ʟɪʟ "ʜᴀʀᴅ ᴋɴᴏᴄᴋ ᴡɪꜰᴇ" ᴄʀᴀᴡʟᴇʏ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
glassbox) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
capeandcowllogs2013-09-01 10:36 pm
glassbox) wrote in capeandcowllogs2013-09-01 10:36 pm
there are wrecking balls inside our hearts inside our tongues and they are moving.
WHO: lil crawley & frank castle.
WHERE: the jeffries residence.
WHEN: late night.
WARNINGS: canadians and stuff.
SUMMARY: frank has a rough night. lil watches lifetime.
FORMAT: quickie.
[ in all honesty, lil knew she was falling back into bad habits -- old habits, from when madison had first been sent back home, and maybe from before that too, when he'd hide from her in the basement of the xavier institute, pretending that if he couldn't see her, she didn't really exist. they were the habits of a restless and sometimes lonely person who struggled to admit that they were either of those things. without the pretense of her faux-relationship with nelson to make her go out, she'd hardly been leaving the house now, except to work. she slept badly, suffocated by the quiet of her own house.
it had to be at least midnight, but she was still awake, perched on her couch with a bottle of "caliente coral" nail polish and sexting in suburbia playing on the television. there was a half-eaten pint of ice cream on the coffee table, next to where she'd propped her foot up to let her toe nails dry. she had one of madison's t-shirts on over shorts and the mass of her hair knotted haphazardly at the back of her head -- a little sloppy, with nothing to hide the slight bags under her eyes.
the picture, really, of a woman teetering on the edge of her midlife crisis. ]
WHERE: the jeffries residence.
WHEN: late night.
WARNINGS: canadians and stuff.
SUMMARY: frank has a rough night. lil watches lifetime.
FORMAT: quickie.
[ in all honesty, lil knew she was falling back into bad habits -- old habits, from when madison had first been sent back home, and maybe from before that too, when he'd hide from her in the basement of the xavier institute, pretending that if he couldn't see her, she didn't really exist. they were the habits of a restless and sometimes lonely person who struggled to admit that they were either of those things. without the pretense of her faux-relationship with nelson to make her go out, she'd hardly been leaving the house now, except to work. she slept badly, suffocated by the quiet of her own house.
it had to be at least midnight, but she was still awake, perched on her couch with a bottle of "caliente coral" nail polish and sexting in suburbia playing on the television. there was a half-eaten pint of ice cream on the coffee table, next to where she'd propped her foot up to let her toe nails dry. she had one of madison's t-shirts on over shorts and the mass of her hair knotted haphazardly at the back of her head -- a little sloppy, with nothing to hide the slight bags under her eyes.
the picture, really, of a woman teetering on the edge of her midlife crisis. ]