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badfic_logs2010-11-21 11:16 pm
hell-is-silent.livejournal.com) wrote in badfic_logs2010-11-21 11:16 pm
Entry tags:
I need a miracle and not someone's charity.
Character Names: Heather Morris (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
hell_is_silent), Jack Mercer (cracker_jackie)
When: Saturday, November 20th, after hearing of Eddie's death.
Location: Swanky Paris apartment building which they've been sharing.
Summary: Heather snaps. Jack is rational. Hopefully.
Ratings: ....PG?
Warnings: HURT/COMFORT
"Goddamn fucking motherfucking bitch wench WHORE!"
That would be the screaming that came from Heather's apartment in the wake of seeing Mello's post over the Blackberry.
Eddie was dead, and that goth demon succubus was to blame. Heather had known she should have done something. The whole situation was fucked up and it was clear the bitch was dangerous, but — Eddie'd seemed.... not happy. But like felt like he'd deserved it. So Heather had backed off, out of respect. And let him do... whatever that fucked up thing with Ophelia was.
And now look at what happened.
It had been almost six months now since Heather had come home to find her dad still and bloody in his living room chair. She'd thought nothing could hurt as bad as that, but Eddie Riggs, the stupid giant oaf of a roadie that he was, had filled the void left by Harry Mason, whether he realized it or not... and whether Heather realized it or not. Distancing herself from him for the sake of that issue with Ophelia had been hurting her more than she'd wanted to admit.
She should have done something. People seemed to get better from death here, but... what if this wasn't one of those times? People disappeared around here all the time and never came back.
There was a way to deal with this.
First Heather was going to hurl some breakable things into the wall. In the dining room, she invaded a hutch and grabbed a stack of plates. She grunted with the effort it took to throw them, her frustration and grief turning to red thrills deep in her chest at the sight of the destruction. If the Author could create anything, Heather could destroy it. She was so sick of this goddamn place and how it could control her.
When she was done with this, she was going to take Mr. Pipey and pay the police station a visit. Maybe Mello was standing guard, but Heather was pretty fast with her trusty old steel pipe. She wanted to pay back Ophelia personally for doing this to her.
hell_is_silent), Jack Mercer (cracker_jackie)When: Saturday, November 20th, after hearing of Eddie's death.
Location: Swanky Paris apartment building which they've been sharing.
Summary: Heather snaps. Jack is rational. Hopefully.
Ratings: ....PG?
Warnings: HURT/COMFORT
"Goddamn fucking motherfucking bitch wench WHORE!"
That would be the screaming that came from Heather's apartment in the wake of seeing Mello's post over the Blackberry.
Eddie was dead, and that goth demon succubus was to blame. Heather had known she should have done something. The whole situation was fucked up and it was clear the bitch was dangerous, but — Eddie'd seemed.... not happy. But like felt like he'd deserved it. So Heather had backed off, out of respect. And let him do... whatever that fucked up thing with Ophelia was.
And now look at what happened.
It had been almost six months now since Heather had come home to find her dad still and bloody in his living room chair. She'd thought nothing could hurt as bad as that, but Eddie Riggs, the stupid giant oaf of a roadie that he was, had filled the void left by Harry Mason, whether he realized it or not... and whether Heather realized it or not. Distancing herself from him for the sake of that issue with Ophelia had been hurting her more than she'd wanted to admit.
She should have done something. People seemed to get better from death here, but... what if this wasn't one of those times? People disappeared around here all the time and never came back.
There was a way to deal with this.
First Heather was going to hurl some breakable things into the wall. In the dining room, she invaded a hutch and grabbed a stack of plates. She grunted with the effort it took to throw them, her frustration and grief turning to red thrills deep in her chest at the sight of the destruction. If the Author could create anything, Heather could destroy it. She was so sick of this goddamn place and how it could control her.
When she was done with this, she was going to take Mr. Pipey and pay the police station a visit. Maybe Mello was standing guard, but Heather was pretty fast with her trusty old steel pipe. She wanted to pay back Ophelia personally for doing this to her.
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"That ain't true. And like... people come back, right?" he said. "Don't seem like people stay dead here."
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Her face crumpled. "I hate this fucking place."
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He paused, not sure what to say. "I bet he'll be back before you know it though."
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She shook her head violently. "I-I can't do that..."
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Policing purgatory still seemed weird to him.
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"It is kind of a motley crew, isn't it?"