endlyssly-blog

[endlyssly-blog]

[endlyssly-blog]

( johnnyclayton· )

Waves crashing. Seagulls crying. Sand beneath his feet. When Johnny opened his eyes, he didn’t expect to find himself on a beach he didn’t recognize. The last time he was on a beach - jeez, Johnny couldn’t even remember the last time he’d gone down to the beach. Avalon wasn’t really much of a beach town, and the last memories he had involved the sun, laughter, and the rest of the Aces hanging about. That wasn’t this beach. This beach was colder, not as welcoming. He looked down to see that he was wearing the same ripped jeans and the same grease-stained t-shirt he was wearing when, when -

Oh shit.

Everything flooded back to him. The pills, the booze, the bathtub - hell, he remembered being out of it as if he were watching it like a movie, not inside his own head. He remembered the Aces falling apart, he remembered - Johnny didn’t want to think about the crash, not now. Not in this place that he’d never been before, not when he didn’t know how he survived or how he got here or -

Oh fuck.

A wave of water hit his body sending him catapulting forward and into the wet sand. Now he was not only lost, confused, and somehow back from the dead, he was soaked to the bone and shivering too. He spotted a figure walking further down the beach, and he decided to try his luck.

“Hey there! Any idea where a fella could find some new threads? A cuppa joe? Anything? Hello?” He called after them, his voice hoarse from the lack of use. “Please, at least just point me in the right direction? I’m begging ya here.”

         Lyss knew exactly what it was that kept drawing her back to the beach. Whatever phenomenon had brought her back from death deposited her on the shores of a lesser-tread part of the sands, and while she hadn’t been slapped continuously by the waves into awareness she often thought of the sound of them when she lay in bed at night. There was something otherworldly about this place, so far down. It wasn’t exactly peaceful but it didn’t quite feel ... human, either. Beaches had a certain quality to them that invited people but ... but Lyss knew this place was not that. Yet here she was, far away from the people in the ocean, enjoying the company of one-another. She hadn’t expected to see anyone else, but that’s exactly what happened.

At first she was taken aback, remaining silent while they shuffled down. For a shot of a second she felt panic, but it was immediately eased when she got a good look at him. Instantly she thought of the man in the diner she met just a day before: leather jacked, greased up hair, beaten jeans ... Lyss figured if this one wasn’t soaked to the bone he might appear kind of similar in fashion. The dryness of his voice made her own throat ache, and when it hit her it was like a tractor trailer going full speed. He was back from death. This must have been what she looked like last week. Confused, lost, and worse for wear.

Instantly the blonde pulled at her sweatshirt, tugging it over her head and leaving mussed locks in her face as she handed it over to him. “Here.” Self-conscious nature aside, it didn’t much matter in this instance where she knew that he was likely in sensory overload from it all --- helping another person always over rode the feeling of shame, anyway. “Town’s not far from here, but it’s a bit of a walk. There’s clothes and food there, but you can borrow this to keep warm.”

[endlyssly-blog]

( rockabillyrcbel· )

—“RIGHT & I’M THE FUCKIN’ QUEEN OF ENGLAND” Tommy spat. He didn’t care if she’d been bullied. He’d been bullied all his life, but did he bitch & moan about it? No, because he wasn’t a fucking candy-ass sissy. It wasn’t any excuse to make shit up for attention. “That means I think you’re shittin’ me, if you didn’t catch that, doll.” Tommy added — almost as an afterthought. He cocked his head. She didn’t look thirty. Didn’t act it, either. Tommy waved it off, attributing it to another one of her fibs. “whatever, I guess. never seen an old broad dressed like that—” He nodded to her outfit. Tommy couldn’t help but chuckle at the idea of someone calling the cops on him. He was so quick to boot it that they’d never catch him. Still, stealing it didn’t seem like such a bad idea. “You uh…got any idea where I can get a dolly? for completely legal purposes, a’course,”

         “It’s nice to meet you, your majesty.” Her voice was soft, the corners of her lips upturned slightly. All Lyss could do was shrug again, and this time she turned slightly to grab her tea mug and take a warm swallow. It was nice to be warm again. Though she knew she wouldn’t get very far here with that ugly, grey hoodie on. “Thirty isn’t old. Or maybe it is.” Lyss’ eyes purposely shifted down to his outfit and back up again, a pot calling the kettle gesture, but she didn’t say anything about it. “If I did know where to get a dolly, who says it’d be the truth of where it is?” She’d never been one to play Devil’s Advocate before but ... well, this entire conversation didn’t seem very real. Still, she grinned at her new role as if somehow pleased with herself.

[endlyssly-blog]

( erosunmasked· )

—CHARLIE HAD NEVER BEEN BIG on beaches. Sand always ended up where sand shouldn’t, and he wasn’t a strong enough swimmer to warrant going deeper in the water than his chest. But thank the lord for fashion. When he was a kid, swimsuits had been one-piece, full body attire that were covered in this AWFUL stripped pattern. That had only just started to go out of style when he died. A tragedy if ever there was one. Now? everyone at the beach was half-naked and he basked in the sheer FREEDOM of it all.

“hm?” Charlie turned his head, after holding a particularly lingering gaze on a passerby. It took him a moment to process the words, his mind distracted by the sight of freshly tanned skin. “maybe? Right when it gets dark. It gets really hot during the day so the heat might linger. I’m no expert though,” Charlie offered a grin. “if you’re cold enough to be wearing that then probably not,” 

         “Would you believe me if I told you it’s not because I’m cold? Call it self-conscious.” She hoped it seemed as if she were self-conscious about being in a bathing suit more than anything else, but the scars that pocked her wrists and neck were too obvious for anyone to ignore without the sweat shirt. Lyss was sure that she’d start showing little beads of persperation on her hair line soon, but there was the slightest of breezes that came every so often that was just enough. “I never had the chance to go to the beach before this. We didn’t have any ocean beaches back home.”

It was easy to talk to strangers for her. It always was. Despite what happened to her, Lyss was still too quick to believe that people were wholly good. Maybe they were grouchy, or busy, but for the most part people stood to chat about nothing. Even if it was just for a short while. Fingers played with the sleeve of the sweat shirt while she buried her toes in the sand. “I think I’d be worried about sharks.”

[endlyssly-blog]

( rockabillyrcbel· )

—“BULLSHIT,” Tommy was quick to say. He knew her type — a preppy girl who thought she had the world wrapped round her finger because she knew how to bat an eye. That kind of shit didn’t work on Tommy, for obvious reasons so he wasn’t willing to buy into what she was saying. “everyone lies, especially fancy young cats like you,” He swallowed hard. “I wouldn’t pay more than a dime for a cuppa joe,” and even then he’d be mad about it. Tommy looked at the jukebox — his only friend in this whole town. It was a shame that such an important machine should be wasting away. He got a mischievous look on his face. “Hey—” he said, cocking a brow. “think they’ll let me keep it if I bust it up enough?” Not enough to break it of course. But he was a pretty handy guy & he could probably give the thing a face lift.

         “Oh, no. I wasn’t one of those girls. I got bullied a lot in high school, but I was also a good couple of years younger than everyone else. It’s alright if you don’t believe me, though. Most people don’t.” She shrugged again. It was hard to change someone’s mind once they painted a picture of you in their head, she knew. It was less effort to let them believe what they wanted than worry and change their mind. Especially someone Lyss was likely to not see again. She’d be going home soon, for sure. “It’s nice of you to call me young, though. I’m almost thirty.” Two more years. Or whatever time was left between when she disappeared and now. She had purposely not looked at a calendar since waking on the beach. “You can try but ... they might call the police first. You’d have better luck breaking in after hours and hauling it away. But I didn’t give you that idea.”

[endlyssly-blog]

( rockabillyrcbel· )

—TOMMY DIDN’T KNOW WHAT A synthesizer was, but he already knew he’d bust one if he could. Surely he was in a hell-on-earth if a candy bar cost a buck and a soda went up to a buck fifty. “very funny, doll but I ain’t bitin’” he said, cocking a suspicious brow at the woman who had spoken out to him. “I look like a chump to you? Might not be the brightest but I ain’t that stupid. No way this place’s got buisness with those prices” That was right. There were too many people in the diner. And they didn’t look rich so the prices couldn’t be so high. Tommy gave the juke one last KICK and then, when his efforts bore no fruit, sighed and leaned against it.

         “I’m not lying. I don’t lie. It’s kind of impossible for me to lie.” Lyss rambled, her voice trailing off as she went. She wished that candy machines were less than a dollar, but everything seemed to be suffering from inflation. The most obvious of that was gas and milk. She was happy that she didn’t drive down here. “At least the coffee is only a dollar ninety-nine with free refills. But I’m a tea drinker, so.” Lyss shrugged, though smirked slightly when he kicked the juke box one last time. “I think they control the radio in the back, though. It’s nice to see an old juke box like that for show somewhere. Looks like it’s not in bad condition, either. Minus some... boot scuffs.”

[endlyssly-blog]

         She remembered how warm the sand was when she woke up, splayed across the beach and away from where visitors would hang around. Her throat had been dry and her eyes red from the salt spray. It took about half an hour of wandering, dazed, before she found anyone at all --- and that was how she viewed the beach, now. Today she sat on the white sand, knees tucked up to her chest, hugging them to herself. She stood out: short shorts hidden beneath the hem of her over-sized hoodie. There was something relaxing about watching the tide.

After a moment of silence she turned to the company beside her --- in stark contrast she much preferred the more populous areas of the beach to where she had woken, and offered a warm smile. “Do you think the water is warm at night, too?”

[endlyssly-blog]

( fugiiens· )

walker still wasn’t sure if she trusted morbus, considering the ambiguity of the letter & the lack of officials in the area.  but, sketchy as it seemed, it had promised the return of her brother.  how could she turn that down ?  a recent photo of cam pulled up on her phone, she was wandering the main square, wondering how many reunions she would see until she got her own.  “ excuse me, ”  she asked as she passed by & held up her phone,  “ have you seen him around ? ”

         “Yeah, uh ... a couple of days ago, actually. He was heading into one of the shops down the road? I think it was a cafe.” Lyss pointed with one hand, brushed her hair behind her ear with the other after taking a glance at the photo on the phone. The red hair was unmistakable, though she didn’t know who he was. “Sorry I can’t give more detail. There’s a lot of faces here. But with hair like that he should be easier to spot, right?”

[endlyssly-blog]

( rockabillyrcbel· )

—“THIS IS WORSE THAN THE SHIT my parents listen to” Tommy grumbled as he frantically fiddled with the knob of the jukebox in the diner. It was turned off, of course. No lights, no sound. Probably broken for YEARS. But Tommy couldn’t admit that to himself — because it meant that he’d have no control over the shit music blasting through the diner. What the hell a Blank Space anyway? “The fuck kinda machine takes a whole dollar to change the song?” He said, as he slipped his fourth quarter into the machine — by his standards, an invariable fortune.

         “As bad as this is, imagine everything having a synthesizer behind it. Not that I mind the more techno music, but I they’re not using it right.” She could certainly ramble. Lyss was always a more social butterfly, though now her voice was a little more quiet and uncertain. But he was interesting, at least. She’d seen pictures of greasers back in the day, their pompadour hair and leather jackets. She knew in England the fad was still very much alive, but she’d never witnessed one up front, like this. He even had the language down to a pat. “Claw machines take a dollar, too. And candy machines. Some drink machines take a buck fifty.”

[endlyssly-blog]

( CANDICE KING ) ┆ — LYSS LIGHTWOOD is a 28 year old from WELLS, MAINE, and I hear that they were resurrected on Morbus Beach after dying from BEING THE VICTIM OF A SERIAL KILLER. SHE is known for being TOO TRUSTING & OPTIMISTIC, and their theme song is FLICKERS by SON LUX. I have a feeling they DO remember that they DISAPPEARED.

triggers for: violence, abuse, torture

Lyss lived a very loving life. Born into an upper lower-class family, she worked hard for everything she ever had in her life. From a young age she helped out in her parent’s bar and tutored on the side to earn a little extra cash. She was incredibly close with her parents and genuinely a good person.

Testing early with a genius level IQ, Lyss had the option to skip a grade or two when she hit middle school ... and she took it. A little socially awkward, Lyss found it impossible to lie to people and tended to believe that people were inherently good.

She attended MIT through scholarships, grants, and a chemical engineering program at 16, when she graduated high school. By 20 she graduated and began working for a pharma company.

Lyss always wanted to stay close to home, it killed her to be away from her parents while she attended college, but she’s not sorry she did it.

Following a medical issue with her father, Lyss moved back home to help out around the house. Taking a sabbatical from work, she taught chemistry at a local university in Wells to keep an income going, and to be close enough to help out when needed.

That was where the issues happened. She garnered the attention from a blooming predator: a teacher at the university who had come in as new, just like her. He seemed nice enough, wanting to bond over their status as newer. He was intrigued with Lyss’ mind, finding what little of her educational history she shared interesting.

But he was much more sinister than that: a serial killer whose M.O. was to hunt university students, the man allowed himself to get close enough to take them.

Officially Lyss is missing. But she died almost 5 years ago. It was not fast. Her “coworker” kept her for months where he beat, tortured, and abused her. Dying, by that time, was an utter relief.

She only just reappeared on the beach, less than a week or so ago. But she remembers what happened to her. The details of how she got to the beach are hazy, however she knows what she suffered. And she knows she died, she just can’t say it out loud.

Lyss bears scars from her time with her “coworker”. Her wrists have deep circles around them as if someone had cut out and put the skin back in, from being bound. The front of her throat has a jagged slash, and there are various awful scars pocking her body from his abuse.

She’s incredibly self-conscious about all of these, obviously ... but somehow she’s still Lyss. Perhaps a bit less trusting, a bit less kind, but she still chooses to believe that people are inherently good. There just so happens to be evil in the world, too.

Overall, Lyss just wants to be able to live again. And she wants to eventually make it back home to tell her parents she made it away from the horrible man who captured her. She knows he’s still out there somewhere, never caught --- but that’s a problem to handle for another day.

Come and plot with me, my loves!

[endlyssly-blog]