#☆ colette jacobson (muse)

[sanamuse]

@apothecses​ with abrupt (kiss my muse out of the blue) for mateo & colette

she has no idea why he’s stayed with her, followed her really on what he claims is nothing but a suicide mission (but it’s yale and anything she has to go through in her quest to find her will be worth it as long as she reaches her in the end) all she knows is that she thinks she might be getting too used to having mateo around, she might be letting him too close and it terrifies her worse than any monster ever could.

(he’ll leave her eventually or send her away just like they all do and she doesn’t think, on top of everything else, she has any strength left to build herself back up yet again when the inevitable happens)

she’d messed up this time, the fact they’ve been forced to barricade themselves inside a storeroom in some abandoned old office building to avoid the dangers waiting for them outside was definitely her fault. don’t draw attention to herself, be as quiet as possible, it’s the only rule mateo’s insisted on the entire time they’ve been travelling together (she thinks maybe they’ve been on the road for a few months now but without a calendar or a diary to mark the days with she can't be sure) and usually she’s pretty good at following it despite the fact she’s built for attention.

but there’d been two men and a fight mateo looked like he was almost on the losing end of and she’d pulled her gun and shot before thinking the consequences through.

“you know i’m sorry right?” she’s not, at least not about the two dead assholes they’d left to rot outside - the walkers the gunshot had attracted, the fact they’d been forced to retreat when the sheer number of them had become too much to handle with just the two of them, she felt bad about that - but it seems like the right thing to say as he moves towards her, strides quick and purposeful and she’s sure he’s ready to wring her neck or bitch at her for fucking things up “but i didn’t...”

he cuts her off midsentence, one arm wrapping around her waist crushing their bodies together and a hand burying itself in her hair as his lips slant over hers, kissing away the excuses she had yet to make.

adrenaline maybe or a delayed reaction to the events they’d just escaped - she doesn’t know, but he’s never made a move before, never even indicated he’d wanted to even though she’s fairly sure he has to know she’s wanted him to despite how bad of an idea it is, but she allows herself a second to enjoy it, gripping his shoulders to pull him closer even as she pulls back “that’s definitely not what i was expecting.”

#[para] #apothecses #☆ colette jacobson (muse) #☆ mateo alvarez (opp) #☆ we must be killers (verse)

[yalejacobson]

💢 : your muse picks mine up & carries them over their shoulder .

[ symbol meme ] / flashback, pre-kidnapping.

there had been very few things to laugh about in recent months - in fact, yale couldn't remember the last time she'd let herself get absolutely sauced. sure, there was a certain level of alcohol in her blood almost daily - a concerning amount for a general person - but she'd always had a higher tolerance. she considered it the one gift her mother had given her - a preference for whiskey and dangerous men who pissed her off as much as they intrigued her.

those who worked at the bar knew her well enough to leave her there when their shifts were done - the rest of the town was asleep, probably, but she and vic were still working their way through the shitty homebrew that was hitting her harder than she expected. too much yeast, or not enough, or something about the fermenting process - she didn't pretend to understand how to make alcohol, just knew it kept her nerves at bay. the worry about her sister when she was out in the open world, her general malaise at the state of the world, the constant discontent that settled in her bones.

"i dunno about you," she groaned, laying back against the vinyl of the booth they were in, her vision blurred and her head woozy, "but i may just accept my role as town drunk and crash here tonight." the thought of walking back - even the few streets over to her place, her bed warm and inviting and beckoning her - was torture. "every small town needs a drunk, right?"

"not you," victor replied, his voice somehow steadier than hers, warm like honey in her mind as she smiled up at the ceiling, "not tonight."

it was really infuriating that he was more sober than she was - maybe he'd stopped drinking before she had, which was also rude, or maybe it was just because he was twice her size that he could handle it better. or maybe hers had been stronger - did they still make roofies these days? she couldn't imagine anyone willing to risk it, considering how she'd kick their ass when she was sober again, but she supposed crazier things had happened.

"c'mon," he said, grabbing her hands and pulling her up, her feet taking a moment to find solid ground as she swayed against him. she hummed in something like agreement, though she wasn't sure which one of him was real as she tried to steady herself, his image doubled in front of her as he held her hands to keep her upright. "can't have people talking about you just yet."

"they already talk about me," she retorted, her tongue sharp even if her mind wasn't, but she let him guide her out the door anyways, heading in the direction of the small brown house she was sharing with her own sister and the other two. "they always talked about me back home," she rambled, her inhibitions always lowered after too many drinks - he probably knew her whole story by now, she'd never know, could never remember what they spoke about when she got this far gone.

"i was the one who fucked up ann jacobson's life," she muttered, leaning her forehead against his arm, closing her eyes even as her feet shuffled forward, her boots heavy against her feet as she moved. "the one who fucked everyone up and left 'em all behind and then did it again." everyone talked shit in braedon, mocked her, called her the prodigal daughter of the town slut, tested her and her anger at every turn. she'd given them a run for their money - tried to find out who murdered colette's best friend, helped frame it on the man who was probably her real daddy though she'd never know for sure before disappearing again. "they're all so fucking stupid, did you know that? just like here. do you know the things i know?"

how many of them had killed, not just in defense but in anger, in defiance. how many of them had left behind a life they didn't want to acknowledge anymore, how yale kept their secrets from them because the council didn't need to know.

she held everyone's life in her hands and no one even bothered to respect her. no wonder she was so angry.

his hand was warm on her back and she realized with a start she'd been talking aloud the entire time, the filter between her thoughts and her mouth gone completely, and she stared up at him wide eyed - "i wasn't supposed to say any of that."

"let's just get you home," he replied instead, and that was when the tears started - a surprising torrent of them because he didn't get it, she'd never had a home, never would have one. she was a transient person and one day colette would want her gone and then what would she have? she wasn't supposed to be someone who stayed in someone's life long term, she was supposed to appear and disappear like a flash in a pan and one day, even vic would hate her too.

she'd stopped in the middle of the street, and while vic had seemed amused at first from her ramblings, she could see the twist of his lips, a frown on them as he considered what to do with her. leave me she thought, and that time she knew she didn't say it aloud because it was her worst fear - that somehow even he would find her despicable, would hate her and everything she'd done and allowed and walk off and never look back.

instead, he simply said "alright," surprising her with a quick grab at her knees, lifting her up with surprising ease and tossing her over his shoulder like she was a sack of potatoes - she didn't even have the energy to be surprised, or angry, simply deflated there as he carried her. not towards her own house, but his, his hands firm against her thighs as he held her in place to make sure she didn't fall. she could feel his back against her cheek, her body empty of any fight until he got back to his home, placing her gently down on the couch.

"stay," he demanded, and she didn't fight him when he brought her a glass of water and what had to be expired aspirin, holding it out for her. she took it anyways, draining the entire glass and handing it off for a refill, which he obliged her with immediately before settling down on the floor next to the couch.

"thank you," she said quietly, her fingers threading through his hair - shaggy, too long, she should offer to cut it when she was sober again, but her eyelids were already dropping shut and he merely hummed in response, easing into her touch in a moment of his own weakness.

she knew, even as she could hear his breathing even out into a sleep and her own found a pattern to match, that they'd never speak of this. that she'd get up in the morning and slip back into her own home and they'd get drunk again and he'd just cut her off before she got this far. but she could only hope he knew how much she appreciated him - his friendship, his presence, his quiet ability to take care of her in a way she'd missed for so long.

she was going to mess it up, one day. she only hoped it would be a long, long time from then.

#meme #meme : victor bakker #victor bakker #self para

[cxllettejacxbsxn]

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[sanamuse]

text ✉ colette & yale

yale: oh my god stop being a brat i’m on my way.

colette: you'd be a brat too if you were super high and ready to eat your own arm because there's legitimately no food in the house.

colette: i swear to god you better be running late because patrol was super busy and *not* because you're out screwing the undead and annoying.

#[text] #prcttylittlethings #☆ colette jacobson (muse) #☆ yale jacobson (opp) #☆ they made her out of me (verse)

[sanamuse]

@xonefamiliarsoul​ prompted “please don’t leave me.”

“please don’t leave me.”

the words - the first ones spoken between them since colette had found yale standing atop the now collapsed tower - are whispered, her sisters voice once filled with power and authority, hoarse from misuse and more vulnerable than colette can ever remember hearing it.

she’s still not sure how her recently deceased sister is standing before her, the harsh unforgiving light hanging above them in their shared bathroom highlighting the smudges of dirt and dried blood caking her sisters flesh, fingernails chipped and broken and her dress - the dress they’d buried her in - ripped and torn.

colette’s hands shake as she takes the warm wash cloth and runs it along her sisters arms, her face, her neck - rinse and repeat - until yale looks more like herself, shiny and fresh faced and very much not decaying and dead. 

her sisters eyes are glassy and her movements mechanical, and even though colette can feel her underneath her fingertips and hear her breathing - steady breaths, in and out almost matching colette’s own - colette wonders if maybe yale standing in front of her isn’t some kind of hallucination.

(she’s heard them talk, fiona and dexter and nicole, hushed voices and sideways glances when they think she isn’t paying attention -”she’s broken now, losing yale broke her” - and it hurts, makes her want to hurt them back, just tear into each and every one of  them until there’s nothing left because maybe she is broken, but no more than any of them.)

“we should find you something to wear.”  her own voice soft and non threatening like she’s coaxing out a baby deer, she takes yale’s hand delicately and leads her toward her own room, yale’s having been boxed up months ago, fiona claiming they needed the space while colette fought her every step of the way refusing to budge until the decision had been taken out of her hands “you can wear something of mine, even though you’ll probably get lost in anything i can find - your things are in storage but now that you’re back we can...”

she shrugs unsure of what else to say, she’s almost positive her special kind of nervous babbling is the last thing yale needs - and what kind of person chatters away foolishly when their sister has just returned from the dead anyway? - and she sighs heavily as she digs through her clothes drawers pulls out an oversized sweater and a pair of sweat pants too small for her own lanky frame and holds them out for yale to take.

“i don’t know how you’re back and i don’t know why - but i missed you - so much …i’m just glad you’re here with me.”

#xonefamiliarsoul #♦they made her out of me #♡yalette #[para] #☆ colette jacobson (muse) #☆ yale jacobson (opp) #☆ they made her out of me (verse)

[sanamuse]

♥*♡∞:｡.｡ they made her out of me [dash]

What was the point of learning Latin when guys look at you like you’ve grown a second head when you use it to inappropriately proposition them? Asking someone if they wanna bone sounds much prettier when you ask it in an ancient language - that’s like a whole three months of my life wasted.

#♦they made her out of me #♡yalette #xonefamiliarsoul #[dash] #☆ colette jacobson (muse) #☆ yale jacobson (opp) #☆ they made her out of me (verse)

[sanamuse]

closed starter for @xonefamiliarsoul who colette and yale jacobson ft. various others. plot colette can’t go anywhere without trouble finding her and it’s up to yale to once again save the day.

There were two things Colette currently knew for sure.

One - she was pretty wasted right now and Yale probably wasn't going to like that and two- she was chained to a dungeon wall with little to no escape, her right cheek burning from a backhand delivered by a 250 odd pound ape and Yale definitely wasn't going to like that.

(even though Colette really was just following her super sisters advice - live a normal life, be a normal girl - and if Yale even thought of grounding her for this she was going to remind her of those words...loudly)

One of the first "tales of the slayer' she can remember hearing was a very heavily edited version of the time Dexter (actually Noel but there wasn't a chance on earth Colette was actually gonna call Dex out on that) saved Yale and Winter from a bunch of murderous, demon worshipping frat boys after having their drinks spiked. Moral of the story being - don't take drinks from strangers and don't rag on Dexter for infiltrating Greek society wearing a cheap wig and an even cheaper dress because it was still a touchy subject for him.

Technically speaking Colette hadn't actually taken any drinks from strangers, she'd just forgotten to check who'd handed the red solo cup full of foamy goodness to Jess before she downed it, in retrospect that had been a mistake. And her dress while ripped and dirty was far from cheap. Moral of this story - Jessica Halpert had little to no knowledge of the depravity of human nature and Colette really needed to learn to stop mouthing off to people larger than her when she was being taken hostage.

There’s a loud crash from somewhere above her and startled yelling that’s like music to her ears and Colette has been in enough situations similar to this to know what that means and she thanks several gods that she’s going to live to see another day and not end up served on a gigantic plate as demon chow...The cavalry had finally arrived.

“YALE I'M DOWN HERE!” 

There’s another slap to the face and a grunt for her to keep her mouth shut as she hears the sounds of wood splintering into tiny pieces and even though Colette can’t see her she knows Yale is standing on the other side posed for battle like a furious midget angel chock full of raw power and the laugh she lets out is almost maniacal, echoing around the dank stone walls (does every wannabe big bad in SunnyD own a secret kinky underground sex dungeon? Honestly there’s no fucking originality anymore).

Her sister is a blur of motion, fighting side by side with Colt and even though Colette dislikes him on a deeply visceral level, she can admit there’s a synchronicity to the way they move together and she’s grateful that Yale has him by her side - even if he is a major creeper with a Slayer fetish who has no business making cow eyes at the one woman in the world obligated to stick a stake through his heart..

Fi and Dex make their way to her, the badass wicca breaking the chains binding her to the wall with a few words whispered under her breath and they both hold her up, rubbing circulation back into Colette's wrists as they fuss like she’s an actual child and not an almost fully grown (too grown really, when will this growth spurt end?) woman who can take care of her own damn body parts, so she throws them a look, tells them she’s fine and shoo’s them toward Jess who is thankfully still passed out in a corner unaware of the chaos surrounding her.

Equilibrium proves her a liar though, because she’s decidedly not as fine as she claimed, her legs buckling underneath her, her entire being feeling limp and abused. Before she hits the ground strong arms pull her upright and forward, a firm yet gentle hand cupping her cheek to inspect the damage and the smile Colette gives her sister is dopey and filled with relief "I told you I needed a sword."

#♦they made her out of me #xonefamiliarsoul #♡yalette #[para] #☆ colette jacobson (muse) #☆ yale jacobson (opp) #☆ they made her out of me (verse)