lolavillarin

[lolavillarin]

Lola's eyes falter closed, then open, then closed again. The glimpse she catches of Mathias approaching is faint, but enough that Ava's name crawls out of the pits of her stomach like a banshee shriek.

But it's useless — lost — not quick enough.

And it's silly, how she feels like a goddamn porcelain idiot as consciousness starts to slip.

The digging into her wound is more painful than the gash itself; like his fingers were made of salt. Lola holds Ava tightly against her, fists wrapped around the fabric of a pretty dress dirtied up with blood.

And then — that strength is all gone, like the flipping of the world's most tragic switch. Lights go off as she exits.

Mathias wanted to ask Ava if it was all worth it? Was putting her life on the line for someone who wasn't like them even worth the effort? Where was the selfishness that took them all by the throat when they agreed to kill for a living? He didn't get it. How could one kill without thought but still save someone who shouldn't have mattered. What made Lola matter?

"Relying on someone's hatred isn't smart. Because there's always a chance that their hate can be lessened". Mathias wasn't going to call Sam, he wasn't going to give his part of the story. The game of tattletale wouldn't work for him. He had to wait for the right moment to speak up. Ava had spilled secrets in front of someone who shouldn't know, and she let her live. Mathias attacking a civilian didn't seem that bad now.

Then Ava turned her back on him, and the sting of disrespect and sadness shot through his heart.

His nose still bleed, but his footsteps were quiet. Heel toe, heel toe so ever steady and event. The art of sneaking up unnoticed. Because if Ava thought she could turn away from him, then it was on her for the consequences that followed. He came up behind her, too close, one arm draped over her shoulder inching dangerously close to her neck, the other reaching out to Lola. His fingers wormed under Ava's hand, going to the wound he had made and dug in.

Mathias sighed speaking close to the person he saw as his first friend in the Syndicate. Perhaps one day they'd get back to that after all of this settled. For now he was forced to see her as he saw the rest of the world.

Expendable.

"Turning your back on me was really fucking stupid, don't you think?"

@avamhollis

[lolavillarin]

You think I picked this? Lola slowly, dramatically, shakes her head no.

"More like, sneaked off. He's not really a runner." Of course, she knows Lev is across the room, speaking to someone named Tristan. Of course, she knows it's not the best subject to touch on now. The sooner she could forget about it, the better.

Lola interlinks her hands together, and instead of joining Zed in drinking games, she just leans back and watches him instead. Yeah — there's no forgetting about it.

"He talked to you, right?" She finds herself asking. "Do you think it'll work out?"

The expression that crosses over Zed's face; a tongue poking the inside of his cheek, a subtle lift of his head — it's all implicative that he clearly missed that memo.

There had been no want involved.

"You think I picked this?" Of course she doesn't. But he's asking the woman for the truth that follows the truth.

Zed's just thankful that he can sit, and hide. Ride this out. It's not so much he cares for opinions, it's more for the fact he doesn't want to be involved in the discussions of such opinion.

Have at it. The blessed words — perhaps the priest is brushing off on him as Zed reaches for a drink. Noticeably — someone is absent, so he jerks his head towards Lola again. "He run off?"

[lolavillarin]

🍇Do they hang out with a lot of other LGBT people? Is this a conscious decision?

Yes. Lola hangs out almost exclusively with other queer people, and that is very much a conscious decision — straight people give her the ick. She also prioritizes girls in her circle.

Pride Ask Meme —  RAHI | HANS | JULIAN | LEE | TRISTAN | VIK | LOLA

[lolavillarin]

"They do, but like—" Lola starts, then quickly shrugs. "Dudes don't usually wanna do anything for it. So it's kind of for the girls."

Or the — insert hand-getting-its-nails-painted-pink emoji here ��� men, which Zed didn't come close to even on a good day.

"Come on, grab a seat. I'll cover you." Then, a glance to their table — some food, and plenty alcohol. "Honestly, have at it."

A tongue peeks out from between Zed's lips, and he draws it back to offer her a terse smile. Humour, he can stand. Because his discomfort is likely radiating from him. He's done his best to ignore the outfit — and the pleasantries of people complimenting it behind shark-like eyes. None of it is quite as blunt as Lola is.

Familiar, refreshing — he's almost fucking glad.

He wonders if he could auction it, and donate the proceeds as a late gift to Eva's party. Maybe it'll put him back in their good graces, without enduring the rest of this. Eyes glance around, to make sure he isn't overheard by anyone besides Lola.

"I might have preferred pink." a beat, a shifting grimace: "Apparently these have themes, so —"

[lolavillarin]

@zedechemist setting: the met gala

"Blink once if you need help," Lola says, upon catching sight of Zed as he approaches their table. Her eyes pivot back and forth from the attire; not at all attempting to keep her features neutral. "It's like when they dye those poodle dogs pink. I'm so sorry."

[lolavillarin]

Had Lola ever felt a pain like this before? Maybe when she and her first high school girlfriend broke up. Nothing quite as brutal as teenage heartbreak.

She'd survived then. It's hard to think she'll survive now.

Because no, the world doesn't care. She'd known it since the first time Mathias had pressed his knife against her — back then, against her side — in the middle of New York City streets, without the shadows' aid. Theatre district, where tourists kept on walking. Lola watched them, and they watched Lola watch them.

Lola bites down her tongue hard enough to make it bleed. There's iron in her mouth, and a scream in her throat that she'd swallowed whole. If what he wants is shrieking, she won't give it to him.

Will take her pain silently — she's a woman, after all — and shoot daggers with her eyes as it gets progressively harder to cope.

The second stab comes as quietly as the first. However, her breathing gets heavier, as does her blinking. Everything just sort of drags.

Do you know what it sounds like when someone has their throat slit mid scream?

It hurts, but Lola pulls herself forward as to reach his ear. Instead of shouting, she whispers, "Wrong. Girl."

In a cinephile's dream, she would have spotted Ava out of the corner of her eye before uttering what was likely to be her last words. The perfect cliffhanger, for a heroine to enter the scene.

The yanking of Mathias off of her body hurts more, unexpected as it was. She does scream then.

Next time Lola gets to look down at herself, her feet are stumbling over the disgusting concrete of this West Village alley.

Watches the altercation from steps away, frozen in place, while clutching where she'd been struck. Looks down at her hands — palms soaked in her own blood, nails with Mathias's trapped underneath. "Fuck. Fuck. What the fuck."

"Ava—" She hadn't said that name in... what, fifteen, sixteen months? "I—" She stumbles back, and her back hits into the opposite wall.

Sam. Who the fuck is Sam?

She's heaving, struggling for air and holding back tears. Lola's entire body throbs, and she's furious because she can't Google if this shit can actually kill her.

Fucking feels like it.

Feels like —

It feels like if she only blinks, her eyes will stay shut.

Mathias pulled back, letting Lola scream for help and try to get someone's attention. Shadows passed them by while everyone carried on with their night. He looked around and frowned, "Do you think they just didn't hear you, or that they just don't care? What a world we live in huh?"

He even waited to see if anyone would come. It was amazing to see how a lack of sympathy and concern could really fuck someone else over. Mathias hissed as his face was scratched. The burning feeling over one of his eyes forced him to keep it closed.

"Are we done?" he asked then stabbed her in the soft area where his arm met her shoulder. Slow and steady until the hilt of his knife met skin. A big smile stretched his face, "Do you know what it sounds like when someone has their throat slit mid scream?". Mathias pulled the knife out slowly, letting it drag only to plunge it back in but in a new spot.

"Can't blame me, Lola. I told you this would happen eventually".

@avamhollis @lolavillarin

[lolavillarin]

🐦 (...fletcher)

send  🐦  + character name or subject for  a  tweet  my muse would have made about it — RAHI | LEE | TRISTAN | LOLA

[lolavillarin]

[lolavillarin]

Legend says one's life flashes before their eyes, upon incoming death. Lola's does not.

As Mathias pulls her into the alley, all she can do is feel betrayed — by fate itself, by this shitty night. He'd pulled a knife on her before; it's like a re-run of a very old show.

"'It's your last night'," she mimics his tone, mocking. Her head had hit the wall hard enough to hurt. "Oh my God, shut up. You fucking loser. Let — me – go!" Lola struggles, in faithless attempts to break her herself free. "Hey!" She does yell out. After all, he'd encouraged her to. "The President of the fucking Virgin Club just pulled a knife on me — again!"

Between Mathias and the Brotherhood, she's desensitized. Knows the end is coming, one way or another.

So she'd die young. Big deal. Balls tend to grow a sizable amount, when you have nothing left to lose. Well—

—Maybe there is something. A second heartbeat beyond her own.

Lola's nails are shaped into french-tipped talons, sharp at the end. And it's what she uses to scratch at Mathias' face, vicious as she screams, — "Let me go!"

@avamhollis @intxication

Things were going so well for Mathias. Learning how to feel and be a person, it felt so nice. It felt like he could maybe change. And that made him sick. His world needed balance. For every good deed, a horrible needed to be done as well. He was getting better and worse. What he couldn't do to people he cared about, he took on on those who didn't matter to him.

Stalking people in the dead of night, stealing them and snuffing out their lives in the shadows. He never had a plan for any of it and Mathias usually just picked people at random. There wasn't any finesse or grace. It was just nobodies that wouldn't be missed. That was the plan.

Then he saw Lola.

The opportunity landed in his lap and he was snapping his teeth. He had told her he'd kill her one day. Tonight could be that day. His toothy grin visible in the dark, and in a moment he was on her.

Mathias grabbed her, yanking her into the shadow of the dark building, where the noise of the club and street muffled everything else. Slammed up against the cold wall, out of sight. To think someone's last moment was happening while others partied and enjoyed their life. Unlike the times they ran into each other before, Mathias showed no signs of giving up. He wanted blood on his hands. His knife pressed hard against her neck as he quietly spoke to her.

"Scream if you want. Cry even. It's your last night, do whatever you think will make this easier for you".

[lolavillarin]

▶️ alan

@alandietrich

[lolavillarin]

Lola's many things, but she's not a buzzkill. So when Kristen tells her to meet a bar, she'll meet at a bar. Put on her best boots, throw some curls into her bob, and a top that's the right level of slutty for a Saturday night.

"Uhhh, like a Fanta orange? Oooh, a Cherry coke. Yeah, Cherry coke." She places her purse on top of the counter then; some sparkly thing on a chain. "Oh, shit. No, it's fine, I can pay for us. I literally only have a credit card and lip gloss in here." Fenty, because duh.

@lolavillarin

"What do you want to drink tonight?" Kristen asked her friend, her voice raised to compete with the music that was playing in the club. "Something fruity? Bitter? Spicy, maybe?" There were so many options. "I'm thinking a margarita to start. Then... well, maybe a martini." A pause as she glanced around the bar. "I'm sure we could find someone to pay for them though."

[lolavillarin]

Send me a ▶️ to see what YouTube video my character would make

+ add your character's name to make it specific to their relationship

[lolavillarin]

[lolavillarin]

setting: 10pm, outside of cubbyhole @intxication @avamhollis

The girl Lola had been flirting with all night now awaits for a cab. Grabs her hand, feels the curvature of an engagement and wedding ring, and asks Lola to come along and spend the night just the same.

"Some other time," Lola says, even if her gut tells her to get into that cab — and get the fuck out of here. Call it past experience, or womanly instinct.

Still, she watches the yellow vehicle drive out. Craves more time inside, but remembers at some point catching the far view of Ava at the opposite end of the bar.

No words exchanged. It's not something they do, anymore.

And so, Lola tries to focus on the blunt she'd just lit up, its flickering flame; not the tragedy of knowing someone like the back of your hand only to struggle to utter their name again. A-va. You'd have to spell it out.

Lola doesn't go back into Cubbyhole. Instead, she just stays there, outside. And outside, a familiar face breaks out of darkness.

Dark hair, pale skin, dead eyes.

She should've gotten on the goddamn cab.

[lolavillarin]

Lola nods, but doesn't claim, It's okay — because it isn't. She's just content to be listened to.

"I don't want them to take it out on either of us," she says. "If they do it to you, then they're doing it to me. So it's all bad."

She does melt into that hold, shoulders growing smaller and smaller under his. "I was gonna tell you later, but..." The world, caught in her throat. "I really think I am. I know I've been late before, but I just— I just. It's gonna sound crazy, but I just know."

Hormones sure would explain a whole lot. "...Can we stop by CVS on the way home?"

He stays quiet, listening while watching those around them with a stare cast right over her head. "I'm sorry," quiet. "I'm scared, too." He's unsure of how to have this conversation with her, never having wanted to be in a position where he had to expose her to the worst of him.

Lola's pulled closer still, a supportive arm turns into a tight hug, and though he locks eyes with one of them, Lev bows his head to talk quietly. "They can be as pissy at me as they fucking want, but they don't get to take it out on you." Beat. "It'll stop. I'll make it stop." Even if it means pulling every fucking string he can.

[lolavillarin]

"...You're not taking me seriously," she says, letting out frustration in a sigh. His plans are entertaining, and his theories are fair. "Lev, I'm not joking. I'm scared."

Lola lets herself be brought close, but her shoulders are almost limp under that hold. "I'm not having babies in the middle of this shitstorm, dude." It hurts her to even say that. But if both of them are in danger, then what of their children? Motherly instinct kicks in, even before she can really claim it as her own. "This is the stuff that makes me want to cut my uterus out and throw it in the trash." Lola shakes her head, downcast. "I'd never be okay with that."

"They're the get the job done type." Like the happily married couple, Lev knows that the Brotherhood is equally chaotic - if there is a murder to be done, and it's deeply personal, he can imagine there are some imaginations over there that could match their own. "But you're right - fuck the shins, hit them over the head with a vase and stab them with the forks. Better if they don't see it coming." He throws an arm around her shoulders, pulls her into his side. "Alternatively, we grow an army of worms, catapult dirty diapers at their heads if they come too close."

[lolavillarin]

"'Work stuff," Lola echoes. "Right."

And they say young girls are the gullible ones.

She shrugs, "I have. He's cool." Almost too cool. "...I'm not gonna lie, you made me so dry they could use my pussy as a set piece on the third Dune movie." It's disappointing. "Have you ever had someone pay 10k for you then just walk off? Well— now you have."

So long, trapeze school.

"Considering my date had to leave for work stuff right after the auction ended, and I don't see him, it's certainly not him staring. Perhaps you have an admirer." Harley spoke, brow raised.

"Shame, I never did meet Jeff Goldblum. He always seems like such a a fun person to hang out with. Real blow your socks off type of guy. Definitely not the lying type, I would certainly let Jeff Goldblum have a free date."