vicisoustradition-blog

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charlie heaton.

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@nodustollcns & @bencficent

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“What’s wrong? Tell me. Tell me.”

Stranger Things “Chapter One: The Vanishing of Will Byers” sentence pack

Brandon avoids meeting Callum’s eyes, the mocking faces of his classmates flood across his vision instead, and he takes an empty breath that sends a sharp pain in his chest and he has to close his eyes just so that he can get a proper breath. 

“I – I can’t swim.” Lie.

But as he stares at the glistening water of Sloane Lake he can feel the cold grasp of the Pacific Ocean tugging him down underneath its winter wind’s waves. 

Looking behind him, he can hear the approaching hoard, although it’s hard to pinpoint which direction they’re coming from. 

Panic seeps slowly into the hazel irises as his pupils enlarge and is face begins to lose its color. “W-what if that sinks?” He hadn’t been in open water since he was twelve.

Callum had his foot inside of it, keeping it close to the bank of the lake so they could get in. 

He wrings his hands together over and over again, as he shakes his head vigorously, “There has to be a different way out of this –” He finally looks at Callum, where he finds only concern in his constricted vision as the blood rushes to his head from the adrenaline that pumps through his system as his flight response tries to burn itself out. 

“Please – I can’t –” Brandon pleads, his voice breaking. The fact that he was being so vulnerable around the other no longer concerned him, his fear overpowering his thick shield he kept up so often. But if they made it out of this…he’ll hate himself for being so weak.

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Stranger Things “Chapter One: The Vanishing of Will Byers” sentence pack

“Don’t be a pussy. Fireball him!” 

“Kiss your mom goodnight for me.” 

“Race back to my place?” 

“Who do you think would make more money in a freak show?” 

“You better still hang out with me. That’s all I’m saying.” 

“I’ll come in your window. No one will even know I’m there. I’m stealthy. Like a ninja.” 

“We’ve discussed this. Mornings are for coffee and contemplation. Slow. Slow.” 

“Hey! Come here! You think you can steal from me?”

“Do I make myself clear? …Do. I. Make. Myself. Clear?” 

“Eh, you think we got a problem here?” 

“This is such bullshit! So we’re under house arrest just because some kid got lost on the way home from school?”

“I always had a distaste for science.”

“I’m worried about __________.” 

“My point is, he could have played it safe, but he didn’t. He put himself at risk to help the party.” 

“What are you doing here?” 

“You just sit real tight. Whoever it is, I’ll tell them to go away real quick, alright?” 

“Don’t do anything stupid.” 

“How about this? How about every time you get something right I have to take off an item of clothing? But every time that you get something wrong…” 

“You’re so cute when you’re lying.” 

“You’re an idiot, [First & Last Name].” 

“You are beautiful, [First & Last Name].” 

“I know I haven’t been there for you. I’ve been working so hard and– I just, I feel bad. I don’t even– barely know what’s going on with you. Alright? I am sorry.” 

“What’s wrong? Tell me. Tell me.” 

“You just have to trust me on this, okay?” 

“Shut up! Shut up! Did you hear that?” (via the-write-ideas)

@detectivexdead as well~

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HELL STATE TASK 028 -- “CASE FILE”

Full Name: ↳ Brandon Allen Pearce Preferred Name or Nickname: ↳ Brandon  Known Aliases: ↳ Brando, Monkey, B ( they’re not really “known” but friends and family called him these things. and they’re not aliases ~ ) Date of Birth: ↳ March 12, 1994

Place of Birth: ↳ Loleta, California Current Location: ↳V.A Medical Center in Cheyenne, WY Previous Locations: ↳Garrett, WY Arrival Date to Cheyenne: ↳ A year after the outbreak Duration of Stay in Cheyenne: ↳ 2 years Kill Count — Human:  ↳ 2 Kill Count — Infected: ↳138 ( give or take tbh ) Current Inventory: ↳ A pocket knife, 3 bottles of water, blackberries, his short spear, 2 cans of soup, a bag of super old skittles, his cell phone even though it’s useless now, extra clothes, bandages. Open to Trading: ↳ Yes/No/Other -- it depends on who it is/the situation.

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Shipping Call - Send me one if you want to plot one or more of these

💚 - friendship 💙 - kinship ( blood or symbolic familial bond ) 💔 - past relationship 💜 - hateship ( they hate each other but can’t stay away ) 💛 - hateship ( enemies ) 💟 - friends with benefits ❤ - romantic relationship

@detectivexdead & of course this blog 

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Charlie Heaton, “The Performers: Act III,” GQ/Gucci

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Charlie Heaton at the BAFTA TV Awards

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nodustollcns:

There was a hesitancy when it came to making supply runs with others. For Callum, he always feared the worst happening when he went with the others from camp. What if they were bombarded? – At least if it was Callum by himself, he only had to worry about himself. If he died, at least he was the only one. Having another life to look out for was, obviously, terrifying. He wanted to keep every person with him safe but this world didn’t and couldn’t guarantee that. But, sometimes, supply runs were meant to be done with more than one person. It was safer, realistically, and they managed to get far more supplies with more able-bodies looking for things. He didn’t know Brandon all that well – they were both slightly quiet and not incredibly social creatures – but Brandon seemed like he had good intentions and that was all that really mattered.

In a convenience store near the outskirts, he managed to find a small cupboard that was securely locked. With a wire cutter in tow, he glanced around him to see if Brandon was nearby. “Hey man, mind if you help me with this? Might be something worth it in here.” While they had a decent amount of supplies at this point, a locked cupboard was too good to pass up. 

@vicisoustradition

Brandon felt the same way about having someone tag along on hunts, but having been around Callum long enough he’s grown to realize that he is capable of taking care of himself; a quality he both appreciated and shared. Brandon wouldn’t leave someone behind intentionally, but if there was no way to save someone without the high-risk of them both losing their lives; he’d regretfully save himself instead. He’d learned to do that early on, having driven a kitchen knife through his mother’s skull after she woke up from a feverish nap as a monster the morning after the outbreak as a result from the car-crash they’d been in hours before.

But thankfully, he and Callum managed pretty well together. Both having an understanding that the other preferred not to be too social and instead focus on the job at hand.

Brandon had been rummaging through what was once the storage room for the store’s back stock and freight when he hear’s Callum call out to him. Thankfully the acoustics of the place accommodated the fact that sound had to travel a little further to register smoothly into his left ear.

“Yeah.” he replies simply, careful not to trip over a plastic crate that most likely once held bottles of soda in it.

Assisting Callum in using the wire cutters on the lock, a strained huff escaped parted lips, until a slight smile replaces the strain as the lock falls off with a satisfying clink to the cement ground below. Anticipation filling his chest when the cabinet doors swing open, revealing not only dust and cobwebs but bottles of what he assumed to be expensive alcohol, bottles that you’d have to ask an attendant for.

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starter for – @venenatcrum

     Usually, Brandon stayed away from places he thought someone still lived in, but it was getting harder and harder to tell the difference these days. People could leave camp and never come back again, only to be found later on as the undead. Most would say it was survival of the fittest, but really it was survival of the unlucky ones. The world had crumbled, as well as people’s morals and goodwill, and although Brandon didn’t want to be a part of this world – he still aimed to survive, and that meant scavenging wherever he could.

So when he came across what appeared to be a one person camp, it didn’t take long for him to begin scanning any evidence of recent life before sifting through things to look for food.

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matrmvdita

Brandon was a boy she’d seen before. Not saying that he wasn’t original and individual as people were, but teaching had allowed her to confidently settle into types of people she could see, young people especially. Brandon seemed very insular but he had a good heart all the same. Vanessa didn’t have a bad word to say about him, but then again she didn’t have much more to go off either. She’d know him when she was meant to know him, not a moment sooner. 

“Hey sweetpea, good seeing you. Huntin’ trip go okay?” Vanessa didn’t lose focus in the job she’d been doing, hands still working while her eyes scanned the young man for possible injury. She couldn’t help it. In the classroom, it had been a regular habit. The start of the day, lunchtimes, eyes always on the look out for things that shouldn’t have been. Many teachers felt it wasn’t their place, but for Vanessa it was her place to keep the students that sat in her desks safe and happy. In truth, this camp was like another classroom. Some younger, some older, the jokers and the studious intermingling and adorable little romances flourishing before her. She was the overseer, the one who steps in to enforce the smoothness of it all. Vanessa didn’t say right from wrong or make any kind of imposing ruling system, rather she made sure a status quo was found and protected.  

“Would you look at all this? This is lookin’ like a success to me. Where you find these?” It wasn’t a question she needed an answer to. The main point was that he’d found them and they’d survive another day, but really she just wanted to get the littlest bit of conversation out of him. It was for his own sake, to make sure he felt heard, even if he wasn’t much of a talker. 

All he offers is a small hum of acknowledgment and a nod at her question of whether or not his trip went well, it wasn’t personal, nor was it ill-mannered. It was more so a stubbornness to keep himself as low-profile as possible. He’d already stayed at this camp far longer than intended, but the fear of the unknown kept him from doing what he really wanted to do; travel to Califonia. 

He appreciated the warmth Mama V offered, it was even comforting at times, but mostly it just made him feel guilty. Brandon was an independent person, always has been, however, a stronger wall was built after the world fell apart and it has yet to fall to rubble. So as much as he’d like to open up to others, his mind was already too far gone on the settlement of staying vague. But if one looks close enough they could see the answers in his eyes, the emotion he fails to portray vocally, and he’s almost positive that Mama V sees right through him.

“A culdesac up-town.” He replies simply as if he were merely informing her that the sky was blue. There was no accomplishment in his tone. He offers her a ghost of a smile before focusing his attention on zipping up his backpack once more and slipping it back onto his shoulders.

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sungrcwn

          ❝  she’s  f r a g i l e,  ❞  the gardener repeats, as if the question is simply a result of the other man not entirely hearing him and not because the words that he’d chosen to offer made very little sense without context. long fingers curl around the broken fiberglass pole that only half–supports what’s left of the tent and pull it from the metal spike that holds it upright, and suddenly the tent is falling into a heap of tattered fabric. sitting back on his heels, he makes quick work of pulling the pole through the nylon sleeve that held it, careful not to cut his palms as he folds the jagged fiberglass segments into something smaller, more manageable.  ❝  mother nature. gaia. the earth mother, y’know? sometimes i think people like to imagine she’s this strong, indestructible creature — that she’s like, like wonder woman or something — but she needs love an’ care just as much as we do.  ❞  topher looks up then, his lips lifted into a smile caught somewhere between wistful and hopeful as he pushes himself up off the ground and brushes the dirt from his palms.  ❝  hey, d’you think you could maybe help me with this bit? i jus’ wanna try an’ fold it up, but it’s, well — ❞ he nods toward the sprawling, shredded mess.  ❝  i’d make it up to you if y’could, trade food or supplies for your time or somethin’? ❞

     continuing to look on, his confusion doesn’t falter, if anything it only increases. mother nature was already taking over again, and given a chance she’d embrace the tent the other was so carefully deconstructing eventually. however, Brandon couldn’t help but connect the stranger to those he knew in California. much like him, they were always quick to save the planet – be eco-friendly – but there’s only so much one person can do. 

personally, he didn’t see the point, at least not anymore.

Brandon steps back some as the other stands up, instinctively growing defensive, and the hopeful expression he wears is lost on Brandon until he realizes there wasn’t an immediate danger, at least not yet.

staying silent, Brandon weighs his options, liking the idea of getting supplies, but of course he remains weary, hoping he’d manage to get out of a sticky situation if worse came to worse.

“Sure.” he replies simply, stepping closer to the tattered tent and crouching down to grab the opposite side of it.

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bencficent

Gwen doesn’t know Brandon from Adam–an idiom she would’ve avoided were she to voice the sentiment aloud–but he’s part of the camp and she’s seen him around. More likely than not, It’s Callum who has been more likely to cross paths with him and as she turns to match his face with the voice, she makes a mental note to ask Callum what he thinks of the boy. Silent funeral interrupted, Gwen unfolds her arms–smoothing her hair and putting on her resting smile. It’s not the genuine and blissful resting face of a college co-ed, but the strategic armor all nurses carried in their front scrub top pocket. The best part of her smile, is that it’s believed so well by others that she’s proud to remind herself of the many award pins that glitter against her work badge–stabbed through the plastic casing and the blue RN card that once identified her as an OHSU ER employee.

“I did indeed.” She tells him, arms unfolding from their natural position ( folded arms appear defensive ). Brandon’s face is a sympathetic one; some men look like the world kicked the hell out of them before they were unlucky enough to be born. Sad eyes and shaggy hair–it didn’t take much more for her to be empathetic. “I was an ER nurse–a pretty lucky career choice considering.” Stepping gingerly in front of the body ( for Brandon’s benefit as much as out of her innate protective nature of the deceased ), Gwen smiled and rested her palms on an exam table, leaning her weight into them and wondering, briefly, if Robocop would slink in through the door where the boy stood at any moment. “And what about you? Did you do something before?”

Brandon had been around a while, he’d spent a little less than a year out on his own before coming across another group, only to part from them shortly after stumbling upon the Medical Center. 

He kept his interactions with others short though, and would often be out on hunts for days on end only to get some more time alone. However, he wasn’t successful in avoiding all social interactions, but when he did interact with others he tried to keep it simple. Knowledge of others nowadays only led to heartbreak. And his plan to make his trek towards California grew closer with each passing day, but he wanted to make sure he was ready. The fear of the unknown holding him back.

Gwen’s smile filters through him like all the others, seeming genuine, but he had nothing else to go on, nor did he feel he had any right to question it even if he thought differently. And so he nods at the information given, habitually watching her mouth as she speaks.

He’d always wondered what it would’ve been like for him had he been in a line of work that came in handy for this shit show of a world.

“Comic book store.” He replies, arms crossing over his chest, closing himself off from letting out too much information. 

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ofhcstility

There was something about the slight incline of his head that caught Cassidy’s attention, and interest. She couldn’t exactly pinpoint it, but there was something about the way his head tilted. About the sharp look in his eye as he watched her. Like he was taking notes in his mind about her. She caught the intent look of his gaze, the way his eyes flickered to the bottle of whiskey in her hand, and her nose wrinkled. She couldn’t place her finger on it, but there was something different in the silent way this young man was regarding her. Something different.

It reminded her of something, of someone. That maybe in her drunken state she couldn’t exactly figure out. Frustration brimmed in red-rimmed seafoam eyes as she watched him for several more seconds, before grunting. Taking a moment to down the last of the whiskey bottle, only to toss it onto the forest’s floor behind her, the redhead stepped forward. Taking in his sudden defensive posture, his little scoff, she gave a slight snort. “Yeah then you’ve never had it on your junk.” Cassidy commented, before shrugging. “What. Not into houses or roofs, Tarzan?”

Brandon was always perceptive, even before his accident, and it only grew as a ‘talent’ afterward. He was examining her as much as she was him, although he’s unsure if the look on her face is brought on by confusion or intoxication. But he doesn’t ask, he just stands there, watching as the shadows cast by the trees begin to decorate her features and extinguish the fire in her hair. 

Were they not strangers, he might comment on how beautiful it was. His attention quickly pulled to the bottle she carelessly tosses to the ground, distracted him from the step she takes towards him, and so this time he doesn’t take a step back. “Do you see an accessible roof around?” He quips back, his brow raising. Unsure of why he was even arguing this in the first place.

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Monster Trap

Episode 8: The Upside Down, Stranger Things

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This is not yours to fix alone. You act like you’re all alone out there in the world, but you’re not. You’re not alone. Damn it Jonathan, damn it.