#the brain rot is real fellas

[queercatboyrights]

damn u KNOW the character obsession is bad when u finally start having dreams w/ them in it

[eightspringdays]

this part always gets me

[shima-draws]

Sanlu consuming my brain like a goddamn fungus. Please send help. I’ve already written down so many ideas for fics I’m going to blow up

Blurred bc spoilers and also some of these are really REALLY self indulgent (embarrassing) and may never see the light of day

[luk-413]

Sorry fellas the one piece brain rot is real enjoy some zosan <3

[little-mouse-gardens]

A party for the goblin king

Yan fae king future Donnie x reader

Here is a little blurb I wrote based on my yandere fae king turtles au. Just a little idea that popped up in my mind while I was was listening to *cough* crane wives song curses *cough* and I couldn’t resist the urge to let my brain-rot run wild.

Tagging @lexiechr, @souperwrites, @radicallxser and @saltydoesstuff for feeding into my brainrot for these silly fellas >:3

Note : Let me know if there’s any spelling errors (autocorrect currently hates me for some reason)

Tw : Mentions of violence, alcohol, unhealthy relationships, manipulation, kidnapping (I do not condone this behavior in real life. this is only for entertainment purposes only), slightly suggestive???

Nothing about this place felt safe to you.

Nothing at all.

The warmth of the fire pit and torches. The glow of lanterns around the courtyard filled with so many types of goblin like fae running around partying and celebrating.

The savory scents of roasted meats and vegetables or the sugary scents of pastries of all kinds wafting into the air

Sounds of joyful music, laughter and the occasional cheering or rather yelling over the games being hosted down below from where you were seated.

All of it should have made you feel warm, safe or welcome.

However it was anything but welcoming to you. Considering you were currently seated in the lap of the being who’d been tormenting your cottage and kidnapped you the second those protective seals had been broken.

The horror of getting dragged into the woods over his shoulder from the safety of your home still angers you even in this moment.

Memories of pushing against him as he whispered sweet promises of an eternity of love and laughter by his side still echoed in your mind.

Absentmindedly messing with the hem of the soft silk robes he’d clothed you in and occasionally messing with the necklace of amethyst beads he’d claimed to have hand carved and strung himself while you angrily contemplated your circumstances.

What you wouldn’t give to be away from him and this nightmare you’d fallen into by chance. Just one smack to his smug face would quell that rage burning inside you.

Speaking of your captor, Donatello seemed to pick up on this change in your mood. His eyes moving away from the party to look at his beloved resting against him. Every fiber of his been fighting the urge to just start peppering kisses all across your body.

Slowly, he shifted you around in his hold so you were sitting sideways. His hand gently coming up to cup your chin and tilt your head to face him.

“something the matter, dearest?” He asked, his tridactyl hands slowly tracing patterns and shapes across your back and shoulders. The goblet of wine he’d been sipping and the letters of congratulations from his goblin subjects to him and his new spouse settled to the side on a table, “you seem distant? Is the music not to your liking? I did made sure the musicians learned your favorite songs”

You had to fight the urge to roll your eyes at the soft shelled terrapins smug tone. Shifting around uncomfortably in his hold to try and have some semblance of space between you and him.

“No, everything’s fine” you replied as casually as possible, turning your head away so you didn’t have to lock eyes with him. though a hint of your nervousness crept through that facade you held, “I’m just a little tired is all. This party’s been going on for what? Like three hours now?”

Donnie let out a deep chuckle at your reply. Your efforts to distance yourself from him and the twinge of anxiety creeping into your voice not going unnoticed by his keen senses.

Shifting you around again in his embrace so you were facing him, he reached a hand up to mess with the flowers neatly styled into your hair.

“Now, my darling” he crooned, slowly twirling a strand of your hair in his hand. The action combined with that low purr in his voice making warmth rise to your cheeks. A thought in the back of your mind screaming to run yet your body would not move an inch.

That smug smirk of his seemed to compliment that soft loving yet possessive look in those dark eyes that. Eyes that practically stared into your soul everytime they looked at you as he gazed at you. His free hand making sure you were securely seated across his lap, giving your thigh a gentle squeeze, “try to enjoy the evening, Hmmm? After all I spent a very, very, very, that’s three verys, long time planning for this celebration of our love. Your allowed to relax you know”

Before you could even ask how on earth you were supposed to enjoy this when he kidnapped you and put you through hell, he leaned in and pressed a tender yet passionate kiss to your lips.

His beak cold against your skin as you sat there wide eyed and frozen in surprise. A soft smile gracing his face as he felt your muscles relax slightly. Feeling his hands come up and rest on the back of your head when he pulled you closer to him. Basking in the softness of your lips and the scent of flowers still clinging to your skin from the bath.

Eventually, he pulled away to let you breathe. A small yelp of surprise escaping you when he teasingly nipped at your bottom lip, eliciting a breathy chuckle from him.

Resting his elbow on the arm rest of his throne and propping his head up with his hand. A look of pure adoration in his eyes that both frightened you and made your heart flutter ever so slightly.

“I love you, my dear” he murmured, his voice soft and eyes half lidded. tracing a heart across your neck with his free hand. his guilded claws brushing against your skin that you couldn’t tell if it was meant to be affectionate or a subtle reminder that you’d belong to him.

“so, so much” he murmured, his arm coming to wrap around your waist to press your frame against his plastron. The party becoming more of a blur as you quietly rested in his embrace. Peppering kisses across your head as you fought back the urge to push against him.

Looking back on it?

Maybe you should have just cut your losses and moved when you and the chance.

Now you dance and shed your tears in the loving but possessive arms of the goblin king.

[glassofapplejuicee]

quick prom modern au bc these fellas have rotted my brain

“Robin you’ve got this all wrong!” Steve whined, pacing around his room.

“If I’m so wrong then why are you all worked up about this huh?”

Damn that was a good point, why was he so worked up about this? It wasn’t like he actually liked Billy or anything like that. It was just a funny bit that Robin liked to play, the classic ‘Steve and Billy are super gay and in love with each other’.

Which was utterly ridiculous, yeah sure they were gay but that didn’t automatically mean they were destined to be with each other. 

Steve scoffed, in lue of a real answer. 

“I dunno.”

“Always Mr. Helpful.” Robin sighed, turning back to her phone. 

“Didja do the Wordle today? I’m on my third try and I have like one letter.”

Steve thanked whatever god was out there that Robin had the attention span of a gnat, really helped out when there was a topic he didn’t want to discuss. 

****

The lunch room always had a distinct smell of mold to it, which irked Nancy to no end, so the group often found themselves eating in the library. Nancy sucked up to the librarian enough that she didn’t even bat an eye when the usual four to five teenagers would follow Nancy around like lost ducklings.

“So, you guys have a date to the prom yet?” Jonathan asked awkwardly as they settled into the soft chairs in the back corner of the library. 

Everyone knew he wanted to take Nancy, and that this was his not so sly attempt at figuring out if she had a date yet or not.

“Hell no, you think I’m going to prom? I’m like, way too old for that shit.” Eddie chuckled. 

“But you’re our favorite super senior!” 

“Swear to God Hargrove-” 

Billy just cackled to himself while Robin interrupted him.

“Ok well I DO have a date to prom, so suck it losers.” 

“Oh yeah right Buckley.” 

“Nah I’m serious, I have hoes out the wazoo.” 

Steve let his head fall and hit the table, letting out an over exaggerated groan at Robin’s latest and greatest sentence. 

“Ok laugh it up but I am taking the drop dead gorgeous Heather Holloway and you’re taking…” she trailed off, pretending to think, “Oh that’s right, nobody!” 

Steve lifted his head and scowled. 

“It’s ok pretty boy, I’ll take you if no other upstanding citizen volunteers.” 

Steve consciously ignored the blush that rose up the back of his neck and grumbled out a response. 

“My hero.” 

“Hey you could put that shit on college apps! ‘Takes bitchless losers on dates’, I can see the headlines now.” Eddie quipped, dramatically pantomiming to the group.

****

“Yo Steve-o!” Billy called, jogging up to Steve’s car.

“What, need the chemistry homework again?” he smirked. 

“Dude, that was one time, and no.” he huffed, leaning up against the passenger door, looking over the roof at Steve.

“I came to ask you something actually.” he continued. 

“You know that, uh, joke? Like the bit that Robin always does?”

Steve narrowed his eyes. 

“Like you know that one, well anyways, I just. That’s all to say, or I guess ask, I’m here to ask something-” he trailed off again. “Dude just spit it out.”

“Do you want to go to prom with me?” 

“I mean yeah sure, I assumed we would go in a group together anyways.” 

“No no no, goddammit Steve, I meant like together. With me. With me as your date. With matching boutonnieres and dumb pictures and all that horseshit.” he waved his hand flippantly at Steve. 

“Holy shit really?” 

“Yeah really.” Billy answered wearily, he would never get used to the painfully slow processing speed of Steve Harrington. 

“Huh. I did not expect this. How long have you…” he trailed off. 

“Too fucking long Steve. Now answer the fucking question will you?” 

The corners of his mouth perked up without his permission, “Yeah, I’ll go with you. Matching boutonnieres and all.” 

“Oh thank fucking God, I was so worried you were gunna say no and then I’d have to kill all the witnesses.” 

Steve snorted a laugh. 

“Ok, I got practice so I gotta run, but I had to ask that before I lost my mind. See you later.” 

Steve watched as Billy jogged off back towards the school, he couldn’t stop the dopey grin from showing. He grabbed his phone from his back pocket and shot a quick text to Robin.

ok mybe u were right… on a totally unrelated note, what color should billy and I’s ties be?? 

[kairiscorner]

Hello! Can I ask for a scenario where Spider-Noir meets the reader who is a Barbie? I LOVED THE NEW BARBIE MOVIE and wanted to know how Spider-Noir would get along with a Barbie reader. I think they would make a nice couple, they are the total Barbenheimer.

You can have them meet in the events of the first movie by making reader Barbie as spider-woman or by having them meet in the spider-noir dimension. As you like, but I would like to emphasize the great color contrast between the dark palette of Noir with the colorful pinks of the Barbie reader.

Crystal ✨💞

HI AGAIN !!! OMG YES PLEASEEEE my barbie brainrot refuses to go and so does my atsv brain rot so...... i hope you like this :DDD

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

pretty in pink, great in gray

"oh, and before anything else, there's someone who's running fashionably late. sorry fellas, she had to fix up her makeup and hair, it's a very important priority of hers, as you can see." noir told the others as they looked at him in confusion. soon, their spider senses all turned on as they sensed yet another one of their kind in the room. "oh, well hello, cuties!" exclaimed a cheery voice from above as they heard the faint clacking of stilettos on the ceiling, pretty pink and glittery ones, in fact. they looked up and saw, hanging from the ceiling, a spider woman dressed in hot and light pink. she waved to them, with the others awkwardly waving back at her confused.

the spider woman from above shot out a pretty pink web from her pink webshooter and swung down after doing a somersault in the air and landing on her feet, with one in front of the other as they pointed outwardly in the opposite directions, a bright smile on her face still as she looked at everyone; all of which were thoroughly impressed by her acrobatic capabilities. "can you please adopt me?" gwen whispered underneath her breath as she looked at the woman in front of them intently. the spider woman giggled and walked forward to extend her hand to them all.

"spider barbie, at your service! it's so lovely to meet you all, and you, dear... of course, i will adopt you! would you like to live in my dream house or would you like me to arrange for the construction women back in barbieland to design a house of your choosing?" she asked gwen as gwen held on to miles from both sheer excitement and thoroughly getting weirded out. "did she just say she was barbie, or..." "pretty sure she said she was barbie." miles replied in a manner that showed he was just as stunned as gwen was.

noir moved to the front of their little group and shook barbie's hand first. "nice to meet you, barbie. i'm parker, peter benjamin parker, not to be confused with this guy." noir said as he pointed his thumb at peter b, who folded his arms and shrugged. barbie smiled widely at the monochromatic man as she held his hand tightly and shook it back. "and nice to meet you, peter!" she responded as she noted how dark peter's whole get up was. "i must say, i love the shades you've got going on here. i was considering making a darker outfit for myself, but pink feels more natural for me. i love how you look by the way, it's so... mysterious." she said as peter chuckled and scratched a little at the side of his head. dare he say miss barbara here was flustering him a little with her charisma and cheeriness.

"why, thank you, barbie. i love the abundance of... pink in your costume. very striking, and very powerful, i must say." he said with a slight smile underneath his mask as barbie's smile widened. she thanked peter, and the two went on and on about each other's costumes and quirks that came with them. they were hitting it off so fast, surprisingly. the group was actually questioning if what they were seeing was reality; because even though all of them are quite weird already as mutant spider people (and animal) a real, live, talking and walking barbie was also a mutant spider woman and was getting along well with the dark, brooding, and mysterious version of peter parker?

"so... care to maybe visit my dream house sometime, peter?" barbie offered noir, to which he felt a little flushed in the face at the prospect of visiting the beautiful woman's plastic home. "i... i'd be delighted to, my dear." he responded, to which barbie clasped her hands together in delight. soon, she wrapped her arms around noir, who tensed up a little at the abruptness of the situation, but loved every second of it. "this has got to be the craziest sight i've ever seen in my life." peter b said in tired disbelief as gwen and miles held themselves back from begging barbie to show them more of her pastel pink moves, and with peni and ham teasing them from behind about this new little couple they have in the group. well, not quite couple yet; barbie can be barbie without her ken, or peter--but she can be her own spider barbie with a spider man. it's not spider barbie with her spider man, it's spider barbie and spider man.

a/n: I NEED THE BARBIE MOVIE TO BE STREAMING NOWWWWWWWWWWWWW

tags !! @thecoolerdor @miguelswifey04 @sabcandoit @binibinileonara @luvstarrstruck @k4tsu3 @maxoloqy @fictarian

[catsudo]

These fellas have been occupying my mind the brain rot is real

[asteria7fics]

Does anybody else get random lines from SP stuck in their head?

Currently it's Jimmy saying "Fellas, I need to tell you something. I think I'm homosexual. And also, I'm addicted to cocaine."

Like absolutely unquotable, never in any context would I say it out loud, but it's been playing on repeat for like a week. The brain rot is honestly so real.

[xshindaaix]

Some of u guys are sick! Hatin' on Yuta is crazy 💀

Take your meds, cuz' Yuta was actually one of few people who genuinely cared about him. I cannot-

"Yes, I also say the same thing, the others are not even pretty, they are ugly and not to mention their skills, they stink and YUTA, YUTAAAA fucking idiot"

The brain rot is real fellas

[jaysscar]

"It won't take long just watch and see how the fellas lay their money down" my feelings when i look at hal??

nonny you are so real for this i literally feel the exact same 😭 like i was actually so tempted to ask for green lantern merch for christmas this year because he has literally rotted my brain like HAL JORDAN I LOVE YOU HAL JORDAN ☹️ (asked for barry merch instead, hope i get a t-shirt or sum lol)

[snootlestheangel]

hello! i would love some brain rot for these :)

youtube🎮

gazalex🪐

Don't know why this took so long so uh yeah

Intended to actually write something but the draft didn't save from last night so I basically gave up 😅

For 🎮 I've been watching a shit ton of Lethal Company gameplay. Definitely love the amount of chaos and comedy that comes out of that game.

Just picturing Gaz talking to Soap on the very first run they're making, and Gaz doesn't realize there's a gap, so he just walks off the edge and dies. It goes immediately to spectating Soap, who is fucking cackling with laughter. Ghost and Alex came in late (Ghost was having tech problems and Alex needed to adjust some settings) and they're so confused when Soap rounds the corner just cackling. Gaz is in tears from a combination of embarrassment (cause of course he fell again) and genuine comedy.

Gaz just waking through the halls of the buildings and randomly hearing snippets of Ghost talking to himself and saying increasingly concerning things. Gaz just hears Ghost muttering "you wanna fuckin' square up, mate?" Only to turn the corner and see Ghost doing the dance in front of a loot bug holding a bell.

Soap and Alex start screaming and Gaz turns around just in time to see Soap step on a landmine and kill both of them. Ghost started laughing so hard he choked.

Gaz standing with Soap and hearing Alex from somewhere close by go "ew his legs are out". They hear the music box winding and Ghost just asks if they should be concerned. Alex just giggling "he's winding himself, gross" and then the sound of the Jester activating and killing Alex instantly. Ghost actually ends up screaming and running past them. They get team wiped by the first Jester they encounter.

Literally all of them losing their shit when Gaz inevitably falls off the map. It happens way too much and it's still funny every time it happens.

Soap just going full Scots when he's getting chased to the point Roach (Gaz's editor) just puts "Scottish noises" in place of captioning what Soap is saying

I really need to write this actual video thing cause the brain rot is real

🪐

The major premise of their undercover story is that they're posing as a newlywed couple. Why else would 2 guys their age be on a cruise together??

Gaz is surprisingly okay with that idea. He knows it's just for appearances and Gaz is a confident fella. Meanwhile Alex fully believes he's died and gone to hell because pretending to be in love with this incredibly attractive guy is just not something he signed up for.

The classic "there was only one bed" trope. Except Gaz keeps getting horribly seasick at night (it's related to the experience he had on a cruise as a kid) so he subconsciously keeps holding onto Alex because he doesn't feel well. Meanwhile Alex is having the gayest crisis of the century.

[myimaginesandrp]

Unwanted Reunions

Summary: You’re not exactly the best at this superhero stuff, but you try. Everything seems to be going okay until a creature who's  not from around here crashes your universe. And that means… they won’t be the only ones to do so. 

Notes: 2k, Miguel O’Hara x Spider Woman reader

Warnings: Mild angst  maybe?...

A/N: Please be nice. This is the first time I write for the ITSV/ATSV universe. This man just has me in a chokehold rn 🙈 {Also this was 0% Edited. oops}

◣━━━--------━ 🕷 ━-------━━━━━◢

The cool breeze of the evening sky brushed against your cheeks as you slowly made your way up another floor on the glass covered skyscraper you found yourself on. Man you wished you were home. You wished you were in your tiny apartment, laying in bed cuddling with a book, or rotting your brain away with a show like you had planned. Instead  you were here, in the middle of the city, crawling up the 50th floor of some random building as balding men in suits watched you trying, and failing, to keep calm because you were scared out of your mind. The last time you had gone up this far you had almost thrown up inside your mask. As it happens, getting bit by a radioactive spider comes with many perks that don’t include taking away your fear of heights. 

Why you still tried to help people on this side of town was a wonder to you. They were all snobby jerks who looked down on people like you. People with “enhancements” or as most of the population liked to call, “unnatural freaks”. Hence why you had decided to opt for the suit and the mask. It helped keep your sanity and your normal life as “normal” as you could get. As “enhancements” went, yours weren’t so bad. You could’ve been some rando with glowing skin, or some deformed fella with multiple limbs, or like that one poor girl who had spikes sticking out of her back.  Such things happen when you mess with stuff you shouldn’t. The people you worked with didn’t know when to stop, and so here you were shooting webs out of your wrists and feeling tingles every time you were in danger. And of course, crawling up ridiculously tall buildings because you were just a girl trying to help people. 

Today people happened to be two idiots who were filming videos on a loose platform instead of cleaning the windows like they were supposed to. They were young, one blonde and the other with rainbow colored hair who were looking around frantically as the platform they stood on swung in the wind. Their camera was a scattered mess of plastic on the ground, and if you didn't hurry, they were going to be joining the scraps soon. But the farther up you went, the harder the wind pushed against you, and honestly maybe this superhero life just wasn't for you anymore. It had been months of near misses and property damage, and rude ladies telling you to mind your own business. 

The snap of a rope above you pulled you away from your thoughts and you looked up just in time to see the last cable holding the platform give out. You leaped up with all the strength you had and grabbed the rainbow haired guy, as the other held on to what was left of the support cables with all his mind. As a series of webs later and you had him all wrapped up around you, holding on as you reached for the other who would not let go. 

“Buddy, you need to let go, that thing is gonna give out!” Exasperated, you reached out to him only to have him kick at your hand, sending his shoe straight up to hit your forehead before it went tumbling down below.

“ I don't want your help, you're a woman! I’ll wait for that one guy with the rocket suit to show up”. Your eyes flashed red. There was no way this guy was for real. 

“Look asshole! He’s in jail! He was laundering money”  you yell back at him while the other young man wrapped around you began to sob.

“I don’t care, I’ll just wait here”  the blonde screamed, shaking his head. A warm puddle of what you hopped were tears spread down your back and you reached forward again only to get hit in the face with another shoe. 

“Look you can either come with me, or you can turn yourself into a puddle of guts once you hit the ground. Your choice!” You took several deep breaths and offered your hand again. This time he reluctantly reached out his arm and you pulled him quickly before he changed his mind. 

The way down was ridiculously slow. The screams and cries of the two men mixed together with the force of the wind made the whole ordeal that much more unpleasant. The last rays of the day were hiding behind the rows of buildings as you focused all your attention on not looking down.  A decent sized crowd gathered at the bottom, a fire truck just pulling into the street to help. Just as you were about to reach the bottom and be done with this mess, you felt your body go rigid. 

No, not now. You thought to yourself as your “tingles” went off, letting you know something was off. What could possibly be happening now… Your answer came in a scatter of screams from the people below. Bodies ran into one another and others pointed up into the sky. You turned in time to see a mass of colors paint the sky and a single figure stepped through. And as a flash of familiarity hit you when you saw him, so did a large creature on your left. 

The two men went flying into the ground and you were lifted into the sky by an enormous pair of wings. It took you a second before you realized it was actually a man, or at least he looked like a man, with a large beak and a set of talons that began clawing at you. Glass broke around you as the man creature flew through buildings heading towards the part of the city you knew was trouble. 

The large green building you worked at came closer and closer and all you could do was try and try to pull and jump and evade his attacks. Still you managed to redirect him towards the river. A moment later you were crashing into a large and thankfully empty warehouse. The creature was shifting and screeching in pain and you rubbed your eyes to make sure you were seeing correctly but this thing was not from around here. And if this thing was not from around here, then others would follow. Your heart dropped to your stomach as you realized you were in for a seriously unwanted reunion. 

Shaking your head you leaped up and made short work of the creature. Now that you had your feet on the ground it was easy for you to work your way around the threat. With a long sigh you finished tying him up and dropped to the ground, to check on your wounds. Most of your arms were scratched up and a nasty gash on the side of your waist was throbbing, but you were okay. You stood up and looked over at the falcon man? Who was knocked out in front of you.

“Now what am I going to do with you? Hmm?” You said as you walked around to get a good look at him.

“I’d be more than happy to take him off your hands” Said a familiar voice behind you. Your body tensed and relaxed as you turned to meet a pair of brown eyes you thought you’d never see again. 

“ Jess!” You made your way over to her and she welcomed you into her arms with a  warm embrace. “I’ve missed you so much” 

“Me too girl, Headquarters hasn’t been the same without you and your big brain” She said with a warm smile. 

“Oh I doubt it, Lyla should have everything taken care of…” 

“Not everything” she replied and nodded her head to the side. Your eyes trailed away from hers as another figure stepped out of the Shadows. 

You took a step back as your heart betrayed you by speeding up to a mile a minute. He had his full suit on so you couldn’t see his face or any emotion behind the new mask as he made his way toward the two of you. He was so tall, taller than you remembered, and his gaze was fixed on you as he began making his way towards you. His name slipped from your lips before you could stop yourself.

“Miguel” 

“I thought you were going to wait for me by the river?” Jess said as she began to play with her watch, scanning the creature. 

“You took too long,” he replied as he looked over at the creature before coming back to meet your gaze. 

“I guess this one is yours?” you cleared your throat. Your name left his lips and you had to move before your body betrayed you and did something stupid like cry. “He’s all knocked out. You should be able to take him with no issues I-”

“You’re hurt” Jess said as she reached forward and lifted your arm to reveal the gash on your side. “We gotta get this looked at”

“No, it’s fine” you said, stepping away “I’m sure it will heal very soon, it's not a big deal.” A firm hand  wrapped around your wrist as he called your name again. 

“She’s right, just have someone in headquarters look at it and you can come right back” he said stepping closer to you. 

“That’s not a good idea. I have a lot to do here. I have people to look after here” 

“Chiquita, it will be quick. I promise.” Your body went rigid at his words. 

“Yeah I’m not sure your promises have much weight to them anymore.” He winced at your words, letting go of your wrist. 

“I’m gonna let you two catch up for a second.” Jess cut in, “See you at headquarters!” she said before disappearing into a portal.

“Chiquita…” Miguel started but you took a  step back shaking your head.

“No, you don’t get to call me sweet names anymore. You broke your promise”

“You know I had no choice. I had to do what I did for the good of the universe. You know that!” 

“You don’t know that! How could you possibly know what the outcome would be?”

“ All the calculations said-”

“He was a child, Miguel! A child! I told you to give me a chance to help him and you went behind my back and you did what you wanted anyway” your voice getting louder and louder.

“You think I wanted to do that to Miles? You think it was easy for me to do what I had to?” he said pacing around.

“ I needed time” you said shaking your head “ I just needed a little more time and we could’ve found an answer”

“But we didn’t have time!” His tone finally reached yours. “We didn’t have time and he was going to destroy millions of people’s lives.” 

“You lied to me Miguel. You lied to me. You were so hellbent on doing what you thought was okay that you didn’t care who you hurt on the way.” Your breath cuts off as the pain in your side burns through you. He runs over and catches you before you fall over. In a moment his mask is gone and you’re staring into his eyes. His eyebrows furrow with concern as he looks over at the red on your  suit that is growing each second. 

“ We can talk about this later. Please, let me help you.” he pleads.

 You don’t know if it’s the loss of blood making you dizzy but you nod your head reluctantly.

“Fine, but as soon as I heal you bring me back” you say. Or you mean to say, but instead a mess of syllables leaves you.  A moment later he lifts you into his arms and as you lean your head on his chest the world around your shifts into a colorful mess. He steps through the portal and you let the heaviness of your eyelids win, welcoming the darkness. 

___🕷___

Tysm for reading :> it’s been a hot minute since I actually wrote something so I know this is gonna be a mess. Either way if you made it this far, thank you so so much for taking the time to read this ❤️

Ps. I’ve been working in this chapter so I’ll be posting an updated one very soon. Please look for ward to that!

[charleslee-valentine]

Cats in The Cradle

Characters: Bo Sinclair, Lester Sinclair, Vincent Sinclair (no ships)

Word Count: ~6,000

Warnings: Abuse, cyclical abuse, toxic dynamics, Bo has complications from the surgery (missing cerebellum) and obsessive compulsive disorder, mental breakdowns, gun violence, delusions, religious trauma, implied sexual abuse, murder and the wax figures, Bo being mean to Vincent, blood and injury, vomiting, medical irresponsibility, paranoia, trauma bond.

~~~~~~~

Every day in Ambrose is the same. It’s when there’s change the trouble comes along.

Makes Lester world-weary. Got to run off on his little rot-filled road trips for some air. Though he stays tethered to the house, even if only at the end of the night, when he’s got to wander home for normalcy. It ain’t about the protection, he’s got a slugger under the seat for that, and it ain’t the occasional cooking his brothers get up to and burn each time either. He’s grown enough get shit done, even if it’s the ass crack of dawn outside and he ain’t eaten in a whole day, he’ll whip somethin’ up.

That’s the argument anyhow. That he can take well enough good care of himself to be allowed to roam some. Don’t make sense that he’d be the first, bein’ the youngest and all, but the antsier he got, the messier he got with the huntin’, and suddenly his big brothers had to leave Ambrose to track some fella that got out through the trees Lester was s’posed to be watchin’.

Thought that would get him strung up himself. A perfect wax Lester placed inside Trudy’s pride and joy tendin’ to little, pure wax, babies. Maybe down the pet store with Jonsey’s pups that never come to be, or shovelin’ shit out in the cemetery. That’d be like them, to leave him outside to melt and wither away.

Never come though. Got him a reprimandin’ sure, but he left it with a smile anyhow knowin’ big brother wasn’t gonna use his own bowie to slit his throat. And then again when Vinny told him he could leave on the condition he started tendin’ to himself and his chores without help from either brother, and come home every night.

Really if it were up to Vincent, they’d all get the same freedoms, but it weren’t. Never was going to be, when Mama kept him firm in her shadow. Bo’d kill ‘em all if he caught wind of Lester’s thinkin’ it, but fact is he figures Bo just replaced Mama when she keeled over.

Trudy was out her mind the last few years of it. Never went to no homes, despite what Bo likes to tell folks. They stayed and fixed Mama up. Ambrose got empty and miss Trudy got needy. It was every day pickin’ up shifts the tradesmen was droppin’, leavin’ the schoolhouse forever. Old fashioned as it was, s’not like they was learnin’ anything in a one-room, all-grades schoolhouse anyhow.

Still woulda been nice to have a shot at normal. Coulda left with the rush and forgot about highchairs and smelly wax. Nope.

Now Bo’s jus’ as mean as Trudy, enforcin’ his rule with the same flat palm. ‘Cept’n the part where his is rung around with scars.

Different, ‘cause Trudy’s off burnin’ in hell, not missed by a soul, but they stick close with Bo. Know it ain’t really his fault.

The Doc called it compulsions. Some kinda disorder come from havin’ to lose a piece or two of the lowest part of his brain in the surgery. Lester never gonna forget bein’ tiny as can be, sat on the table cause Trudy put him down and forgot him there, while Bo, who seemed so much older back then when the six years made a difference, was strapped down. They’d use the highchair still if they could, but he was too big and awful by then.

Shove him in a standard dining chair and tape his arms underneath. Let him cry and try to kick and pull and bare his teeth. Lester was just learnin’ to speak, and he’d asked what was happening’, curious about all the shouting and pain.

Bo told a little lie turns out. Same thing with the surgery, his mind would wander back then, forgetting what made reality real and made the stuff in his head not. He carved up some critter and left it in the art studio. Said Trudy gave him permission. Well she didn’t. Little Vinny was her artist, and notably, nowhere to be seen in this memory, autonomous enough to stay away, but never going far.

Must’ve hurt him too, listenin’ to Bo losin’ his mind now and again. Knowin’ it was him that leeched off the back of his head and absorbed that one important little piece out his skull. Payback for the whole, not having a tongue, thing.

Nowadays Bo’s a little better, but Ambrose still got to be pretty particular to not send him right back to the pale, polished arms of the hallucinations. Those belong in the casket down the road.

Lester blames Trudy. Even when he goes with to honor her when Bo needs to do it. Every Sunday is when he’s down there, so ‘less he’s got a job Lester’ll come down to see. Vincent’s usually there too, if nobody been through in a while.

They take off their hats and masks, bow their heads, and pray. They pretend they don’t notice Bo’s hips and knees splayed wide in an arc and struggling to walk straight when that metaphorical mask of the Doc’s training wares off. His hands shake. His words don’t come out right. Sometime’s Lester’s the only one in the house usin’ words, while the twins do their motioning about.

Really should’ve gotten more interested in those sign language books he’d been given way back when. It was funny, a lady on the TV could use sign ‘cause she couldn’t hear words and that meant she couldn’t make ‘em. Trudy saw it and was livid. Banned them all from 123 Sesame Street and whooped Bo for even turning it on. Like it was bad to communicate.

If Vincent knew how to make his signs back then, maybe he’d have told the papers the truth. After all it was Mama that did the talking. Givin’ him words gave him the chance to say no. To bein’ her little protege and heir. Like hell she’d ever let that happen. Had to teach it to himself in secret. Bo picked it up from watchin’ and snatchin’ up Vinny’s books and papers to tease.

Lester wishes he were that smart. Hell, Doc even said it himself, sometimes seemed like he was born with even less brain than Beauregard. ‘Cept he had a different name for Bo all the boys promised never to repeat. They’d get nasty, but none of that usin’ Mama and Papa against each other.

Prolly why they’s too scared to tell Bo he’s becomin’ like Trudy. Stumblin’, shakin’, pissed at everything.

Ambrose falls well into his liking. Bo got it all down to memory.

Bodies he don’t like don’t even go on display. Vincent could work his big ass off on a statue for weeks, but if Bo couldn’t squeeze it into however he’d categorized the town in imaginary gridlines, they’d be put on reserve. The wax house held the rejects, mostly. Once upon a time Vincent left Lester a note tellin’ him he sometimes dressed the statues up funny and messed up their makeup if they were his favorites, so Bo would reject them, and he’d get to keep ‘em. Worked every time too.

Be nice if they could laugh about things like that anymore. ‘Specially with Bo.

A new batch come through back in the early spring, just a couple months shy of a year or so ago then, and filled up lots of the empty space. Mostly went to the theater. Baby Jane and sister Blanche didn’t used to be lightin’ the place up with their sad story, they just tossed an old closed sign up ‘til the bodies rolled in.

It pissed Bo off when Lester was helpin’ him and wanted to put his statues in a line. Made sense, like they was all friends together! But Bo had it all mapped in his head, talkin’ who’s clothes matched who, color in their hair matchin’ with the number on their seats. That was more confusin’ than his fits.

Most of the time in Ambrose his workday was tidying, checkin’ on rat traps and the like. But sometimes when Lester could slip in a lunch break or two off patrol he’d see Bo pacin’. Drawin’ lines in the sky with his hands, mutterin’, kickin’ things. Like inside the theater but on the whole town.

Funny thing is they do gotta crown a new Miss Ambrose once in a while.

The silky bright colors of a beauty queen dress stand out far too much against the pale, sunfaded town they live in. Her smile too white, the makeup too sparkly. Bo tears the bodies to bits and takes them back to Vinny, like a child with his broken toy.

There’s nothin’ he can do, and they both know it, but Bo is different from Trudy in that he will admit regret. Not directly, he’d sooner swallow a gator in one bite, but showin’ the broken pieces is still better than tyin’ ‘em down to hide.

At least most of the time it ain’t like that. One thing he’s always picky about is the lights. Town gotta come to life some time, but Bo’s got a tradition. Generators don’t kick on ‘til he flips the switch manually, else he’ll block the sky with the burning neons of mom’s and pop’s updating with the times, and firey orange street lights. Bo insists they don’t got color. Just a disgusting haze that makes it hard to see. Lester takes the accusation of him being wrong, even though he knows it’s Bo’s head.

And he’s gotta see the sky. Star light, star bright, first star and all that- it’s his one shot at a wish. Not even his brother’s knows what he wishes for each night, peekin’ his head out the window ‘fore callin’ down to Vincent to flip the switch.

Maybe to make Ambrose perfect the way he sees it in his head, so he can stop runnin’ around town tryin’ to adjust it all. Finding those little pockets of feelings and digging in until anythin’ that stands out has to go.

Way back when, Lester kinda hoped Bo would set him free by thinkin’ he didn’t match. Not like he was part of the squirming mass his brother’s was born as. Nobody remembered Lester. Not for bein’ quiet and shy or for bein’ devilish.

Longer he stays though, he knows it’s not really Bo takin’ real care of Ambrose. His head needs it perfect, destroyin’ progress for somethin’ only he can reach and grasp and toss about like it means anything as a scolding hot weapon. Perfection burns hotter, stings worse than wax, and Trudy Sinclair wanted both from her boys.

Trudy might’ve been sick physically, but it come along long before that. Only a matter of time before Bo’s head gets angry ‘bout the dank environment up there and tries to plug it’s missing bits with the same cancer that took Mama the rest of the way to hell.

She had to’ve been there before she died. Else she wouldn’t have done what she did on her way out. Her last words. “Beauregard. Bo.. Promise me you’ll keep Ambrose tidy. You were Mama’s boy. Kept things in line. Don’t let it got to chaos, to hell.”

It was bullshit. If she weren’t already gasping for life Lester might’ve grabbed her throat then and there. Vince knew it too, cause he stepped in front of Les and went to Bo. Chest to back, the way they was conjoined, he’d tried to force his whispers with his half of a tongue, getting at least his twin’s attention to start gesturing.

“Don’t listen.”

“Mama is a liar.”

“You know how you are. You know how she is. Don’t.”

It was hopeless.

That word again. The Doc said compulsions, well sometimes he also said obsessions. Same disorder, different symptom. Neither one Bo could escape. Even if he’d been listenin’ to his brother, which he wasn’t.

All he heard was Hell and that was enough. Bo was terrified of the spiritual. They all oughta remember the way he’d been in church, even when it was full, bawlin’ his head off, havin’ those fits ‘cause he thought he was goin’ to face demons and hellfire for breakin’ rules. The panic meant he kept breakin’ rules, and he kept gettin’ scared, and so on.

It was a trap to scare kids into bein’ good, nothin’ worth anythin’ in adult life, but those Sunday mornin’s Bo kneels at Trudy’s coffin and prays for real, not just at her but at any God that will listen and spare him and his brothers. If Ambrose can be a haven, when it reaches that state of perfection, they’ll be guaranteed eternal life away from screamin’ babies and burning wrists and “please Mama I was doin’ my best-“

The script Bo operates on never ceases. Pretty girls get their mouths glued shut so they have to follow it. Lester drives the same route to catch the same folks and scrape the same families of deer off the roads. Hell it ain’t official, if it were he couldn’t keep the little trinkets and bones he does. Or the meat. But it covers well and no government gonna complain about free labor from a guy like him.

With the girls, they’re just like the deer. Bo takes their pictures and calls them sweet things, but he’s on repeat. Same task, get the restraints, tune out the noise or find a way to stop it, stay sickly sweet with ‘em all the while. Throw in some affection so they don’t fight so much.

Just. Like. Mama.

Lester don’t much like toyin’ with the art. Feels like goin’ in a museum and draggin’ your fingers all over the paint. Which actually is somethin’ Bo would probably do, if it wasn’t up to his standard, takin’ the whole frame and just tossin’ it right out. But they stay neat and displayed on his cellar walls, in scattered checkerboard rows that Bo thinks are straight across.

Thing that always stumps Lester, and Vincent actually, is when he catches Bo slicing little knicks under his fingertips. His palms. Adding newer scars to the thick band around each of his wrists. Always says the girls died too soon. Broke the script, the rules. Now he’s gotta make up for the pain that would be cast into the realm of Ambrose if it weren’t for the failure of another little miss coulda been the one. As if.

They ain’t for keeps. Nothin’ is. Ambrose changes, and changes, and changes. Still every day is the same.

Wake up at a certain time, make the rounds, play pretend, sit itchin’ by the one landline behind a locked door that works, waitin’ for Lester’s call home. If it don’t come in a few minutes, it’s down to make his rounds countin’ heads. Move a few things this way and that on the store shelves. Hang up a picture or two cut out meticulously (as shaky hands can be) from books and magazines, a mimic of the ranging advertisements on display in the bigger cities.

Not a mimic. A replication. Nothin’ bad, nothin’ wrong- that thing is not my baby!

Bo spirals a lot. When he’s on his own. Part of why he’s got to dig his hands so deep into Ambrose. There’s shame in it he tries to squash down with mixtures of somethin’ too strong for a normal day. Mixin’ rum and brandy in a big bottle of orange juice. Vodka in his morning coffee.

Drunk Bo is more coordinated than sober. That little cocktail comes to work with him, and he makes do. Let it be known he isn’t the twin to come away with an issue. Can’t be. He’s mama’s boy, remember?

Lester is sickened by it. Watchin’ his trances like that, knowin’ it’s all ‘cause of Trudy in her final moments.

Shit they didn’t even need to do the killin’, ‘f Bo coulda got his head screwed on a right way. Too late now ‘course. They’re hundreds of innocent lives deep in this thing. Got themselves a dog outta killin’ her owner. Another responsibility, a life to keep up.

Jonsey herself stresses Bo out to no end. Her wagging tail, her happy jumpin’ when she recognizes her dearest friends. When she barks at creaky staircases settlin’ at night, his jaw sets so tight his teeth creak audibly. If he got a cut, he won’t touch the dog. Says it’ll kill him to get any of her in with his blood. Seems silly to Lester, by Bo’s designation the one that plays in guts and bone splinters all day, gettin’ plenty of that himself.

Sometimes a storm’ll roll through in rain season and bring some nasty wind with it, scarin’ the life outta the poor puppy dog. She starts to shake and drool all over. It makes Bo so nauseous to watch he has to leave the room or hack up that nasty concoction he drinks that shouldn’t be stayin’ down anyhow.

Vince stays, always stays, ‘cause someone’s got to. Bo’s a flight risk and Lester just don’t much like bein’ the trapped one. So it’s a system set in stone, or carved in blood and bone more like. Breathed in like the ashes of Bo’s more or less wasted cigarettes.

Way Lester sees it, just like the papery stubs, the routine gotta but extinguished ‘fore they all choke to death on it.

But he hadn’t meant for things to get so different.

Like even thinkin’ it cursed the place, he sends one scrawny group their way and suddenly Bo’s bleedin’ all over the kitchen tiles. Wouldn’t even know it if Vincent hadn’t dialed his bother’s number and left the phone in Bo’s pocket. Keepin’ tabs on his pain so Lester can hear it all and know somethin’s up.

The arrow in his chest stays right there, until Lester pulls up. Somethin’ about knowing Vince called in backup is sign enough to take it serious. Insists on doing it himself though.

Lester says they oughta snip the arrow where it lies and take him to emergency later on. Bo says he’d rather die now than leave a vulnerable spot stickin’ six inches out his chest. Yanks it ‘til his knees buckle and he damn near smacks his teeth off the linoleum. Then vomits stinking alcohol everywhere.

Vincent can see it ain’t gonna happen that way, and locks eyes with Lester. Tells him mentally to pass on an apology for what he’s about to do. Which is, he grabs the arrow by just under the fletchings and yanks the damn thing out before Bo can lose his shit over splinters and weakness and all that.

Well, he loses his shit anyhow, screamin’ bloody murder that he’s gonna kill Vincent for that. Only for a moment before he blacks the hell out from the pain. Prob’ly won’t even remember callin’ Vince a freak.

The hunt goes on without ‘im, without what would’ve been -though Lester never likes admitting when his big brother is right- a weak point for the shifty ass kids to stick their fingers into. End up gettin’ a pretty good knock on ‘em too.

Just like before the girly made it out almost to the roads, but Lester’s a better shot than Bo. Don’t got those phantom shakes and all. Though Vinny would hafta to pick all that bullet scrap out if they was to use her as a figure.

The next time Bo’s conscious, he’s demanding to see what Vincent gonna do with the statues. And it’s a damn good thing they didn’t set out on digging up the shrapnel, ‘cause Bo’s pissed about the arrows, and the shop windows, and the church goers, and the house. It’s all messed up, that safety cushion gone and deflated in one night.

Can’t make art outta enemies. This particukar chase weren’t fun or even close to it. No bright side to it.

Bo wants them destroyed. All of ‘em at first, but Vincent won’t ‘llow that. Threatens to hop in the yellow truck again and take off just like last time knowing damn well it pissed Bo off and was the reason he took two still bleeding blows.

They gets rid of the twins, the girl and the boy ‘ gave ‘em the most trouble. Let Bo decide what he wants done with ‘em.

Could shred ‘em up, sink ‘em to the bottom of the road kill pit, though Lester’s hesitant to do so knowin’ the same group was already thinkin’ he hid bodies in it ‘stead of jus’ Trudy’s old model mannequins. There’s always the marshland they’d rot away in nicely, unnoticed.

He wants ‘em gone though. Not buried and rotting, not waxed over into someone new, gone.

Burn the bodies. Peel the flesh. Boil the bones. Smash ‘em into dust. Mix it in with Vincent’s pigments. Their crystallized, powdered remains make for some perfect shiny makeup on the blonde’s eyelids, and extra sparkle in her wax-cast jewelry.

Felt fitting, to adorn another member of the group in those two’s particular sins. It was them two that got the rest killed so brutally after all.

Speaking of sin.

Bo slept in the church for a few nights, sprawled painfully over a dusty pew, nothing but a jacket as cushion against the solid wood. Ambrose was different now. The order had been broken and he needed to hide from the wrath that would bring.

Mama’s empty husk of a corpse wouldn’t help him. He just hoped the proximity to the altar would get some divine figure’s eyes on him, even if not her. At least send down a quick recovery so he can fucking fix the mess those kids left behind.

The pain, he can swallow, but some part of his system got fucked over right into overdrive and now he’s got no control of his shakes. His legs are as bowed as they’ve ever been, limpin’ and draggin’ himself all this way to the church was humiliating enough. No way he’s installing fresh window panes and rearranging statues to his heart’s content like this.

The dog comes and gets Bo first in the morning. Sunlight pourin’ in through the stained windows, Bo feels like he’s burnin’ up in hellfire instead of kissed by heavenly rays. Or the sticky tongue of a staffordshire terrier. Pitbull mix. Whatever the fuck the mutt is.

Jonesy is always a sign Vincent is close, ‘nd Bo cannot, will not let either of his brotherd see he’s all but given up. Their ignorant little asses are s’pose to be none the wiser he even left the house last night.

The ramblings of a man happens to be clueless that they both watched his sorry ass limp on down there, fallin’ to his knees once and skid down the hill. Anyone alive in Ambrose could’ve heard him cry out when he jammed his busted up shoulder tryin’ to catch himself and struggled for a few minutes to throw weight into his legs and stand. His gait was fucked but so were his patterns, zig-zagging from one side of the road to the next and never knowin’ it.

Really he’d blacked out in the first empty pew, taking no time to get comfortable. It wasn’t about comfort, it was necessity. A shield around his already wounded heart. His brother’s checked on him every few hours.

Bo’s blood stains the church now, far beyond a dried raisin of a corpse in the center of the holy building. Trudy’s eternal wake seems more and more pointless. Her soul can’t be saved for the life she inflicted on her trio of tragic babes. But her son can. Even the devil on earth can be shown God’s graces if he could just fucking stand up and-

He’s humbled by Jonesy. She was his chance to get his ass up and find whichever one of his asshole brothers sicked the bitch on him. The way she curls up next to his boot, singular, that he managed to get off but not back on is her final brag. ‘You lost. Now my caretakers ‘re yours too.’

As expected, right on cue, Vincent creeps in the church then, forever stomping in too heavy boots, settling into the pew in front of Bo. Silent. Back turn so signs won’t work.

“Fuck you.” Is the first thing out of his mouth. Bo repeats it ‘til he vomits a pathetic tiny cough of spit and stomach acid onto the ruined floors.

Vincent doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t react to being screamed at. He’s not the one with open wounds. Never fucking has been.

“I’m talking to you, freak!”

That word again. Bo doesn’t know why he keeps saying it. Got him choked up last night, rambling about his promises. Because that should be more important. Vincent’s face don’t mean shit when it comes to Ambrose. Hell, he’d probably be capable if the surgery took his arms too. That talent is unstoppable.

Like the silence.

“Don’t make me say it, Vincent. Fucking.. I ain’t here for your damn power trip, alright? You ain’t savin’ shit.”

Nary a fuckin’ glance. From behind, all inky hair and broad shoulders, it’s hard to pick out Vincent’s feelings. That frustrates Bo. Just like with victims, his brothers got a script too. He’s supposed to be in the know, in charge. Vincent can’t keep secrets from him. Secrets get brothers shot inches away from vital organs and arteries.

“Vincent. Vinny. Help your brother out..”

It reminds him of being younger. The highchair. Pleading with Vincent to cut the tape and let him go because Mama and the Doc never listened. His one little eye would shed enough tears Bo could see ‘em across the room. Stuck in place, while Vincent could come and go as he pleased, but still chose distance. And he never did free Bo from the restraints.

“C’mon, now. Gotta get this fuckin’ shit show on the road. Need a hand, Vinny..”

Begging for help out of the pew, it takes ‘em both back there. Bo hopes Trudy is the one stuck now, held down by ugly demons in that coffin of hers, watching her boys get along enough.

Well, Vincent listens anyhow when he’s talked to softly like that. Gets right up and takes Bo by his palms, never his wrists, and heaves him up. Even doesn’t make a comment when Bo’s ankle twists under itself for some godforsaken cranial reason and he stumbles straight into his brother’s shoulder.

Face first in a grimy sweater, he sort of understands what it’s like to be in Vinny’s place. At least in the conjoinment. Bo hates the pictures, of their little bodies all twisted up and stuck. The weight of Vincent is suffocating like that, not comforting like the feeling of warm cashmere. Makes him want to crawl right out of his skin.

Bo scratches at the bands of scar tissue on his arms, never a day in his life since they formed without drawing blood from a raised line of the itchiest goddamn feeling. Only way to describe it is like mosquitos stakin’ their claim on every last blood cell in the area. Poison in his blood, from his highchair days on.

Gotta push away from bein’ stuck in Vincent’s careful proximity. Can’t get comfortable, vulnerable, like a silent, squirming little bastard child.

Bo can’t do this. This switching places thing. If he’s gonna be the weaker twin, Vincent better fuckin’ do his part. One way or another. Provoking him is the easy part.

“Heard you kept the pretty blonde. Took some video to remember her, huh. You got the hots for some wax bitch, Vin?”

Nothing. He physically pushes Vincent, uncoordinated enough to miss his chest and thump into his shoulder instead.

“Look I don’t got much interest in your creepy fuckin’ Quasimodo dungeon, but I gotta know. D’you fuck her? Get up reeeeal close in that wax pussy?”

Bo swallows down more acrid bile. Forces a tight, painful laugh.

“Of course she’s special. Tiny. Blonde. Just your type yeah? Just like your whore mommy-“

There we go. Vincent shoves him back, both of them knowing damn well that’s enough to take Bo down right now. And it does alright. Knocks some ribs pretty good against the back of the pew on his way down, forcing out a painful puff of air.

While he’s down, Vincent takes a second swing with his boot this time, pinning Bo on down to the floor. Pretty sure he cracked his head when he got forced down. Or maybe just put too much strain on the arrow wounds, ‘cause damn is he seein’ little stars and Angels dancin’ in his narrow vision.

If he wanted to win, Vince would press down with that boot and put his twin out of both of their misery, crackin’ ribs into bits and stabbin’ his heart. That’s not his goal though, never had been. It’s to knock some damn sense into Bo that he’s injured and needs to forget about his spastic bullshit.

Pisses him off. Bo fights back by jabbing his fingers in the back of Vincent’s knee, bringing him down to kneeling on pure instinct. Now Bo can reach the straps of his apron, pull himself back up to Vincent’s level in this fight for his spot.

“You think you get to boss me ‘round jus’ ‘cause I’m fucked up.. Well you’re fuckin’ mistaken, boy! I am in charge ‘round here. Not you. Not Lester.”

Vincent just stares. Tears apart Bo’s attitude with just that familiar glare. Fuck him.

“Look at you, fightin’ your sick brother. Think ‘at makes you better’n me?” Bo feels like he’s suffocating, even without the pressure holding him down. He licks across his lips and ignores the taste, “Guess you oughta put a fuckin’ cap in me. ‘Member? I killed the bitch when she got too fucked up. Two for her and one for the Doc.”

Vincent’s eye contact wavers, drifting over towards the plush coffin, like he’s considering it. So Bo doesn’t shut up, doesn’t even know if he can, “Leaves three more in the chamber. Could take us all out. One for baby Les. One for you. One for me. I’d do it if you left me for last. Don’t got nothin’ without-“

His intense staring finally processes in his brain, noticing the off details about Vincent’s face. The mask, the good one, was ruined in the hunt. There was a smaller one that would make do but wasn’t comfortable. Bo examines it, eyes flitting around, confusion in his bunched brows.

“The fuck happened to your face?”

‘You did.’ Vincent thinks, but he doesn’t tell him that. Instead he shrugs, hopes he won’t press the issue. Redirecting ain’t as easy when Bo’s still askin’ more questions.

And Bo is furious now, “We could fuckin’ quit it, you know. Got no right touchin’ your fuckin’ face. Fuck ‘em, Vinny. Can’t believe they’d fuckin’ lay a hand on you, I’ll kill them all!”

He must know they’re already dead in truth, because he goes silent for a while. When he comes back, he’s talking about their other conversation. The one with the pistol that killed Mama and the Doc in their beds, years and years apart.

Dangerously close to being honest, Bo hisses and acts like he’s adjusting his aching shoulder, but really, the pain is nothing compared to what’s going on in his head.

“Can’t do it on my own. One of us dies, we all die. You fuckin’ promise me that?”

Bo seems to think he’s ill. His eyes blur over and it’s not tears, just a pounding in his head. He’s dehydrated from vomiting so much, delirious from the blood loss, but he thinks he knows better. The tumor. Come for him this time. That’s what he convinces himself.

“You’d do it, Vinny, wouldn’t ya, if I couldn’t?” His nose is running from the humidity, the pain, his body forcing a fever to fight for himself. In his mind’s eye, it’s blood pouring from his nose. Just like Daddy after his skull popped.

Fuck. He’s already dead.

“Vincent. Vincent you can’t let go of me!” He clutches that sweater like his life fucking depends on it, glancing at the ground and back up at his brother, over and over, like it might fall away any second.

His brother tilts his head in confusion, but Vincent obliges his ramblings, holding onto Bo around one arm, the other hand balled in his trashed uniform shirt.

“You let go of me ‘n I’m a goner, y’hear? Don’t you fuckin’ let me go. Hell ain’t ready for me. I’m not- My soul got business here and you ain’t fucking gonna turn me into wax, goddamn it. I ain’t the monstrosity here. Fuckin’.. You aren’t either Vincent. That bitch- That fuckin’ demon in Mama’s coffin, don’t let it take me-“

His rambling goes on like that ‘til he passes out again. Under Vincent’s ill-fitting mask, his best one ruined in the hunt, tears are running down the left side of his face. Finding meaning in this fit, knowing full well Bo won’t remember it tomorrow, is idiotic. But he does it anyhow. Lets himself take it to heart that he’s necessary, and loved, and nothing at all like Miss mama Trudy.

He’s right though, Bo doesn’t remember a thing. Vincent carried him home and Bo woke up on the couch, had a plate of eggs like nothin’ happened. Across from him, he nodded to Lester, “You spot a single soul out there, you let us know ‘n we’ll be by. Not too much work today.”

Lester scowls and nods his head, dumbstruck by how much he forgot this time, “Yeh, alright. Got nothin’ better t’ do myself.”

There ain’t gonna be a hunt for a long while, and just as likely he ain’t gonna leave Ambrose. Too many repairs to leave to Bo in this state, all fucked in the head by his disorder. It’s like that sometimes in cycles, but they ain’t seen it get this bad before.

Routine is routine. Bo’s disorder robs him of his sense, his brain defects makin’ him weak. His brother’s fix everythin’ up ‘til his brain gets all better, and he gets bored of doin’ the small stuff. Thinks Ambrose is always the same, nothin’ ever happenin’ to disrupt his perfect plan.

Make Mama proud. Make Bo calm. Same goddamn difference.

Lester looks at Vincent across the table, and he nods, the signal to keep lying to Bo. “Saw a group campin’ in the woods. Two girls, ‘bout four boys. Teenagers, I could get ‘em back and Vinny can take ‘em.”

They’re already dead. The keepers of the group already a part of Ambrose. Dead men walking.

“You sit tight, rest that arm up. Show you the new figures in the mornin’.”

It’s gettin’ too easy to lie through his teeth, but harder to keep Bo inside.

Neither knows what the stiff nod from Bo means, ‘til he says, “Have your fun. Jus’ be fuckin’ careful. You fuck up my town, I’ll fuck up somethin’ of yours.”

‘Uh-huh, we know, asshole.’ Lester thinks, tension in his jaw pushing it forward. There’s all kinds of words just dancin’ on his tongue, but he swallows them back, if only ‘cause Vince puts his hand on his shoulder.

Instead, he manages to choke out a simple, “Yessir.”

[spiniferal]

listen closely , i dont. find sigma skibidi toilet fanum tax rizz language funny, i just think it’s quite skibidi to be a sigma and use my ultra rizz abilities to talk to the youth. do i know what i’m saying? no. seeing the light die in people’s eyes as i say utter brain rot terms gives me a rush of joy comparable to passing an exam with flying colors. yeah… schadenfreude is real and i have it. i’m the all time champ of the international mewing competition, forklift certified. are you sus of me????? i can have you executed because of my connections to high places. i’m aciflany fighting off sleep right now so i don’t know if i’ll even remmebrtberer righting this post. if you kneow me in fella life no you don’t and i will bite you and give you rabies. what’re you gonan do about it?? nothing, i am leagues bette r than you and can crush you like an isngiinsoifiancgt bug. that’s right, you are nothing compared to me and my absolute power, god tried ban ning me from this severe because i was too op for him, called me a fail rper cuz i could dodged all this atatcks. 1v1 me god i’m gonna skib it all i got

[snobgoblin]

AFTER MUCH SUSPENSE... backstory masterpost for everyone in Next Gens backstories (I'll try to keep it brief yet thorough) also, content warnings for very dark themes especially in Barb and Tucker's backstories, I'll give the specific cw before each paragraph. I won't go into Noodles because it's Noodle u probably already know it. oh and obvious spoilers for the story I actually wanna tell later on (sorry in advance for poor writing this is kinda collaged brain vomit)

Flower Pot 🌸🔮

‼️ content warnings: brief animal death, car accident, neglect ‼️

the result of a one night stand, which came about when Murdoc flippantly said "I don't want her, you can have her" (about Flower's mom Amber) Flower Pot is the hippie daughter of 2-D. She was always kinda shut down as a kid, always upset about important issues, always shut down by her mother for harshing her mellow. she grew up suppressing her emotions and trying her best to seem calm, when on the inside she's just about the most angry off the walls bonkers person there is. Anyway she was pretty much free to do whatever as a kid otherwise, so she kinda got into studying spirituality and crystals and stuff, some of which accidentally made her a bit of a mysandrist (she works through it later dw) so she basically knows a lot about zodiacs and healing stuff and ghosts... but don't get her started on ghosts she's kinda paranoid. very paranoid about demons as well. anyway she figured out how to recessitate roadkill and was doing so in the road one day, when Noodle ended up hitting her with her car (but hey glowing radioactive zombie possum pet amirite) Flower came out of it with minimal injuries, attributing this to her crystals. now Noodle, helping her at the hospital, put the last name and the blue hair together and realized that since Flower had aged out of child support checks, she's been doing terribly, and Flower admits she is sort of jealous 2-D cared so much about her instead, so Noodle feels awful about it and offers to help her out, the two becoming acquainted and eventually finding the footing of the band later on

Y2K 💅✨️

‼️ content warnings: homophobia, transphobia, parental troubles, homelessness, child neglect and abuse ‼️

As a kid, Y2K's sister was always forced to do pageants right? and she hated them. but Y2K would've done ANYTHING to be in her high-heeled shoes, the most they were allowed to do was ballet because "boys don't do pageants". they got called some mean shit but they liked to dance! they always have and they continued to do dances on stuff like musical.ly and tiktok long after they quit ballet. well anyway one day as a teen, they just wanted to go dance at this gay club. not for kids because of alcohol, but they weren't there for that so they thought it was fine. so, they donned one of their sisters dresses, some platform heels, and a full face of makeup, and made their way to the establishment in the dead of night, terrified. but it was absolutely wonderful once they got there, everything they'd dreamed of. people just like them! queer people. well, the fun didn't last and when they came home at 4 am, full face of makeup and platform heels, they were promptly discovered by their parents and kicked out. they would continue to visit the club every night, eventually opening up to a drag queen about the situation, who promptly took them under her wing. She's been their mother since, and Y2K has pretty much been free to be whoever they wanted... with unfortunate real-life consequences but 😭 yeah, they joined Gorillaz because of their audition, where they were the only person to be able to dance and play the bass at the same time

Tucker 🕹👻

‼️ content warnings: shootings, guns, death, coma, child endangerment ‼️

Tucker is just a little fella obsessed with trucks. and I wish it ended there. Tuckers parents were avidly against iPads and stuff, they knew it rotted kids brains, so they raised Tucker on old video game consoles and love. Tucker loved these games, but he would just cry and cry and cry whenever guns were in them. (they (the Gorillaz) wouldnt come to realize the reason was because he was Del reincarnated until later) now they already had a habit of collecting old 80s-90s things so they thought hey. let's make a little arcade in our garage! and no guns in the games, just lighthearted stuff. well then the neighborhood kids would hear about it and boom! it was a successful nostalgic business before they knew it.

well.. one day word would get out to the wrong people, who wanted to steal the valuable old electronics to sell, and armed robbers flooded the scene.

(this part was copy pasted from discord several months ago)

his parents put him in the cabinet when an intruders entered the arcade, they wanted him to be safe. they didn't survive, and the pac man machine was put up for auction, the Gorillaz bought it. The spirits of Tuckers parents possessed the machine, keeping Tucker asleep and simultaneously possessing 2-D (they mentioned the machine was possessed, that's why 2-D was so addicted to it. something about it was sucking the life out of 2-D to keep Tucker alive) later on, the machine would malfunction, and when Noodle removed a panel to see what was the matter, there was a child asleep in there. the machine would not work from that day on, but the new band would have a lovely little drummer that didn't speak much at all

Barbara D'Wire 🏴‍☠️✂️

‼️ content warnings: attempted suicide, implied SA, child abandonment, drowning, sexism, ageism ‼️

Barb was found in a dumpster as a baby by a truck driver, who then took her on, raising her as he drove all over the country. he kinda got bored of the road eventually and decided to deliver stuff on boats eventually, accidentally joining a pirate crew, an environment which Barb, bored with sitting in the truck all day, absolutely ate up, and she grew up a pirate, a vicious one at that, her weapon of choice being golden scissors

(ok so I copy pasted this next part from discord from a few months ago bc I don't feel like retyping it lol sorry for any glaring mistakes)

gonna infodump about Barb a bit anyway spoilers and dark themes like sui and uhh other very bad things. just dark. you've been warned

so yeah a recap, she lost her arm to Cyborg Noodle on plastic beach as she was one of the pirates he pissed off by selling faulty weapons to. as revenge, she planned to take him out by becoming his rival in the music industry, in a barbershop quartet, since that was similar to what she had already been doing with like. sea shanties and shit. tabloids are fucking horrendous and the music industry especially in the early 2010s was atrocious toward women who Didn't Look Perfect so Barbara, after much failure and much pressure, started sleeping with executives to move up in the industry. she *hated* it, but she wanted to get Murdoc where it counted. his entire life was shaped around his band, taking that away would be worse than death. it would avenge what he took from her. anyway it got to a point where Barb started to hate herself because of the articles written about her, she started withdrawing, started avoiding cameras, and one day, she just had a moment of. what the fuck am I doing here. do I even care about revenge anymore. and she decided she hadnt, so she went outside, cut the brakes on her truck, and drove full speed off a cliff, planning to drown. she changed her mind at the last minute, tried to swerve, but it didn't do anything, and she went into the ocean

but then BOOM guess who else was at the bottom of the ocean. guess who remembered her from the beach. CYBORG NOODLE. Cyborg Noodle brought her to dry land, and Barb never knew any better and took it as a sign she wasn't meant to die

her time in the music industry was just, in general super jarring? she went from a world of "nobody gives a shit if you haven't bathed in months, we all have jaundice and like 4 combined teeth" to "if you have one singular body hair we will write a 4 page essay roasting the fuck out of you" so yeah. this is also where her avoidance of cameras started

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so there ya go! hope u.. uh.. liked it