#♡ writing
BROKEN RAIL CHARACTER INTRODUCTIONS - eileen dover ( the singer )
All Irene has to do is flash the plastic of her Protectorate card at the bouncer. He’s a big guy, neon tattoos crawling along his arms and glowing red and green and orange in the dim light. He grimaces at her but he lets her through. She’s been here once or twice, and it’s easy enough to find Eileen’s dressing room. The Last Wreck isn’t a club that changes that often. Her name is scrawled on the door with an exclamation point afterwards, almost infectious in its joy.
She doesn’t even bother knocking. Instead, she slides the door open a crack, enough to make sure everything’s as expected. Eileen is sitting at the vanity, bulbs illuminating her face, almost blindingly white compared to the dim blue tinge of the hallway.
Eileen’s gaze meets hers in the mirror, her skin pale against the deep red of her blouse. “Do you not know how to knock?” she asks, prim and proper and so false that it almost stings.
Irene slips into the room, letting the door click shut behind her. She settles on the seat in the corner of the room, isolated and distant from the vanity. “Knocking gets you killed. Lets people know you’re coming.”
“You know I’m not a criminal, right?”
Irene gives her a look. They hold each other like that for a moment, frozen near the door and at the mirror. Then Eileen laughs, bright, her lips outlined in black and the center still raw and pink. Her smile was always like that, wide and playful and honest, even if she could lie with the best of them. There had to be a tell somewhere. They both knew that from growing up on Ulion. “Going to cuff me, officer?”
She holds out her wrists together, still mocking, and Irene pushes her hands away from her. Instead, Eileen catches Irene’s fingers and pulls the back of her hand up to her lips for a kiss. It leaves some residue there, barely visible but feeling almost chalky. Then Eileen turns back to her mirror, smearing black across her lips. “So you didn’t bring a drink back here, which means you came in through the back and scared the shit out of Julian. And it means you’re here on business.”
“Seems so.”
“I don’t betray paying patrons, so if you’re –”
“I need Commonwealth information.”
Eileen stops, her fingers poised around the handle of a glass drawer. “Well,” she says. Then she stops for a moment. The drawer slides open with a creak. Irene listens to the rumbling beat of the club for a moment, vibrating through the floor and the walls.
“I know that’s not what you wanted me to say, Eileen.”
“No.” Eileen’s voice has gone nearly too soft to be heard. Irene leans a few degrees closer just to listen. “But I guess I should’ve known better.”
TAG LIST:@phloxxiing/@nouveauweird/@pilipalea /@geth-consensus/@ohnoitsthebat/@cohldhands/@bittersweetbisexual/@nmcwriting/@rowofthorns/@cadewrites/@nepeinthe/@angelolytle/@nikkilbook/@thebardanon/@lady-redshield-writes/@gorelips / @aschenink/@wlwwrites/@judesaintfranciss / dm or reply to be tagged!
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BROKEN RAIL ORGANIZATIONS - ( earth made ) - psd by @pilipalea
Have you ever stood in the belly of a beast,
a dead behemoth, its bones stretching up
into the void, like it’s trying to close its
jaws around a white hot star?Have you ever made your path an autopsy?
Its screens dead, its guts leaking
sparking dripping across steel floors?I have.
There’s nothing you can say to me anymore.
I’ve seen it all. In another time, they would
have burnt me at the stake.- OPAL NEILA LARSEN, Frontier poet
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a to z challenge: n for nothing
devil like me: laird macqueen & gerwazy ‘toby’ borawski
taglist: @newdivinities@radwrites@victoiirres@syposium@aleynamnyd@vviciously@cohldhands@montevena@theforgottencoolkid@rkmoriyama@thatsadwriter@apollchiles@bittersweetbisexual@shewolves@tchaikqvsky@melwrotethat@mrywritesLaird was dropped home at two in the morning, lips swollen and heart pumping fast, given a goodnight kiss in Toby’s car before he pulled over to his own driveway. He felt guilty for Agnes as soon as he passed the door, leaning against it as though breathless–and maybe he was. He ignored her texts and calls and struggled to sleep, feeling Toby’s ghostly hands all over his body, shivering, eyes going wide open after minutes of trying to doze off. It was useless; Toby was everywhere.
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LAST LINE TAG GAME!
Paste the last line/paragraph/chunk you wrote! (from four door, trying out some things.)
tagged by @nouveauweird
There is her reflection again, her watching herself in the steel walls of the elevator.
The nature of the walls means that her face always comes off as barely warped - hers but not hers, belonging but changed somehow. Bea Pearson tilts her head this way and that for a long moment, watching the way her features slip and slide into each other, dark pupil into white eye into black skin into yellowing teeth. She closes her lips around her teeth. Tries to imagine her face without them. No money for braces when she was younger. No time for it now, and 4D health insurance still posits that braces are a cosmetic item, nothing necessary. Marie got the good teeth and the thin lips and Bea got the opposite. They used to joke about how much they wanted to trade. She keeps drinking coffee like it isn’t making things worse, like she’s trying to make all the worst things about her that tiny bit worse because it’s reassuring.
tagging: uh whoever wants to lmao
