LIGHTSPEED *

[Catherine Rose]

CATHERINE ROSE ,

i'm reaching out for something
touching nothing's all i ever do
oh, i softly call you over when you
appear there's nothing left of you, aha

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

[/size]

CATHERINE rose had had a rather shitty summer. not only had it been one of the most boring summers of her entire life, including the ones she had spent in mind numbing boredom and restlessness during her father's days in the circus waiting for school to distract her, but one person had managed to nearly disappear off the very face of the planet during it. that person was none other than hunter sinclair, her then boyfriend. when you got right down to it, it wasn't his disappearing that had helped contribute to the suckiness of her summer, but the fact that he hadn't said one word to cat about it before he took off. she had gone through the first couple of weeks in a very tense state, seeing as she didn't know if he had been murdered or abducted by aliens until she had heard through a diluted grapevine that he was not dead or lying unconscious in a dark alleyway somewhere; no, he was in europe, spending money and probably fucking european whores. and, of course, cat had been simply elated to hear that. in fact, it was the reason a great deal of the breakable things in her bedroom and been hurled at the walls and floor and broken into smithereens. it was also the reason her family had taken to being very careful around her, because, after hearing the news, she tended to blow up at the slightest provocation.

AFTER a while however, she had managed to store her anger away in a place where she could control it. while in the process of acheiving that, she had been mentally telling herself, over and over again, that it should be easy. after all; why should she care so much? hunter sinclair was just a guy, stupid and idiotic and deserving of a swift kick to the nuts, just like all the others. why should she get so worked up about it? she told herself about nine hundred trillion times that she hadn't really even cared that much about hunter in the first place, and she had finally pretty much succeeded in convincing herself. and, now that she was no longer apt to punch an innocent passer by in the face simply for existing, she was concentrating on trying to act as though hunter had never existed. and it was going pretty well. in fact, the only sign she could find of him remaining in her life was the blistering desire that she harbored to beat him to a bloody pulp should she ever see him again. and, well, that was good enough for her. besides, she didn't want to work on removing that desire, because well, she felt he really did deserve a good, sound thrashing. who was she to lessen the chances of that thrashing to happen? exactly.

"ARE we seriously out of ice cream?" the voice of charlie rose carried through the kitchen and into the living room, where cat was curled up on the couch, reading to kill a mockingbird, one of the few books she still actually enjoyed these days, for the fifth or sixth time since august. she ignored her brother and heard the refrigerator door slam shut and charlie's shoes move across the floor. a glance up from the page she was on revealed that he was now leaning against the back of the couch, giving her his face of interrogation. "did you eat all of the ice cream?" returning her attention to her book, cat sighed and stood up violently. she wasn't in the mood to deal with him. she marched purposefully into the kitchen, which was a small feat, given she kept most of her attention on the book, yanked the door of the freezer open, seized the half full carton of mint chocolate chip ice cream from its place, marched back into the living room, threw it at charlie a bit more viciously than she had intended, and then started heading upstairs. charlie called after her right as she got to the third step. "i don't want this, i want chocolate!" she sighed again and turned the page with such force that she nearly tore it right out. "yeah, well, dad ate the rest of it yesterday, so how about you go find someone who cares?" god, didn't he ever have any work to do? he was in college, for crissake, but it seemed all he ever did was hang around the house and bug her. she finished storming up the stairs and then continued on to storm into her room. however, when she arrived there and flopped down onto her bed, she found that she was no longer very interested in the goings on in maycomb, alabama, and tossed the book onto the floor. grr. random moods like these were annoying, and they had been happening quite a lot lately.

DECIDING that she needed some caffeine, she got up, picked out a pair of shoes, a cardigan and a purse and headed out. she had noticed that any little excuse to leave the house seemed like a damn good one these days. the drive to starbucks was quick, which she liked, but the line she found there was rather long, which she definitely did not like, especially since she was stuck waiting behind a very chatty and very obscene woman talking to what cat could only assume was her boyfriend, lover or significant lover on her cell phone. it made cat want to smack her, but she somehow managed to restrain herself. goodness, she was getting good at this self control thing. once it was finally time for her to order and leaned up on the counter and asked for a black coffee, nice and hot. this nonsense about iced coffee and crap bugged her. coffee was supposed to be hot, it was practically the whole fucking point. geeze.

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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

STATUS finished.
TAGGED huntherine!
ATTIRE clickeroo
DATE september 13, 2007
CREDITS lyrics by sweet, formatting and banner by me
NOTES gah, crapulent post, my apologies.

[huntersinclair]

HUNTER Z SINCLAIR,


WE KNOW YOU'RE SOFT 'CAUSE WE'VE SEEN YOU DANCIN'
you're hard, 'cause we've seen you drinkin' from noon
NOON AGAIN, YOU'RE THE BOY WITH THE FILTHY LAUGH
-----------------------

These past few months have been weird to say the least, and Hunter was a man of few words to begin with. He used to have a life here in the sunny city of Valkyrie, used to have a spot at Stanford and used to have a girlfriend. The last one, his girlfriend was something he thought about for most of the summer, although his actions didn’t necessarily reflect that. Sure he was in Europe; actually his entire summer was spent there, albeit in a hazy inebriated blur with the exception of a lingering thought of her. She being, Catherine Rose, his girlfriend before he just picked up and left Valkyrie without even saying good bye to her. Just because he left without a word, didn’t mean he didn’t still care about her, didn’t mean he stopped thinking about her. Somehow just running away was simpler than to explain himself. Hunter didn’t plan it, it just happened that way.

Despite the stories and the headlines he made on his gallivanting, international parties on yachts of people he barely knew, he wasn’t sleeping around. Technically, ignoring his whole Houdini disappearing act, he was almost a model boyfriend. Of course there were some pictures that would state otherwise like the one where Hunter was surrounded by the Victoria Secret angels while they were clad in lingerie right after a trial show, that was good, but he remained faithful, regardless of his location. Those stories that were circulating about his illustrious affairs with New York socialites visiting Rome were most definitely false. Tinsley Mortimer was a lovely, though grossly artificial, person but Hunter did have his eye on her. He was still hung up on Cat. Well, it was more of long distance adoration due to his whole ‘falling off the face of the earth’ thing. Hunter knew her well enough that Cat wouldn’t be particularly enthused that he would magically show up again… Actually, she might even kick him in the gonads; ‘might’ being a loosely used term, interchangeable with ‘most definitely’. But believe him; he had a very plausible explanation to all the bull shit he pulled, though he used it as more of an excuse to be in the suicidal recklessness category.

It was because of a funeral, an event he could have prevented. Sure his mother, and new step-father, attempted to console him, but how can you get rid of the guilt of the son who drove his father to his death? Exactly, you couldn’t no matter how hard you tried. It was when he sort of went to Boston for the long weekend, the last before graduation. He vaguely mentioned it to Cat, because Hunter wasn’t fond of impromptu family time. Cat was one of the few people who actually got him to be less of an apathetic asshole, even though the noun following that adjective had lately e-emerged, but Hunter now had the instinct to ignore it. That turned into his new found arrogance. In spite of his persistence to skip out on time to hang out with his old man, Hunter went to Boston. It was good; it was almost as if Hunter and Dr. Sinclair didn’t have that massive argument over his mom leaving him and why Doc wasn’t livid. That annoyed Hunter. However, this trip to Boston was almost nostalgic as they took a road trip the moment Hunter landed, like in the good old’ days. Hell, he even told his father about Cat, the pistol he was dating.

It was during the trip back to Boston; Hunter was driving when it had happened. The highway was clear and sun shone down in that dizzying heat that Hunter was thankful that he was flying by in the car with the windows down. Sure they could have chilled with the air conditioning freezing their nerves, but Doc and his only son preferred rolled down windows. They weren’t talking about anything in particular, just reminiscing of their trip up through New York City, and even dipping over the United States border into Canada, hitting up Toronto and even Montreal in their little driven adventure. They were on a single road highway, with Hunter behind the wheel when he spotted the semi off in the distance. He didn’t think much of it, speeding by the slower vehicles in front of him. But the sharp turn ahead changed everything, Hunter was helpless. The 18 wheeler swerved and slammed into their Land Rover, colliding with the passenger side, making the SUV roll over multiple times. Drifting between consciousness and none, Hunter felt another car collide into them before he unlatched his seat belt, crawling out of the vehicle on all fours. Dragging himself out of the messy heap of twisted metal, Hunter rolled onto his back, the sizzling tar of the road just a prickly sensation as he could feel his body bruise and ache, blood dripping out of various wounds. Hunter glanced around anxiously, he couldn’t see his father until he looked towards the brutally bent up passenger side of the Land Rover. He yelled, screamed at the top of his lungs for his father to get out of the car, before everything went black.

The police tracked the accident down, it would have been prevented if the semi driver had done his routine inspection of his vehicle, but that wouldn’t bring his father back. The police tracked the accident down, it would have been prevented if the semi driver had done his routine inspection of his vehicle, but that wouldn’t bring his father back. But that didn’t matter to him, nothing did. Maybe if he didn’t cut off all those cars, maybe if he just drove a bit under the speed limit like his mother always instructed to… Hunter was just left with question and ‘what ifs’, that’s all. However, it was the funeral that tore him apart, his guilt consuming him like a candle wick and a flame. He was a wreck after it, the entire process of a funeral tearing him apart. He was closest to his father, and after he died, Hunter just couldn’t handle it. Perhaps that was the reason he changed now, how he embraced his wealthy past now, rather than living on his own, with the little money he had to his disposal like he had before the accident. It wasn’t an accident to him, Hunter felt entirely responsible. Sure others would respond with violent uproars or complete silences for weeks on end, but that was for the regular mourner, and Hunter wasn’t a regular. He, instead, drowned himself with various poisons, briefly came back to Valkyrie to do all his exams poorly and left again.

Every time the boy closed his eyes for a good night’s sleep, the accident appeared before his closed lids. Suddenly, it was like his visions of Catherine, whom he was thinking of more than usual, was trading places with the haunting image of his father, like some sort of twisted sharing process. It was just easier if he left, just tried to forget about everything, hell, everyone for that matter, even if he was unable to do so. But he couldn’t forget Cat that easily. He wanted to explain himself so badly to her, because really, he missed her. It was after his father’s funeral, after he had nodded at every generic bit of sympathy spat at him that he went to his room, sat down with a piece of paper in front of him and pen in his hand. He would write her a letter, at least it was something. And he did write the letter, it was much easier than he thought. Hunter wrote about everything that had happened in the past few weeks, about his father, about the accident and even about his guilt. It was the first time he admitted to anyone, albeit it was in paper form and not in front of Cat, about how he felt, how he blamed himself out loud.

However, though he wrote everything, even signed it with an apology, Hunter didn’t send the letter. Instead, the crisply folded piece of paper had been tucked into his wallet, an almost forgotten weight in his back pocket. He knew he should have sent it, he knew fully that it would help his case if he did, but the way things were heading, a clean break, in his mind, was better. But now after a few months of travelling the world, drinking until he forgot weeks on end, Hunter Sinclair was back in Valkyrie.

He quickly moved out of his little shack by the ocean, and just as quickly moved into a condo in the swankiest part of town; the Valks. A place he used to brutally make fun of. Things have changed in this small period of time. He awoke in the mid afternoon, another night he didn’t remember, but he managed to get a few hours sleep in between another party and restlessness in bed. Rolling out of bed, he took a gander into the mirror; he could vaguely see dark, hollow circles beneath his eyes and sighed. Getting dressed quickly, he slid a pair of sunglasses atop his nose before leaving his new place. Coffee was in order. Not bothering with a car, he simply walked towards the nearest Starbucks, aching for some caffeine.

As he entered the famed coffeehouse, the line to the barista had significantly dwindled down, for which he was thankful. He hated lines, and faced a limited amount in his endeavours, which was nice. Hunter stood for a moment, rolling his eyes as the guy in front of him stuttered a bit, still indecisive about what he wanted. For the love of God, he must have stood in line for about twenty or so minutes, and if he hadn’t made his decision then, Hunter should be legally able to punch him in the back of the head. It was only fair. After a while, Hunter eventually made his way to the counter, ordered a delightfully caffeinated, steaming hot beverage and even grabbed it before turning around to see her. Cat, he didn’t expect to see her, well that was a bit of a contradiction. Hunter expected to avoid her, or see her in a much later time frame, a few years maybe? But of course Murphy’s Law was in place, as always. However, he had a smile on his face now, “Oh, would you look at that, the Cat is out of the house,” He smirked, taking a sip of his sizzling coffee, leaning against the counter a bit.

-----------------------

STATUS`finito
TAGGED TO` catherine, bby
ATTIRE` the d-bag's clothing
CREDITS` format inspired by all the vside lovelies<333 graphics by me
LYRICS` "the boy with the arab strap" by belle and sebastian
NOTES` First hunter post in AGES! Yay for a huntherine reunion!

-----------------------

[Catherine Rose]

CATHERINE ROSE ,

i'm reaching out for something
touching nothing's all i ever do
oh, i softly call you over when you
appear there's nothing left of you, aha

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

[/size]

ANYONE who knew catherine rose knew that she hated a many, many, many things. in fact, she vaguely recalled once making a big long list of all those said things, and was pretty sure it comprised of some four hundred items. among them were idiots, airheads, clones, wishy washy dweebs, not being able to find something only when you needed it, people who insisted upon continually beating around the bush, being called cute, when people pointed out the obvious, shakespeare, excessive naivity, her height... and, obviously, it went on and on and on. however, there was one thing on her list that stood out in particular, perhaps because she hadn't even put it on the literal, physical list because it felt a little too personal, and that was feeling vulnerable. there were no words that cat knew of to depict how much she hated it. she hated it because it made her feel like the kind of person she detested; a sappy, idiotic, annoying dweeb. vomit. this was one the main contending reasons she wanted to kick hunter sinclair hard enough in the balls to render him infertile. he had made her feel like more like a vulnerable, sappy, idiotic dweeb than she had ever felt before in her life, because when he had left she had been torn up, worrying and wondering about him; she had been really sad. the fact that someone else had enough power over her emotions to make her feel that way was irksome enough, but the fact that she was going through all that shit just because hunter had evidently felt like dropping everything and going to europe so he booze and get a bunch of european pussy made her pretty fucking goddamn furious. and for a while, when she had still been in breaking, shredding and/or incinerating anything she could get her hands on stage, she had been able to make herself feel a little bit better by imagining elaborate torturous punishments for him, many of which involved castration, but after a while it had only succeeded in making her even angrier.

AFTER that, it was getting out of her house as much as possible that succeeded in making her feel fractionally better, mostly because staying inside her own house, for whatever reason, made her feel maddeningly restless and trapped, which seemed to set her family even more on edge. they had noticed her sudden mood swing into a permanent blistering, furious simmer and knew that hunter's disappearance was the cause of it, and both rochelle and her father had made attempts to talk to her about it, but she had made it quite clear that she wasn't interested. she didn't need to talk to anyone. fuck, she didn't need anyone, period. mostly, she just wanted to be alone and punch things. and so getting out in public, like to the park or the beach or starbucks, had been good, because, though she didn't know why, she felt more alone surrounded by strangers than she did by herself in her bedroom at home. the beach and starbucks were her favorite, because the beach always managed to calm her, what with all the marine life, and starbucks she liked simply because she liked the smell and the caffeine made her feel energetic and tougher - if that was possible, that is.

THE barrista presented her with her coffe and her hand had just closed around the styrofoam when she heard it. his voice. “oh, would you look at that, the cat is out of the house.” no. way. cat hadn't really expected him to be repentent or anything if she ever bumped into him again, seeing as he seemed to have abandoned any semblence of decency when he decided to pick up and leave, but she had perhaps thought he might have aimed for some sort of behavior that was likely to get him served with even more pain than she had initially intended. cat sucked in one cheek and turned around, very slowly, to face the shitbag bastard. he was leaning nonchalantly against the counter, an arrogant look splayed across his face. as angry as she was at him, she had been looking forward earnestly to seeing him again, so that she could make him suffer. she took a moment to glance around the coffee shop. fuck and goddamn it. there were so many witnesses. she gave him a look intended to sear his eyes out and gripped her coffee so tightly that she almost busted the styrofoam. "oh, would you look at that, the sack of shit ass hat is back from fucking ten dollar hookers in europe." her voice was pure malevolent fury and the barrista who had serverd her her coffee gave her a somewhat scandalized look, but cat ignored her entirely. she was currently focusing all her energy on not swinging her fist right into hunter sinclair's stupid fat arrogant face. "so, tell me, to what do i owe this pleasure? isn't this town fucking crappy enough without you around dragging it into a whole new realm of shit?"

SHE raised a quizzical eyebrow, daring him to try and come up with something to say that was unbelievably stupid, something that was enfuriating, something that would somehow manage to piss her off even further. bring it on. unbeknownst to her, her fingers had been tightening even more around her cup of coffee and she loosened them a bit, not wanting it to explode before she got a change to hurl the hot, caffeinated beverage all over her dear old ex boyfriend here. she paused for several moments, staring at him with undiluted fury and hatred, waiting for the barrista to return her attention back to the customers. once she had, cat cast a quick, green eyed glance over the starbucks once again and noted happily that no one seemed to be paying specific attention to either herself or hunter at that precise moment, and that was good enough for her. she brought her free arm back and aimed a swift punch at hunter's face. jesus, it felt good.

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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

STATUS finished.
TAGGED huntherine!
ATTIRE clickeroo
DATE september 13, 2007
CREDITS lyrics by sweet, formatting and banner by me
NOTES i love angry cat

[huntersinclair]

HUNTER Z SINCLAIR,


WE KNOW YOU'RE SOFT 'CAUSE WE'VE SEEN YOU DANCIN'
you're hard, 'cause we've seen you drinkin' from noon
NOON AGAIN, YOU'RE THE BOY WITH THE FILTHY LAUGH
-----------------------

Okay, so he probably should have told her before he left or maybe he should have mailed that letter he carried around with him instead. Maybe that would have made this little run-in a little more bearable. But when she accused him of sleeping around, Hunter simply scoffed. Really? Sure the boy had changed, and not necessarily for the better, but he wasn’t a cheat. Even if he happened to cut the cord from this relationship he used to have, didn’t mean he went out and about, becoming a flagrant international playboy. He glanced to the side, vaguely looking at a bird on a toll machine that desperately needed some quarters for it was blinking in red, the side of his mouth perched up as he rolled his eyes. He couldn’t believe her, “Oh yeah, because fooling around with Tommy is such a step up from European whores.” He snapped back, raising a brow. Whoa, where did that spat of jealousy come from? He was sure of himself to admit to such ridiculousness. He did leave, she had every right to go on as if he never lived, even if that meant going around being with Tommy or whatever. Why did he burn him to know? Why did that get under his skin so badly? He was slightly flustered now, no matter how calm he kept his composure. He supposed this is how it was going to be between them, bitter, venomous comments spat back and forth. And why did he bring Tommy into this? He was Hunter’s friend, he was fun, and definitely should not be a part of this, not right now at least.

He looked at her, wondering if she knew how beautiful she looked when she was furious with him. He could see it in her bright green eyes; her hatred was absolute, almost abstract thrown his direction. He didn’t expect anything less, though he imagined in an ideal world he could have reasoned with her, maybe explain himself and perhaps his actions. Hunter could barely gather why he just left now, why he ruined something so good, and the one good thing that happened to him while he was in Valkyrie. He still liked her tremendously, it was nearly obvious if he wasn’t trying so hard not to impenetrable, impervious to all her hits. He sighed, running a hand through his dishevelled mane, “My God, Cat, I thought you out of all people would know not to believe in bullshit rumours,’ His voice was laced with a bit of annoyance. Just because he left without a word didn’t mean he went on a booty call with all of Europe. God damn it. A part of him wished he did, to be able to actually put a face on all the rumours and maybe he wouldn’t feel as bad as he did. Scratch that, he still had a bit of his conscience left that wasn’t as damaged as his liver will be in a few years, Hunter might have felt worse. He really thought she could have distinguished between rumour and reality, but he wondered if Cat had just left him unexpectedly, he would want to be angry and just accept the worst too.

However, if Hunter Sinclair used be something, it was a gentleman, and some of those aspects weren’t erased once he became who he was now. Like hitting a woman, yeah, it didn’t matter if Cat tore him from limb to limb, he’d let her. She almost had every right to, he felt bad enough for not calling her at least. He sure as hell had access to a phone through all his shenanigans. But Hunter didn’t, that was the difference between the predicament he was in now and what could have been. He could have still had a shred of Cat’s respect, but alas, what was done, was so done. He knew of Cat’s tolerance for bullshit, it came to a staggering zero. He also knew that the girl, who he aptly referred to as the pistol, didn’t hesitate from throwing a few punches now and then. But no matter what one expected, no matter how prepared, or lack thereof, getting clocked one in the face was still something to be surprised about. As her curled fist made contact with the flesh of his nose, his head cracked back. Damn, she still had that hit. Hunter stumbled a bit to regain his balance, his coffee long gone from his grasp as it hit the floor, shockingly still up right. Damn, the Styrofoam must be fight resistant. Equally as shocking as the upright cup of Joe, his sunglasses were still perched atop the bridge of his nose, just above the gather bruise and the rushing blood. Ray Bans were winners after all. Instinctively he cocked his head back, attempting to manage the incoming blood. His fingers traced the outline of his nose, no real damage; his nose was still intact, just a bit bloody.

He stripped off his leather jacket, throwing it atop of a luxurious love-seat beside him. He didn’t want to ruin his favourite jacket because Cat was a little PMS-y. Granted he deserved every bit of her anger, and knew full well that she most likely hurl a few more fists at him, but Hunter thought it was a little much for the patrons, or rather the spectators of Starbucks. It was a sight to see a tiny girl punching out a six foot one, fairly tall guy. “Don’t you think... I would have had a fairly good reason… to leave, Cat?” He said, pausing between groups of words, catching his breath. He kept his head back, only lifting it down to reach for more napkins. He threw the crimson paper held to his nose into the trash and stretched to get a hold of some more. In this process, his white cotton shirt rose as he leaned over the counter, revealing something he tried to hide for months now. Although his father had died in the contact of the accident, Hunter was still harmed rather significantly. There were thick lesions running up and down his sides, and there was one running from the left corner of his torso to his hip bone. Regardless of the period of several months had passed; the lacerations were still a bit raw and unquestionably a colour of fleshy pink. Casually sitting down on the seat beside him, he looked up at Cat, “Are you done? Or should I go get a cup before you manifest your fury at a more valuable appendage?” He asked, as the blood from his nose slowed considerably. He was debating on whether or not to pick up his coffee, because asides from structural damage, it was fine. Yeah, that was what he should be thinking about, his coffee not the scorned ex in front of him.

What a screwed son of a bitch.

-----------------------

STATUS`finito
TAGGED TO` catherine, bby
ATTIRE` the d-bag's clothing
CREDITS` format inspired by all the vside lovelies<333 graphics by me
LYRICS` "the boy with the arab strap" by belle and sebastian
NOTES` hahaha, I'm loving Cat's violence.

-----------------------

[Catherine Rose]

CATHERINE ROSE *


I'M REACHING OUT FOR SOMETHING
TOUCHING NOTHING'S ALL I EVER DO
OH, I SOFTLY CALL YOU OVER WHEN YOU
APPEAR THERE'S NOTHING LEFT OF YOU, AHA

- - - Grawrrrr. imagine that with an extremely, extremely vicious, feral component to it, and that was the word that kept popping up in cat's mind when she tried to find one to describe how she was feeling. 'enfuriated' and 'belligerent' were somewhat viable contenders, but they just didn't sound right. because she couldn't recall ever wanting to rip someone limb from limb as much as she wanted to rip hunter sinclair limb from limb at that very moment. she just hated him. so. fucking. much. she hated him for leaving, she hated him for not giving her one word of warning, she hated him for being the boy she had been closer to than any other boy in her life and then pulling a big huge fucking shit brain stunt and, above all, she hated him because she had actually cared about him. just having him standing there, before her, with something as mundane as a cup of coffee was causing her to push every ounce of self control she had into not tackling the stupid bastard and kicking every inch of him she could reach. then, for one teeny tiny moment, her fury wavered in favor of minor confusion when hunter said tommy's name. “oh yeah, because fooling around with tommy is such a step up from european whores.” that teeny tiny moment was up pretty much immediately and the fury was back and, if it was possible, slightly stronger than before. she scoffed. seriously?! "hah, tommy only wishes we were fooling around, but what in the fucksie are you doing bringing him up at all? we're busy focusing on how you're the douchebag of the decade, remember?" her eyes were narrow and her voice had gone ice cold.

- - - He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. funny, cat had never realized how enfuriating simple actions like those could be. she inhaled deeply and crossed her arms swiftly, holding her styrofoam coffee about the crook of her elbow and biting down on one of her cheeks and doing the best to beam death to him with her eyes. “my god, cat, i thought you out of all people would know not to believe in bullshit rumours." at this, cat tossed her head back and let out a short, mirthless laugh. "yeah, well, there was a time that i thought you, of all people, wouldn't pull a shit faced move like taking off for three fucking months without warning, but that all went straight to hell, didn't it?!" she paushed and sucked in a quick breath. she had to calm down at least a little, or she was going to start getting flat out hysterical and she really didn't need that right now. not that she trying to get rid of her anger or anything, because would need it to do her very best to make hunter suffer as much as possible, but hysteria was a no no. just wasn't the way she rolled.

- - - The moment her fist collided with hunter's nose was the very best she had felt in months. she felt a surge of savage pleasure and adrenaline rush through her and she barely contained a vicious grin. god, it felt so. damn. good. he stumbled backwards a bit, his coffee hit the floor and blood began to escape from his nose. ah, she couldn't help herself anymore; that made her smirk. the blood symbolized physical proof that she had caused him pain, like the pain he had caused her, and it was immensely satisfying. he stripped off his stupid douchebag jacket and tossed it onto the cute little loveseat that just screamed 'starbucks' next to them. they now had a couple of coffee shop patrons, as well as that goddamn stupid barrista, who were staring at them with rather alarmed looks painted on their nosy faces, but cat was far, far, far beyond giving a flying fuck about them. if it got too bad, cat was more than willing to take this outside, because she was nowhere near finished dealing with hunter sinclair yet. honestly. if he thought this was it, he really did not know her very well. at all. he still had his head bent back, attempting to stopper the blood with handfuls of starbucks napkins he kept seizing from the dispenser. “don’t you think... i would have had a fairly good reason… to leave, cat?” oh, that was just too rich. she had to work to keep from letting out a hysterical laugh by biting down fiercely on the inside of her left cheek once again. "no," she spat, her tone now colored with a healthy dose of contempt. he reached back once again for yet another glob of napkins - mwahaha - and his stupid douchebag shirt rode up, which would have been no reason for cat to take any sort of special notice, but his shirt had been covering several very nasty scars, and they caused a pang to ricochet through cat's stomach, which made her angry, because, damn it, what the fuck did she care? she debated momentarily about whether or not she should make an allusion to them and decided what the fuck, why not. "into all that sado masochism shit, now, are we?" she asked drily, raising her eyebrows once again, tightening her grip subconsciously once again around her styrofoam cup.

- - - He plopped his stupid self down onto the loveseat his jacket was already occupying and cat covered the distance in several slow but angry movements to stand before him again. “are you done? or should i go get a cup before you manifest your fury at a more valuable appendage?” her green eyes narrowed malevolently as the umpteen millionth surge of anger since she had set eyes on him several minutes ago rocketed through her body. in one swift movement, she brought her leg up and flung a kick his way with a great deal of force, aiming for, you guessed it, the 'family jewels'. she then uncapped her coffee and fixed him with a glare that could have passed for a bored look, but was probably pretty easily discernable as the classic hardcore hatred that hadn't left her face since she had set eyes on him. "okay, who gets it, your face or your pansy rich boy jacket?" she asked, lifting up the coffee a couple of centimeters out towards him. and to think that some people thought she was incapable of being polite. hah.

STATUS finished
TAGGED huntherine!
DATE september 13, 2007
ATTIRE clickeroo.
CREDITS lyrics by sweet, formatting & banner by me
NOTES violent cat is so easy to write for

[huntersinclair]

HUNTER Z SINCLAIR,


WE KNOW YOU'RE SOFT 'CAUSE WE'VE SEEN YOU DANCIN'
you're hard, 'cause we've seen you drinkin' from noon
NOON AGAIN, YOU'RE THE BOY WITH THE FILTHY LAUGH
-----------------------

Control, it was something Hunter had a lot of. He was never the type to yell. Yelling proved nothing, the only thing that happened was that you just got louder; it didn’t prove your point any better. Frankly shouting was just plain irritating. One could equally prove their point by simply talking rather than increasing the volume of their voice. He had control over that aspect of his life. He could only remember two times in which he had ever raised his voice, usually resorting to the intimidating calm approach rather than going ape-shit crazy. The first moment of uncharacteristic behaviour was during his father’s funeral. That was a gong show, now that he thought about it. So maybe showing up piss drunk was a bad thing, he would remember not to show up to funerals whilst in an inebriated state, mental note number one. Second, he shouldn’t flip a table when his mother was doing some flaky eulogy. That looked bad, made him out to be a psycho. Third might be just leaving in the middle of some bloke’s eulogy, something heartfelt and what not…And coming back after a month just to leave again. That was also bad, because during that first month after his stint at the hospital, he was in more magazines that he could count on both hands… That might look a little bad; especially at a time he was trying to explain himself. He ignored her little schpiel about Tommy, only picking up on certain things, like they weren’t fooling around…Hmm, that was somewhat comforting to know, but his mouth seemed to be on a different page than he, “Oh yeah, I’m being totally negligent here, you know being accused of fucking French whores and all.” He rolled his eyes, slightly amused by the way this conversation was turning out to be.

He was careful not to lift his arms too high, not to reach too far to get a thing, which was his plan to avoid the malicious souvenirs he collected from the accident. However, it is sort of difficult to be cautious once being hit square in the face and a nose bleed ensues. Thanks Cat. So of course, expecting nothing less of a witty rhetoric, he sighed a bit, both out of exhaustion and relief. Thank god she wasn’t one of those girls who floundered at the site of such wreckage. “Yeah, definitely into sado masochism shit on side, but I’m really into getting obliterated by colliding semi on a single road high way.” He nodded, his voice nearly monotonous but dead serious with his sunglasses lowering on the bridge of his now numb nose. Great, he just needed that now didn’t he? Hunter listened to her talk, but he wasn’t really paying much attention. Instead, the boy was focusing on the way Cat was carrying herself, how her brows furrowed together slightly and how her voice became monotonous, almost bored with her threats. Her vibrant green eyes complimented her features, although she was flustered, he could tell. Was awful of him to still find her so attractive when she was scratching and screaming at him? Perhaps, but did he care? Not in the slightest. Hell, Hunter still really liked her that should justify how he found Catherine so attractive even if she wants to rip his throat out.

However, it was when she kicked him that was the final straw. He caught her small foot with his thigh, almost feeling the raw skin rip a little. Hunter was used to the old recurring pain of ripping flesh now, as disgusting as it sounded. Hunter was done being her punching bag. “Okay you know what? I’m done. Are you happy? I’m sorry that I spent about a month and a half in the hospital because I got into an accident that killed my father, that I had to bury him the day I got out and that my dad is dead because of me. I was trying to do the right thing by not dragging you into this, because I thought it was better to spoil your summer by a short lived relationship than to drag you into this shit.” He said, his voice steadily rising, his arms beginning to speak along with him. He was always bad at talking without incorporating some sort of hand motions. If Hunter was ever tied up, he wouldn’t be able to talk; it was both amazing and humiliating. He could hear his heartbeat resounding in his ear drums, the blood beneath his skin warming up a little too quickly. Hunter was becoming angry, but anger wasn’t the word, no, he was becoming frustrated. He was frustrated at the fact that she kept assaulting him, despite him deserving it, frustrated that he was trying to explain to her that he had a good reason, but he couldn’t get past her anger. Everything was going to hell; he just went along with it. He took a large breath before continuing, everything was going to come out in the open and Hunter had no control over it, “And for your information, you aren’t the only person that hates me, I hate me. You can leave and never see me again, but I’m stuck with the face in the mirror. So I did go on a drinking binge, because I didn’t want to go to sleep. You know why, Cat? Because I would both see you or my dead father, and tell me, how would you be able to live with yourself when you’ve successfully murdered your father and successfully fucked over the one person you actually gave a damn about?”

He got up, ignoring her comment about drenching him or his jacket, shrugging into the said jacket roughly; he still wasn’t fully functioning as he strained his shoulder, lightly wincing at the familiar pain. He didn’t feel like keeping this charade up, he fucked everything up why not ended it completely now? Hunter just wanted to leave, wanted to leave Valkyrie, and wanted to go on another stint like before, to numb all feeling. It was safer, safer to not feel. He pulled his wallet out of his back pocket, ripping the crisp letter he wrote to her a few months ago, slamming it on the table; his justification.“Here, my entire explanation; read it, burn it, I don’t fucking care anymore. And don’t act like I never cared for you. I still fucking do.” Hunter shook his head. Great, just fucking great. He had been using that word, ‘fuck’, quite a lot lately, it just fit his position smoothly, and the one thing that fit in this entire mess. The ramifications of his absence were far greater than what he had originally estimated, such as the fact that he let his new persona fade so quickly in Cat’s presence. It was terrifying how easily the old Hunter came back; just as easily as his guilt flooded his words, but such guilt meant nothing now. “Good bye Catherine, I hope you never see my face again.”He said in a low voice, throwing his jacket over his shoulders, shrugging a bit into the cold interior, the coolness soaking through his shirt.

Hunter turned towards the barista, her hand in the air, frozen with the cup of coffee tilted to the side, as he momentarily leaned against the counter, “Super Coffee, Cindy.”He graced her with a sparkling smile, something that seemed to bring her back into the room, taking her mind off of the catastrophe she just witnessed. Popping his collar a bit he swivelled on the balls of his feet, facing the rest of the coffeehouse, the patrons in equal shock as Cindy was. This was very much ridiculous, had they never seen an argument before? Sure most of what they had seen, the cursing, the violence and threats of beveraging articles of clothing possibly never came up but come on people…. He pushed his glasses up farther onto the bridge of his nose before he spoke, “The show is over, folks; go back to your mundane little lives now.” He muttered, waving the spectators off rudely before pulling open the door and slipping out. He slinked to the side of the adjoining building, the bricks sinking beneath his fingers as he closed his eyes and breathed deeply through his nose. Hunter couldn’t believe he just did that. The blinking toll was still flashing red, as he ran up to it, kicking the metal poll, inserting a handful of quarters, “Stop mocking me!” he muttered harshly under his breath as he turned, shoving his fists into the pockets of his jacket. Shit, he threw down that letter. He now hoped she went with his suggestion of burning it, because honestly, things were better if he remained the douchey ex in this situation; her hatred was better than her pity.

-----------------------

STATUS`finito
TAGGED TO` catherine, bby
ATTIRE` the d-bag's clothing
CREDITS` format and graphics to yours truly
LYRICS` "the boy with the arab strap" by belle and sebastian
NOTES` oh snap! Hunter finally exploded. =]

-----------------------

[Catherine Rose]

( CATHERINE SELENA ROSE )
VALKYRIE STARBUCKS, SEPTEMBER 13, 2007, AFTERNOON

i'm reaching out for something
touching nothing's all i ever do
oh, i softly call you over when you
appear there's nothing left of you, aha
. . . . . . .

though it now made her stomach turn to say it, they had once been a really good couple. cute, even. and cat had liked him, really really liked him. because he had been smart and funny and someone she never got sick of. hell, she had been closer to him than any other boyfriend she had ever had. and it had been really great for a while. but then he had gone and proved himself to be capable of jetting off for a whole entire fucking goddamn summer to booze and spend money and sleep with european hookers. without one damn word. not one. what the fuck, yeah? cat, of course, hadn't wasted any time being some lame assed sobbing wreck, wondering if she had done something wrong, because that just so wasn't her. that was for pathetic and irritating chicks. no, at first it had just been anxiety because, you know, he was her boyfriend and she had no idea where in the hell he was, but then, when she had discovered that he was, in fact, in europe of all places, her first thought had been something along the lines of "his death shall be slow and very fucking painful". and right now, standing in front of him in starbucks, she was simply itching to get that resolution fulfilled. “oh yeah, i’m being totally negligent here, you know being accused of fucking french whores and all.” she chose to simply roll her eyes in pure disgust and malevolence at that one, not deigning to respond. that was just stupid. he had been in europe for months with lots of alcohol and lots of money and lots of women, was she seriously supposed to believe that he hadn't fornicated with any of them? yeah. right.

“yeah, definitely into sado masochism shit on side, but i’m really into getting obliterated by colliding semi on a single road high way.” needlessly to say, that succeeded in throwing cat off just a little. what in the shit was he talking about? he was entirely serious, she could tell. he had gotten into a car accident? had he been completely drunk and speeding down the autobahn or something? something like that would definitely warrant the carnage she had seen on his abdomen. "you were obliterated by a semi on a single road highway?" cat repeated tonelessly, gazing plainly at him, her eyebrows raised. "and it didn't manage to kill you?"

he caught her foot between his thighs and she angrily jerked herself free, glaring at him with as much death venom as her eyes could supply her with. so focused was she on this that him launching into a tirade through her off. “okay you know what? i’m done. are you happy? i’m sorry that i spent about a month and a half in the hospital because i got into an accident that killed my father, that i had to bury him the day i got out and that my dad is dead because of me. i was trying to do the right thing by not dragging you into this, because i thought it was better to spoil your summer by a short lived relationship than to drag you into this shit.” cat found she wasn't capable of much except continuing to stare at him, though now without death venom. a whole lot of feelings seemed to have suddenly attacked her and she by no means had the patience or the inclination to try and analyze them at all. but it felt bad and for some reason it was like she was angrier than ever, that much she did know. “and for your information, you aren’t the only person that hates me, i hate me. you can leave and never see me again, but i’m stuck with the face in the mirror. so i did go on a drinking binge, because i didn’t want to go to sleep. you know why, cat? because i would both see you or my dead father, and tell me, how would you be able to live with yourself when you’ve successfully murdered your father and successfully fucked over the one person you actually gave a damn about?” she had remained completely silent throughout all of that, as his voice rose in anger, and now she put her hands on her hips and bit down on her left cheek as she watched him put his stupid jacket on.

she almost couldn't explain the intense fury she felt bubbling up inside of her. it was more intense than what she had felt the moment she had first set eyes on his stupid dumbass arrogant cocky self a few minutes ago. his little rant was making her hate him more than ever, though now she also hated everything else along with him. and wasn't like the anger that had flared up inside of her that made her just want to beat something to a pulp simply for existed; she just hated it, hated it all. everything, every single thing around her. he had been in the car accident that had killed his father and quite apparently blamed himself for the whole thing. obviously, that was probably one of the worst things he was ever going to have to experience and it involved crippling emotional and physical pain. obviously. and cat was not a heartless bitch, so she did feel sorry for him. a lot, and it didn't even disgust her to admit it to herself. but she hated him wholeheartedly at the same time. she hated him for leaving and abandoning her, she hated him for living the kind of lifestyle he had always mocked in europe, she hated him for coming back, she hated him for the things he made her feel and the way he was turning her into some sort therpist case. he pulled his wallet out and extracted a piece of paper out of it and slammed it onto the table in front of her. she gazed at it with an air of not being impressed. “here, my entire explanation; read it, burn it, i don’t fucking care anymore. and don’t act like i never cared for you. i still fucking do.” her stomach flopped. “good bye catherine, i hope you never see my face again.”

thanks to him and all his dramatics, they now had quite the herd of spectators looking at them with wide eyed expressions on their stupid, annoying faces. she wanted to punch all of them. amazingly, hunter then turned to the barista, complimented her on her dumbass coffee, turned and popped his collar, popped his fucking collar, what in the fuck? cat stared at him incredulously. what? why? “the show is over, folks; go back to your mundane little lives now.” those words were accompanied with a little wave of his hand. oh, for fuck's sake. she had underestimated the level of douche baggery he had evidently attained while abroad. after striding towards the door, he was gone in a swirl of coffee scented air. cat stood immobile for a moment, digesting all that had happening the span of sevreal short moments, before she snatched the letter off of the table and followed him out of the stupid starbucks. she could see several people watching her through the front windows of the coffee shop, perhaps hoping to catch her punching hunter in the face again. eh, she was up for it. she saw his retreating back and followed after him, catching up as he stopped at his parking meter and kicked it. well, today was just a peachy day for her opinion of hunter sinclair's character, wasn't it? “stop mocking me!” wow, he wasn talking to parking meters now? she stopped walking when she was right behind him and shifted her weight onto one hip. "the annoying thing about inanimate objects is that they never answer you," she said drily, dropping her styrofoam cup of coffee at his feet. "and the collar pop thing was ridiculously stupid," she added, glaring at him. she was about to turn and walk away, but she stopped. "you didn't say anything, you just left," she spat, letting some of the fury seep into her voice. "when you need to go away, you just fucking say so, you dumb shit."

. . . . . . .

status , finished.
tagged , HUNTHERINE!
attire , here.
credits , lyrics: sweet. formatting: me.
notes , they're epic.

[huntersinclair]

HUNTER Z SINCLAIR,


WITH YOUR LEWD AND LASCIVIOUS BOASTS
we know you're soft 'cause we've seen you dancin'
you're hard, 'cause we've seen you drinkin' from noon
YOU'RE THE BOY WITH THE FILTHY LAUGH*

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[/center]

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STATUS incomplete
TAGGED huntherine, bby
ATTIRE the d-bag's clothing
CREDITS format and graphics to yours truly.
LYRICS "the boy with the arab strap" by belle and sebastian
NOTES it's a-comin'

-----------------------

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