m a damn coward. and george is dead because i didn’t do a damn thing even though i was so fucking close to it. all it took were five goddamn steps. and i just kept thinking... you selfish idiot. if you go in, you’re a selfish idiot because you just wanna be a big damn hero. if you stay here, you’re a selfish idiot because you’ll let your friends burn to a crisp. i’m really glad cyrelle and [the other names] weren’t there. rachel was though, and now she might be blind. we’re not close enough for me to know all the details yet, but i know it’s not... good. and jesse’s face is all disfigured which is unfair because he actually saved people. at least i finally have proof that karma doesn’t exist. 

november 28th, 2014:

i wonder how everyone else is doing... i wonder if they even wanna talk about it. i wonder if cyrelle is okay.

july 16th, 2018:

jesse keeps calling me. i don’t know why he hasn’t stopped yet. i know why. so i don’t know why he keeps calling - how he hasn’t gotten the message yet. but i’d be lying if i said i didn’t wonder every now and again how cyrelle’s doing. it’s been hard to keep in touch with most of my old friends, we’re all unreachable for one reason or another. i think the only person still even kind of keeping us together is mx...

october 15th, 2018:

he’s dead. i saw it coming and i didn’t do shit about it. a goddamn idiot. who else am i gonna lose now? and i don’t just mean to substances or a lack of communication. i’ve lost a lot of people that way. but to death. to literal death, probably caused by substances. i’m so fucking scared cyrelle’s gonna be next, but we haven’t talked in so long i shouldn’t just go fucking meddling. there’s no point in pulling a jesse. dean didn’t fucking listen to me about mx, so who the hell’s to say cyrelle would listen to me about herself? and why should she even care? what are we to each other anymore, just acquaintances? it’s so fucking funny how people can leave your life as quickly as they came into it. maybe i’ll be next. it’d be a lot easier that way.

october 29th, 2019:

it’s cyrelle’s birthday today. i don’t think anyone’s having a good one anymore, at least not the people who aren’t coping well. i haven’t had any good ones that i can remember. but i still hope something good happened. maybe neil degrasse tyson finally admitted he was mutually feuding with her? i don’t know. we all have so little time.

march 23rd, 2020:

happy birthday to me. happy birthday to me. happy birthday mr. carpenter. happy birthday to me. i never liked birthdays, i didn’t want people to wish me happy them. but i never actually thought about what it’d be like to not hear it once i started hearing it. cyrelle, mx, nina... it’s weird. it’s odd that only one of those three is still alive. physically.

february 27th, 2021:

i haven’t tried to talk to cyrelle again. she hasn’t tried to talk to me again. i don’t know why i’m still writing about her. consider this my last entry. forever. it’s been real, my sweetest friend.

THE REMIX:

february 28th, 2014:

so many entries are gone. so i guess i’m writing about her again, but now i can write about anyone... because we’re all alive? it’s kinda tragic, isn’t it? we talked. it really was like it was 2014 again, but before all the bullshit happened. i don’t know which is more tragic: having to face up to all the dead people who don’t know they died and will probably die again, or having to face up to all the lost friends and recognize that so much time has passed but so little has too. i don’t wanna miss it this time around -- this might be the only good part of being 22 again. but i also don’t want to sacrifice our second chance. but even if i do... what will it matter in the long run? it’s just gonna repeat itself. why get my hopes up for anything different?

[deanlombardi]

a very LYDIA + DEAN moodboard

“I wonder if the things that remind me of you, remind you of me.” / @lydiaturan

[rachelbflynn]

RACHEL & CYRELLE

in a parking lot light, with a stripped smile, you're making that look like it's funny that you're causing me trouble.

[rachelbflynn]

☮

☮: AN ARGUMENT I THINK MY MUSE WOULD HAVE WITH YOURS.  

( TRIGGER WARNINGS: implications of drug abuse + alcohol abuse, mentions of suicide )

FEBRUARY 9, 2019

Stay safe until then. It’s five in the morning and the irony of Cyrelle’s words aren’t lost on her. The warning signs had lined themselves up over the phone, providing a mental checklist of indicators that Cyrelle was the one who deserved the worry, who deserved the reminder to stay safe. Unsteady breathing, check. A voice rough due to more than the early hour, check. Chattering teeth, although she can't tell if it is due to emotional stress, the cold, or perhaps even withdrawal (except it wasn’t that bad, was it? had she missed the signs again?), check. No set answer on when she’ll be back, which could mean she’d see her next week or next month, check.

The redhead reaches for the water bottle that rests on the edge of her bedside table, swallows the water as if it’ll wash away the lump in her throat, the temptation to call Cyrelle back and echo those words. Stay safe. Come back. Let’s figure this out before it gets too hard to fix things. But Cyrelle chooses her words carefully, and there’s no guarantee that the other woman will answer even if she calls again, and they’ve always struggled with talking about the parts that hurt. So when Mac reaches out and puts his paw up on her chest, Rachel runs her fingers through his fur and closes her eyes, knowing sleep won’t come.

FEBRUARY 27, 2019

When she goes home for independent research and Cyrelle returns to Darkwood, the phone call lingers in the back of Rachel’s mind. Her friend’s voice isn’t as haggard, and when they brush shoulders while walking down the street, she can feel that her skin isn’t icy like she had imagined it to be that night. Still, she disappears at night sometimes, leaving texts left unread until a day or two later. Rachel overhears biting comments about that Abbott girl, narrows her gaze at the speakers, although she can’t see who they are. Perhaps her glares now are even more effective, the white scarring on her eyes more cutting than the former icy blue. 

One night, before Cyrelle heads out for a reason she doesn’t voice, Rachel speaks up. “You could stay, you know,” she offers, not specifying if she means staying the night at the Flynn’s small flat, or staying in Darkwood, in Oxford. Stay with her. Figure things out between them, even if they have to force the words out, because maybe the sunlight has a chance to be antiseptic. Maybe they have a chance at fixing things if they do it together, instead of fighting their own silent battles. 

Cyrelle still leaves, though, and Rachel doesn’t push it. She may only ever get her in bits and pieces, there long enough to remember what it was once like between them but not long enough to convince herself it’ll go back to the way that it was. If the choice was having Cyrelle in small doses or not having her at all, she knows which option she’ll pick. And addressing the crack that’s formed between them, the way she fears Cyrelle is getting lost in things she can’t pull her back from, feels as if it could be enough to lead to not having her at all. So Rachel doesn’t push it. She picks up the phone when Cyrelle calls, and takes what she can.

APRIL 17, 2019

A year ago today, Cyrelle had came to pick her up at Oxford, and they’d went home and spent the day with Mx. For hours at a time, it was almost like it used to be, Mx bringing up the strangest topics of conversation while Cyrelle and Rachel laughed at his antics, cans of Kopparberg held between their fingers. When she tried to picture it, she imagined the two of them just as they were four years ago, smiles bright, that shared mischievous look in their eyes. For hours at a time, it didn’t feel like anyone was missing, but the past always came back. Even when they tried to outrun it, even when they tried to let themselves forget for just a day.

This year, there’s no forgetting. This year, there isn’t even a reason to celebrate. This year, Jesse holes up in her student housing with her and they actively don’t talk about it. It’s by chance that she finds out about Cyrelle’s whereabouts, hears her voice on a video that comes up on Jesse’s phone. Her words are slurred, and the video is loud, and despite how quickly Jesse attempts to turn it off, she hears enough. It isn’t until hours later, when he’s fallen asleep on the couch and she’s restless in bed that she picks up the phone and calls Cyrelle.

It goes to voicemail. Either dead or intentionally unanswered, although she guesses it is more likely to be the former. Still, as she lays on her back and thinks back to what life was like a year ago, the frustration and anxiety bubble up and instead of biting it down, she speaks into the phone. 

“Remember when it was you calling me last month?” The question hangs in the air for a moment, and she hates the way her words never come out right when it really matters. “You sounded awful, Cyrelle. You sounded awful and yet you told me to stay safe. It’s almost funny.” Almost, but not quite. Because as much as she tries to push the worry and anxiety down, it always comes back. If things kept going the way that they were, who was to say that she wouldn’t be doing the same thing on Cyrelle’s birthday, spending October 29th wondering how she had missed the signs all over again? “I don’t know where you are right now, but I hope you’re doing better than you were that morning. And I want to talk about this, in person, when you’re here and I know you’ll get the message.” She’s quiet again, trying to keep herself steady, and Mac whines as he notices that she’s upset. Her hand finds his face, and she brushes her fingers down his snout, in a way that’s always been able to calm him. 

“I miss him, and I miss you. And I can’t go back and help him, but you’re still here and I think  I think you need that. I think you need that help, and I don’t know how to give it to you, but I want to. I don’t want to have to miss you, Cyrelle. I really don’t.” Even if the redhead had wanted to say more, she doesn’t get the chance, as a tone comes through the phone. She can’t be sure if the message was simply too long or if Cyrelle’s voicemail was full, but she hopes that it makes it. She hopes they’ll get to have that conversation, no matter how messy or difficult it might be. She hopes that next year, things will be different.

[rachelbflynn]

Hottest people in darkwood?

“I mean, obviously Nina’s at the top of any list having to do with physical attractiveness,” and personality, intelligence, corny jokes that you feel ridiculous laughing at, the list goes on and on. “Cyrelle, Nat, Fawna, Lillian...August and Eddie.” The redhead shrugs. “Everyone here’s rather attractive, actually. Until people like Nik and Storm open their mouths, of course.” 

[fckaugust]

don't you get tired of fighting love?

“ y’know what ? i’d love to know what that feels like, but love ain’t ever worked out for me. thinkin’ i could be loved in any way and it not get ruined somehow ? that’s just false hope. ” even when the love was genuine, he found that it was ruined. from a childhood perspective, one big lie had ruined the best potential home he’d ever had. and a cruel lie it was. from a recent perspective, his best friend died and his kindest friend died. the woman he found himself smitten with had lost herself, just as he had. greg and julie said they loved him, but they’d uprooted him entirely, forcing him into an outsider role. “ so... yes, but no... no -- no, because, four years from now, ain’t gonna be anyone else left anyhow. ”

@mxvirani @nina-heilig @cyrellea​

[rachelbflynn]

📱

send 📱 for five texts my muse didn’t send yours, and one that they did

DRAFT DELETED AT: OCTOBER 15, 2014, 3:07 AM

Going home tomorrow. You can come over, if you want.

DRAFT DELETED AT: SEPTEMBER 23, 2015, 1:37 AM

I can’t fucking sleep. All I can think about is how a year ago right now everything was fine, we were all fine, how the fuck did everything turn into a fucking nightmare?

DRAFT DELETED AT: NOVEMBER 2, 2018, 11:55 PM

Are you okay? I know I’m shit at checking in, I know I don’t like to talk about stuff, but fuck my feelings. If you need to talk, I’m here, okay? Always. I love you, Cy, and I don’t want to lose you too. 

DRAFT DELETED AT: JANUARY 4, 2021, 4:15 PM

There’s supposed to be 120 meteors per hour for the next two nights. Do you want to pretend things are like they used to be and go to the look out? You can tell me when you see one, tell me all about them, and I’ll keep track. x

TEXT SENT TO: Space Girl 💫 DATE: OCTOBER 15, 2009, 10:00 AM

So, how are we celebrating our first Halloween while actually legal (I hope you’ve shredded your fake)?

[fckaugust]

📱

NEVER SENT:

july 21st, 2013: so i wanted to know... are you free saturday night? the conjuring is out 😮 september 10th, 2013: Weird that the leaves don’t change much here we had these weirdos called leafers back in the mountains they were all real old fuck why am I talking so much about myself nevermind Siri don’t send november 28th, 2014: how are you? august 28th, 2017: Siri I said Siri not Cyrelle they don’t even sound alike I don’t want to do that again it’s too late for that God Siri just tell me a joke december 15th, 2018: i got this commission today and it reminded me of u. *image of a beautiful woman with a likeness to cyrelle in pop-art style*

SENT:

october 29th, 2019: hope ur birthday’s going well :)

@cyrellea

[rachelbflynn]

would it be worth it to go back in time if you regained vision but nina still died?

“No,” she responds, a thoughtful look on her face, bottom lip briefly between her teeth. “I was able to learn to live without my sight. It wasn’t easy, and it took me a long time to feel comfortable going out on my own again, but I did it. I adapted, and I learned a lot. Met some great people, too, even if I kept them at arm’s length.” She had never been an outgoing person, prone to keeping people at a distance, and after losing nearly half of the people she’d opened up to, it just seemed like a sign she shouldn’t try it again. “I missed it. I missed certain freedoms that it allowed me, the independence. The look on my mum’s face when she was proud of me, finding constellations with Cyrelle, the soft look Jesse wears when he’s studying, but...knowing what I know, getting my vision back wouldn’t be enough if I still lost her.”

[rachelbflynn]

is there anyone you admire?

"I'm going to go ahead and assume that you're referring to people in Darkwood, and not the world as a whole," she begins, an eyebrow raised. "Of course there is. I admire a lot of people for different things. I admire my mum for her patience. I admire Nina for her ability to make people feel welcome and genuinely cared for. I admire Cyrelle's cleverness, Mx's creativity, Jesse's resilience. There's a lot of people in my life worthy of admiration."

[rachelbflynn]

there are monsters in the dark,

and a single step is all it takes over oceans, all emotions i feel trapped under the weight can’t keep my head above water, long enough to say that i love and miss you dearly more and more after each day.

If someone were to say they’d give her twenty pounds if she could name the song that was currently playing through the radio, Rachel wouldn’t win a  pence. She has no idea what the name of it is or who the artist might be, but as it blasts through the stereo and the open windows blow her long red hair in all directions, she doesn’t particularly care. The backseat is crowded, and she’s somehow been talked into riding in the middle. The summer air is surprisingly warm as it blows in through the windows, and the girl closes her eyes and takes a second to soak the moment in.

Mx and Cyrelle are bickering in the front seats, something about aliens and some strange new theory he’s stumbled across online. She can only catch bits and pieces over the loud music, and wonders how they’re even able to hear each other until she remembers that the stereos are faded to the backseat. Jesse’s sitting to her right, a textbook balanced on his lap, despite the fact that the light is fading from the sky and it’ll be much too dark for him to make out the words even ten minutes from now. Nina’s to her left, one arm extended out of the window as they cruise down the road, her fingertips stained with dark ink as they rise and fall with the breeze. The car feels as if it’s going faster than the speedometer reads, but perhaps that’s on account of how full it feels. There’s hardly any room to shift her weight without brushing against someone, and between the conversation up front and the music it’s loud, but it feels so cozy. So familiar.

The car comes to stop outside of her flat, and Rachel slides out of the door after Nina. Their remaining friends call out their goodbyes, and her girlfriend’s voice is bright as she echoes them, Rachel giving a quick grin and a lazy wave of her hand. Nina’s fingers lace through hers as they walk up the three flights of stairs to her flat, and although she doesn’t remember leaving it on, a record plays as they make their way through the living room and into her bedroom. It’s not even that late yet, but Rachel crawls into bed regardless, tiredness creeping over her and threatening to pull her under. Nina slips beneath the covers beside her, and although she still has the same twin bed she’s had since she was just a kid, they manage to fit just fine. She throws her arm over Nina’s waist, cuddling into her, and sleep comes easy. That’s not always the case, even with Nina there with her, but tonight insomnia leaves Rachel Flynn alone.

When she wakes up, Nina’s head is on the pillow next to hers, the other woman’s eyes still closed. Rachel’s gaze traces her, and while something feels off, it isn’t until Nina opens her eyes that she realizes what is wrong. Nina’s still there, but her eyes are grey. As the redhead’s gaze becomes more searching, she realizes that her girlfriend’s eyes aren’t the only thing that are muted, the color drained away. The color of Nina’s hair is murky, too, and the bedroom that they’re sleeping in which was once so bright is completely devoid of color. What had started as a real life example of those ‘find three things that don’t belong in this picture’ games has turned into a distorted image, and as Rachel lifts herself up onto her elbows to try and figure out what’s going on, the room disappears around her entirely.

Rachel wakes up with a jolt, hands unsteady as she pushes herself up in bed, the familiar darkness once again surrounding her. It takes her a moment to get her bearings, a cold and wet object pressing against her hand, followed shortly after by a low whine. “Sorry, Mac,” she breathes out, reaching out to clap the concerned animal, remembering now that she’d gone home for the weekend to celebrate her mother’s birthday. The flat is quiet, but she can still hear the morning news playing from the living room. Swallowing, she makes her way out of her bedroom, her surroundings familiar, although Mac still trails behind her. 

“Mum?” It isn’t often that Rachel’s voice sounds the way that it does now, unsteady and unsure. She feels that way plenty often enough, of course, but works so desperately to keep it from showing.

“Morning, Rach,” her mother hums, and as the redhead lowers herself into the armchair she’s always considered unofficially hers, it doesn’t take the elder woman long to notice that something is off. “Did you sleep alright?”

It’s quiet for a moment, and she can so clearly picture the look that’s beginning to cross her mother’s face, the way that her lips tug down at the edges in worry. “I can’t remember what color Nina’s eyes were.” It takes a lot to get it out, and when the words come, they’re very clearly forced. She’s ashamed to admit it, afraid of everything that comes with the admission, and frustrated at the burning in her eyes that suggests tears will soon follow. 

“Darling,” Jillian Flynn begins, a weight suddenly coming to rest on Rachel’s shoulder. It must be her mother’s hand. 

“I dreamed about her last night. I dreamed about all of them, and I can’t   I can’t see any of it in color anymore. Not the exact shade of Nina’s eyes, not the colors in that ratty old jumper Mx always wore.” People had told her that this would happen, other people who had lost their sight later in life like she had, but she still hadn’t quite expected it; hadn’t thought that it would leave her feeling so unsteady. “I never thought I’d forget those things.” Her voice is small, and if it was anyone other than her mother, she’d feel shame crawling up her throat at just how weak she must appear, but as is true for so many other things, her mother is the exception. “I don’t want to forget those things.”

The hand moves from her shoulder to her hair, then her cheek, and Jillian runs her fingers over her daughter’s skin, brushing away a tear that has managed to escape. “You don’t have to, Rachel. I know that it’s not the same, but  I’ll help you remember, okay? We’ll be a team, just like we’ve always been.” The woman’s voice is calm, her touch gentle, and although Rachel knows that it certainly isn’t the same, it’s still so good to know that she isn’t alone in this. 

As the redhead leans into her mother’s touch and Jillian begins to run her fingers through her daughter’s hair, she starts to describe the color of Nina’s eyes, the pattern on Mx’s sweater, the lipstick shade Cyrelle used to wear that made the ladies at the town office gossip and caused Jillian to snap back at them. And although even this doesn’t completely solidify the images in Rachel’s mind, it’s something, and it’s certainly far better than waking up and realizing that even the sunset has turned grey in the dreams inside of her head.

[deanlombardi]

📱

send 📱 for five texts my muse didn’t send yours, and one that they did

NEVER SENT to: CYRELLE

timestamped: 11/02/15, 9:07 pm

know any parties happening tonight? i just need to just turn my brain off for a few fucking hours

timestamped: 05/12/15, 11:14 pm

i always mess everything up fuck

timestamped: 10/12/15, 8:01 pm

i’m sorry i put you in the middle of all my shit

timestamped: 28/09/17, 1:44 am

it sucked to lose a friend, too

SENT to: CYRELLE

timestamped: 05/12/15, 12:38 am

yeah, wanna come over? i got a joint with your name on it