Lola August Catch-All

[threatenwithcuteness]

who: Lola, and people! Even you!
what: Lola catch-all covering August
when: Throughout August
where: Various places, Lola has a few dates and a few run-ins with people.
warnings: Um, cuteness? Any thread that needs a warning will get it.

For right now all of the prompts here are going to be closed to specific people. I'll add a few open prompts later as I think of them. If you wanna PM this journal, private plurk me Rakath or hit me on discord (purplerakath#9681) to plot I am down!

All prompts are in prose, but I'll match styles with anyone who tags back.

Comments

[threatenwithcuteness]

Lola's demeanor shifted all at once, the words replaced everything in Lola's candy colored head with confusion. 'No longer matters?' What does that even mean? It wasn't like Ivar's face was any help, he was always going through emotions in ways Lola didn't get, or couldn't get.

"What happened?"

[ragnarsson]

His voice stays even as he explains in short phrases, but this time it's more through sheer force of will. If he gives into what he's feeling right now, he's not going to be able to stop crying. "She left. Both me and Winter. Went through the portal to my world. And she didn't even tell me goodbye."

He didn't bother telling her what had come before. How they had slept together for the first time or how he'd finally told Letha that he loved her. Telling that would once again result in nothing but tears.

[threatenwithcuteness]

Disbelief, that's first. The idea that none of this makes sense. That it's a lie. But even Lola can't see how a lie this big would play out, it'd unravel so fast, so immediately. And there wasn't any point to that. Lola had been keeping her distance. Not her finest moment, sure, but she was bad at kids. She knew she was bad at kids.

Maybe if she was around more, no. No this was Letha. This was Letha the way she was, the twelve year old Dolores met. The girl who had so many ideas as to what was right, and what was wrong, and every one of them was wrong. And that's when Lola realized that she'd balled her hand into a fist so tight she was feeling her nails dig into her hand.

"...I have to go."

[ragnarsson]

"Then go." His voice came out a harsh, raspy bark. It was the voice of someone on the verge of tears who was desperately trying not to cry. He could feel them gathering at the edges of his eyes, threatening to spill over. So he furiously swiped at them, as if he could will them back inside.

It was bad enough going through this heartbreak. But to show such a blatant form of weakness? That was more than any young Viking warrior could have stood.