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  "I look at you and my heart breaks, because all I can see is this endless, echoing loneliness." open post for pic prompts, starters, and texts of all kind. m/f and 25+ for shipping. see here for more shipping preferences. please link nsfw images. punisher s1 + s2 compatible. |
LETS GOOOO
That's the way of things. People come and go; they flourish in their little neatly compiled families, the kind that don't require blood or a universe to share, and then someday β like all good things β it must surely end. Laura is used to that, herself. She's seen it with the Munsons, seen the end of a number of lives, and she's lived the final breaths of a family herself. The thing is β
The thing is, when she vanishes from Deerington and wakes up in a dimly lit alley in New York City, she doesn't remember any of that. She remembers her father's final attempts to protect her and her friends. She remembers walking through a heavily wooded Canadian landscape towards the promise of asylum. And she remembers her tears had only barely dried on her face.
Now she's here. How had she gotten here? When? Where are the other mutants? Try as her wires might to spark something, it's all in the dark, all a blank slate. But she knows that there's something she's supposed to remember... something she'd been terrified to forget. She pats herself down β no backpack, nothing in her pockets, nothing but a pair of familiar sunglasses nestled inside her jean jacket. She leaves them there for now, staggers out onto the sidewalk on shaky feet, and stares in awe at the skyscrapers that line the horizon.
The night sky is starless compared to North Dakota.
Or compared to β to...
Shaking her head to clear the fog, she focuses first and foremost on survival: she's hungry, she's thirsty, she has to go. A sidewalk in Hell's Kitchen at midnight is no place for an eleven β twelve? β year old to be, but she hardly seems all that concerned about the company kept in the block as she makes a beeline for the nearest convenience store.]
no subject
for a long time, frank had come to believe that he was no longer made for family, or any kind of lingering happiness, not in the way that he once had with his wife and kids all those years ago. somehow, all that time in deerington had taught him that, somehow, there could be more, that he could manage a diner and repair an old farmhouse, fall in love all over again, and adopt someone who'd been as long as he'd been.
but if he'd been right about anything, it's that life will always take it all away, as every memory gets whisked away the moment he disappears from that town and ends up right back to the first place he called home. even if it happens to be on some dirty rooftop in the city he doesn't ever remember being on top of.
muttering a league of swears to himself and patting down his jacket to at least make sure he's armed (he isn't), he makes his way down the fire escape, boots landing on the ground of the alley with ease as he at least manages to find a wallet in his jacket pocket, money stored inside.
least he could use is a coffee at least, before he gets around to figuring out how the hell he got out here.
stepping into the sidewalk, he tries to peer around to determine if he knows this corner of the city, before realizing it's way too dark to map out any details. at least the light of that convenience store is on, hopefully with some coffee brewing inside. he makes his way over, heading for the door, just as a young girl nearly collides with him as he reaches it. ]
What the β [ he takes a step back, brows knit as he looks down at her, a wave of confusion (and familiarity ... ? no, he doesn't know her) washing over his face. ] Little late for kids to be running around here, huh?
no subject
'A Reaver, maybe?' she considers. If she is somewhere in North Dakota or Canada, maybe that would make the most amount of sense... Instead of answering him, she quickly wanders in ahead of him, tugging her jacket more securely around her. The man at the counter gives her and the other guy a passing glance β perhaps thinks they're daughter and father, maybe? Either way, he pays her little mind.
As he goes, Laura patrols the aisles. Logan had told her it wasn't okay to steal... not that it particularly discourages her. She knows she just has to be more sneaky about it, less brazen in her ignorance. She offers a side-glance toward the cashier before she swipes a few things into her pockets. A roll of chocolate donuts. A chocolate candy bar. A pack of little pretzels β with chocolate on them. A very distinct the pattern forming here.]