wyattwth-blog

[wyattwth-blog]

damnkeaton‌

@wyattwth

“Hey, man,” Keaton called to Wyatt, to get his attention from the other side of the smoldering fire pit. “what do you suppose are the chances that this trip ends with us all being brutally mauled by bears?“

“Oh, like, absolutely one hundred percent!” There was no room for doubt, just grins and an air of overconfidence unfitting of the conversation topic. “That or some crazy axe murderer. I’m still debating which one is more likely.”

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I will do replies tomorrow! I promise! I’ve just been so focused on this art thing I was doing and I forgot that a whole week passed omg

[wyattwth-blog]

stoneysonny‌

✭ • →   ❝  the fuck does this look like  ,  man  ?  hbo go  ?  ❞  a smoky scoff tumbles from pressed lips as sonny takes another lengthy drag from the joint  ,  savoring the smoke in his lungs for several  ,  long seconds as his teeth catch the cardboard filter and his hands  ,  now momentarily free  ,  make quick work of shoving the ball of knotted fabric from his lap onto the floor  .   ❝  i’m not your in - flight entertainment  ,  bro  .  ❞  he’s not actually mad  ,  and especially not at wyatt  ;  if anything  ,  he’s just frustrated with this stupid fucking tent and how impossibly difficult it seems to be to assemble  .  his back is pressed to a bunk  ,  and he slouches against it for a moment  ,  steadying his breath as dark  ,  glassy irises find their way to the other male  .  wait  —  what  ?  of all the reactions  ,  all the answers he expected he might’ve gotten from him  ,  that question certainly hadn’t been one  .  shit  ,  it wasn’t even on the list  .  brows furrow behind a thicket of tangled curls as he looks from wyatt to the scattered tent parts and back again  ,  as if he’s suddenly forgotten one problem in favor of calculating the logistics of another  .  he hums thoughtfully as takes another puff of the joint  ,  holds it up in an offer as he stretches his legs and begins to push himself up off the floor  .  to answer that question  ,  he’d need a better angle of the space  ,  a better vantage point  .   ❝  i mean  ,  like  ,  probably  ,  dude  .  the bag says it only sleeps four people  ,  so really  ,  how big could it be  ?  ❞  a hand lifts to scratch at the back of his neck as he glances around  ,  takes it all in  ,  and he kicks at a stray tent pole with one socked foot  .   ❝  maybe if y’were to like  …  position it at an angle  ?  y’know  ,  twist it kinda catty - corner to that  …   ❞  a brief pause  ,  and sonny’s looking back up at wyatt  .   ❝  shit  ,  should we just give it a shot and find out  ?  ❞

That was a cute reply, not your in-flight entertainment? Adorable. And absolutely 100% wrong. “We all are each other’s entertainment, don’t kid yourself.” Wild eyes, lighting up like a kid’s on Christmas morning, he watched intently as the gears in Sonny’s brain seemed to visibly come to a halt, before spinning full speed in the other direction. Hands rubbing together, joints popping as he waited for a reply that was going to fuel the childish glee growing in his chest, impish smile widening. “Bro. Like if we put it kind of sideways?” He had to actually get off the bunk at this point, standing back in the hallway of the bus to get a better view. He imagined it would fit quite snugly if they did it right. Then again, he had no fucking clue how big the tent would actually be. “I mean, four people can’t take up that much space, right? I’m sure it’ll fit.” Was it confidence or simple chaotic eagerness that had him so determined? Probably both. “Dude, I’m in. Just let me see the instructions? Like, how hard can it be to pitch a tent?”

[wyattwth-blog]

ashxmoreno‌

“There’s a difference between being heroic and being a dumbass, and fighting ghosts straddles it. I’m sure there are other people in this group who would jump at the chance to film real ghost activity, so you wouldn’t even need me to fil the ghost kicking your ass.” Ash flipped Wyatt off from behind the camera as he monologued about Ash being a scaredy-cat. He zoomed in on Wyatt as he entered the cell, “Do you suddenly feel a chill?” Ash asked sarcastically. 

“Don’t you know all heroes are dumbasses? It’s like, a requirement.” Not that he fancied himself a hero in any serious capacity, he’d failed too many times at saving the people who mattered the most. He was much more suited for playing the villain. “Oh, I think I feel something. There’s a cold spot, right around here.” A single swooping motion of a hand was all the gesture he needed to indicate his crotch. “Won’t you help me get warmed up?” Disappointed at the lack of any real ghostly activity, though not surprised, he retorted to jokes that most would probably agree were better left unsaid.

i ain’t afraid of no ghosts... well maybe a little. || ash & wyatt

[wyattwth-blog]

stoneysonny‌

✭ • →   OPEN !!

✭ • →    ❝  how come you keep looking at me like i’m totally off my rocker ?  it’s not like i’m tryin’ to set the damn thing up in here  .  ❞   it’s hard to tell if he’s being sincere or sarcastic  ,  but then again  ,  when isn’t it  ?  the stoner sits cross - legged on the floor toward the back of the bus  ,  wedged in between two of the lower bunks and surrounded by a mess of wrinkled nylon and tangled fiberglass poles  .  he drags a hand through messy  ,  knotted curls and huffs a smoky sigh as he balances a lit joint between his lips to scoop up a very long  ,  very complicated instruction manual  .   ❝  i’m just tryin’ to figure out all the little bits and pieces before i have to actually set it up tomorrow  .  hey  ,  so also   —  why’s it that when the boy scouts do it  ,  it’s called being prepared  ,  and they’re all praised and celebrated for it  ,  but when i try  ,  it’s all   —  sonny  ,  are you crazy  ?  are you tryin’ to poke your eye out or something  ?  ❞  he shakes his head  ,  flicks the ash from the cherry of the joint onto his knee  ,  and finally looks up  .    ❝  seems like a double - standard to me  .  ❞

despite his best efforts to hide his cheshire grin and occasional snickering behind the screen of his phone, it seemed that his glances had not gone unnoticed. “dude, i ain’t judging. it’s just that you’re providing some premium entertainment, no subscription needed.” pushing himself up, legs slung over the side of the bunk, he dropped all pretences in favour of staring unashamedly at the mess sonny was attempting to make head and tails of. “do you think it would fit in here, though? like, if you actually tried assembling it right now? i mean it’s a pretty big bus.” one had to wonder if an actual tent could fit comfortably, or if it would be more trouble than it was worth. the way wyatt figured, the pros outweighed the cons. hell, if he could convince sonny to set the damn thing up, a helping hand was waiting. along with a strategically placed phone set to record, that was.

[wyattwth-blog]

jameshardesty‌

Alcohol and candy were fun, best of both worlds as someone had said earlier. Her mind was the slightest bit foggy to remember who but  they were right. The taste of alcohol wasn’t usually pleasant so she’d really liked gummy candy with it.. and skittles. Those could be good too. Trendsetter she was not but he had a point and Jamie laughed softly. “Have I ever told you you’re a genius because I think you kinda are..” She smiled. “..and now I’m regretting this bikini choice. I blame you.” She teased.

Positive feedback was always an appreciated ego booster, even if largely unnecessary in his case. “Finally someone notices! Mostly it’s just ‘Wyatt you can’t do that’ or ‘Wyatt that’s illegal’ whenever I suggest anything.” As much as he was enjoying himself, seeing all his friends getting drunk while he was slowly sipping something he didn’t even like the taste of, you could be sure he’d be the first to bail as soon as anyone started to show signs of feeling ill from the alcohol. “Guess we have no choice but to go all frog at the next pool party. And if there’s no party, we’ll make one so you can show off.”

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oldsoul-ellie‌:

“I’m not and you have my full permission to act accordingly if I ever do come off like that.” Ellie watched him a little too intensely as he looked for somewhere to set the phone down; she couldn’t help it. Seeing Wyatt in person made her heart ache for all the things she should have done and said better. It made her feel nervous and guilty and, well, happy too. He was here. “Sounds perfect,” she nodded, pausing for too long before adding, “Um, why don’t you come sit with me then? Until the screeching begins of course and you can tell me about how you’ve been. I mean, do you still have that job?” She knew what job it was. “Sound technician? It sounded perfect for you when you text about it, who knows more about blasting music at just the correct decibel, right?”

Hands finally free from the germaphone, he hesitated a moment before taking a seat next to her. Reminding himself that they weren’t in high school any more, he noted that it had been a while since he’d seen her this close, making a point of searching out the subtle differences in her face since they’d gotten older. “I mean, I work contracts so it’s more like when am I going to have that job again next, you know?” There were seasons when he’d be more busy than others. He’d learned that summer tended to be the busiest, though music never truly stopped needing a technician. Besides, if he ever wanted to get a stable job, he could apply to some radio... that just sounded boring. “I must have good ears though, cause they keep hiring me. I’ve got a couple that nearly qualify for a regular job by now. Bonus though, is that I get to take a vacation whenever I want, just gotta turn down any potential contracts while I’m kicking back.”

[wyattwth-blog]

ashxmoreno‌

Ash let out a sigh of relief when Wyatt said he’d go it alone, “Oh, yeah. I’ll be sure to get your good side,” he promised, “as I’m running in the opposite direction.” He laughed a little as the line moved forward and people took their turns moving into the cell. He hit the record button as Wyatt made his way towards the front of the line, “Alright, everyone. I’m Ash, that’s Wyatt. We’re at the Old Idaho Penitentiary, and Wyatt’s about to go into a ghost cell,” he narrated, “Any last words for the folks at home, Wyatt?” 

“But who will film my heroic demise if you’re running off with your tail between your legs?” Maybe Ash would have felt more at ease if they’d brought some salt. Salt was supposed to repel ghosts, right? "Alright, so, I’m about to step into this old ass cell that probably used to house some murderous maniac, and see if the spirit is still around and down to party. All the while my scaredycat partner behind the lens has knees like jello, about top piss his pants at the first sign of any ghostly presence. I’m probably going to die, but will he do anything about it? Probably not, cause he’ll be too busy crying for his mommy to come save him.” Monologue done, and with the impatient glare of their tour guide, Wyatt finally stepped inside the cell, sporting two upturned thumbs in the camera’s direction.

i ain’t afraid of no ghosts... well maybe a little. || ash & wyatt

[wyattwth-blog]

ashxmoreno‌

@wyattwth

If Ash’s mom or grandma knew he had let Wyatt talk him into tagging along on a ghost tour, especially one at a haunted jail, they would have smacked him upside the head for not having any sense. The Moreno family wasn’t exactly afraid of ghosts, but they had a healthy respect for the power of spirits and demons. Ash walked slowly with Wyatt at the back of the group as the tour guide told them about one of the prisoners who supposedly died in the cell in front of them. She paused and asked if anyone wanted to go into the cell, “Fuck, no.” Ash said, turning to meet Wyatt’s excited gaze, “Dude, seriously I have to draw a line. You can go taunt the ghost in that janky cell, I’ll stand here and film it in case you end up getting tossed against the bars or something.” 

Hand already raised, his eyes shifted to meet those of his friend. As much as he wanted to drag Ash along, he had to respect that it simply wasn’t going to happen. Finding a balance between accepting other people’s beliefs, and the learned lesson that dead loved ones simply don’t come back - spiritually or otherwise, wasn’t always easy. So for a moment, he had to remind himself that this was how Ash had been brought up, and that he hadn’t been a fan of the idea to begin with. “Alright, dude.” Holding up his other hand in defeat, Wyatt took a step towards the cell, waiting his turn at the back of the group. “Make sure to catch my good side when the ghosts smash my skull in, yeah?”

i ain’t afraid of no ghosts... well maybe a little. || ash & wyatt

[wyattwth-blog]

jameshardesty‌

“I am so excited! I love the pool.. even if I look like a drunk frog in it.” James was definitely not the best swimmer, she usually looked half ridiculous when she tried but floating she could do so. “I brought gummy bears..” They’d only taken about two days to prepare but. “They’re alcoholic..” She added after a beat, realizing that could be important information for anyone trying to avoid the stuff.

“See, if you’d thought ahead, you would have made gummy worms instead.” Alcohol and candy sounded like a great mix, and the perfect workaround to not getting any weird looks for sipping colourful, fruity drinks. If he was going to get drunk, it might as well be off something that tasted nice. "Then you could embrace your inner frog by getting drunk off insect gummies while you lounge in the pool. With a green bikini, you’ll be owning the frog look, which means it’d practically be illegal to make any jokes at your expense. Might even have started a new trend.”

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cookmathis‌

“I think I really need to hunt down a kitchen to make a family meal on this trip,” Cooper said pulling out tums from his backpack. “Something that we know wasn’t frozen or anything.” He offered. Cooper was really wanting to be in the kitchen again.

“I mean, why don’t you just get like a gas stove and a toaster oven? I know you can’t make a full fucking roast in that but it’s good enough to cook some decent meals. And it’s small enough to stash away easily on the bus, and could be taken out anywhere, even at some random pit-stop in the middle of nowhere. And if we had a cooler, too, you could even bring the ingredients along. Dude. I think I’m a genius.”

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ashxmoreno‌

“Truckers have stomachs of steel, dude. So I mean it’s understandable that your stomach couldn’t agree.” Ash laughed, “ I didn’t make it to the space needle either, I mean I saw it on the horizon a few times but I didn’t make it to see it up close and personal or anything. I don’t know what there is in Boise either, but I gotta get better about doing actual tourist stuff and not just drinking. I could do that back in LA.” 

“Or maybe they’re just so dedicated to getting where they’re going that they just don’t have time to be sick. I’ve heard that’s a thing, like you tell yourself you don’t want to be sick and you body just says ‘I gotchu’! Dude, you know what we should do? We should go ghost hunting every place we visit. Find some local haunted mansion or whatever and go kick some ghost ass. We could get one of the others to film it!”

[wyattwth-blog]

ashxmoreno‌

“Huh, I didn’t know. Learn something new every day. Not to be that guy, but I think eating food made at a truck stop is always kind of a gamble. I’m glad you’re feeling better. Sucks you missed out on Seattle, though. Hopefully, this next stop will help you catch up on the fun.”

“No more shady food for me! I mean I figured if it’s good enough for truckers, I should be fine. My stomach did not agree. Man, I can’t believe I missed the fucking space needle! I was so hyped for that, like, I don’t even know what there is to do in Boise.”

[wyattwth-blog]

"Did you know that food poisoning comes in different intensities? I didn’t, but then I spent the whole week hugging a toilet bowl and suddenly my eyes are open! Word of advice: if your food seems even the slightest bit odd, don’t eat it. Your gut feeling is probably correct.”

[wyattwth-blog]

Profile of a Criminal

Name: Wyatt Anderson Age: 24 D.O.B.: October 31st Occupation: Sound Technician (contractor)

Triggers: drugs, verbal abuse, death

Innocence and naivete may not be the first words that come to mind when thinking of Wyatt Anderson, but they used to be the driving forces in a young, starry-eyed boy whose world was filled to the brim with wonder and happiness. Despite his poor upbringing, Wyatt would never say that his childhood had been particularly lacking. Quite the opposite, really.

Raised by a single mother, and a grandfather who tried his best to be a parent once again, Wyatt never knew his biological father. The man had left before his son could be born and the little family never heard from him again. At least not as far as Wyatt is aware. So his only male role model was a grey-bearded, balding man with a cough so bad you’d think the sheer force was about to turn his body inside-out.

The smell of cigar smoke and sweet perfume filled the air in his childhood home, backed up by the scratching of a record player with no more songs to play and the crackling of a TV without a signal. Dancing on the toes of his grandfather, to songs that had their home in black and white movies. Singing at the top of his lungs while playing air guitar, jumping off the couch to crowd-surf on teddy bears. Nostalgia plays a big role in the life a boy whose dreams were shattered thrice over, wishing back on simpler times before the pain began.

First came the death of his grandfather. Hardly any surprise to most, the man had been a known chain-smoker, and yet a devastating loss to Wyatt and his mother. A man who had meant so much to him, had laid the first defining bricks that would shape his personality, had taught him right from wrong was now gone. He was only eight, and yet it felt like his world had ended, kids treating him as if he was made of glass, teachers hesitant to reprimand a child lashing out in grief turned to anger. Pity enough to go around, and yet it was all directed at him.

It wasn’t long after her fathers funeral that Wyatt’s mother turned to drugs for consolation. It started with prescription medication, as it often does, and when the pills ran out she needed something else to get her fix. Now it wasn’t that she did not want to be there for her child, but over time she just naturally became distant. Her smiles were few between and with the need to take on extra work to feed herself and her child, energy to spare became a luxury.

Growing up on takeout and tv dinners meant nothing to Wyatt so long as it meant he got to eat with his mother, to speak with her over a shared meal. Dinner became one of the few times throughout a day when they were able to spend time together at all, and Wyatt often had to make his own lunch in the morning before going to school. It was a poor lifestyle, stressful, but he wouldn’t trade it for anything if it meant his mother would be even more miserable. His one goal in life became to make his mother happy.

So he worked hard in school, got good grades and tried his best to stay out of trouble with the teachers. Avoided dirty looks and snide remarks, turned a deaf ear to those clearly trying to taunt him. He was better than them, and he knew it. Although being better did not make him any richer, and wanting to deeply to make his mother smile it was an eventuality that he would turn to theft. He was ten when he stole his first bouquet of flowers and put it in a jug to surprise his mother with that same night.

Over time it became second nature to take what he wanted and not look back, he would feel sorry for the shopkeepers when they started feeling sorry for his mother, rather than judging her for something she wasn’t wholly at fault for. Maybe he got away with it because he was a kid and people took pity, or maybe he was just that good at sneaking shit out of places unseen, in any case the small house he and his mother shared started to brighten up a bit. When he was 12, he stole his first bigger item: a guitar.

Wyatt’s mother had always enjoyed it when her father and son had danced or sung to older music, and it was this that sparked an idea in the boys mind. When his mother became too reliant on her drugs to keep up two jobs at once, he decided to teach himself to play as a ways of cheering her up. He had to be strong for his mother, had to keep her happy in trying times, just long enough to get her back on her feet. Just long enough that he could finish school and get a job to support her properly. Just until they could get her some help.

But fate would not agree with his plan, because fate is cruel, it takes what it wants and often from those who have nothing to give. It struck like lightning, setting ablaze the life he’d worked so hard to maintain, to support when no one else would help. It was during class one day in sophomore year that Wyatt was called to the principals office, to get the news the his mother had died. An overdose they said. Took more than her body could handle, and then it was just over. It seemed unreal, like a cruel joke. He didn’t want to believe it.

But eventually he had to face reality, having nowhere to stay and no one to look after him. He’d managed to make a few friends in high school, the romantics they were called, and they had become something of a second family to him. Yet it was as though that meant nothing to them when his mother lost her life. At least, it meant nothing to their parents. Everyone except Dylan Crane that was, a girl he may not have been especially close to before, but would grow to consider his closest friend within the next few years.

Dylan’s father offered to take Wyatt in, to let him live with them as part of their family. Never did he feel forced to fit in, but it certainly wasn’t easy to move into a new place, especially one with a daily routine that differed from what he was used to. And while he may have been reluctant at first, verbal fights and slammed doors on the worst of days, he grew to consider Dylan as a sister, and her father as his own.

Any grudge he once held for the other romantics for seemingly leaving him out in the cold has since vanished, as he’s realised that they were only teenagers, with limited power to do anything even if they had wanted to. Not to mention some of them had simply had different ways of helping. Some had stood up for him in the face of those who looked down on his mother, some had offered him the comfort of silence when questions were overwhelming, and some had been there to make everything seem normal again by simply not mentioning the tragedy.

A bit at a time, he found his place among his friends again, made his way back to a familiar role. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for those he called his friends, and he was sure that none of them would abandon him the way society had for so long. That was, until Laurel was taken from them. A loss that came so freshly after the one he’d only just started to recover from, opening up old wounds and adding new ones to the mix.

For Wyatt, there was never any intention of losing contact with the others. He did his best to keep in touch after they’d graduated, brief stays in holding cells keeping him from answering right away every now and then. By the time he finally started to get his act together and look for a “real” job, most of his friends had moved away or otherwise drifted apart. Not that they could be blamed, everyone had their own lives to take care of. It would be selfish of him to demand that they all stick together.

After jumping around between jobs for a bit, Wyatt finally found something that he could call the right one. He began working as a sound technician, working at various local events and venues, slowly building a resume. Having a few stains on his criminal record meant that it was hard to get anything good at first, but with time even some of the larger places felt comfortable contracting him as well, and he began moving around a bit, wherever the job took him. Though he never strayed far from home.

When everyone reunited, at yet another funeral, he was one of the first to agree to a road trip. Adventure had always been in his blood, and nostalgia told him that getting the gang together again would be fun, comforting. At the time he hadn’t really thought much about how the years could have changed them, but now that the trip is beginning, he’s starting to doubt whether he knows these people as well as he thought he did. Simply falling into old habits won’t cut it for him, but how do the others feel about him?

[wyattwth-blog]

*avoids sadness and pain with self-destructive behavior* :~)

[wyattwth-blog]

sendameme‌:

Eyes: Blue | Green | Brown | Hazel | Grey | Other Hair: Blonde | Brown | Black | Red | Ginger | Grey/White | Multi-color | Other Body Type: Skinny | Slender | Slim | Built | Curvy | Athletic | Muscular Skin: Pale | Light | Fair | Freckled | Tan | Olive | Medium | Dark | Discolored  Gender: Male | Female | Trans | Cis | No Gender | Other Sexuality: Heterosexual | Homosexual | Bisexual | Pansexual | Asexual | Demisexual | Other Species: Human | Undead/Vampire | Shapeshifter (Weres) | Demon | Angel | Witch/Wizard/Sorcerer | Incubus/Succubus | Other Education: High School | College | University | Higher Education  Living Situation: Lives alone | Lives with parents/guardian | Lives at School | Lives with significant other | Lives with a friend | Drifter | Homeless Parents/Guardian: Mom | Dad | Adoptive | Foster | Grandparents | Family friend | Uncle Relationship: Single | Crushing | Dating | Engaged | Married | Separated | It’s complicated I’ve been: In Love | Hurt | Sick | Abused I have a(n): Learning Disorder | Personality Disorder | Mental Disorder | Anxiety Disorder | Eating Disorder | Substance-related Disorder Things I’ve done before: Drank alcohol | Smoked | Done drugs | Stolen | Self harmed | Starved myself | Had sex | Had a threesome | Gotten into a fist fight | Gone to the hospital | Gone to jail | Used a fake ID | Gone to a rave | Killed someone Positive Traits: Affectionate | Adventurous | Athletic | Brave | Careful | Charming | Confident | Creative | Determined | Fearless | Generous | Honest | Humorous | Intelligent | Loyal | Modest | Patient | Selfless Negative Traits: Aggressive | Bossy | Cynical | Envious | Fearful | Greedy | Gullible | Jealous | Impatient | Impulsive | Insecure | Irresponsible | Possessive | Sarcastic | Self-conscious | Selfish | Unstable

BOLD all that applies to your muse!