( It's starting to become rote, a tighter and tighter pattern, that's nearing something even close to predictability. A new piece was arriving every 4-6 days. The way she starts getting restless around day 3. The way she starts getting prickly with everything around day 5.
Especially now. Especially because she opened her mouth, figuratively, and said something maybe she shouldn't. That maybe he won't answer. Or maybe he'll tell her she's wrong. It is stupid. She deserves it, and all the people who don't understand her. She left. She shouldn't have touched anything so close to that topic. To not have changed her mind when he did. As if somehow her mind hadn't been made up before Ben died even.
Long before everything broke in the doorway to his bedroom.
It's the first time she's actually afraid to open the letter when it comes. Still flat white, still with the family crest, still thin and innocuous-looking, and she hates herself all over because she knows she'll care about Luther damning her more than anyone refusing to hire her, anyone not seeming like they like her, any person she rumors into getting what she wants anyway.
She can't rumor that out of existence any more than the past. He has so much power over her still. It's not fair. )
Dear Luther,
It's not like anyone listens to me about yet, so I haven't had to press the point to any director yet. No punching of anyone either, but I did accidentally throw my heel directly at someone's face instead of to the side of it during this screaming catfight scene once in one of the first plays I was in. That didn't go well at all, and she cut on her cheek by the actual heel part.
She wallowed for days. You can't even imagine. I don't even remember how young we were when scratches were just inevitable and routine, and no more worthy of commentary than putting our uniforms on every morning. But not out here. Where apparently, it's a death blow to someone's existence and the end of the world out in Hollywood. Even though Makeup had it staunched and covered flawlessly within twenty.
Why am I not surprised Diego is running around playing hero under cover of night. That seems so incredibly him. Getting out, but never getting out at all. Or maybe he doesn't miss it, and he took the only part of any of it he liked with him when he slipped off that night. (At least he would know how to take a punch right. The world truly must be upside down if any part of me misses anything about Diego.)
No one is like us, not even us any of us anymore. Well. Except you. Carrying on the good fight.
Do you never
Allison
P.S. Boring. Goddess > Princess. Every time. If you are disagreeing as you read this, know that you're wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong, Luther Hargreeves. The end. Thanks for playing. You lose.
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Especially now. Especially because she opened her mouth, figuratively, and said something maybe she shouldn't. That maybe he won't answer. Or maybe he'll tell her she's wrong. It is stupid. She deserves it, and all the people who don't understand her. She left. She shouldn't have touched anything so close to that topic. To not have changed her mind when he did. As if somehow her mind hadn't been made up before Ben died even.
Long before everything broke in the doorway to his bedroom.
It's the first time she's actually afraid to open the letter when it comes. Still flat white, still with the family crest, still thin and innocuous-looking, and she hates herself all over because she knows she'll care about Luther damning her more than anyone refusing to hire her, anyone not seeming like they like her, any person she rumors into getting what she wants anyway.
She can't rumor that out of existence any more than the past.
He has so much power over her still. It's not fair. )
It's not like anyone listens to me about yet, so I haven't had to press the point to any director yet. No punching of anyone either, but I did accidentally throw my heel directly at someone's face instead of to the side of it during this screaming catfight scene once in one of the first plays I was in. That didn't go well at all, and she cut on her cheek by the actual heel part.
She wallowed for days. You can't even imagine. I don't even remember how young we were when scratches were just inevitable and routine, and no more worthy of commentary than putting our uniforms on every morning. But not out here. Where apparently, it's a death blow to someone's existence and the end of the world out in Hollywood. Even though Makeup had it staunched and covered flawlessly within twenty.
Why am I not surprised Diego is running around playing hero under cover of night. That seems so incredibly him. Getting out, but never getting out at all. Or maybe he doesn't miss it, and he took the only part of any of it he liked with him when he slipped off that night. (At least he would know how to take a punch right. The world truly must be upside down if any part of me misses anything about Diego.)
No one is like us, not even
usany of us anymore.Well. Except you. Carrying on the good fight.
Do you neverAllison
P.S. Boring. Goddess > Princess. Every time. If you are disagreeing as you read this, know that you're wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong, Luther Hargreeves. The end. Thanks for playing. You lose.