where the broken things are ( therese & percy )

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where the broken things are ( therese & percy ) Nov 9, 2015 21:27:38 GMT -5

Post by nebula on Nov 9, 2015 21:27:38 GMT -5

therese tucker

I hugged myself closing, letting angry breath out and sucking even angrier breaths in. Each one felt cool in my lungs. If my parents weren't such assholes, maybe I would've gone back to get a thicker coat. But, I felt like that would counteract my dramatic slam of the door.

The dishes had been piling up, and it was (apparently) my job to wash them. Except, I was at the academy for more than half of the day, while my parents either sat on their lazy, drunk asses or did god knows what with their time. It was beyond arguing, and it was really just a stupid, little thing. But it was a consistent stupid, little thing, and stupid, little things build up. Put simply, they never did a damn thing; I told them that with brash words that I didn't regret. They stared at me, their yells starting to boil in their throats.

And I left.

I shivered, pursing my lips. I usually jogged to the academy, and my pulse heated me up. But I wasn't in the mood for jogging after that. I wasn't in the mood for anything. I just wanted to scream and kick something. My hands had curled themselves into fists, falling into balls at my sides like dead weights of aggravation.

I needed somewhere quiet to go. I needed to let my steam blow off into the brittle air. Luckily for me, I specialize in solitude, and I knew the best places to go where the forgotten ones.

My deliberate steps took me to the closest pier. No one was there when I got there. It was usually deserted anyway. I picked up a rock before getting on the rickety wood. When my toes hit the end of the pier, I threw it as far as I could throw.

I tried to swallow the anger just as easily as the waves swallowed the stone.

notes: oops tags: Tom

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where the broken things are ( therese & percy ) Nov 20, 2015 17:17:50 GMT -5

Post by Tom on Nov 20, 2015 17:17:50 GMT -5

Writing Thinks Says Hears

The bruises along the upper part of his arm grew a purplish brown. The feeling of brokenness inside of him throbbing at him trying to make him feel worse about himself. His eyes glazed over with defeat as his older brother now wailed on him for unknown reasons, well unknown to himself. The brother obviously knew what he had done to him, even if he didn't know. A quick blow to his stomach causing him to feel his lunch coming back up from the confinements of the acid filled organ. He lurched over and let the bile out of his mouth onto the ground. His brother spat on the ground missing him just by a little bit, You're worthless to me." The words sticking his head like a fly and a sheet of fly trap.

Worthless. That word seemed to be thrown at him a lot more than he thought about it. Worthless was the word to describe him. His whole life he's been terrible at everything, except for flirting and manipulating people, but other than that, his grades were terrible, his career training wasn't the best, and worst of all, he was being compared to his brother who was a hundred percent perfect compared to him. Percy was always such a failure. He couldn't read as well as everyone else. He couldn't do math at all. His head just felt like it was jumbling everything up.

Percy's fear of his brother was reasonable and that's why he was gone for the day. His body felt tired and in pain. The jacket around his body keeping his body warm in the rather cold temperature. Percy doesn't normally leave home unless he actually has something to do, but today was different. The bruises already stung so much. Sore was the word to describe how he felt. His body felt like it was throbbing from the pain of the past. Feet paced around him as he pushed closer and closer to somewhere that was quiet. Somewhere where he could feel safe and think about life and other things.

The empty pier was cool and the relaxing motion of the waves seemed to already begin to calm his rather tired head. Empty was what it was supposed to be during this time of day, but it wasn't empty. A head of blonde hair stood at the end of the pier and his eyes widened a bit. Someone had found his calming spot. The girl at the pier had picked up a rock and thrown it into the ocean for it to forever sink to the bottom and flow with the waves. The way his mind seemed to do.

His feet took him forward, moving closer and closer to the girl. His head filled with multiple lines, but his head was not coming up with anything, he was blank. This was his spot and it wasn't going to be ruined by some girl. Percy wasn't in the mood to go into his heart breaker ways. His mind was too much focused on relaxing or feeling the throbbing of pain on his body.

The girl seemed to be content with throwing rocks alone, but Percy wanted the pier. It was his, not hers. Percy kept as calm as he could be before he spoke in a nice tone, "What are you doing?" His eyes studied her as she turned around to see him and his jaw felt like it was going to drop. She was gorgeous. Percy felt himself stare at her for awhile before he spoke again politely, "I-I'm just curious, of course."

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where the broken things are ( therese & percy ) Nov 23, 2015 20:19:36 GMT -5

Post by nebula on Nov 23, 2015 20:19:36 GMT -5

THERESE TUCKER

A single breath slowly leaked out of my mouth. I hoped the tension in my chest would go with it, but it still felt like a length of rope was constricting my lungs. I hated petty anger like this, the kind that made me feel like a temperamental toddler, but I couldn't do anything about it. Frustration isn't something that comes and goes. It accumulates like snow, creating banks of anger in every corner of the brain. I kicked weakly at the pier beneath me, wondering whether warmth was as valuable as my pride.

It wasn't.

My hands jammed themselves into my pockets, curling and uncurling in the warmth of the fabric. The waves were caught in their perpetual rhythm, stumbling over each other with their broken legs, running towards their fate on shore. I closed my eyes, listening to the crashing. I used to think that if I just stood still, frozen, time would become frozen, too. If time stops, nothing could go wrong, is what I used to tell myself. But I've planted myself places for hours, and everything still happened. My parents still got drunk, I still felt angry, and time eventually ushered me into rationality.

"What are you doing?"

I almost jumped as I heard the voice, feeling shoved back into reality. A startled curse jumped out of my mouth, flinging itself from my lips and forgetting its parachute as it dropped through the air. I turned around much quicker than I intended, taking in the stranger.

So much for a quiet place.

My gaze lingered on him, and I blinked at him a few times before I had the bearings to answer. I could feel a subtle tension, but maybe it was just me. I tried of thinking how to phrase ‘leave’ in a polite way but couldn’t. The silence made my ears burn. My lips parted to tailor a response, but he beat me to it.

“I-I’m just curious, of course,” he added. At this, my brows furrowed slightly. I shuffled through my memory, but I didn’t think I knew him from anything. It was a strange question from a strange stranger.

I studied him more intently. His eyes were a calm blue, but they were so deep, as if something was shoved just under the placid surface. The way he held himself wasn’t very intimidating, even if he did have an inch or two on me. It was as if his bones were held loosely together by the absence of happiness. One thing was for sure, though; he was very easy on the eyes. I almost forgot it was my turn to talk.

“I’m just… killing time,” I said quietly. I wasn’t exactly lying. I was waiting for the anger to go away, and that meant murdering minutes and strangling seconds. For years I had been killing time, and I didn’t really mind. But it was much easier if the crime scene was empty. I pulled my jacket closer to my body, feeling a shiver run up my spine.

Before I had even thought about it, words were falling out of my mouth. “What are you doing here?” as my question floated in the brisk air, I prayed that it didn’t sound as nosy as I thought it did. But to be fair, the boy’s question sounded a bit like an interrogation too. My cheeks burned more and more as each second passed, and it wasn’t because of the cold.

notes: sorry it took a bit c:
tags: Tom

Last Edit: Nov 23, 2015 20:20:00 GMT -5 by nebula

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where the broken things are ( therese & percy ) Nov 27, 2015 19:25:31 GMT -5

Post by Tom on Nov 27, 2015 19:25:31 GMT -5

Writing Thinks Says Hears

Worthless, that's all you are Percy. A mistake that shouldn't have been made. His thoughts were rising with tension in his head. His brother coming back to him in every instance. Percy never could match his brother in anything. Sports. Grades. friends. Percy had none of that, just broken promises and hookups. Percy felt like a mistake on a paper that wasn't erased fully. His smile that pulled up at the girl in front of him wasn't deep, it was fake if he had to be honest with himself. Everything about him was fake. The strong front that he put out to everyone was fake. The real Percy Bercovitch had to hide his face deep down in chains so it would never show.

The reply the gorgeous girl gave him seemed like half an answer to him. “I’m just… killing time,” Killing time. That's what he'd say to others, he was killing time until it was late and time to go home. When he was having his hookups, he was just killing time also. Killing time for him was avoiding his problems rather than facing the monster that seemed to always charge after him and just him. Percy's mouth opened, but closed soon after when he didn't know what to say. Words seemed to vanish from him as his mind went into overdrive. Killing time. It was a saying that had multiple underlying meanings and Percy wanted to know what this girl in front of him meant.

Her dirty blonde hair softly blowing slightly in the wind. The girl's eyes seem to be shimmering, but at the same time seemed dull and hiding something within herself, but Percy couldn't figure it out. Most girls were easy to read and Percy could just give them what they wanted within minutes, but this girl was different. She probably had some sort of emotional barrier or some sort of different thinking than the typical girls in District 4. It was official, this girl had intrigued him just slightly.

Her hands reached to pull her jacket closer to her and Percy took that as a sign that he stepped over some invisible boundary, but Percy didn't care. Boundaries were meant to be pushed. After all his brother's boundaries were being pushed by Percy every day. Percy just wanted to make his brother understand him, but instead Percy had cracked the boundary and his brother was then turned into a menace by the outside world. Percy just watched the girl as she asked him the same exact question, "What are you doing here?”

Percy contemplated the question. She seemed to make it sound like an interrogation. Percy frowned slightly at the sound of the question. It felt nosy, maybe that's how his had been, nosy with a bit of an upset flare to it. His eyes scanned her one last time before the sarcastic answer flew from his lips, "Just killing time. You know how it is." His head was filled with thoughts of how this could go wrong, but the sarcastic answer was the best answer he could give without opening up himself to a stranger. His personal feelings needed to be held with in, never released. If they were to be opened up and put out there into the outside world, people would see his true colors and how broken he really was.

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where the broken things are ( therese & percy ) Dec 1, 2015 20:42:27 GMT -5

Post by nebula on Dec 1, 2015 20:42:27 GMT -5

therese tucker
narration - dialogue - hears

I am no stranger to fake smiles.

I wear them on a regular basis, my lips being forced to lift themselves up in public. To not show anger or sadness in front of my mom and dad. My parents flash fake smiles on a regular basis. They've told me sweet lies of love and compassion through beams forged beneath their noses. Their plaster faces are molded into emotions they don't care to have. It's not hard to see through them when the latter half of my life has been built on fake smiles and one too many drinks. The boy's mouth curled into a grin, but his eyes didn’t brighten or crinkle. No happiness shaped his lips, only the lie of it did.

I tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ears, the feeling of it flitting around annoying me. My first instinct was to leave. I wasn’t in the mood for a conversation. I just wanted to be alone for maybe an hour at least. But now this boy had to come and ruin all of it. I didn’t even know why I asked him what he was doing. It’s not as if I cared why he just so happened to waltz down the pier, and I was almost sure that he didn’t care either. I frowned slightly as I looked up at him, trying to hold in all of the pent up anger for just a few more minutes.

His answer made me purse my lips. “Just killing time. You know how it is.”

Sarcasm is a mask, a veil to hide something deeper, darker. I use sarcasm more than I probably realize, mostly to mock my parents when they’re too drunk to notice. It’s a weapon of very little caliber, but it still packs enough punch to put me on edge. The boy’s voice was practically dripping with it. I worked my jaw quietly, my eyes boring into him attentively.

A breeze made his hair ruffle and sent another burst of coldness across my skin. It was bad enough that I was always just a bit colder than everybody else, but the light jacket wasn’t doing anything for me. I tried not to let the chills distract me. I didn’t know how to respond, but I wished that he would just go away. Unfortunately for me, even in my anger, I couldn’t bring myself to be anything but polite. I pulled my sleeves over my hands, feebly attempting for warmth in places other than my cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” I paused for a tiny second, furrowing my brows. “Do I know you?” I asked. It was in my best interests not to add, “because if I don’t, you’re being borderline rude,” but I wanted to. I watched him closely for expressions I suspected he was holding back, mostly because I had come to the conclusion that he was a lot like me.

notes: c: tags: Tom