* Starter Call, Accepting. ( @he11inquent )

୨୧˚♡* ♱    starter call, accepting.    ( @he11inquent​ )

                the  ladder  to  the  hayloft  feels  like  imagination  and  the  wildness  of  childhood,  though  she  finds  that  the  feeling  is  hollow,  shallow.  a  brief  step  and  then  it  is  gone.  her  sisters  still  adore  it,  to  june  sofia  and  lucy  claire  it  is  their  princess  castle,  to  leah  anne  a  place  to  bring  the  radio  that  was  never  supposed  to  leave  the  house,  to  mary  rose  a  quiet  place  in  a  house  full  of  noise  and  to  abigail  brooke  it  is  a  hide  away  from  her  mean  older  sister  that  doesn’t  let  her  wear  makeup  or  understand  her  at  all.  but  before  all  of  them,  it  was  hers.  and  now,  it’s  hers  too.  but  not  like  it  is  theirs.  they  had  listened  when  she  told  them  to  stay  away  for  a  few  days,  or  however  long  it  took,  for  the  most  part,  but  not  without  questioning,  especially  from  the  ever  curious  twins.  and  lying  was  a  sin,  so  she  tried  her  best  to  only  go  out  to  the  hayloft  after  she  had  put  her  sisters  to  bed.  at  least,  most  of  her  sisters.  abigail  brooke  refused  to  sleep  until  laura  lee  did  because  she  was  a  teenager  now,  too,  and  leah  anne  was  becoming  rather  mischievous,  herself.

                atop  the  ladder,  covered  in  as  many  blankets  as  she  could  spare,  was  tate.  she  smiled  with  a  warm  empathy  as  she  brings  him  dinner,  leftover  from  what  she  had  made  for  her  and  her  sisters.  which  is,  of  course,  the  first  thing  she  apologizes  for.    “  i’m  sorry  it’s  cold,  i  tried  to  get  here  as  fast  as  i  could.  the  twins  wanted,  like,  a  zillion  stories  and  they  kept  getting  up  after  i  put  them  to  bed.  i  swear  they  never  give  me  this  much  trouble  on  a  normal  day,  it's  like  they  know,  or  something.  ”    i  think  it  would  be  easier  if  you  just  came  inside,  almost  slips  out,  but  shame  runs  through  her  like  a  burning  river.  she  never  could  find  the  line  between  kindness  and  scandal,  but  she  does  know  that  her  parents  would  not  react  kindly  to  her  keeping  a  boy  in  the  barn,  at  least  not  at  first.  she  sits  across  from  him,  pulling  her  cardigan  tighter  around  her  body  to  keep  the  chill  of  the  breeze  between  the  rafters  out.    “  is  it  getting  any  better?  ”    she  feels  ridiculous  for  asking,  and  immediately  wishes  she  hadn’t,  but  that’s  how  she  feels  about  most  things  that  she  says.

starter call! 🧸 multis specify muse and also know that by liking this post you are pledging your soul to the beta editor so please use it with your reply <3

character posters   /   laura lee   ,   @ofaither​

like literally.

୨୧˚♡* ♱    starter call, accepting.    ( @lothews​ )

                new  jersey  has  never  gotten  as  cold  as  this,  never  has  their  little  farm  back  home  made  her  bones  quiver  to  a  point  where  she  can’t  stand  still.  it  was  small,  but  it  was  always  warm.  she’s  prayed  every  day  to  return  there,  begging  the  Lord  for  a  miracle,  or  for  a  sign,  any  sign  from  Him.  and  everytime  she  did,  she  felt  guilt  seep  through  her  skin,  poisoning  her  and  silencing  her  for  the  rest  of  the  day,  begging  for  forgiveness.  she’s  supposed  to  trust  Him,  infinitely  and  without  doubts.  she  doesn’t  need  a  sign,  it  was  selfish  to  ask.  after  the  dead  guy's  plane  had  failed,  she  hadn’t  slept,  or  maybe  she  had,  everything  feels  like  nothing.  she’d  never  stopped  reading  the  flight  manual,  never  stopped  picking  apart  the  plane  at  any  place  that  could  be  picked.  but  it  was  a  general,  unsaid  rule  not  to  go  out  at  night,  so  she  sat  awake  and  prayed  instead.  her  hands  are  clasped  and  her  thoughts  are  mid-reverence  when  she  hears  a  noise.  all  too  familiar,  her  heart  alights,  fluttering  with  anxiety.  the  longer  she  hears,  the  less  she  can  stand  it.  these  weren’t  blessed  images  of  the  Lord,  these  were  flashes  of  pain,  of  fear.  He  would  not  wish  suffering  on  His  prophet,  He  wouldn’t.  not  on  lottie,  not  on  lottie.      “  lottie?  ”    she  calls  out,  into  the  darkness,  a  pale,  silvery  hand  drifting  in  the  moonlight  to  find  the  blessing  she  calls  a  friend.  crawling  to  her  and  cupping  her  face,  cradling  her.    “  wake  up,  lottie,  wake  up.  ”

laura lee is actually very timid to a fault when she’s not with her friends, and it takes a while for her to warm up to people. she’s very much someone that sticks to the background and just smiles at jokes or stories, very rarely participates in discussion as a whole. the only time you could get her to talk to a stranger at length is when she’s nervous and rambling or when someone else is in danger/needs her to.