abigail (1)

She was never really good with words. It wasn’t a secret, though sometimes she wished it was, and it wasn’t something she ever got better at as she grew older. Abigail was blunt. No nonsense. Stubborn. Rough around the edges-

"Ow." Abi winced as her train of thought was derailed. Musing on her various shortcomings distracted her from where she was placing her bobbypin, and she had jammed it in a little too hard. She sighed at her reflection.

A pretty ice skater sighed back, dolled up and ready for her big performance, where her parents and family and her friends would watch and support her from the sidelines. Well, one friend. Maybe. If she was lucky. Heidi seemed to have other obligations to support as of late.

Abi curled a lock around her ear. It’d probably just be her parents again, since she was being honest.

If she had to pick, her greatest and weakest asset was her ability to scare off people if they got too close. It was good because she was at her best when she was alone, like in the rink or sewing in her room.

It was bad because she was lonely and alone.

Abi looked up briefly at a picture of three little kids, one smiling shyly, one scowling a little less than usual, and one grinning big enough for the three of them. She missed the comfort of being alone together.

She glanced up from her book and stared over at the group that was making noise during study hall. Oliver laughed a few desks away, leaning toward some girl to reply.

Abi didn’t realise she was holding her highlighter so tightly until they made eye contact and suddenly her throat was rough and her eyes stung and her fingers were numb when she looked back down. She couldn’t cry during class. She couldn’t cry in front of him. That’d just show weakness, and Abi was a lot of things but Abi wasn’t weak.

She didn’t know why she pushed him away every time he tried to fix things between them. Abigail didn’t want to admit she was scared; oh god no please don’t let me back in so I can just hurt you again.

Every time Oliver’s expression darkened in disappointment she put on her best and proudest mask. Don’t com back to me Oliver, only her face would say, I’m not worth it, you’re better than this.

One day he seemed to take the hint and the rest of junior year Abi did her best not to tear herself apart from her own stupidity.

Senior year started and Heidi wasn’t sharing a schedule with her anymore, but with Noel.

Abi thought she saw Oliver in the crowd during practice once and broke her ankle doing roundabouts.

“It’s easier when you talk,” Michael said quietly one day. Abi shifted her foot and elevated her cast a little more. Sh glared at the living room ceiling.

"What would you know about that?" She muttered, and Michael glared enough to kill. She amended her question. "I’m fine, just bummed about my ankle. Its stupid."

"You’re not fine." Michael leaned back in the couch further, looking at his hands. "Abigail.. we’re getting worried you might.." He narrowed his eyes. "You’re getting distant."

Abi swallowed quietly. He continued.

"You’re not taking care of yourself. You don’t talk unless you’re forced. And if you do, you argue." Michael paused for more words. "I used to be like that too. Papa and I used to argue a lot when we first got together because I wouldn’t say how I felt but I would still argue. I’d bottle it all up. That’s not okay. You can’t take your anger out on others either."

Abi wished she could teleport.

"I think the down time will give you some time to get your priorities straight. Its important to keep people in your life and take care of yourself. Listen to others. Their opinions are valid too. They can help you help yourself." Michael exhaled and stood suddenly, seemingly spent from his speech. He kissed her on the forehead and left Abi with her thoughts.

She put a pillow on her face and cried a little.


she looks like mom more than dad and her favourite colour is spring green. she likes flowers a lot and bugs for some reason. her favourite animals are rabbits.

she’s kind of on the chubby side - she’s big boned like dad but curvy like mom - however time in heaven (that she doesn’t remember 80% of the time) has effected her in that “bad things” don’t really effect her. ie, the heaven effect - where everything in heaven is nice and good and bubbly. that’s petunia. nice and good and bubbly and optimistic. 

he lets his hair fade back to blonde and just dyes it a bunch of pastel streaks the last half of 12th grade, adds +3 piercings throughout 11th and starts giving like. 1/4th of a shit the last half of 10th. this would be like a few months after graduation? ? ? ?? ?? ? 


Okay Quick Daphne Bio

Hair color: Black with her mother’s natural purple and yellow highlights, but she dyes it all black most of the time due to the ballet instructors frowning upon the “unnatural” colors of her hair. She doesn’t mind though because she never really did like the purple or blonde in her hair.

Eyes: Green like her papa’s, but they’ve been known to turn a bright jade when she gets upset/angry.

Height: She’s just barely five feet tall when she turns twenty. And, she also doesn’t have much of a bust. *SHRUG* 

Weight: Under 100 lbs. She diets a lot and exercises to keep in shape so it’s not like she’s unhealthy. 

Clothing style: Gothic Lolita 

Personality quirks: 

Just Hold Me For A Little While

Pushing open the door, Andy carefully entered Hans’ apartment. Tiptoeing around the empty juice boxes and wine bottles scattered around, he let out a heavy sigh. Hans wasn’t at school again today and Andy knew Gretal would chew him out for messing up the place. 

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Jacques the “I Don’t Give A Fuck”

Yeeaaaahhhh one of my favorite assholes~~~~ LOL. BUT NO. I love him. 

Anyways. Jacques is five when his mom, Brigitte, remarries. His stepfather (name TBA) considers him to be the black sheep of the family. Jacques’ new stepbrother, Corin, doesn’t seem to object to this idea. Corin ends up bullying Jacques even at the private school they both attend. 

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therapist (I)

It was quiet at first, save for the scribbling of the therapist’s pen and the soft tapping of Joel’s heel. He was still on a bit of an adrenaline rush from practice; sitting in a chair silently was a poor way to work off the extra energy. But he waited until the therapist finished writing - whatever they were writing, and addressed him finally.

The formalities were edged out of the way the last meeting, his school, his friends, his hobbies, and this was the meeting where they got down to business. He really, really didn’t think this was going to go anywhere.

"So, Mr. Thrustworth," she paused only briefly, a faint but fond smile at the name managing to break her otherwise professional gaze. Joel didn’t notice, and continued to focus on the hard wood of the coffee table. "What brings you here?"

He sighed.

"I’d like for it to go on record, again, that I don’t actually want to be here."

The therapist repeated her question calmly, through another phrasing. Joel decided it was easier to actually answer the question than avoid it after a while.

"My mom, she thought it’d be good for me." He cleared his throat, his foot still tapping. "And, until I’m of age… I can’t really say no to her, at least not about this."

"Why would this be good for you, do you think?"

"I-" He stopped, pursing his lips. The hard questions shouldn’t be happening this soon. "I don’t… know. You know my school history and social life already from last week. I’m not a /delinquent/, like most high schoolers in therapy." He finished, a harsh tone on the term delinquent and an immediate look of guilt as soon as he finished. The pen returned to the paper.

The therapist hummed, tugging at her scarf gently as she wrote, before looking back up. “Of course you’re not. But I’m sure we can figure out why together…” She tapped her pen. “Do you usually agree to what your mother tells you?”

Joel nodded. “Well.. yeah. Of course. If I didn’t, no one else in the house would. It’s like living with toddlers, constantly.” The therapist raised an eyebrow in question. “Like… My sister, Milly. She’s really curious. She’s really smart but dad babies her all the time, so she always tags along with him. And my older brother Charlie- he moved out a while ago, but he visits a lot, with his family. ..And then there’s my cousin, Elliot. He visits a lot. But there’s a lot of energy. Too much energy. Mostly from my dad.” He shook his head disapprovingly. “I wish mom didn’t have to deal with all of it by herself, so I try to help out.”

The therapist tilted her head curiously, leaning back in her chair. “What’s your dad like?” She asked, and Joel again did not notice her all too familiar tone. She observed how he immediately stiffened, going into a defensive state, before immediately lashing out.

"The most energetic and… and.." Joel pressed his lips together. How do you describe Vic with two words? You don’t, he decided. You can’t, rather. "…He’s an engineer. He went to college, got a five year for both mechanical and electrical engineering majors. Minored in Chemistry, Physics, and Natural Sciences. In five years. All of that. A dual major and a triple minor. While helping Mom raise Charlie. He’s brilliant. He publishes research on just about anything, and he’s given college lectures. Except he dropped out of highschool, got a GED, I’m pretty sure he’s a convicted criminal, he’s banned from the local university now for most of his lectures - though he will actually sneak in and give a lecture if someone gives him an opportunity to. Seriously - he will trespass to teach. To TEACH."

Joel waved his hands, having gotten up from his chair to pace now because of his resurgence in energy. “Who DOES that?! And- AND- Might I add, he blows up a different part of the house every weekend. Mom said when this all first started, the police thought he had a meth lab going, but dad was just testing the chemical properties of baby formula or something like that. We send christmas cards to everyone in the fire department and police departments. Who DOES that?”

His rant ended in a frustrated sigh and his hand in his bangs again. The therapist hummed again.

"It seems like you have a very tense relationship with your father. Would you say that?"

Joel sighed again, and then shook his head. “No..I’d call it frustrating.”

"Anxiety inducing?"

"….I can’t eat or look at unskinned potatoes anymore without having a breakdown."

The therapist raised her eyebrows in a silent question, and Joel took his seat again. He hadn’t expected to actually respond in a positive note to her questions, or even this situation. But as he started to tell her the story of FrankenPotato he realised that he was actually enjoying the experience - not having fun per say but it was soothing to have someone to talk to about this kind of thing that wasn’t Gamel or his mother or siblings.

The advice she provided was non objective, and more for his health and wellbeing than for fixing his father, because, as she reminded him, he was participating in these appointments, not Victor. It seemed though that having a verbal way to cope with the stress and anxiety that his father’s spontaneous actions caused was just as beneficial as his physical ways of coping, and much better than the brief acting out he did before in his earlier high school years.

When his mother came to pick him up he was tired, and she fretted over him in her own way - brushing his hair to the side to feel his forehead briefly and then reminding him dinner was in the oven, he should get an early rest today, the meeting was okay right? And he responded in the affirmative, feeling tired but not dead. It was a good tired, a restoring kind of tiredness, like a good practice or a relaxing day of fun activities.

His mom was right - if therapy could help even his father, it might be good to just sit down himself for a while and talk with someone.

Andy and Michael. ; > ; 

Draven is so Draven

Okay. So, I really wanted to write about the night Draven’s mom is killed, but I don’t think I fully know what happens that night. *distant stare* I’ll just talk about why and how Draven is so Draven instead for the time being. 

First of all, I think it’s pretty obvious that Draven has his own anxiety, but his isn’t like Caspin’s. He has different feelings and triggers than Caspin does obviously. 

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i’m sorry forever about this (ellie health stuff)

let it be known, the tears were flowing as i typed this

anyway, ellie develops leukemia, specifically chronic myelogenous leukemia, which is more common in adults and about  30% live past five years of the symptoms starting. STARES OFF INTO THE HEAVENS. SORRY ELLIE

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cas stuff

i realise i said 

[1:30:31 AM] it me, maddie: ( that’s my fault i admit it ’ v ’ *raises hand* *did i ever mention that caspin’s like my feelings vent because actually he is* )

and didn’t elaborate but i meant some things by that and here i am to ‘splain the things. this is all about anxiety so um. if anxiety’s a no then don’t, but it’s not very graphic. it’s just a list of stuff 

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i hope this posts cuz wow

The last person he expected to see walking into his Environmental journalism class was Elijah. Elliot sat forward slightly, leaning over enough to look down at the entrance of the lecture hall. There were about eighty students in the liberal arts class, and although he didn’t know them by name, he knew their faces, and Elijah’s was definitely an outlier.

He hadn’t been noticed by the other yet, though. Elliot debated on trying to get his attention. It was still the first few weeks of the second semester, so it was reasonable enough to flag a friend down and switch up the seats a bit without his classmates holding a grudge against him. But his name stuck in his throat and his hand froze on top of his notebook and he was fourteen and seeing a hot high school girl for the first time again.

Elijah sat near the front.


Elliot spent the rest of that class period staring at the back of Elijah’s head, at his note book, at his hands as he wrote notes, and reminded himself constantly that staring was creepy.

Elijah glanced back behind him at one point, but not far enough up that he’d notice Elliot sitting in the back. (Elliot also may or may not have subconsciously dodged his gaze. He didn’t want to be caught staring.)

It wasn’t like feeling this way about Elijah was new for Elliot. When they were friends in high school, Elliot discovered he /really liked/ looking at Elijah’s neck when he tilted it back, Elijah’s shoulders when he wore lower cut shirts and tank tops in warmer weather, Elijah’s jawline in general. He wanted to kiss them and nip them and map each mole on his stupid neck and shoulders and face with his tongue.

He also discovered he liked listening to him tell stories, he liked it when he was actually excited about something, when he was confident in his opinion. He liked it when Elijah read aloud or muttered long division under his breath or sucked lightly at the end of his pen while he stared intently at his notes. Elliot wanted to replace that pen with his mouth.

All in all, Elliot wasn’t shocked by his not-so-sudden (and probably not so subtle) interest in Elijah because, and if he was being really honest, Elijah was exactly his type. He was shocked that he was here, sitting less than twenty feet away, chewing his damn pen like his life fucking depended on it. What a tease.

Elliot groaned quietly and put his head in his arms.

Before Elijah moved away for college, their last conversation was awkward. It wasn’t nice, it wasn’t sweet. It wasn’t friendly, even. Elijah had come to him and told him that he decided to move, to a different college that the one he originally planned on much further away. And of course, in his quest to make everything worse for himself, Elliot responded negatively. Negatively enough to make Elijah storm out of his barn in a rage and Elliot catcalling after him in his own anger, guilt and embarrassment.

He still had his (hopefully still accurate) phone number saved in his phone, emails and social media still unblocked, friended or otherwise accessible. Theoretically, in the eight months they’d been apart, Elliot could have contacted Elijah. Could have. He thought about it a lot. But then again, sometimes he thought that Elijah could have too.

Elliot peeked over his arm at the back of his crush’s head, and wondered if asking to borrow today’s lecture’s notes over coffee would be a good enough icebreaker to mend their friendship.

gentle…race reminders………


Heaven and Hell pt 2, HELL BITCHES FUCK YEAH

I guess I’ll be writing the Hell part instead since Maddie did Heaven. FINE BY ME. I’M THE ONLY TWOS DEMONS FROM HELL THUS FAR. ALRIGHT, FASTEN YOUR SEAT BELTS. WE’RE ON THE HIGHWAY TO HELL.

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heaven n hell pt 1, heaven

world building and establishing logics for HEAVEN AND HELL! YEAH! i did heaven and then was like. that was so much writing. so u can add hell to this and then yeah

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