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..⃗. [halloween] 𑁍ࠜ ・゚ˊˎ

╰┈➤ ❝ [suffering feels religious if you do it right

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╰┈ [suffering feels religious if you do it right.]
╰┈➤  chelsea hodson

HALLOWEEN WAS HER FAVORITE HOLIDAY. She loved everything scary. She loved dressing up and watching children run around with their bags stuffed with candy. She loved seeing all of the creative ways people pulled together costumes and how each costume represented their personalities. She loved watching adults play pretend with children in costumes. Everything about the holiday was harmless fun. But with Gotham, there was always a certain danger that came along with a holiday that surrounded concealing your identity.

All of the criminals silently prayed that they never saw that giant light in the sky. They could nearly guarantee their own death certificate when they caught sight of the beam of light against the dark clouds. Rubbing her forehead, she pushed past the crowd of people. Phoebe's hand curled tightly around hers, dragging the woman behind. Outside, the rain poured down. That did little to stop the crowd of people that had gathered to party in the city square. It did little to dwindle the amount of people in Phoebe's house either. An elbow slammed into her side. A man in a pirate costume glared at her as she moved past him. She remained silent.

Her black bodysuit clung to every inch of skin. Her boots were heavy on the hardwood floor. Eyes followed them. The black cape tied to her neck occasionally brushed against the back of her bare thigh, startling her. "Where are we going?" She asked Phoebe who still guided her through the house filled with people. Even being in the same room as Phoebe felt odd, foreign. The two hadn't spoken of the night at the club. A burial of what had happened. A feigned ignorance that the two silently agreed upon. Her question remained unanswered as they neared the door to the woman's bedroom.

As soon as they were alone in the room, Phoebe shut and locked the door. A soft sigh escaped her lips. "Christ, I just needed a minute to hear my own fucking thoughts. I shouldn't have invited all these people here." She approached her dresser, digging through one of the drawers. Her hands pull out a familiar baggie of powder. It was the same one she'd gotten from the Iceberg. "I can't fuckin' stand this shit. And I know you can't." She tapped out some of the powder onto the back of her hand, quickly sniffing it. "How've you been? It's been a minute. Anything new happen?" She sniffed another tiny pile of powder.

"My mom told me she doesn't love me. I've ruined every relationship I've ever had. And I'm starting to think I'll never be happy." She continued to stare at the door. It was the most honest she'd ever been with anyone. It was all sitting on the surface, waiting for her to spill it all. She knew that Phoebe didn't want to know. Maybe she didn't care, maybe she couldn't care. It was too much for others, it was too much for her.

𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐏𝐈𝐆𝐒 ☞ 𝐁. 𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄Where stories live. Discover now