#there's a hurricane coming to Ambrose

[comorbidfascination]

Vincent: Second Chances

You and Nora return to Ambrose after almost six years, wondering at the eerie stillness.

warnings: nsfw, mutual masturbation

as always, please let me know if I have left out any relevant tags!

slasher masterlist here

The flooding from a particularly bad hurricane, coupled with the end of high school, made five years ago the time to leave Ambrose. You and Nora had remained in Louisiana, but the others were practically a world away. But college and new lives had come and gone. You were both aching to get back to your roots and see what had become of your tiny hometown. Technology hadn't been as advanced then, and so communication with the twins had been few and far between, but you were confident that Vincent was at least alive. Without cell phones, or even a stable landline connection, you mainly relied on letters; the last you had received from him was from almost two years prior. But the car was packed and Nora was fiddling with the radio in the passenger seat, just as nervous as you were to see what was left of Ambrose. 

You followed familiar gravel roads through overgrown woods to find the town just as empty as you expected. The windows were down and you sang at the top of your lungs to 90s punk songs that were only enjoyable if you shouted along with them. Your best friend gripped her cane and grimaced at the noise level. The old pickup rolled to a stop in front of the house you grew up in. The two of you got out to see if anyone was around, eventually ambling over to the convenience store.

"Hello? Anyone home?" You brushed your hair out of your face and fiddled with your hearing aid like you always did when your hands needed to be occupied. 

Nora sighed and poked her head into the back room, "Nobody. Let's try the museum."

"Good idea. If the boys are still here, that's where they'll be." Bo, Lester, and Vincent were set too deep in this town to be uprooted. Their mother's wax museum stood at attention in the middle of their little world, so if no one was home, Ambrose was truly empty.

As you both passed through the streets, there was an odd sense that nothing had changed. A few windows had lights on, but there was no one else outside. The whole place was holding its breath, but you couldn't tell yet whether it would blow you out or suck you in. The massive doors of the museum swung open readily, and you found solace in the quiet squeak of the floorboards. The knot in your gut reminded you of how long it had been since you'd talked to Vincent. Would he be happy to see you?

The thump of Nora's cane was muffled by how full each room was. There was nowhere for the sound to echo when wax people and furniture were displayed in every available space. You peered into the eyes of one statue, amazed at how detailed they were. Vincent had certainly surpassed his mother, though you didn't dare utter the idea in a place so haunted by her memory. She had died before you left, and the grief the brothers held even seeped into the letters you received from Vincent in the handful of years to come. In here, the feeling of another time preserved was heavier and achingly obvious.

The sharp bark of a dog made you both jump, and a blur of black and white zoomed into view. You immediately knelt down to pet it while Nora chuckled at the surprise. The pitbull wagged its whole backside as you rubbed its fur and cooed praise for being such a good guard dog. Your friend tapped your foot with her cane so you'd look up at the man in the doorway. Following the little sweetheart was the man you'd come to see in the first place. He had filled out some, but the same curtain of black hair fell over his mask as he froze in place at the sight of you.

"Hey, Vince. Long time no see." Your voice was gentle, as were your movements, when you stood to greet him properly. 

He didn't move, and Nora cleared her throat to say, "We would've called ahead if we had the number." She was more sore about the letters stopping than you were.

Eye flicking back and forth between the two ghosts of his past made flesh and blood, he choked out a sound like a punctured squeaky toy and bolted. For such a large, imposing man, he could really run when he wanted to.

You squawked indignantly, turning to Nora, who just shook her head. "Damn scaredy-cat. Might as well go up to the house to see if the others are still kickin'." 

Birdie had stayed with Lester, which didn't surprise anyone. When you opened the door, she gasped and crushed you both in a hug. "I've missed y'all so much!" She swung you back and forth before setting you back on solid ground. "Come in, come in!"

Ushered into the Sinclair family home, you marveled at how utterly identical it was to your memories. Bo shouted at Birdie for making a racket, freezing like his twin when he saw Nora. "Hey, mama."

She sighed with a smile and went over to hug him, setting her cane against the wall to do so. Those two had always understood actions more than words. You grinned when Bo finally got over himself and hugged her back. You glanced away when you heard Nore sniffle, looking for an easy exit, as she hated to be seen crying. Birdie gestured for you to follow her into the kitchen and whispered, "Les will be here tonight after his shift. Have you seen Vincent yet?"

You chuckled ruefully and rubbed the back of your neck. "Ran into him at the museum, but he wasn't in the mood for a reunion."

Your childhood friend frowned and led you over to the basement steps. "Well, he's in there. I hope you don't come up 'til he apologizes, at least. He ain't mad or anything, he's just..."

"He's Vincent. I get it." You patted her shoulder reassuringly and trotted down creaky steps to his studio. He definitely heard you, but remained half-hidden behind a nearly finished wax statue. You walked around it without hesitation. "Didn't think I was so scary. What's up with you?"

He huffed, strands of hair blowing away from his mask. With a few hand signs, he told you, 'Surprised, not scared.'

"Then why are you hidin' from me, angel?" 

Vincent took a moment to compose himself and signed, 'Don't know what else to do.' He had always been the type to run from his feelings, you supposed you should've expected this.

"No more of that, alright? I'm here to see you, y'know." You stepped even closer, daring him to look you in the eye. "Haven't been able to stop thinkin' about ya since I left. What's my Vincent been up to?" Hearing you call him yours made him just as flustered as it did years ago. He shrugged and gestured vaguely to the statue. You leaned in for a closer look, noting the incredible detail work of the eyes yet again. "It's amazing, angel. You've only gotten better." As you turned back, a flash of movement caught your attention. It almost seemed like the eyes had flickered, but it must have been a trick of the light. You'd rather look at Vincent anyway.

Noticing your double-take, he gently took your hand and led you to his bedroom next door. Unfortunately, the painting leaning on the wall was even more conspicuous. With a soft gasp, you rushed forward to admire your own likeness in loving brush strokes. "Do you still have the ones I did of you?" Your happiness was near blinding with the way you beamed.

Vincent nodded and gestured to the studio. 'Hanging up by my desk.' You would've had to turn to see them in the corner. And he kept it dark in there, too. He stepped forward when you faced him again, summoning the courage to relax in your presence.

You swung your arms around his neck and pulled him down to whisper, "Been getting off to me even when I'm not here, huh?" He froze, and you tightened your hold so he couldn't back away. "Making me wish I'd never left."

Vincent slowly placed his hands on your waist. He still wasn't over his fear of hurting you - the things he and his brothers had done in the interim only made his heart pound faster at the thought of you realizing how horrible he was.

As if you could feel his emotions radiating off of him, you leaned in to kiss his neck and murmur, "You just gonna stand there, or are you gonna show me what I been missing?" He choked out a whimper and gave you no other warning before he pushed you down on the bed. You sat up before he could do much else. "Easy, now. Don't get ahead of yourself - I wanna see what you were doing with just that painting in here first."

Vincent's fingers trembled as they undid his jeans and pushed them down with his boxers. He would do anything just then to hurry you toward touching him. A hiss left his lips when he took his aching cock in hand.

You leaned in to kiss his mask. "You keep it on for this?" He shook his head, but made no move to take it off. "Can I?"

His breathing was ragged under the wax and insecurity couldn't overpower the need to feel your lips on his skin. Vincent nodded and closed his eyes to focus on the sensation of your fingers delicately removing the mask and brushing his hair back. His own hand faltered on his cock. Looking straight at you without a barrier was more intimate than letting you see him masturbate. You cupped his face in your warm palms and littered it with kisses. Vincent whined and tried to kiss you back, but you weren't done with him yet. Your mouth descended upon his neck as you tugged at his sweater insistently. He took it off as quickly as possible and used the diversion to pull you into a more passionate kiss. Your hum of approval sent shockwaves down his spine.

When you had to break away for air, you took a moment to admire all of him laid bare just for you. "Gorgeous." You sat back against the wall and gestured at his lap. "Go on, now. I didn't tell you to stop."

His cock twitched at your command and drooled when Vincent started pumping it again. Touching himself had never felt so good. You took your time pulling off your own clothes, forcing him to stew in anticipation for every inch of supple skin. You sighed happily and sat back down to watch. He was panting with the effort of holding back, but he wanted to cum inside you, not all over his own hand. He gave you a pleading look and guided your fingers to touch his. You smiled sweetly, but the glint in your eye told him he wasn't getting what he wanted just yet. "Not this time, baby. You can pick where you cum next."

Vincent groaned, but kept dutifully pleasuring himself until he couldn't stop the impending orgasm. His cock wept over his hand to dribble onto the sheets. You used your shirt to wipe him off. "Oops. Guess I'll have to wear yours when we're done." Your smug grin was gone the second he pounced to pin your wrists to the bed. His body completely shadowed yours as he loomed over you. The grin replaced itself. "Your turn, handsome."

He wasted no time in hoisting your legs onto his hips, cock still plenty firm against his thigh. Vincent's eye held such adoration as he shoved roughly inside you. With a loud moan, you grabbed at his broad shoulders to pull him closer. He set a brutal pace as you gladly let your thoughts slip away; you wouldn't need them for a while. Feeling your pussy clench around his cock only made him want more, so he pushed your legs further and curled over your body. Thighs nearly touching your chest, you only got louder as the new angle found the perfect spot. You cried his name as everything went white. Seconds later, you returned to the world with Vincent still pistoning into your pussy like he'd never fuck you again.

"I'm not leaving, baby." Your slurred words did nothing to calm him, but rather made his desperation turn into excitement. You wanted him enough to stay in this ghost town - he had to make sure you'd never regret that decision. Vincent kissed your forehead and ground his hips into yours as he came undone. You rubbed at your clit fiercely and followed soon after. He kissed your lips again with enough tenderness to forgive the soreness that was beginning to set in. When he pulled out, you pointed to the cum dripping from your aching cunt. "Clean up your mess."

Vincent tilted your hips up so he could lean in and nip your inner thigh. You gathered his hair and held it out of the way as he mouthed at your lower lips and swirled his tongue around your sensitive clit. Soft sounds graced his ears from above as he lapped up all the evidence of his orgasm. When he was finished, you leaned down to drag him into another kiss, then moved over and patted the bed. "I'm ready for a nap. You wanna stay and cuddle?"

He laid at your side and wrapped himself around you, but you didn't mind the sticky feeling so much; he was worth it. Vincent stroked your back as footsteps clunked overhead. No one would bother the two of you down here. Especially not if they heard any part of your reunion.

[feastonkings]

avan jogia / they/them/any  ———  no way is that RIVER PATEL.. they’re a 30-year-old HUMAN notoriously known for being INDULGENT  &  NEEDY but there are some people who have seen them being AFFECTIONATE  &  ENTERTAINING.  if you ask me, they remind me a lot of waxing poetics in everyday conversation, a crystal for every occasion, bohemian but make it sexier, draping over people and furniture like a cat demanding attention, and a rainbow of chaos, but that could just be because they’re considered the SEER around town. just keep an eye on them  &  see if their true colors shine through..

GENERAL.

full name: river celeste halcyon patel nicknames: riv, rivvy, stardust (stage name) classification: enhanced human gender / pronouns: genderqueer, they/them/any age / birthday: 30, february 7th orientations: pansexual, panromantic, polyamorous occupation: co-owner of the broom closet, metaphysical expert, & dancer at the kit-kat club status: open family: luna patel ( mother, deceased ), parthiv patel ( father, deceased ) strengths: affectionate, entertaining, loving, creative, playful weaknesses: indulgent, impulsive, needy, promiscuous, flighty character inspo: ambrose spellman (chilling adventures of sabrina), klaus hargreeves (umbrella academy), eric effiong (sex education), phoebe buffay (friends), mouse (doormouse), nymphadora tonks (harry potter), jules vaughn (euphoria), jesper fahey (shadow & bone), jenny curran (forrest gump), riley blue (sense8), jaskier (witcher), veronica fisher (shameless), ulysses zane (now apocalypse)

BIOGRAPHY.

tw: addiction, death, overdose, abuse, chronic illness

born in new orleans, to two loving and hardworking parents. they lived in the lower ninth ward, in a small two bedroom home. money wasn’t abundant, but there was enough to give them everything they needed.

river was born with type one diabetes and has required insulin to function properly from the start.

their father, worked as a street musician and helped their mother at the metaphysical shop she owned. along with the shop, luna was a well known wiccan and head of one of the many local covens.

with the global environment declining over the years, tropical storm season had become even more dangerous. one particular hurricane hit the city and the big easy didn't stand a chance. over half the city was affected, the lower income areas the worst. hundreds died and among them were river's parents.

they were pushed into the system, foster families that were near capacity with displaced children. river couldn't stand it. hated the clothes they put them in, the way the tried to bring them to church, bringing them to therapy, throwing away their crystals and trying to cut their hair. it didn't take long until they'd run away.

at twelve years old, they were on their own. bouncing from family friend to family friend until their best friend's family got word and took them in as one of their own.

they appreciated everything that family did for them and the strong bond they had with their friend, it was more than they could've asked for. being accepted for who they were and loved made all the difference in helping them survive their teen years.

at the age of seventeen, they decided to get their ged and river said the hardest goodbyes to new orleans and their second hom when they left to go travel the country.

on their own and in their travels, many things were learned. one being how to survive off nothing, as they struggled to find any kind of work. river was not very reliable when it came to day jobs and set schedules, though they attempted to adapt.

the biggest struggle was this constant feeling of emptiness along with rotating periods of random moods that would sometimes come about for no reason at all. it had been there since losing their family and most of the time they just rode it out. in the worst times they turned to substances for help, as they’d done in the past. this lead them down a spiral of abusive relationships, bad run ins with dealers and law enforcement, shady work to keep afloat, etc.

away from home and lacking inhibition, they ended up becoming a garbage disposal for the many options of drugs available in america's underground; using them to fill a void they couldn’t close no matter how hard they tried until it almost killed them.

which is exactly what happened, they ended up overdosing in an all-night diner's bathroom and when they woke up they were in a hospital room with no clue what had happened. it gave them a wake up call for sure, and it was decided that they needed to start over.

after a couple years and many failures, river managed to hitch a ride as far as texas. they had a good feeling about dallas and updated those in new orleans where they were. that was when they were told of the trust money their parents left behind for river to be given to them when they reached the age of twenty-five.

the temptation was there to blow the money on more travels and parties but it was quickly squashed. it was an obvious sign from the stars and they decided to go all in on a new venture, opening up a shop with a close friend called the broom closet.

the new distractions did not shake the vices they picked up on the road but they certainly slowed them down. they are trying their best to kick their many bad habits so that one day they will thrive in the world again.

beyond that they used their natural knack for seduction and flirtatious nature to make money for the shop and meet new people by dancing at the kit-kat club. determined something would come of their life someday.

when they aren’t working at either of their jobs, they can be found writing lyrics or poetry, dancing, partying, or sneaking out of the home of one of their many casual romantic encounters. river is excited for the future and whatever the new start would bring for them in this cyber metropolis.

HEADCANONS.

river has type one diabetes and has a pump to regulate it better. it’s important they are able to see a medical professional regularly. they also wear a medical alert bracelet with this information.

they despise sleeping alone, whether it be from having people around them in close quarters for most of their life or just the loathing of being alone in general, they tend to stick close to people if they can sleep at all.

comparable to a cat they can sleep anywhere and will curl up or drape themselves over people for affection.

they wear their heart on their sleeve and fall in love quite easy, unfortunately their over devotion and wandering eyes have made it difficult to hold any long term relationship except with one person who has always understood the amount of love they have and just because they love someone it does not mean they love another any less.

river has a long history of casual relationships and having a select few they are fully committed to exclusively, however they develop deep feelings for people easily and adore them long after any romance leaves. they are very open with their sexuality and the love of the human body. river has often used casual sex as another coping mechanism and occasional self-destructive tendency.

they love dancing, parties, poetry, and music - they also adore talking to people and will be happy to introduce themselves to anyone and everyone

music has always had a strong place in their life, though they've never had the desire to pursue it professionally. they can play almost any guitar, bass, piano, pan flute, viola, and harmonica.

river can speak spanish, french, creole, american sign language and some hindi besides english

more to come

[akindofmagictoo]

Beneath the Waves

a continuation of the Hurricane x ARMV crossover Potions and Pirates, and a gift to my beloved @ashen-crest​ in return for her wonderful hurt-comfort

part 1, in which we answer the question of “what will Aella get up to with a potion of water breathing?”. part 2 coming tomorrow.

Word Count: 2697

TW/CW: drowning, claustrophobia, panic attack

Context: Ambrose and Eli washed up on the Hurricane, and as a thank you for saving them, Ambrose brewed a potion of water breathing and sent it to Aella, Tempest and Theo. The full thing can be found on my Wattpad, @/zcmitchell.

Breathing underwater was certainly a strange situation, but Aella could have lived in the feeling forever. She flipped over to look back up at the surface, already so far away, but not so far that she couldn’t see the sunlight on its surface. The water of Wavemeet’s bay was so clear. Clear and blue, just like Theo’s eyes. 

She could picture them now, actually. He’d tried not to show it when she dived, but she’d seen the worry in them. The little furrow of his brow as he clung resolutely to the other end of the rope now tied around her ankle, ready to help pull her out at a moment’s notice despite his hatred of deep water. If she squinted really hard at the surface, she could maybe see the dark smudge that marked the jetty. 

As much as she trusted him, she was also glad that he had his uncle and several of the Hurricane’s crew standing by to help as well. Not that she really needed help. The rope had been obtained at Tempest’s suggestion and Theo’s insistence, even though Aella had never needed to dive with a rope before, not in a clear deep area like this one. But Theo had asked her to take it, and she didn’t mind the slight extra tug on her ankle if it kept him from being too worried about her. 

This potion had a time limit on it, she recalled. She should keep going. 

She turned a slow flip backwards and kicked, forcing herself further down into the inky gloom below.

~

Since the sun was directly overhead, it pierced far into the darkness beneath the water, but eventually even its last soft rays had to give way to the embrace of the cold depths. She pressed on, stroke after stroke, feeling the deep satisfying burn in her muscles as she propelled herself deeper and deeper, letting the abyss wrap around her like a dark cloak. 

She liked it less when she couldn’t see. 

For a split second, she could hear the sound of a cell door locking behind her… but no, she was just diving. This was safe darkness. The sea was safe, she reminded herself; it always had been, ever since she was a tiny child too young to walk. 

Tempest, Aria, Marisa and Cai had held her while she learned to swim. Theo, Emmy and Victoire were holding onto her now, all of them ready to feel three tugs on the rope and pull her safely back to the surface. 

She could leave now if she wanted to, but she didn’t want to. Not with so much left to explore. She was Aella Onyeisi, veteran of the Hurricane, and she had survived horrors far greater than this. She would not be turned back because she was scared of the dark.

~

As she reached forward for another stroke, her fingers brushed something. She stopped mid-motion and extended her hand again. Whatever it was was smooth and cold, and strangely familiar. She kicked behind her so she could place her hand flat on the surface. Still oddly normal, but in the darkness it was difficult to tell what. 

Wood. It was wood, worn smooth by time and water. 

It felt like the wood of a ship. 

She felt along the surface in front of her until she reached an edge, then pulled herself along it, hand over hand. Alright, so that felt like it could be a railing, which meant that either she was on the deck or hanging off the side — at least as far as that description applied when she seemed to be more or less horizontal. She pulled her feet forward until they also met the wreck, gauging angles as best she could in her head. Off the side it was. With a gentle push against the hull, she hoisted herself up level with the rail. 

Was that light, or just her mind playing tricks on her? She screwed her eyes shut and waited a moment. Whatever it was she’d just seen was gone. When she opened her eyes again, it seemed to be back. Just a very faint glow somewhere in front of her, maybe one or two arm’s lengths away. 

Another gentle push sent her flipping over the rail and downwards towards the deck. The glow brightened as she moved forwards. It seemed there was a hole in the deck, and the light was coming from within. She kicked out behind her, pushing herself towards the gap.

~

The gap’s edges had once been jagged, but just like the rest of the ship, they had been rounded and smoothed by currents. She wrapped a hand around the edge and peered over. This gap seemed to lead into the ship’s hold, and that hold was covered in softly glowing algae. 

In places, there were only small pinpricks of it, tiny blue stars in the dark. But one corner was completely covered, and it was that glow that had summoned her. 

The algae didn’t hold her attention for long, however, because its light gleamed off metal in the furthest, deepest corner of the hold. She wriggled through the gap — a tight fit, even for her — and into the hold.

~

Whatever had happened to the ship, the hole in the deck was the least of the damage. Support beams and all sorts of loose chunks of wood and metal stuck into the room at odd angles. It was hard to tell in the dim light, but off to one side, sticking up from the sea floor, was what might have been another ship’s ram. Two shipwrecks? 

Keeping an eye out in front of her for further debris, and both hands, she swam deeper into the room, heading for the metallic glimmer ahead. What could it be? Weapons? Treasure? Some further indication of what had sunk this ship? She didn’t know, but she needed to find out.

~

As she swam, she realised the algae wasn’t just blue. Patches were green and purple, and even one or two small specks of gold dappled the overlapping glows. On one wall, just at the edge of her peripheral vision, was something else gold. When she turned, it wasn’t algae, but a picture frame. Parts of it still shone, though parts were covered in algae or tarnish. She flipped over, avoiding a loosely floating crossbeam, and swam closer. The wall with the portrait was tilted such that it seemed more like a ceiling, so she floated underneath it on her back while she inspected it. It seemed to be some rich-looking white man, dressed like a merchant. Perhaps this wasn’t a hold. Maybe it was a cabin. Hard to know. She turned back over, surveying the dimly lit room. That could be a table in the far corner, a broken half-cabinet still attached to another wall. 

Time limit, she reminded herself. Time limit. She abandoned the portrait and dove for the gleam in the bottom corner. 

It was indeed metal that the algae had glinted off. A small chest, not much bigger than her two fists, the metal bands around it tarnished and aged, but not enough to dull their shine. And it didn’t seem to be locked. She drew her dagger and dug it under the latch. 

The latch sprang open to reveal… treasure. 

Pearl necklaces. Golden earrings. Shining jewels in every colour she could imagine and several she had never seen before. A golden ring set with an amber stone. Silver chains with delicate pendants attached. All of it reflecting the colours of the algae behind her, blue and green and purple and pink. All of it beautiful. 

She was probably running out of time on her potion. She shut the chest and gathered it into her arms, and let herself sink down into the corner, ready to kick off upwards. 

Was that a ram over there? Surely she could check quickly? She shifted direction, swimming in that direction instead. 

It was a ship’s ram, forced through the hull but not fitting tightly. Of course. The ship had likely sunk thanks to taking on water, which was harder to do if the ram remained to plug the hole. She hadn’t expected to find a shipwreck here, let alone one that had lost a battle. Rams were a pirate tactic, and Theo said they hadn’t been seen in Wavemeet for a very long time. 

TIME LIMIT. Perhaps she’d have to write to Ambrose to ask him for more of the potion. There were so many unanswered questions in her mind, answers to be found somewhere in this wreck. But she couldn’t stay to find them out, not without getting herself into significant trouble. Theo would be very worried about her if she pushed her limits on the potion. He’d be worried enough about her as it was. She should go.

~

Finding her way back to the hole in the deck was fairly easy. Manoeuvring through while keeping her hold on the chest was harder, but she managed it without catching her clothes on the edges of the gap or dropping her loot. Now all that was left to do was swim back to the surface, and let herself be reeled up like a beautiful fish if the potion started to wear off. Easy. She kicked off the deck. 

The rope around her ankle pulled her up short. 

Shit. 

She jerked her knee up to her chest to dislodge whatever it was caught on. Or rather, tried. The motion simply pulled her back down. 

What could it be tangled up in? It could be anything. But she might have time to fix it. She took a deep breath in, then let it go, and dived back down.

~

It seemed that in all her roaming of the room, the rope had gotten looped around some sort of metal apparatus on the wall. She braced her foot on the wall, tucked her jewel chest safely under her arm, and tugged. 

Nothing. Her hands just slid on the wet rope. 

She looped the rope around her hands and tried again. Still nothing. In frustration, she launched a kick at the wall. The shipwreck might be old, but it wasn’t that old. All she managed to do was send a jolt of pain through her heel. What could she do? She could cut the rope, but it was thick rope, and tying it securely back around her ankle underwater would be pretty difficult. She could hook the rope around something else and use that as leverage to pry the metal off the wall. That didn’t seem likely to work either. Shit. 

She yanked on the rope a third time. The wall seemed to groan, a rough grating sound that echoed through the whole room. Something struck her shoulder and she bit back a yelp, letting go of the rope. 

The whole shipwreck was shifting. She glanced down; what she could see of the ‘floor’ was starting to rock and slide to one side. 

She had to get out. 

How could she get out? Could she still get to the deck gap safely? She should have enough slack in her rope still, but… she glanced up towards the gap and nearly shrieked. 

The shipwreck seemed to be falling towards her. 

She couldn’t breathe. 

Why couldn’t she breathe? The potion should still be in effect. Her hands flew to her throat, her heart beating erratically beneath her fingertips. The water pressed in around her, colder now, chilling her to the bone, the glow of the algae seeming to retreat to the corners of the room. 

No. No no no NO. Why was the algae fading? Was she dying? Was she going to be stuck down here until her air ran out, with Theo and her friends unable to pull her up because the bloody rope was bloody stuck and— 

She had to get out. She had to leave. She fumbled for the knife at her belt, her fingers slow and clumsy, barely able to feel anything. Knife. Knife. Where is it? Had she left it where the jewel chest had been? 

Around her, wood creaked and cracked. 

She still couldn’t breathe. She was running out of time. No time. No time. 

There! Her numb fingers closed on the handle. She squeezed it tightly, so tightly her nails dug into her palm, though she barely felt it. Then she grabbed the rope and began to saw at it, still gasping for breath in the cold water. Come on, come on… the rope was thick, but not that thick. She could do this. 

Deep breaths, she heard Theo say in her mind. With every scrap of reason she had left, she forced herself to listen. Deep breaths. One breath in as she drew the knife one way; one breath out with the next stroke. She could still breathe. The potion was still working. And slowly, slowly but surely, the rope fibres were splitting beneath her blade. 

Don’t look at the ship. Don’t think about how to get out. Cut the rope. One task at a time. One task at a time. Just one. It will be okay. It has to be. 

The rope snapped free so suddenly she could hardly believe it. In the same moment, the ship rocked beneath her again. A beam crashed hard into her back, sending pain firing like lightning through her chest. 

Time to go. 

She dodged another slowly falling piece of ship and dragged herself through the hole in the deck. Its edges caught on her shirt this time. She didn’t care. She barely noticed it past the throbbing in her back. She just had to leave.

~

Swimming up was harder than swimming down. She was tired, she was scared, and she had to work harder to pull herself towards the surface. 

One stroke at a time, she told herself. Theo would be waiting for her. She needed to get back to him. The only way to do that was to swim. 

Something scaled brushed past her bare foot. She shuddered and kicked harder. As with any bay, there were stories of creatures in the water. Some good, some bad. Theo’s parents’ friend, Nell, swore she’d seen several nasty-looking sea serpents in the bay. On the other hand, Theo’s father had told a story of going swimming in the bay and almost drowning, but waking on the shore with a single shimmering scale on the sand beside him. 

Neither story had been proven, but either could be true. The Hurricane had run afoul of a kraken far too recently for Aella to really doubt either story. Either way, she’d rather not take her chances with nasty sea serpents. She swam on. 

She could see the surface of the water, the rays of the sun spilling down, not quite reaching all the way to her yet, but close. So close. The muscles in her arms and legs burned; she shifted her treasure from one arm to the other. Her chest was burning too. Breathing was difficult now. Was it the potion wearing off? Was she just tired? She had to keep going. The rope would do nothing for her now; in her haste to swim back up, she hadn’t thought to follow it. She had to keep swimming.

~

The burning wasn’t going away. She was so close now, close enough to see the sun sparkling on tiny waves in the bay. Just as beautiful as before. No, even more beautiful, because it meant safety, and now she desperately needed that safety. 

Something brushed her foot again. She ignored it, still striving for the surface. 

As before, she breathed in and took in water, but this time it stung. This was wrong. This was bad. There was nothing in the water to help her anymore. She tried to breathe it out, but there was nowhere to send it. No. No no no. 

The surface seemed to dim. She wanted to scream, but she had no air left to do it. She wanted to keep swimming, but she had no more strength for it. Nothing she could do but watch her vision fade to nothing.

Potions and Pirates Taglist: @copper-dragon-in-disguise @diphthongsfordays @pepperdee @zmwrites @the-orangeauthor @quilloftheclouds

Hurricane Taglist: @writingbyjillian @oddsandinks @ahowlinwolf @aziz-writes @juls-writes @lookinpeach @zmwrites @quilloftheclouds @lowslore @isherwoodj @katnapped @thepsycheofbrokenthings @happyorogeny @magicalwriting @ettawritesnstudies @florraisons @tea-and-pirates @writtendevastation @talesofsorrowandofruin @lilmissravingwriter @zielenbloesem @metanoiamorii @little-boats-on-a-lake @lottieiswriting @violetwrites @the-unwrittenwriter @ink-fireplace-coffee @iparisaltanwing @tragedieds @pamsdrabbles @waysofink @hekat-ie @thehellinsideyourhead @starryeve88 @trans1ence @vellichor-virgo @the-orangeauthor @google-plexed @literary-lavender @crystallized-ink @ellatholmes @seamajorshanties @crowewritesstuff @ashen-crest @astridmayewrites @wannabeauthorzofija @mel-writes-with-her-dragons @waterfallwritings @enchanted-lightning-aes @wizardfromthesea @huloglangit @diphthongsfordays​ @ruby-overlock @copper-dragon-in-disguise​ @mr-writes​ @josephinegerardywriter​ @teardropsandtherain​ @emilyoracle​ @matcha-chai​ @fablewritten @autie-auden-writes​ @innocentreticent

ID: a banner with a brown pirate hat in the middle. the hat has two fluffy feathers sticking out of it, one blue and one yellow. the banner is placed above and below the main text. /end ID.

[roadtogracelandx45]

Prompt List updated March 27th

I am starting with 70 for now, I may add or change them going forward. but for now these were the ones i had in my notebook. i got all of them off of Pinterest. Some already have names by them but go ahead and request them again if you like the prompt and I can redo them.

Fandoms I write for:

Top Gun Maverick: All

Elvis: Elvis

One Chicago: Kelly Severide, Jay Halstead, Will Halstead, Connor Rhodes, Adam Ruzek

Avengers: Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, Bucky Barnes, Natasha, Clint Barton, Peter Parker

Triple Frontier: Will Miller and Benny Miller

Four Brothers: Bobby Mercer, Jack Mercer

Sons of Anarchy: Jax Teller, Opie Winston, Juice Ortiz, David Hale,

Fast and Furious: Dom Toretto, Roman Peirce, Brian O'Conner, Letty Ortiz

Band of Brothers: Wild Bill, Babe, Malarkey, Nixon, Winters, Joe Toye

Twilight: All of the Cullens, Jacob Black and Bella Swan

Harry Potter: All

WWE/TNA/AEW/ ROH : Seth Rollins, Roman Reigns, Dean Ambrose, Stephanie McMahon, Triple H, Shawn Michaels, Chris Jericho, CM Punk, The Young Bucks, Adam Cole, Bobby Fish, Kyle O'Reilly, Roderick Strong, Chris Sabin, Alex Shelley, Randy Orton, Edge, Christian Cage, Matt Hardy, Jeff Hardy, Hurricane Helms. Mr. Kennedy

Supernatural- Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Cas

The West Wing: Josh Lyman, Sam Seaborn

Game of Thrones: Robb Stark, Jon Snow, and Sansa Stark

Lord of the Rings/ The Hobbit: Thorin, Fili, Kili, Bilbo, Legolas, Aragon.

Black Sails: Billy Bones, James Flint, Eleanor, Charles Vane, Anne Bonney, John Silver

Law and Order SVU: All

Hawaii Five-0: All

SWAT: All

Yellowstone: Kayce Dutton, Rip Wheeler, Beth Dutton, Jamie Dutton.

Crash- Kenny

Southland- John Cooper, Ben Sherman

Gotham- Jim Gordon

White Collar- Matthew Keller

The Mighty Ducks- All

The Outsiders- All

Masters of the Air- all

Newsies- Jack Kelly, Davey, Spot Colin, Mush, Kid Blink

*****

01 “Oh you think I am cute when I am angry? Well get ready because I am about to be gorgeous.”  

02. “I can’t lose you again. Can’t  you see that? I am not strong enough.” 

03. “Marry me’ 

04. “I’m not jealous.” 

05.  “Kiss my ass.” 

06.  “Were you ever gonna tell me?” 

07. “Excuse you?”

08.  “This is all your fault.” 

09. “It’s not fair.” 

10. “Game Over, you lose.” 

11.  “Is she always this obnoxious?” “Oh, she is just getting warmed up.” 

12. “We don’t need to control them. We need to unleash them.” 

13. “It should have never come to this.” 

14. “I’m not a lot of people’s favorite person.” 

15. “I shouldn’t have wasted 3 years on someone when Russia could have sent me a good bottle of vodka.” 

16.  “Can we have this conversation when you aren’t upset?” 

17. “Come over here and make me, why don’t ya?” 

18.  “I am tired of being your secret.” 

19. “Mess with them, you mess with me.” 

20. “I don’t want to sleep alone tonight.” 

21. “ I am coming to get you. Stay there.” 

22. “Are you safe?” “I, I don’t know.” 

23.  “This is why I don’t let myself fall in love.” 

24. “You are my regret.” 

25. “You have to make a choice.” 

26. “Put the knife down.” 

27. “Jokes on them.” 

28. “The way you flirt is shameless.” 

29. “With all due respect, I’m going to ignore everything you just said.” 

30. “It’s me! It’s me baby! Calm down.” 

31.  “Have you lost your damn mind?” 

32.  “Hey, I am here with you. Okay? Always.”

33. “Hold me back.” 

34.  “You aren’t a bad guy.” 

35. “You know we are meant to be.” 

36. “Mine.”

37. “Seriously, you are a manchild.”

38.  “I get it alright! I fucked up!” 

39. “She’s dead! I killed her!” 

40. “You smell nice.”

41.  “I think I am pregnant.”/ “I am pregnant, not helpless. Stop worrying so much.” 

42. “So what if I am jealous? Its not gonna change anything.” 

43. “You owe me.”

44. “Be careful.” “I always am.” 

45. “Take my jacket, it's cold outside.” 

46. “I am not some toy  you can play with.” 

47. “Just play long. Please.’

48.  “I did something terrible.’ 

49. “Don’t hurt the hair on their head.’ 

50. “I got your back.” 

51. "I told you not to get too close to me."

52. "How long?' "Since the beginning."

53. "Touch her and you're dead."

54. "Baby, we are the law."

55. "Baby, don't make me spell it out. You know I want you."

56. "I will always choose you."

57. "What happened? I told you to stay by my side!"

58. "Don't you dare!"

59. "Well what can I say? I am a badass."

60. "Excuse me, I have to go and make a scene."

61. "Before this happens, I need you to know that I have always loved you." 1

62. "No panties, baby girl?" 1

63. "Well you are coming home with me whether you like it or not."

64. "That looks hard. Let's switch."

65. "Saddle up doll."

66. "Like what you see?"

67. "Don't pretend to be innocent."

68. "You're mine. And I don't share."

69. "Welcome back, now fucking help me."

70. "Don't be an asshole, asshole."

[slumberdazed]

JOEY "HURRICANE" AMBROSE

lieutenant / vfa-32 swordsmen / nas oceana, virginia beach

ship: hangman, past!rooster (tg:m) | tag: #oc: joey ambrose

fighter pilot by day, menace to society by night. guitarist in a punk band. a hot mess at the best of times. sarcastic, witty, occasionally annoying in a confusingly endearing kind of way. loyal. quick instincts and even quicker flying. doesn't like to be held back or told to slow down. finished first in his class at top gun with his back-seater and best friend julia. terrible at pool, but unreasonably good at cards. refuses to admit that he's late to everything. does not deal with hangovers very well. will fight for the aux cable every time. has seen the strokes live an embarrassing amount of times. named his dog peppermint. subscribes to the school of denial when it comes to dealing with his emotions. constantly getting up to antics and shenanigans to the annoyance of his best friend. has a major sweet tooth. constantly carries around packets of haribo giant strawbs.

playlists: the whole of the moon / bleeding magic out / i know a play we can run

[damien-mlm]

Currently plotting as we speak

Red missing Darrell, hanging out in the trailer and wearing one of his hoodies cause it smells like him 🥺

Cylas you come here into my home and give me 💔💔💔 feels 😭😭

@cries-in-latino what do you think? Should Red run down to Ambrose??

[frozenoj]

Published Reylo Fics Master List

Everyone knows reylos stay winning, and I have no doubt we'll be one of the most published fandoms of all time. List originally posted on twitter (and actually stolen from an anti lmao) but ported over considering... all that.

(Note: I'm mostly just C&P'ing right now, if you know an author has a tumblr and they aren't tagged please lmk thanks! And ofc lmk if I've missed any or as new things get published.)

Ali Hazelwood Cinematic Universe

Three novels, three novellas, and she's just getting started.

Go Hex Yourself by Jessica Clare

When Reggie Johnson answers a job ad, she’s astonished to find that she’s not applying to work at her favorite card game, Spellcraft: The Magicking. Instead, she’s applying to be an actual familiar for an actual witch.

We'd Know By Then by Kirsten Bohling

Meeting your soulmate triggers "the glimpse"—walking out of Dorothy's house in Kansas and into the colorful world of Oz. The problem is, Brighton has ALWAYS seen in color.

For Love and Bylines by Merrin Taylor

When Ava Thompson is offered an undercover investigative role, she jumps at the chance. But posing as a high school senior proves to be more than Ava signed up for when she meets brooding English teacher, Nico Adams.

Almost Perfect by Charlie Mitchell

Recovering from a brain tumour, Ben has lost confidence in sex & relationships. So he gets in touch with Rey, a specialised sex worker, to help him get over his fears.

Soul Searching by E. A. Blevins

Finding your soulmate is like winning the lottery. They're rare and precious and lead to riding off into the sunset.

They're not supposed to be your high school English teacher or carry baggage that can tear you both apart.

The Hurricane Wars by @theaguanzon

A land ravaged by storms and conquerors…

A refuge across the sea that comes at a price…

A volatile alliance between two bitter enemies…

A growing attraction as dangerous as it is irresistible…

Crossroads by Chaney Banett

Ester lives a simple enough life as a waitress at a truck stop diner, plopped in middle-of-nowhere Minnesota. Her days aren’t boring necessarily. It’s just that they’re one all the same.

She doesn't question life very often. She doesn't question anything at all, actually.

…Until the mysterious regular at booth sixteen starts asking.

Hanukkah at the Great Greenwich Ice Creamery by Sharon Ibbotson

Grumpy Cohen orders a coffee when he goes to deliver a present from his mother at the ice creamery. While there he's immediately drawn to River, the Deaf woman who makes the ice cream flavors.

My Roommate is a Vampire by @jeenonamit

Cassie Greenberg's desperate when she finds a too-good-to-be-true apartment in a beautiful Chicago neighborhood. She knows there has to be a catch—only someone with a secret to hide would rent out a room for that price.

Cassie’s sexy new roommate is a vampire. And he has a proposition for her.

The Rockstar’s Omega by Hannah Haze

Layla won a backstage pass to meet her idol, Ash Canon. What will they do when his scent sends her into heat?

(Does anyone know if Hannah's other works also used to be reylo? LMK!)

The Alpha Nextdoor by Dani Doll

It doesn’t matter how hot the alpha next door is. She’s a beta, and that means it’ll never work between them.

Right?

The Exception to the Rule by Christina D. Ambrose

Violet Dawson is spirited, independent, and definitely not your typical Omega. She's determined not to be drawn to the gorgeous Theodore Chamberlin, senior editor and company Alpha asshole.

They are thrust together to plan an event, and all seems to go well until Violet's workspace floods, and they have to share an office.

What will become of them when their close proximity causes Violet to go into heat?

The Most Titillating Tale of Miss Hall & Dr Black by Jenny Michelle

Miss Charlotte Hall, bored & neglected by her Grandfather, has a shameful problem. Desperate, she turns to his physician for help. But she hadn't expected the help to be quite so…manly.

Antique Magic by Kait Disney-Leugers

Brie St. James is in need of a part-time job. She finds it at Spirit Antiques, owned by the handsome and aloof Ezra. But there's more to the shop than meets the eye. Under the layers of patina and dust, a gateway to the magical world and the shop is the crossroads of goods for the magical residents.

To Have & to Hold by Avery Crow

When Clara’s work visa is denied, she figures that’s the end of the road for her. Until her boss offers to marry her.

The idea of going back to cold, gloomy London and the dark past that haunts her is only slightly worse than having to somehow convince her friends and coworkers that her new marriage is authentic, and that there is any sort of love between them.

But Andrew Morrow is full of surprises, and Clara soon finds herself in over her head and pining for a man who is, after all, only doing her a favor.

Kirsten S. Blacketer

Kirsten has a ton of books, like omg a ton! Looks like at least 7 different series/collections? I don't know how many of them were reylo originally (could be all, could be just a few) but check them out.

[wispyhearts-heaven]

I'm Home (Bo Sinclair x Reader) Part I

If you think you've seen this before, you probably have. I'm having problems with my other account so I'm posting everything here. Thank you for your patience while I do this.

| It’s been too long since you’ve been in Ambrose, but now you want to return home, only it’s changed a bit. |

Warnings: House of Wax canon typical violence, talks of death and murder, hinted child abuse. (Let me know if I missed anything or to add tags)

Pairings: (future) Bo Sinclair x Reader, Lester Sinclair & Reader, Vincent Sinclair & Reader.

(here) (ii) (iii)

Not my gif!

God, it felt like it had been eons since you had driven down this road, and even as it laid empty with weeds lining the drive, it was still so familiar. At least, this time, you could see the road with clear eyes, no screaming or crying to turn the car around necessary.

You were in control as you drove this time. There weren’t any other cars that you had seen coming or going this way. You knew that ever since the interstate had been integrated that Ambrose would have died out, especially without the sugar mill to bring in money after it closed down a few years ago. Even with it’s slightly macabre history, tourism would not be booming in this town.

You smiled to yourself as you passed the town sign promoting Trudy’s House of Wax. You didn’t remember much about Trudy or Victor “Doc” Sinclair, barely the faces, just the voices and builds of their bodies. The kindness they had shown to you when another boy in the town had pushed you over onto the grass and you knew you couldn’t go home with the grass stains or your mother would have killed you (hypothetically of course).

While you may not remember much about the parents, the same could not be said for the Sinclair boys. Bo and Vincent were both older than you by a few years, while Lester was your age, you being a few months older than him. Lester had been your second introduction into the family, Doc Sinclair had been the first as he was the one to help your mother give birth to you, but he was the first one that you remembered. He had been a firecracker and your best friend, careful not to roughhouse you despite you both being about the same size. He was a gentle, but dirty, soul.

Then there was Bo Vincent, you met both when you were finally invited into the Sinclair house by Lester but Vincent was the first one you saw. He’d been sitting in the lounge room on the floor with his mother combing his hair back. Trudy had looked at you and exclaimed, but was careful not to pull her boy’s hair. “Oh, you must be Y/N! Lester has told us all about you! Come in, food is about to be put out.” She had motioned for you to sit in the lounge and that’s when you’d seen the wax mask on Vincent’s face. Lester had told you about this, so instead of being startled, you smiled.

“You must be Vincent.” You’d said, sitting down across from him, also on the floor. Trudy had tried to tell you to sit on the couch but you smiled back. “It’s fine ma’am-”

“Trudy, I insist.” She had intervened.

“I’m alright sitting on the floor T-Trudy.” You had stumbled over her name but continued to stay seated where you are. She didn’t fight you on it anymore. “I like your mask.” You said as you looked back at Vincent.

He didn’t respond, but little did you know, Trudy and Vincent’s heart immediately opened up to you. Vincent was sweet, quiet because he was unable to speak, but he didn’t need his words to show his love for you. He’d made you flower crowns, little wax figures, paintings anything he could get his hands on. You had kept every single one when you were younger, even packing some with you when you had left. You had braided his hair, learnt about the intracises that came to wax, and the different paints that Vincent liked to use.

Lunch was when you met Bo. Lester had also warned you about Bo, but it wasn’t about his looks. Bo was a force, a hurricane all encompassed in a human. “Ma said he was worse when he was younger.” Lester had told you. And you believed him.

Doc Sinclair had pulled a chair over for you; he already liked you enough, seeing you and your mother every week after your birth before sectioning it out to every few months as you got older. He then yelled for Bo.

He had come down the stairs, heavy but not heavy enough to be considered rude in front of a guest. Trudy had still been disappointed and Lester had given you a small comforting smile as he squeezed your hand. Bo’s face was cute, a small smile but his eyes were cold, distant. He sat down next to you.

Your first encounter with Bo Sinclair was not traumatic, and thankfully, no one else in the Sinclair household let him traumatize you as he did with some of the other people in Ambrose. You were convinced the warmth and love that Vincent and Lester gave you was enough to keep you safe from his wrath. Despite the other brother’s best efforts, you saw his fierceness. His protectiveness of his family. Anyone in the town that tried to bully Vincent had black eyes and bloody noses, anyone that tried to dim Lester’s lights were seeing his father for an appointment. Anyone that made fun of the House of Wax, because kids are mean, were oftentimes seen the next day with burns on their arms.

Bo didn’t like you at first, but then you were a regular at the Sinclair house and suddenly you were family. When one of the neighboring kids had pushed you down, other parents brushing it off as ‘he’s just showing that he likes you’, Bo had waited until the parents had left and after you had picked yourself up to then throw a rock at the boy’s head.

No one pushed you after that. But Trudy grew worried, knowing Bo could get possessive over things, but she didn’t want to keep you away from her other boys, especially not Vincent when you could make his rainy days turn to shine. She loved the way you looked after her babies.

You wondered if she would forgive you for taking so long to come back.

You wondered if any of the Sinclair’s would forgive you. Despite what your sibling said, that it wasn’t your fault, you still felt guilty. But how could you have fought your parents when you had simply been told you were going on a vacation.

You shook your head, trying to get out of your thoughts. You did it just in time to slam on the breaks as the road that led into the town was no longer there. You panted in your car, wanted for the adrenaline to come down and thought of your options. Your car didn’t have four wheel drive so you couldn’t exactly go through the washed up road, but you didn't exactly want to leave your car here. It’s not like many people are passing through though. And with that in mind, you found yourself grabbing your valuables, getting out of the car and locking it. You had worn clothes that would work with the hot weather: shorts, a shirt with a light jumper on, as well as a comfortable pair of sneakers but without the aircon of your car, you could feel the sweat already bead on your face.

It was as you locked up your car that you heard another pull up behind you. You saw an old, beat up truck come in and stop. You heard the brake sound and saw the man with sandy blond hair, and a dirty cap get out of the truck. He looked at your car, then at you.

“You ‘right there?” He asked, his voice a rough, Southern not quite twang, reminding you very much of your once home.

“Yeah,” you responded as he came closer, “just making my way to Ambrose.”

“You know this place?” He came just to the end of your car, eyeing it off. You car certainly wasn’t anything super pricey, not that you could afford it, but it had been one of your first independent purchases and it worked just fine, but you also knew that a car would stand out against the trucks that would be in Ambrose and along these roads.

“Uh, yeah. I used to live there, long before the sugar mill shut down.” You motioned back towards the other side of the road. “It’s been a while but I didn’t realize the road was washed out.”

He looked surprised, but you doubted that many people actually knew Ambrose existed. It certainly wasn’t on any maps around. “Before the sugar mill? You don’t look too old.”

“I’m not, it just feels like ages ago.” You cross your arms against your stomach as you lean your back against your car. “Trudy and D-Victor were still here when my parents took me.”

“Naw.” He was taken aback, you looked at him. “You knew the Sinclair’s?”

“I loved them.” You said. “They were my second family.Hell, Doc saved me and my Ma from dying.”

“How so?” he asked.

“I knew he did shady shit before he came to Ambrose but it’s that that saved my life.” You said, before telling him your story. “I was the wrong way around, my Ma’s water broke and I had the umbilical cord tied around my neck. He performed an emergency c-section and saved both of our lives that day.” You chuckled. “He didn’t even let my dad pay him extra, just sent us on our way with check ups every now and then and then birthed his own son a few months later.”

“Naw shit?”

“No shit.” You responded back, a smile on your face before you looked back out at the trees. “Lester. My first friend.” You looked back at him, your eyes tearing up. “The boys around?”

His jaw was slack as he looked at you. He blinked a few times. “What’s your name?” It was like he didn’t register your question. It was then that you stood on your own two feet and moved closer to the man, looking him in the eyes. They were so familiar, but-

“Lester?”

“Y/N?”

“Oh my god.” You latch on to him, tears filling your eyes. “Oh my god. You’re okay.” You muttered into his shoulder as he rested his forehead on the crown of your head. You didn’t want to pull away from him, you just squeezed him. Eventually, he was the one to release you. You squeezed his arms as you looked at him, just taking him in. “You’ve grown so much.”

“Speak for yerself.” Lester also had tears in his eyes. “I- we didn’t know what happened to you.”

“I nearly killed my parents when they took me away. I was so angry.” You knew you were slightly stuttering, but Lester didn’t care. He pulled you in again.

“You’re home.” It was then that he tensed up. “But you gotta know that things have changed.” He pulled away, much more serious now.

“What happened? Is Vin alright? What about Bo?” Your mind became frantic but Lester shushed you, quietly, rubbing his hand along your shoulder.

“They’re fine. I don’t think I’m the best person to tell ya this, ya know I ain’t good with words. I-” He paused for a second. “We- Bo wanted revenge. It wasn’t, it’s not the same as it was.”

“Lester, don’t try to be good with words. Just tell me.” You said. He looked over your head.

“How ‘bout I show you as well?” He looked back at you, dread setting in. “But if I show you, you can’t leave.”

You paused.

“You said it yourself.” You whispered to Lester. “I’m home.”

[early20sfailingplenty]

Down, down in an earlier round // Felix x Bo // personalised comfort

A/N: Personalised for @houseofheelshire because who doesn't want Bo comfort? I hope you enjoy this!! Written while watching HoW (for that ✨immersion✨ so hopefully it's something you can really connect to and relate with! Used some inspo. from our DMs today but nothing explicit because our convos stay ours.

PLEASE NOTE - Fully personalised; he/him pronouns & male reader visualised (I took the info. I needed from your blog & I hope that's okay!💗)

Summary: You've pulled into yourself for reasons you can't fully comprehend. No stranger is Bo to what you're going through - no two experiences are the same but he understands, he does, and he's there for you. Come hell or high water - y're a Sinclair, ain't'cha? An' they stick together. Family.

TW; mentions of vomit (2nd paragraph; not relevant to fic), self-loathing, self-imposed social withdrawal, talk of unhealthy coping mechanisms (Bo; canon-compliant), canon compliant darkness, possessive language (Bo), swearing.

Word count: 2, 552.

Bo may not have ever left Ambrose for more than a quick trip into the next town for some supplies for the town or for the family household, but he had experienced more of the cruelties of human nature than most people. He had been used, abused, traumatised, ripped apart by his parents, by the world they have carved out for their dysfunctional family, and though he would only ever admit to feeling rage because of it, he knew more.

He knew waking up at two in the morning in a cold sweat, his heart pounding in his chest and the feeling of fear so strong that he wanted to run, to just run. He knew panic attacks in the shower at three in the morning, fully clothed and the water running cold, just trying to feel something real. He knew self-hatred so strong that it made him want to vomit, and sometimes he did, his stomach roiling under the hurricane of thoughts which refused to let up in his mind.

Bo knew.

So when you began to withdraw into yourself without a word spoken, Bo noticed that something wasn't right almost immediately. Not right away, for a busy man is he between running the town, maintaining supplies, patching up leaky roofs and other such mundane tasks, as well as trying to be a human when he had an odd moment here and there, but he did notice. Bo's mind was as sharp as the blades his twin favoured and though he didn't know why you were pulling into yourself, he figured it wasn't his business just yet. You would tell him when you were ready, and not before. Pushing you into telling him might only make you pull even further into yourself - at least, that was Bo's experience with Vincent - and he didn't want to do that.

Bo and his brothers were the only residents of Ambrose other than you. Lester lived in the next town over, but Bo still considered his littlest brother to be a resident. He stopped by for the night sometimes and always stayed in his childhood room; all the brothers did. Bo preferred sleeping on the sofa if he wasn't with you, though. He hated lying in his childhood bedroom. Too many memories and not enough vices to shut them out. Just like his parents had done to him every fuckin' day of his life. By default were the Sinclairs the most dangerous people in Ambrose, but as time passed and you only further withdrew into yourself without any rhyme or reason from what Bo could discern, he began to wonder if you were a danger, too. Not to himself or his twin, but almost definitely to yourself. Humans had the capacity to be cruel, callous and underhanded, Bo knew, and when frustrations and such turned inward, well... it could be a bloodbath inside one's own mind.

You deserved better from yourself and if you weren't gonna' give it to yourself, or even if you couldn't, then Bo was just gonna' have to do it for you. He was nothing if not thorough when it came to what was his. His town, his brothers, his Felix.

His.

It was closer to seven in the evening as you walked through the abandoned but well kept streets of Ambrose. The sun was only just beginning to set, the sky covered in violent streaks of reds, oranges and yellows. It looked as raw and as angry as you felt and oddly were you comforted by the idea that the sky was hurting like you were. In your hands was clutched yours and Bo's dinner. Lester and Vincent had already eaten and the dishes were taken care of; unusually had Vincent helped you with tidying up the kitchen. He hadn't asked if you wanted help and neither had you asked him for his help, he had simply come up behind you (nearly scaring you half to death, so stealthy was he) with a thankfully clean towel and started to dry the dishes as you put them on the draining board. When you were both done, Vincent had surprised you once more by putting a strong, hot hand on your shoulder, meeting your gaze with his and squeezing just once before he had turned and left, going back the way he had come with slow, sure steps.

Vincent knew just as much as Bo did, and the younger twin's affectionate gesture had said many things, notably; I see you. You're not alone. I'm here.

You knew that everything Vincent offered to you was doubly offered and freely given by Bo, and you had thrown a thank you over your shoulder towards Vincent, who had waved a hand behind him in acknowledgement. Your interactions with him were usually like this, with each of you communicating in your own ways and understanding the other person perfectly with minimal effort. You knew each other well, such was your time in Ambrose that it had always felt like you were meant to be there from the very start.

You walked into the garage and immediately set about finding a clean place to put your dinner down. Soft music was playing, which meant that Bo was in a good mood. Angry music denoted either an equally angry Bo, or a Bo who was suffering so deeply and so profoundly that he didn't want to even hear himself think. The counter was relatively clean, so you put your dinner down there and grabbed the utensils, wrapped in foil, out of your pocket. Bo was happy to eat with grease-stained, oily fingers, but you weren't. He would make a pissy comment if you only brought one set of cutlery, so you bought two of everything. There was a gentle apathy about you today, and every Sinclair had picked up on it. It was why Lester had gotten some good meat (from the grocery store, not roadkill still unbaked by the sun), why Vincent had helped you with the dishes... they had such quiet ways of affection but you heard them all loud and clear; even Vincent. His affection was perhaps the loudest of the three, if only because his non-verbal communication was so effective that it left no room for misinterpretation.

"Bo?" You called for him, not concerned by his lack of appearance. Bo and Vincent had similar work ethics, always so hard did they work. You only called the once - he would have heard you, given the acoustics of the garage and how attentive he was to his surroundings, and he would get pissed off if you called him multiple times. It was a lesson you had learned many a time, though today you cared little. You just wanted to be seen, to feel like you weren't alone, to feel like you mattered.

You wanted, in short, Bo.

In this instance, what you wanted, you already had.

"M'here, Felix," Bo's accent drifted into your ears and caressed your tormented mind, soothing your raging thoughts and making you feel a little better. Oh, but the power he had. Not just physically, in his brutality and the way he dealt with visitors to the town, but the way in which he could affect you so completely with just a few words. He was so beautiful. "Sumthin' smells good," With the stairs from the basement being where they were, Bo was able to run a hand down your back as he came up behind you. Unlike Vincent, Bo tried to announce his presence to you if he came up from behind. He knew well that fight or flight wasn't voluntary and he didn't want to find out which one your body typically followed. "What did'ya make?"

"Your favourite." You smiled. A string seemed to exist between your mouth and Bo's, for your smile triggered his own and he leaned in and down as he pressed a fiercely tender kiss to your forehead. "Vincent helped with the dishes, so they're done."

Bo shrugged. "They c'n be dealt with anytime. Ain't like they're goin' nowhere. " As he began to dig in, so did you. You were taking your cues from Bo, already wanting his company just as much as you wanted to be left alone. "Ya' gonna' tell me wha's bin' bitin' at'cha, darlin'? I know there's sumthin' goin' on." His tone was casual, oh... but there was a darker edge. A challenge. Bo wasn't asking, it was only phrased that way because he didn't want to put you on edge (which, almost ironically, would have had that effect if it hadn't been Bo asking you). He was telling you to tell him in the gentlest way he could, and like a tap left running did everything come pouring out. At some point, you stopped eating and Bo took notice, putting his own fork down, too. He mirrored you so often and you wondered if he knew that he was doing it.

You kept talking until you had taken yourself to the point where words ran dry, every poisonous thing you had been telling yourself laid bare for Bo to examine. You felt better, admittedly, but you just wanted to sink into Bo above all else, to hide inside him until you felt like it was safer for you to come out. You expected a derisive scoff. You expected a joke or a comment which would only make you feel worse. You expected anything other than what Bo did, which was to sharply inhale and run a hand across the lower portion of his face.

"Ah, shit," He cursed, "I git' it. S'easy to pull in when everythin' seems up against ya'. But stay there too long an' all those mean whispers you try to drown out in the day c'n make ya' crazy. All that emotion an' s'got nowhere ta' go." Bo nodded decisively. "I get it, Felix." The lack of an endearing nickname only told the truths of Bo's seriousness. "Jus' don't forget ya' got me and m'brothers, okay? We ain't gonna' let'cha tear y'reself down. Tha's our job." He teased gently, a smile on his lips though it didn't meet his eyes.

"Thanks, Bo," You gave him a slightly watery smile and Bo gave you a closed mouth one in return, tension in his jaw and shoulders as he continued eating, looking at you pointedly until you began to do the same. "Can I..." You paused, considering your words. Touch had always been your love language, but Bo was busy and you already felt like you had been annoying him by bringing him dinner. Even with his enthusiastic greeting and the way he had obviously finished up what he was doing to join you without protest, you still felt like you were a bother for him and it almost made you wish that you hadn't bothered to make him any dinner or to go to the effort to bring it down to him. "Can we, I mean - " You sighed. You knew what you wanted to say, but you felt like you were annoying him, so you stopped yourself every damn time. It was fucking you off. You were pissing yourself off, and it only made you hate yourself more. For fuck's sake.

"Ah, christ," Bo swore, "Out wit' it, would'ya?" To lessen the inevitable sting of his harsh words, Bo said, "Ya' know I ain't gonna' say no, so jus' ask me, huh?"

It worked, somewhat. In part did it only make you more desperate to pull away, though it also made you want his presence more. Oh, the power he had... "When you're done, can we go and cuddle? Please, I just want to feel close to you."

Bo's eyes lit up at the prospect of holding his boyfriend in his arms once more. So many days passed with only late at night snuggles and early morning embraces and with nothing in between to fuel either of you, but tonight was going to end up being an evening in bed, just you and Bo and a locked door, some snacks and all the touch in the world. "I reckon we c'n do that, yeah. Ya' gotta' eat first, though. Ain't pickin' ya' up if ya' pass out from no food." There was a warning if you had ever heard one, and you wisely decided to listen. Between the coffee you had made for the both of you and the dishes you had bought down, you were both well and truly satiated physically and now all the both of you wanted was to get home and to get into bed together. It was a tradition well loved between the two of you and it made days like this almost worth it. Almost. Bo was always softer and gentler with you when you were feeling like this, though he was still gruff and rude at times.

Finally, finally, the both of you managed to get up to the house with the plates and cups in tow (and unceremoniously dumped by Bo into the sink. Did they break? Maybe, who cared? He sure as fuck didn't) and into the bedroom. When the door locked behind you both, you exhaled deeply and sunk into the mattress. Oh, but waging a war inside your mind was exhausting. Bo chuckled, the sound dry and without humour. A response to hide the fact that he didn't know how to respond. You wanted Bo and you wanted cuddles, to have your preferred love language fulfilled. Without opening your eyes did you raise your arms above your head, calling Bo to you without having to say anything. He knew you too well for that, and the same was true in the reverse.

"Shush, it's okay," Bo ducked down to press a tender kiss to your forehead before he moved away again to strip down to his underwear. "You want pyjamas or just your underwear?"

You lowered your arms and shrugged but Bo tapped your elbow in a silent warning, which prompted you to ask for your underwear and help Bo to strip you off. Your clothes were throw haphazardly around the room, a material trail for you to blush over tomorrow when you were more awake and decidedly less overwhelmed. Finally, you and Bo climbed into bed together, legs entangled and bodies pressed tightly together. Fingers smoothed over the back of your head and your own fingers dove into his chestnut curls as you breathed in the scent of gas, cigarettes and something so Bo that it made you want to cry again, though you didn't. You didn't want to think or feel anymore. You just wanted Bo.

He heard you, he heard you, and he said, "M'here, Felix. Ain't goin' nowhere. Family, huh? Y're my partner and I ain't leavin' ya. No matter how much you tell y'reself otherwise." To punctuate his point did he tap your temple and then press his forehead against yours, tugging you closer to him underneath the covers. "I got'cha, Felix."

"I love you, Bo."

Bo raised his head with a sleepy smile and pressed his lips so hard to yours that you could feel the outline of his teeth against your skin. You knew what he was saying and it warmed you from the inside out.

I love you too.

[feelin-woozy]

11/20 kiss meme.

A  FUCKED  UP  KISSING  MEME || a  drunk  /  drugged  kiss. & a  kiss  that  won’t  be  remembered. || Bo Sinclair

Drinking wasn’t an uncommon pastime in Ambrose. When tourist season wasn’t in full swing, and the small town fell into a lull, you often found Bo with a calloused hand wrapped around the neck of a bottle of whatever was strong enough to make his mind fill with cotton. He drank like a man trying to forget, trying to dull the pain that came with the world slowing and his thoughts catching up. You saw it in his eyes, and the way vitriol would drip from each slurred word he spat at you.

So it wasn’t an uncommon sight to see Bo slouched on the couch, hat pulled down over his eyes as he drank his liquor in somber silence. It was, however, uncommon to see you doing such a thing.

Bo watched you curiously, trying to determine if he should be pissed or amused at the sight of you with your hand curled around a half-finished bottle of his whiskey. He takes in the flush of your cheeks, and the dazed far off look in your eyes. You appear to be deep in thought, and he wonders what it is you’re thinking about, wonders if you too are drinking to dull the pain, to forget. Were you drinking to make your time in Ambrose more bearable? He frowns at the thought.

The man leans against the door frame, clearing his throat as he stares at you—a wry smirk pulling at his lips when your eyes lift to look at him. You look a bit caught off guard, eyes widening just slightly before a soft look settles over your features. It makes warmth seep into the cold spots between his joints.

“Hey Bo,” You flash him a lazy grin with too many teeth that it almost looks unnatural. He watches as you get to your feet, fights the urge to rush over to you when your legs almost buckle like a newborn fawn. A few things clatter to the ground as you make your way to him, but you manage fine, moving with about as much grace as a hurricane.

He hums in acknowledgment, a hand coming to rest on your waist in a gentle effort to stop you from falling and cracking open your skull. He can’t bring the mild irritation he feels to bloom in to anything past that. Not when he sees the way your axis spins on itself with each teetering movement of your body, looking like any abrupt movement would have you spilling the contents of your stomach along the wooden floors. And it wasn’t worth the fight if he was honest. Whiskey could be replaced, but it was much harder to get the smell of bile out of the floor. “Should’a known you’re a lightweight.”

“Was bored,” You shrug your shoulders as clumsy hands find their way to the collar of his coveralls. Bo stills under the touch, muscles going taunt as your fingers curl into the fabric. He doesn’t say anything, hardly moves a muscle beyond a quirked brow. “Vincent’s busy an’ I had no idea when you were gettin’ home,” The words slur together, and he can smell the whiskey on your breath as you speak. “I was lonely.”

“I can tell.” He chuckles, shaking his head, shoulders slumping just barely. “Come on, let’s get ya to bed.” He speaks softly, softer than he ever thinks he has spoken to you. You won’t remember it; there’s safety in showing a sliver of vulnerability, of showing what lays beyond the barbed wire fences he’s built around himself.

You stare up at him as if registering the softness he extends you. If you were sober, you likely wouldn’t have commented on it, would’ve let it come and go while holding the memory close to you. Instead, in a moment of senseless inhibition, you lean up, pressing your lips to his in a chaste kiss. He doesn’t kiss back, just stares down at you unblinking as shock rolls over him in stiff waves.

It wasn’t as if he didn’t want to kiss you back, but he couldn’t. Not like this. The grip on your waist tightens, a flicker of something ugly rises in his chest. If Vincent had been the one to come up and find you, would you throw yourself at him too?

You don’t meet Bo’s eyes when you drawback, but the grip you have on his coveralls tightens till your knuckles blanche. He wishes he could peer into your mind, to see the thoughts that swirled within, to know if this was a moment of weakness, just you trying to fill the void of loneliness with the first warm body that crossed your path or if it was something more. Something for him. It made him nervous regardless of what the outcome may have been.

And in a moment of his own weakness, Bo leans down and presses a soft kiss to your hair. A silent offering and a way to soothe over the shame and embarrassment he could feel radiating off your frame. You wouldn’t remember come the morning time, his insecurities, his weaknesses, they could die here tonight with you before inevitably, you would drag them from him once more. “Bed, now.”

[wecomrades]

Master List War Material

Hello everyone!

I decided to make my own list about war stuff and share it with you lots. These are all of the movies and TV shows that I've ever watched and books that I read; it's going to be WWI, WWII (with Holocaust as well), Vietnam War and Iraq War related. What can I say, I'm a slut when it comes to matters of war and soldiers, mostly. I'll keep updating it with new stuff every now and then. 

I really hope you find this interesting and useful! If you have any suggestions or questions or whatever, my DMs are always open ❤️

MOVIES:

WWI

1917

War Horse

Testament of Youth

1918

All quiet at the Western front

The Eagle and the Hawk

WWII

Dunkirk

Hacksaw Ridge

Midway

Inglourious Basterds

Fury

Flags of Our Fathers

Unbroken

Saving Private Ryan

Schindler's List (Holocaust)

The Thin Red Line

Pearl Harbour

The Longest Day

The Dirty Dozen

The Pianist (Holocaust)

Anthropoid

Train de vie

The Diary of Anne Frank (1959) (Holocaust)

Hurricane

Black Book

Saints and Soldiers

The Darkest Hour

The Monuments Men

T-34

The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas (Holocaust)

Life is Beautiful (Holocaust)

Elle s'appelait Sarah (Holocaust)

Jakob the Liar (Holocaust)

The Zookeeper's Wife (Holocaust)

Sobibor (Holocaust)

The Photographer of Mauthausen (Holocaust)

At War with Love

Jojo Rabbit

Kapò (Holocaust)

Perlasca: the Courage of a Just Man (Holocaust)

A Bag of Marbles

Where Hands Touch (War/Holocaust)

Naked Among Wolves (Holocaust)

Company of Heroes

From Hell to Victory

The Big Red One

Son of Saul (Holocaust)

U-Boot 96

Uprising

Downfall

A Bridge Too Far

Defiance

The Resistance Banker

Greyhound

My Honor Was Loyalty – Leibstandarte

Ghosts of War

Goodbye Children

Jonah Who Lived in the Whale

Atonement

The Sound of Music

Another Mother’s Son

Sophie Scholl – The Final Days

Into the White

Nancy Wake: Gestapo’s Most Wanted

Resistance (2020)

Lancaster Skies

POST WWII

Reunion

Operation Finale

The Truce

Sophie's Choice (Holocaust)

The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society

Denial

The Windermere Children

VIETNAM

Hamburger Hill

Good Morning, Vietnam

The Last Full Measure

Danger Close: the Battle of Long Tan

We Were Soldiers

Apocalypse Now

Full Metal Jacket

Platoon

The Deer Hunter

Da 5 Bloods

Tunnel Rats

Rescue Dawn

IRAQ

12 Strong

The Hurt Locker

Sand Castle

American Sniper

Jarhead

The Yellow Birds

OTHER

Triple Frontier

War Machine

Black Hawk Down

The Siege of Jadotville

TV SHOWS:

WWI

Birdsong (2 episodes)

WWII

Band of Brothers (10 episodes)

The Pacific (10 episodes)

Catch-22 (6 episodes)

Generation War (3 episodes)

Colditz 2005 (2 episodses)

The Liberator (4 episodes)

AU

The Man in the High Castle (4 seasons/40 episodes)

SS GB (5 episodes)

POST WWII

Close to the Enemy (7 episodes)

Restless (2 episodes)

IRAQ WAR

Generation Kill (7 episodes)

BOOKS:

Between Shades of Gray by Ruta Sepetys

La banalità del bene di Enrico Deaglio (for my italian fellas)

L'impostore di Giorgio Perlasca (same as before)

Reunion by Fred Uhlman

D-Day by Larry Collins

The May Beetles by Baba Schwartz

Village of Secrets: Defying the Nazis in Vichy France by Caroline Moorehead

The Diary by Anne Frank

Lilac Girls: A Novel by Martha Hall Kelly

The Big Break: The Greatest American WWII POW Escape Story Never Told by S. Dando-Collins

If This is a Man by Primo Levi

The Periodic Table by Primo Levi

If Not Now, When? by Primo Levi

The Truce by Primo Levi

A Bag of Marbles by Joseph Joffo

Dunkirk by Robert Jackson

Dunkirk by Joshua Levine

Unbroken by Laura Hillembrand

Band of Brothers by Stephen Ambrose

The War Memoirs of Major Dick Winters by Dick Winters and Cole Kingseed

Brothers in Battle, Best of Friends by Edward Heffron, Robyn Post, and William Guarnere

Easy Company Soldier: The Legendary Battles of a Sergeant from World War II's "Band of Brothers" by Don Malarkey

Parachute Infantry: An American Paratrooper's Memoir of D-Day and the Fall of the Third Reich by David Webster

Un anno sull'altipiano di Emilio Lussu (sadly this one is only in italian)

Generation Kill by Evan Wright

Commandant of Auschwitz by Rudolf Hoss

The Sergeant in the Snow by Mario Rigoni Stern

Shifty's War: The Authorized Biography of Sergeant Darrell "Shifty" Powers, the Legendary Sharpshooter from the Band of Brothers by Marcus Brotherton

Biggest Brother: The Life of Major Dick Winters, the Man Who Led the Band of Brothers by Larry Alexander

Searching for Augusta: The Forgotten Angel of Bastogne by Martin King

A Company of Heroes: Personal Memories about the Real Band of Brothers and the Legacy They Left Us by Marcus Brotherton

The Combat Story of Ed Shames of Easy Company by Ian Gardner

Liberation by Imogen Kealey

Salt to the Sea by Ruta Sepetys

How Easy Company Became a Band of Brothers by Chris Langlois

[roadtogracelandx45]

:Prompts List:

I am starting with 50 for now, I may add or change them going forward. but for now these were the ones i had in my notebook. i got all of them off of Pinterest. Some already have names by them but go ahead and request them again if you like the prompt and I can redo them.

Fandoms I write for:

Top Gun Maverick: All

Elvis: Elvis

One Chicago: Kelly Severide, Jay Halstead, Will Halstead, Connor Rhodes

Avengers: Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, Bucky Barnes, Natasha, Clint Barton, Peter Parker

Triple Frontier: Will Miller and Benny Miller

Four Brothers: Bobby Mercer, Jack Mercer

Sons of Anarchy: Jax Teller, Opie Winston, Juice Ortiz, David Hale,

Fast and Furious: Dom Toretto, Roman Peirce, Brian O'Conner, Letty Ortiz

Band of Brothers: All

Twilight: All of the Cullens, Jacob Black and Bella Swan

Harry Potter: All

WWE/TNA/AEW/ ROH : Seth Rollins, Roman Reigns, Dean Ambrose, Stephanie McMahon, Triple H, Shawn Michaels, Chris Jericho, CM Punk, The Young Bucks, Adam Cole, Bobby Fish, Kyle O'Reilly, Roderick Strong, Chris Sabin, Alex Shelley, Randy Orton, Edge, Christian Cage, Matt Hardy, Jeff Hardy, Hurricane Helms. Mr. Kennedy

Supernatural- Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Cas

The West Wing: Josh Lyman, Sam Seaborn

*****

01 “Oh you think I am cute when I am angry? Well get ready because I am about to be gorgeous.”  

    Olivia Stewart- Light in The Darkness- Band of Brothers fanfiction

02. “I can’t lose you again. Can’t  you see that? I am not strong enough.” 

03. “Marry me’ 

04. “I’m not jealous.” 

05.  “Kiss my ass.” 

06.  “Were you ever gonna tell me?” 

07. “Excuse you?”

08.  “This is all your fault.” 

09. “It’s not fair.” 

10. “Game Over, you lose.” 

11.  “Is she always this obnoxious?” “Oh, she is just getting warmed up.” 

        Ajay Reso- Stronger Than Yesterday series

12. “We don’t need to control them. We need to unleash them.” 

13. “It should have never come to this.” 

14. “I’m not a lot of people’s favorite person.” 

15. “I shouldn’t have wasted 3 years on someone when Russia could have sent me a good bottle of vodka.” 

16.  “Can we have this conversation when you aren’t upset?” 

17. “Come over here and make me, why don’t ya?” 

18.  “I am tired of being your secret.” 

19. “Mess with them, you mess with me.” 

20. “I don’t want to sleep alone tonight.” 

21. “ I am coming to get you. Stay there.” 

22. “Are you safe?” “I, I don’t know.” 

23.  “This is why I don’t let myself fall in love.” 

24. “You are my regret.” 

25. “You have to make a choice.” 

26. “Put the knife down.” 

27. “Jokes on them.” 

28. “The way you flirt is shameless.” 

29. “With all due respect, I’m going to ignore everything you just said.” 

30. “It’s me! It’s me baby! Calm down.” 

31.  “Have you lost your damn mind?” 

32.  “Hey, I am here with you. Okay? Always.”

33. “Hold me back.” 

34.  “You aren’t a bad guy.” 

35. “You know we are meant to be.” 

36. “Mine.”

37. “Seriously, you are a manchild.”

38.  “I get it alright! I fucked up!” 

39. “She’s dead! I killed her!” 

40. “You smell nice.”

41.  “I think I am pregnant.”/ “I am pregnant, not helpless. Stop worrying so much.” 

42. “So what if I am jealous? Its not gonna change anything.” 

Ryder Winston- Charming Town 

43. “You owe me.”

44. “Be careful.” “I always am.” 

45. “Take my jacket, it's cold outside.” 

46. “I am not some toy  you can play with.” 

47. “Just play long. Please.’

48.  “I did something terrible.’ 

49. “Don’t hurt the hair on their head.’ 

50. “I got your back.” 

[bluecoolr]

You Ain't Goin' Nowhere

Darrell arrives in Ambrose. [Part 4/5]

Links to part 1 2 3 5

Warnings: self-proclaimed executioner with god complex comes to terms with being pseudo-adopted into a murders-for-funsies-but-sometimes-for-love family but there’s drama because his older brother/uncle-figure doesn’t like him all that much, so slasher-typical violence and gore, allusions to murder, jealous! and insecure!Vincent

A/N: OK I THOUGHT THIS WAS GONNA BE THE LAST PART BUT IT GOT TOO LONG. New (and old 👀) characters are introduced. As always, bold is ASL. HOPE YOU ENJOY!

Featuring the Sinclairs, RZ Michael Myers, and the ocs of @the-pinstriped-hood (Percy), @probably-a-plant-thing (Skulk), @slaasherslut (Ava). Ellie and Alia are also mentioned <3

Tagging some moots who might wanna see this! @rottent33th @vincent-sinclair-deserved-better @cries-in-latino @kalid-raven @angxlslasher @allthingsblood

“You don’t believe me?”

“Vinny,”

Anger made Vincent's fingers stutter as he signed.

"You won't take my word for it? Why? Why, Bo? Do you trust him more than me? I'm your brother."

Bo took Vincent's hands in his, shushing him. "You are my brother. Nothing or no one would change that, but - tsk - listen to yourself. I know havin' people over is a new concept to you, but don't you think you're getting a li'l too carried away?"

He was looking at him like a raving lunatic, with that oh-poor-you frown wrinkling his brow. Vincent's breath hitched. He balled his fists and shook his twin off.

Bo regarded him sternly, like a silly misbehaving child. "Vincent," he warned.

Vincent grabbed the back of his chair and threw it back. It clattered against the tool chest.

"See for yourself, then." His one blue eye bulged in its socket. "Watch for the signs."

Bo watched him storm out of the garage and melt into the shadows beyond the pumps.

Darrell, a murderer? Where on earth did he get that?

Bo shook his head, raised his beer bottle to his lips, stopped. He glanced in the direction Vincent had gone.

Lesley Reinhart was settling into his sixties. Without much difficulty, one must note. If anything, he was in better shape than he ever was.

He was tall, broad-shouldered, with a muscular body that could put any recent police academy graduate to shame. Before he got out of his car - a sleek Porsche picked out of the city impound - he brushed back his hair and adjusted his tie.

His jaw clenched when he heard a wet squelch after he put one foot out. Mud. On his newly polished dress shoes.

It wasn't like he didn't know there was a growing hurricane, thought Hernandez as he trudged through the mud-strewn forest floor. He never understood how people grew vainer the closer they got to kicking the bucket.

The two men followed the well-trodden path to the shack the local townsfolk said was home to the last person who saw the missing teens.

They came upon the place. A sad brick and wood structure with an askew porch, which was lit by an amber light bulb. A loud humming told Hernandez the place ran on generator power.

Reinhart raised his voice. "Daniel Ray Williams?"

The scraggly boy who was chopping firewood stopped and lowered his ax. He took a cautious step back as the two men approached.

"Tread lightly, Moses, for the ground you walk on is holy ground… or some shit." A man, hidden by the shadow and fog, made his presence known. He sat on a rusty white-painted metal chair on the porch, smoking a hastily rolled cigarette. "Let's back you up, gentlemen," he said, "Off my property."

"Mr. Williams," began Reinhart, "my name is Lesley Rein-"

"Earl."

An impatient smirk tugged at the corner of Reinhart's thin lips. "My name is Lesley Reinhart. I'm a detective with the NOPD. This is my partner Detective Hernandez." He flashed his badge.

"Figured," said Earl, unimpressed.

"We're just here to ask Daniel Williams a couple of questions," Hernandez explained, adopting a more reasonable tone.

"That's my kid brother." Dan had made his calm, collected way up the steps and was now standing next to Earl. "Got a stutter. He don't talk much on account of it. You wanna know anythin', you ask me."

"This is about Brody Morgan and Carter Green," said Reinhart.

"Yeah, I heard about 'em. Got a dozen or so bluecoats sweeping the woods yesterday with dogs and whatnot."

Reinhart persisted. "We were hoping to get a statement out of Daniel, about what happened at the gas station."

Earl folded his arms over his chest. "Well, if you already know he was at the gas station, I'm sure you know what them boys did."

"We were also hoping he'd tell us about the attendant who was working there the day Brody and Carter disappeared."

Earl tipped his head and raised one wild eyebrow. "Why, he a suspect?"

Reinhart grew more impatient. "I'm afraid I can't divulge that."

"Level with me here, hoss."

"We'll be asking the questions here, Mr. Williams."

"Dan a suspect? Am I? Mighty convenient for you to have a bunch o' dirt-poor hillbillies to pin it down on."

"Respectfully, sir," piped up Hernandez, "Everyone who was within the area during the crime's occurrence is, and nothing was stolen-"

Reinhart shut him up with an authoritative wave of the hand. "Mr. Williams, I can charge you with criminal misdemeanor for refusing to cooperate," he barked.

Earl smiled. "I can also legally shoot you for trespassin', and so long as I claim fear of bodily harm the law is on my side."

It was at this point the two realized that the object leaning against Earl's chair was a shotgun and not a cane.

"We ain't got nothin' for ya, gentlemen," he said definitively. "Be a little more willin' if you'd done the same for every person that's disappeared from this mountain these past few decades, not just for city slickers whose daddies got dough."

Reinhart, seething from the insolence, turned away and marched back the way they came.

Hernandez braved Earl's hostile stare and placed his card on the damp porch. "Should you change your mind," he said. "Give me a call."

Earl leaned forward and read the name printed on the expensive cardstock.

Angel Hernandez

When the men had gone, he brought out his cellphone and sent a warning message to Skulk.

They're comin' up to the trailer, boy. Make yourself scarce.

Skulk had a habit of stealing Darrell's hoodies. They smelled like him and were warm, which was great for the weather they currently had going.

He got the message just as the detectives broke through the bushes. They narrowly passed him, sitting in a thicket as he was. Jebediah the little piglet, was sleeping soundly in his lap, remnants of a treat still hanging from his snout.

Skulk watched the detectives inspect Darrell's empty trailer. The older one kicked some of the sweet potatoes the naughty boars had dug from the vegetable patch. Skulk opened his and Darrell's conversation, filled with lewd little nothings they had sent back and forth. He typed:

On a more serious note, darling - there's pigs snooping about the trailer and not the usual kind.

The younger detective brought out a flashlight and peered through the tinted windows.

Had he locked the door?

Carefully shifting to his feet, though still remaining crouched, Skulk unsheathed his knife. Vibrating from the thrill of a possible kill, he waited. The second those cops opened the door, he would break cover. He could take them. One after the other.

The bigger man made him hesitate, but he was going to try. He'd left clothes there - unwashed clothes and tools of the trade. They all tried to be careful, but who's to say for certain the detectives won't find anything?

"Try the door," said one of them.

Jebediah stirred. The underbrush gave as Cristabella, grunting, arrived to take her brother home. Skulk bit his lip and held her mouth shut.

Incensed, Cristabella shook Skulk off. Her attention shifted to the strangers, and began to growl.

"What was that?"

Bellowing, Cristabella charged right at them. She bowled through them, knocking them clean off their feet. She was at them again, ramming her cutter tusks at their torsos. Clothes were shredded, yells rang, but the men were quick to get on their feet and they eventually got away.

Skulk watched, the squealing piglet under his arm, as Cristabella snorted in satisfaction as if to say Come back with a warrant.

—

Ava, Bo, and Darrell liked to hang out at the garage. Winds were picking up, blowing from the coast. Establishments were closed. Folk were told to remain indoors.

Ava and Darrell sat together while Bo tinkered with the engine of a sedan. He'd been trying to make it work for the past week. He couldn't fathom what he was doing wrong. The out of key strumming Darrell was doing on Ava's beat up acoustic wasn't helping.

Fed up, Bo unstuck his head from under the hood and winced at the two.

"Darrell, Darrell," he groaned. "You're never gonna learn to play with those clumsy fingers. Give that dang thing back to Ava."

Ava giggled and took her guitar back. "Don't listen to him," she told Darrell. "You'll get it, but won't you sing with me a while?"

She positioned her willowy fingers on the fretboard. Darrell returned her pick and she began to play.

Once the intro passed, Darrell followed through. The way the two friends' voices melded together was ethereal. Bo stopped in his tracks.

You go down just like Holy Mary

Mary on a, Mary on a cross

Mary on a, Mary on a cross

"Your beauty never ever scared me" Surprised, Ava looked up. She'd never heard Bo sing before. His voice was clear and cool, but higher in pitch than his speaking voice.

All three of them sang the last lines together, voices blending into a lovely harmony.

"Didn't know you had that in you," Ava teased.

Bo smirked and turned away. "Stick to singing, Darr. Leave the music to Ava."

To thwart the attention from himself, Bo turned up the radio. They listened attentively to another weather update, which was followed by a local news report.

Meanwhile, at Devil's Peak, the search for missing college students, Brody Morgan and Carter Green, continues. Police authorities race against the oncoming hurricane to uncover as much information about the boys' current whereabouts.

Brody Morgan is the son of media mogul, Arthur Morgan. Detective Lesley Reinhart assures the public that the New Orleans Police Department is doing everything in its power to find the boys.

Bo's ears burned. Three paces away, Darrell continued to sing softly to Ava's guitar, but he could see it: a tremble of the lip, a glassy faraway look in the eye. Guilt. Worry.

Darrell appeared to have not heard, but Bo knew he was listening closely.

That night, Bo roused Vincent out of bed, like a spectre at his bedside. They came to a shaky agreement behind the house.

"If we do it now, it'll be the end of it."

"Wait. I'm not too sure. Let me talk to him."

Vincent scoffed - a harsh nasal puff. "You think he'll admit to it? Idiot."

Bo grabbed him by the shirt. "You don't move til I say you can."

—

All was quiet and gray the next day. Percy sat at the dining table, her fingers clacked busily on the keyboard as she wove a new chapter. She peered over her glasses at the amassing clouds from the window. "This must be what they mean by 'the calm before the storm'," she remarked. 

Darrell was sitting in the chair next to her, poring over one of the books she had written. "You made Halloran look like Bo," he noted with an amused smile. 

"I did." She watched him fondly. She reached over and pushed a stray strand of hair from his face. "You know what, maybe I should give Halloran a sidekick." 

Darrell looked up, brown eyes gleaming. 

"I think I have an idea on what he might look like."

Darrell put down the book and rested his chin on her shoulder. He squinted at the walls of text on her document. "That's a whole lotta words, Momma," he sighed. 

Percy smiled, feeling rather proud of herself. "No big feat, to me. What do you think so far?"

Darrell gave it a good, careful read. He sighed softy, blown away. "Shucks, I dunno how you do it." 

There was an urgent hammering at the window. Michael stood outside. He held a grubby baseball in his hand. 

"Be right back, Momma," said Darrell. 

"Hey, Mikey," he said at the door. "Don't think it's good weather to play catch in. Alia won't approve." 

Michael stared up at him, lips sealed. He tilted his head and raised the ball again. His posture hinting that he wasn't asking. 

"Ok." 

Darrell took the ball and the glove he had brought. In their game, Darrell was the only one who did the throwing and catching. Michael would hit the ball as hard as he could with a bat, and watch as Darrell struggled to catch it. Peak entertainment. 

"Further?" Darrell called from down the street, the House of Wax behind him. 

Michael kept pointing at him to go further. He was going to knock the ball right out of town. Darrell reeled back and pitched. The bat hit the ball with a deafening thwack!

It rode the air like a comet. Arching high, Darrell knew chasing after it was futile. Then, it dipped, whistling, and crashed through one of the lower windows of the House of Wax. 

The glove slipped off of Darrell's hand. Michael turned on his heels and let the bat clatter on the street. In case they incurred Vincent's wrath, he was detaching himself from the incident. 

Darrell picked his way through the wasteland of discarded car parts, cut through a crack in a wooden fence, and entered the House of Wax. 

The door swung right open and he crossed the slightly dusty threshold. He was greeted by a main room glowing with yellow lamps, filled with intricate carvings that he knew for a fact were all wax. In an odd trick of the eye, the bulbs seemed to fill the room with shadow more than light. The result was dismal and bleak. 

Darrell's thoughts strayed unhappily as he eyed the sculptures. It was as though the misery stored in that room was seeping into his bones. Distracted, he went from one display to another, admiring the detail of each handiwork.

Vincent was so talented. He and Ellie went together perfectly. If only he could understand what he had done that made him so angry. 

There was a rapid clicking on the floor. He recognized it at once as the padding of an animal. Jonesy, tail wagging and mouth bearing the rogue ball, watched him from a safe distance. 

Darrell dropped to a crouch. "Hey, girl! Good job! Give it here." 

Jonesy tucked tail and ran. 

"Hey, no! Come back!" Darrell gave chase and stumbled from one room to another.  Jonesy girl, no! I'm not supposed to be in here."

He came upon the back of the building, past an elaborately decorated dining room, and into a doorway that led to the basement. 

There were sconces in the walls, housing steadily burning candles. Embedded among these were different faces, each with a unique expression. Darrell followed the faces upwards and looked overhead. Spanning the ceiling, her eight spindly legs astride the stairway, was Arachne - Horrid, freakish, and beautiful all at once. Face smooth with youth. Bosom full and immodestly bare. Eyes hungry. Head held high with pride. 

"What is this place?" muttered Darrell. 

Bark! Jonesy had dropped the ball at the bottom of the stairs. 

Darrell crept down the steps. As he was reaching for the ball, Jonesy's jaws snapped at his wrist and she made off with the ball again. He walked into the room. It felt like a furnace. Great, big cauldrons of wax hung on chains over large fires. Knives, saws, and sculpting tools hung on the walls. A bloodstained steel table stood in the middle of the room. 

But worst of all, there was a figure - human-shaped - suspended in a macabre iron contraption.  

Darrell was pulled to it by some sick fascination. He thought he could see the glimmer of an eye under the rough wax, blue and bright. He stood inspecting the thing, heart hammering. 

Its fingers twitched, and Darrell screamed. 

He spun around and found himself face to face with Vincent. There was a knife in his hand. 

Darrell interposed the table between them and made a run for the stairs after circling it twice. Vincent tried to grab him by the hair but missed. 

Darell ran right into Michael in the dining room. The taller man stepped in and locked Vincent's wrist in a crushing grip. 

Crack! 

Vincent had landed a punch on Michael's jaw. Michael recovered almost immediately and was able to grab the blade of the knife just as it was about to pierce his side. Blood dribbled onto the floor. 

He changed his hold on the blade, used his free hand to hold Vincent's arm, and knocked the weapon out of his grasp. 

When he looked back, Darrell was gone. He was sprinting down Main Street, sweating, panting, heart hammering. He understood it now - why the town had felt so empty, why the girls had tried to keep him entertained indoors at all times, why the sculptures looked so real. 

Lester found him sitting on the curb sometime after dinner. "Y'alright there, buddy?" he inquired cheerfully. 

Darrell did not respond. 

Lester sat down beside him. "I, uh, heard what happened." 

"S'Mikey ok?" 

"Yep. Didn't feel a thing, Alia said. He's been patched up." Lester took a crumpled pack from his pocket and lit a cigarette. 

"Ya in on it, Les?" 

Lester did not respond.

"Y'know," Lester began, "What we do out here, we been doin' it a long time. An' ya know, you can get used ta anythin' if you're 'round it long enough. It ain't easy to put it down."

He blew the smoke out and brought Darrell's attention to the cigarette. The red glowing tip flickered as he waved it around.

"It's like quitttin', ya know?" he explained, "Ya can't just do it." 

Darrell was nodding. He knew how that felt. 

"Besides, this is my family," Lester added, "I love them. More than anythin'."

Darrell had begun to think of them as his family, too. It had felt too good to be true. 

"Here's one for ya. Those missing kids, d'you do that?"

Darrell glanced sideways at Lester. There was no judgment in his eyes, no hate like in Vinny's. His expression was open, sincere. 

"D'you kill 'em?" 

Darrell resigned himself and said, "Killed more than just them." 

"Are you gonna stay with us?" 

"Can I?" 

"Sure!" 

There was thunder overhead. They raised their eyes to the sky. Lester grinned. "Anyway, with that comin', you ain't goin' nowhere." 

[shanie-the-toyaddict]

To @iceicesheamy, here’s a couple pictures of my current setup. To explain, this is my figure/goodie rack in my living room. I put all sorts of figures, trinkets, statues, ect that I like on it. It use to take up 3 of the shelves, but I have a bunch of boxes taking up the lower two shelves right now. SOME FIGURES OF NOTE: TOP PHOTO:

ON THE LEFT: That’s KOR ‘01 Shane standing over KOR ‘01 Kurt. I tried to pose them based on the whole thing where Kurt took the classic wrestling stance, and Shaneo just kicks him in the stomach. That was the INTENT. However, the figures wouldn’t stand that way, so that’s the best I could do. For the record, the Limited Edition KOR 01 Kurt is a very recent edition. I wanted him for two decades before finally acquiring him last month.

IN THE CENTER: That is my incomplete “Hurrifriends” WWE collection. It has Hurricane, Rosey, and a CUSTOM Mighty Molly. Yes, i made that one myself. More on that one possibly later. I say “Incomplete” because someday, once I get a hold of the proper base fig, I will make a Super-Stacy figure to go with them. However, the figure I need for it is rather hard to come by, and I haven’t been able to get my hands on it yet. Oh well, maybe someday. IN THE RIGHT REAR: My current McMahon Family Setup. I gave Shane his European title, until I can customize a better Attitude Era Shane to put it on. I don’t currently have a CFO Hunter figure, but when I get one, he will join them. BOTTOM PHOTO: ON THE LEFT: That, for the record, is a complete (Minus Hornswoggle and Rick Rude) setup of EVERY MEMBER OF DX EVER. Someday, I will get my hands on a Rick Rude figure to add, but I really have to wait till they release one with his hair pulled back. Don’t know if they will ever release an “Enforcer Rick Rude” figure, but I can hope. The men are all Mattel, including a specially done custom of Shawn Michaels that I bought off ebay for far too much money. The women in front are all Jakks as there are no proper figures for them in the Mattel line. (There are Stephanie figures, but not Stephanie McMahon-Helmsley figures)  CENTER: Those are my current fighting Shane O Mac figures. Yes, that is in fact a Crown Jewel custom in front. To all my Shane fans out there who want one, it is the WORLDS EASIEST CUSTOM EVER. Literally, a Shane head on a Dean Ambrose Summerslam body. That’s IT. Do NOT buy one for 50 bucks off ebay. If you want it, spend the 25 dollars on the Shane and Dean figures and make it yourself. You don’t have to paint or glue anything. It’s really that easy. FRONT RIGHT: Those are some custom figures of mine which turned out OK. Not good, not great, just OK. From Left to Right: Green Dress River Song (DW), Season 3 Gabrielle (XWP), and Season 7 Premiere Eleven (DW). Do not ask me why River is wearing the Xena amazon mask, Someone stuck it on her, and I never took it off. There are several figures on the shelves that you can’t get a good look at, and maybe I’ll take more pics of them later. But for now, this will do. Please, message me and comment if you like what you see. I have tons more figures in storage, and I don’t want to clutter my shelf, so I’m rotating them. Anyway, hope you all liked it.

[shtbgs-blog]

me: has 500 muses me: adds more

shush i am in a battle to have the most muses and just bc i have like 600 doesn’t mean i don’t want to play them a few of these are old old old muses I always have muse for and would love to start playing again.

under the read more you will find introductions for:

ambrose hartley ( bebe rexha ) colby blackstone ( sofia black-d’elia ) harley maddox ( miley cyrus ) brinley joseph ( chloe norgaard ) quinn james ( kehlani parrish ) daniel silver ( herman tommeraas ) lance nash ( justin bieber ) holden clover ( james franco ) & conor johnson ( nicholas hoult )

Do I hate myself? Yes I do.

AMBER ROSE “AMBROSE” HARTLEY looks an awful lot like BEBE REXHA. SHE is TWENTY-SEVEN and while they're PLAYFUL, they have a tendency to get pretty ABSENT MINDED. You’ve probably seen them around Kola listening to HURRICANE by HALSEY. 

Ambrose came from a really loving family tbh like, she had no problem with them at all in the slightest

her problem was she just couldn’t stay tame no matter how hard she tried, even when she was young she seemed to be full of energy and at the age of six they had adopted another little girl to be Amber’s best friend

For a long time they were the closest of friends, and there were times where Amber thought they’d be friends forever, but as they grew older she could see how different they really were, and how perfect she seemed to fit into Amber’s family

Better than Amber ever had, actually.

So at the age of eighteen she packed up her things and moved out.

She didn’t move far, at first, instead she decided to crash with one of her girlfriends but that honestly didn’t last long.

That was when she began to travel but no one ever seemed to match her wild and adventurous persona.

While she was gone she did do a lot of bad things you could say. One of those things being mixed up with a man who actually sold her for prostitution but you won’t ever catch her talking about that

During one of these wild adventures, though, someone made the joke that they thought her name was Ambrose because of how fast she speaks. Ever since then it just stuck. That was a few years ago ( 25 )

She just recently came back to Kola after deciding maybe it was time to go home and see her family and old friends. But who knows how long this will last.

COLBY BLACKSTONE looks an awful lot like SOFIA BLACK D’ELIA. SHE is TWENTY and while they’re LAID BACK, they have a tendency to get pretty IMPULSIVE. You’ve probably seen them around Kola listening to FAST CAR by KHALID COVER.

papa was a rolling stone..... legit

her dad is a rock star and she’s one of hadley’s siblings

her mom is just as wild and firey as her father with a legit passion for music and maybe did a few songs with him but she was most known for kind of being a hot mess ( courtney love vibes )

which is why it’s so fucking weird that colby is the way she is like? she is just this soft spoken chill individual who likes to take photos

she’s been her parents photographer for events since she was sixteen but she’s been dying to get away from them 

so off to kola university it was, where she’s studying photography

she’s here to have a good time and she’s pretty chill

unless you get her stoned then she’s fucking wild

oh and when she’s drunk????

she’s basically a fucking rockstar just like her parents

HARLEM “HARLEY” MADDOX looks an awful lot like MILEY CYRUS. THEY are TWENTY FIVE and while they’re ACCEPTING, they have a tendency to get pretty OBNOXIOUS. You’ve probably seen them around Kola listening to CURSE OF CURVES by CUTE IS WHAT WE AIM FOR. 

Harley is here to steal your girl honestly they flirt with every single female they come into contact with it’s kind of overwhelming 

but they arent strictly into females they just feel more comfortable around them

They have always been masc / the dom in every single relationship they’ve been in, romantic or platonic. 

They just have always had that more dominant personality type which has lead to them getting into a great deal of fights

When they were seventeen they came out that they identify as agender and go by they/them pronouns but their parents just didn’t seem to get it???

it wasn’t super bad or anything it just lead it to be awkward in their house hold so Harley decided to leave at the age of eighteen after graduation

Ever since they’ve been living with their best friend ( wc ) 

They work in a liquor store where honestly they get to pick up on a lot of people and get invited to a lot of parties so they dig their life a lot tbh.

BRINLEY JOSEPH looks an awful lot like CHLOE NORGAARD. SHE is TWENTY-ONE and while they’re HELPFUL, they have a tendency to get pretty SKETCHY. You’ve probably seen them around Kola listening to RAINBOW by KESHA

. oh my god this is my oldest muse I’m bringing in so far and I’m actually writing a book based off her life so there’s a strong ass chance this is gonna be long and I’m gonna have the absolute most muse for her because i know her so well

so basically when brin was 16 her father convinced her to start dealing drugs for her in school because it was like the easiest way for him to make money since so many people in LA, California were smoking pot esp in high school 

And her dad has always been like a brodude more than an actual father figure and like she agreed because hey she got to pocket some of the cash and she was able to live her best life right

wrong at seventeen she actually fell in love with someone while her father was gone for a full fucking month and he had the audacity to come back pissed off at her for pulling away from him / he also may be on the run from the cops bc he almost got busted but he was mad at her for the former

so he took her away from la and they began their travels on the road

she never even got to finish high school

Basically she lived in an RV with her father traveling from city to city selling drugs just to get by

Her father had a way with talking to people that made it easier for them to sell and what not but soon, her father’s connection ran dry

She was nineteen the first time one of her fathers friends cornered her in the small RV bedroom and no matter how loud she yelled, he never came.

He swore it’d never happen again.

Three months later it was an almost routine practice and Brinley realized she never meant anything to him

She was too scared to leave and still to this day hasnt

She’s currently living in Kola, California but she’s staying in a motel room

Her father was able to score some drugs when they got there so she’s currently selling but she’s scared when the drugs run out he’s going to turn back to the old routine.

Give me some new friends for her

give me some people who will show her she can leave her father and stay in kola forever

QUINN JAMES looks an awful lot like KEHLANI PARRISH. SHE is TWENTY-THREE and while they’re SELFLESS, they have a tendency to get pretty MESSY. You’ve probably seen them around Kola listening to THE FEELING by JUSTIN BIEBER. 

Quinn is such a mess of a human being I swear to god

She would give her left foot to a stranger if they needed it which is wild because she thinks thats her best attribute

NO IM JOKING BUT SERIOUSLY THIS GIRL WOULD GIVE ANYONE HER WORLD and she’s so quick to fall in love with people it’s absolutely disgusting

but she’s just the kind of person who thinks too far ahead but she’s such a fucking optimist she feels like everything will work out and nothing could POSSIBLY EVER GO WRONG!

wow is she constantly wrong it’s a problem but listen you can’t get her down no matter how hard you try

she’s new so thats legit all i know about her

DANIEL SILVER looks an awful lot like HERMAN TOMMERAAS. HE is TWENTY-THREE and while they’re HELPFUL, they have a tendency to get pretty UNREALISTIC. You’ve probably seen them around Kola listening to I’LL SHOW YOU by JUSTIN BIEBER.

Oh my god this wild fucking animal right here was well, at first he was cosima silver’s nephew but now since i have them in the same group he’s her cousin and lives with her in the apartment above her little shop

This did not happen easily, oh no, he comes from a family of very strict parents who actually exiled Cosima’s family from their lives at a young age because they believed in her ‘gifts’ and they thought they were crazy

Daniel, though, thought the exact opposite. When they were young and before the split happened Cosima would talk to Daniel about her gifts and he would reel in them and he literally loved it so much

But when they were cast out of the family Daniel sort of realize just how horrible his family actually was??? and how different he was????

Sadly his dumb ass was honestly stuck there until a month ago where he finally packed up his shit and completely bailed on his family then moved in with Cosima and he’s been here ever since

He works in her shop as a tarot card reader or rather, he’s trying to learn how to do it. He has literally no gifts but he wants to help people and maybe start to learn from Cosima 

Personality wise he’s my big pansexual mess who is flirting and messing around with just about everyone every chance he gets and he just lives for making out and hooking up and having a good fucking time okay

LANCASTER “LANCE” NASH looks an awful lot like JUSTIN BIEBER. HE is TWENTY-SIX and while they’re RELIABLE, they have a tendency to get pretty IRRITABLE. You’ve probably seen them around Kola listening to HOLY GRAIL by JAY Z FEAT. JUSTIN TIMBERLAKE.

 lets start off with the fact that Lance is the oldest of SEVEN CHILDREN his mother being the common denominator 

Lance was the first born and her most prized son out of all the kids but as he got older, and she started having so many suitors, and started toying with various hard drugs he sort of lost that connection with her and was forced to grow up way too young.

When he was ten, he already had three siblings, each one of them born a year or two after the other and Lance was the only one who could really take care of them. Him and the second oldest were often left in charge of the kids but they didn’t want much to do with all the kids and Lance sort of understood that.

When he turned nineteen and the second oldest was eighteen they left town without so much as a letter which only forced Lance to become the actual father the whole family needed.

His life has always been about the kids. He now has siblings ranging from 3 to 25 and he usually keeps tabs on all of them. 

But ya boi has to make money some how, so, he’s dedicated any time he can get away from the youngest kids to doing what he does best and thats babysitting drug addicts or being a designated driver.

He personally does not do drugs but he knows what to do and how to take care of people when they’re tripping so he has become the druggie babysitter of Kola, California.

He’s honestly a really cool dude who is actually really fucking helpful all of the time

He just gets really god damn moody sometimes and wants to punch people in the throat but think about it his day starts at 6 AM with 2 children and 2 tweens, you’d be moody as hell too by 9 pm while driving some drunk asshole home

HOLDEN CLOVER looks an awful lot like JAMES FRANCO. HE is THIRTY-NINE and while they’re BALANCED, they have a tendency to get pretty FICKLE. You’ve probably seen them around Kola listening to A WALK THROUGH HELL by SAY ANYTHING. 

his gif doesn’t match my aesthetic at all or his aesthetic but IDGAF BECAUSE IM ALIVE FOR IT

ANYWAY Holden is a cop:tm: he’s been idolizing them his entire life and now he’s just a good guy cop who sometimes lets people off with a warning and is that ‘cool cop’ around town like

all the kids love him, even criminals like him he’s just really charismatic and seems really chill????

ugh i have literally virtually no information for him other than he was divorced and it’s gonna be one of the many wcs i write up and submit but if someone wants an ex husband who gets too focused on his job all the time hmu for sure

he also has a younger brother who may or may no t better be dave franco

CONOR "CJ" JOHNSON looks an awful lot like NICHOLAS HOULT. HE is TWENTY-SEVEN and while they're COMPASSIONATE, they have a tendency to get pretty RECLUSE. You’ve probably seen them around Kola listening to IDK LOVE by JEREMY ZUCKER.

ok he’s not a zombie in his main verse but like if u think for ( 1 ) second im not turning him into a zombie for the zombie verse ur WRONG!!!!

but lets focus on mainverse cj and talk about zombie cj later

Conor has always been a nice and compassionate kid and honestly, he got married at 23 to the love of his life

But after three beautiful years he lost his wife to a car accident and he hasnt been the same since

a lot of people in town look at him like this poor broken bird because ever since his wife died he hasn’t been able to be like a normal human being 

he doesn’t go out

he barely goes to work

he’s going to lose his house

he’s just in a deep deep deep depression and honestly it’s actively sad

but he’s still nice and charming and flirty at times but it’s very rare

[face-turn]

Sang About Tomorrow

Pairing: Roman Reigns/Seth Rollins/Dean Ambrose (The Shield)  Words: 2.5k Rating: E A/N: this is kind of a part one, but i’m not titling it a part one because as you likely know, I’m bad at delivering on promises. this has been sitting for A While, is all i’m saying Tags: let me know if you want to be tagged  @sleeplessandcynical @breadclubrising @kidvoodoo​ @nogooddeanambrose 

“Dean, I swear on my life that this place is haunted.” Seth looks like a pissy little cat, hair dripping wet into his face and towel clutched around his hips.

“S’not haunted,” Dean sighs, flipping through another channel on the television. Survivorman? Fuck yeah. “Got it checked out when I bought it ‘cos I really wanted to live in a haunted house. Did my best, man.”

Seth makes a yowling sort of noise and stomps back to the bathroom, yelling for Roman to quit fucking with the door, then. He doesn’t slam the door, but Dean’s almost completely sure that’s just ingrained suburban mom manners stopping him. If Seth had been thinking, he definitely would have slammed it.

Roman pokes his head into the living room from the kitchen, wiping his hands off on a dishtowel. Dean has not a damn clue what he’s cooking, but it smells fucking incredible. Roman always cooks up a storm when he visits Dean’s barely-used kitchen; he thinks it’s a big waste for Dean’s kitchen to be as well-equipped and rarely-touched as it it. Dean’s pretty sure the kitchen will get over it. It has Roman Reigns as a booty call.

“What’s Seth yelling at me about?” Roman wanders over to drop the dishtowel over Dean’s head. Dean shrugs eloquently, tipping his face up so Roman would feel compelled to kiss him. Roman obliges, because he’s a big sucker for Dean’s wiles.

“I’unno. Said you should stop fuckin’ with the door handle while he’s showering or whatever. I gotta be totally honest about my listening skills here, man-- he was wet and mad, I’m just--” Dean makes a ‘pshhhh’ noise, waving one hand illustratively through the air. Roman nods sagely. They’ve both been there.

“Hate to see him leave,” Roman begins, and Dean finishes the second part with him, “love to watch him go.”

Roman laughs and returns to the kitchen, whisking the towel off of Dean’s head as he goes. It ruffles Dean’s hair into his eyes, briefly blocking his view of knock-off Bear Grylls carrying around a bundle of lit.. grasses? Shit? It doesn’t matter. Either way, watching the man huff into it is enough to keep Dean entertained while listening to Roman clattering around and Seth companionably bitching about how fucking cold his hallway is, shit, Dean, his nipples can cut glass.

“It’s hot as fuck in here,” Roman protests when Seth starts making motions to turn up the thermostat. “Oven’s on, babe, just leave it. Let Dean warm you up.”

“Yeah, babe,” Dean waggles his eyebrows at the T.V. even though Seth can’t see it. He’s sure it comes through in his tone. “Let me warm you up with my big, masculine arms. You know what they say about the desert at night.”

The couch bounces as Seth throws himself onto it, squirming into Dean’s lap and nearly knocking over his lukewarm beer.

“Do they say that it’s empty and you have to eat your friends to survive it?”

Dean tsks, bending double to smack a kiss to Seth’s wet hair. “No, you shitbird, it’s cold-- so you gotta cuddle for warmth, you know?”

Seth makes a deeply dubious face and steals Dean’s beer. Drinking it laying down doesn’t go so hot, but it’s the gesture. “S’fine, it’s warm out here. Hallway just had the weirdest draft.”

“Not enough to make you put a shirt on, though,” Dean hums, tweaking Seth’s nipple and laughing at his disgruntled yelp. “Fuckin’ exhibitionist.”

“Don’t pretend you don’t love it,” Seth sneers, doing a crunch so he can take a long swallow of Dean’s beer. Condensation drips onto his belly and Dean just about chokes on his tongue.

“I mean-- yeah.” Dean says, and pets Seth’s hair as he relaxes, sleek and self-satisfied. Seth’s always had a streak of vanity a mile wide, but now it’s undercut by a gulch of out-of-place insecurity. It’s easy as fuck to get him preening like a peacock, but since they broke up (and fuck, is it weird to think about that in the past tense; it shakes Dean up a little to think about how they were broken up and now they aren’t), a word the wrong way can get Seth looking upset and flinchy. S’weird. Everything with Seth is just this side of weird, now.

They play-act at normalcy, and maybe that’s why it’s so weird; they’ve never been normal, the three of them. Their jagged edges all fit together just right, and it’s weird having Seth try and round himself out to fit up against Dean. As if Dean hasn’t seen all the broken shit in him and thought ‘fuck yeah’. Seth had been the one who left, after all. Roman and Dean had been left alone to grind their sharp edges against each other until they went to diamond.

Roman interrupts Dean’s train of thought by coming out of the kitchen, carrying the steamer like a proud parent with his hair a little frazzled and face a touch pink around the edges. He presents them with layers of gleaming-- buns? Dumplings? Bun..plings?-- that are both delicious and hot as fuck. Dean burns his mouth repeatedly while they all watch probably-not-Bear-Grylls set up a tent out of a parachute.

After a while, Seth starts letting Roman feed him bites, snapping them from between his fingers with bared teeth and soft tongue. It’s strangely sexy, even with Survivorman on in the background. Seth laying across his and Roman’s laps licking shreds of bread and pork from between Roman’s fingers is-- kind of doing it for Dean, frankly.

“Yeah?” Roman says pointedly, raising his eyebrows at Dean. Dean has to tear his eyes away from Seth, who’s looking blissed out and kind of-- like, listen, the food is good, but it’s not orgasm good.

“Uh-huh,” Dean says, and lets that lay between them. He tears a bite off of his bun-dumpling (it’s keke pua’a, uce, I make them with my hands and this is what I get?) and offers it to Seth, who looks at him from under lowered lashes and takes it with just his tongue, soft bread sticking. And, well. That about does it for Dean; stick under the broiler to finish, this motherfucker’s done.

“That’s pretty good,” Roman says hoarsely, speaking for both of them. Seth blinks slowly at them, surprised by not alarmed by them both suddenly vibrating underneath him. He’s flush with the pleasure of good food and a compliment, and Dean wants to kiss him and kiss him and kiss him.

“No pressure,” Dean starts, shifting Seth’s head a little so it’s a touch further away from his dick. “But you’re pretty as fuck and I wanna nail you through the couch.”

Seth smiles one of quicksilver smiles, arching and wriggling a little in a way that puts his hips a little more firmly up against Roman’s thigh.

“Yeah?” He says, tipping his face up to look at Dean.

“Yeah, uce,” Roman says, and leans down to kiss the silly smile off of Seth’s face. The couch is too small for this, but it hasn’t complained yet and neither will Dean. He tags in when Roman disengages, Seth panting between hot kisses that barely let him get enough air.

Seth’s by far the least dressed of the three of them, which suits them fine; peel him out of Roman’s overlarge sweatpants (he’s always been a fucking clothes thief, the little shit) and he’s naked, sandwiched between them and vulnerable. He’s pretty clearly pleasantly overwhelmed, sighing noises into Dean’s mouth as Roman maps out his vulnerable ribcage with callused fingertips.

“Gonna get in this,” Dean mumbles, palming Seth’s ass and mouthing kisses down his neck. “Gonna bang you like a screen door in a hurricane.”

Roman snorts, pinching Dean’s side through his shirt. He’s always thought Dean’s version of dirty talk is hysterical, and apparently changing the outlet has not changed the humor.

Dean bites Seth harder than he maybe means to, and instead of yelping or whining like he might have once, Seth moans and claws into a kiss. Oh, yeah? Roman’s eyebrows say over Seth’s shoulder, and Dean is too busy sucking Seth’s tongue to respond but his own reaction is pretty emphatic, too.

“I’m gonna finger you open, babe,” Roman says, plastering himself all along Seth’s back and dragging sharp teeth across the top knob of his spine. “S’okay?”

Seth’s nodding before Roman even finishes, ‘cause-- shit, yeah. Dean relates. Roman saying anything with that tone is pretty much irresistible. Sometimes Roman pulls it out when he wants Dean to pick up fuckin’-- onions, or whatever. It’s pretty effective.

Roman makes a rough, pleased noise and swings away, presumably to find the bottle of lube that he knows Dean has squirreled away in the kitchen. What? It’s not like he uses it for anything else.

Dean occupies himself by giving Seth a truly terrible looking hickey, the kind that he’s gonna have to keep his shirt on to cover up. By the time it occurs to him that Seth maybe doesn’t want a hickey that makes him look like he’s gone ten rounds with a vacuum, it’s way too late. Well. Better to ask forgiveness than permission.

Seth catches Dean’s mouth in a kiss, undulating in his lap in a way that makes Dean, for the first time in his entire life, fervently thank God for Crossfit.

“Missed this ass,” Dean mumbles into Seth’s mouth, grabbing at it to really illustrate his point.

“It missed you.” Seth says distractedly, rubbing his dick against Dean’s stomach and grabbing at his shoulders.

“Aw,” Dean gets out, and then Roman is back and things are slip-sliding into sexy, sexy flashes. Roman’s fingers slippery against the crease of Seth’s ass, dripping lube on Dean’s jeans. One finger, two fingers, Seth begging, now now now, Dean’s dick pressing hard against the fly of his jeans.

Dean feels like he’s having a fucking stroke, he wants to fuck Seth so bad. Roman’s already there, doing the Lord’s work, pressing into Seth with a slow, steady slide that shoves Seth all up against Dean’s chest.

“Baby,” Dean rasps, touching Seth’s shivering ribs and his hipbones and the place where Roman has him stretched wide. It ekes a whine out of Seth, sends him rocking back on Roman and scrabbling for purchase against Dean’s chest. “Damn, baby.”

“Less talking,” Seth grits out, sharply biting Dean’s jaw and then shuddering all over when Roman shoves into him. It’s fucking hot, plastered together and sweating all over each other. There is hair fucking everywhere. It’s the best thing Dean’s ever felt, and his dick is still in an exclusive relationship with the zip of his jeans.

“Ask him for the moon while you’re at it,” Roman laughs low, looping one of his arms around Seth’s belly to shift the angle a little. “Dean’s never shut up in his life.”

Dean thinks about arguing, but, well-- he is who he is. “You don’t tell da Vinci to stop painting,” he says with an affected sniff, restlessly petting Seth’s jawline. “Likewise, you do not tell Dean Ambrose to--”

“Dean,” Seth begs, tilting his face up. He’s jolting forward every time Roman thrusts into him, making sweet little noises, and suddenly Dean doesn’t feel like continuing the bit.

“Baby,” Dean tips forward so he can lick the moans out of Seth’s mouth. He struggles with his fly one-handed, because he suddenly really really needs out of his pants. “Oh, baby, Rome’s getting you so good, huh?”

Roman grinds his hips in a dirty little circle and Seth’s voice cracks high on a moan, ‘cause Roman is deep deep deep and probably it hurts a little, but Seth’s dick is dripping on the couch so maybe he’s into that.

“Dean, you should fuck his mouth,” Roman says in that dark sort of tone. “Look at him, he needs it. Don’t you, Seth?”

“Overestimating your own-- ff-ucking, ah-- importance, in me getting off,” Seth bitches, but basically falls face-first onto Dean’s dick anyway.

“Yeah, babe, keep faking like you got off just as hard without us,” Roman says, low and dirty and hot. “No one can get you there like we do. You’re too fuckin’ desperate to go it alone.”

Seth makes a strangled, furious sort of noise and comes into Roman’s hand, shoving his hips back and clawing at Dean’s hipbones. Dean starts laughing, which only makes Seth madder, and Dean pulls out before he gets his dick bitten off. Roman is still shoving into Seth, now chasing his own orgasm with a single minded intensity that makes Dean’s stomach twist in sympathy.

Seth mouths weakly at the tip of Dean’s dick, shuddering forward every time Roman thrusts. It’s not even sexy, he’s just breathing, but Dean’s suddenly fucking desperate to come. He tangles one hand in Seth’s hair and thumbs his mouth open, pressing in to the rhythm that Roman’s set.

Seth’s honestly too out of it to suck, more just letting Dean choke him over and over with his dick. His eyelashes are long fluttering against his cheeks, and he’s tearing up a little from Dean’s dick in his throat, and oh fuck.

Roman shoves in hard and then goes shiveringly still, one of his hands grabbing for Dean’s shoulder. It hurts, pressing hard into bone, and that’s what tumbles Dean off the edge. Seth takes it like a champ, swallowing hard because if there’s anything he hates more than getting jizz in his hair, it’s getting jizz on a leather couch.

“Fuuuck.” Roman says, patting weakly at Seth’s ass like he’s congratulating it on a good game. Seth snarls and kicks weakly, but he’s too fucked up to do much more.

Dean lazily stretches out an arm for a fist bump, because yeah. Nice job everyone, asspats all around. Seth bit him on the hip last time he offered, but prior failures have never deterred Dean.

“Fuck off of me,” Seth mumbles, flopping off of the couch. “Jesus, I want to go to bed.”

“Jizz sheets,” Dean sing-songs, rolling off the couch to pull a couple of paper towels off the roll.

“I don’t give a fuck, I’ll sleep out here,” Seth says, tipping his hips up so Dean can do a cursory clean-up job. “Your couch has seen worse than my dick.”

“Nothing’s worse than your dick,” Roman says, tugging Seth into his lap and tucking him up underneath his chin. They make a pretty-as-shit picture, all snuggled together, and if Dean were technologically inclined, he’d take a picture.

As it is, he throws the used paper towels on the hardwood and curls close. If he’s stealthy enough, Seth will probably let him doze on him while Survivorman plays through.