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chaotic-orphan · 3 months

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Febuwhump: Day Four

“Obedience” — @febuwhump prompt!

If this doesn’t have Ambrose’s name written all over it >:)

Intoxicating Fear — part Xi

Read part one here

Continued from here

TW: forced to obey, mentions of SH, SH implied and referred to, mentions of scars, past Whump implied, past sh implied, past sh inferred, kidnapped Whumpee, captive Whumpee, sadistic whumper,

*~*~*~*~*

Kit walked out of his room a few hours later, looking worse off than before he went in, but Ambrose didn’t question him as he walked over to the kettle and filled it with water. He just sat at the table, watching him as he moved about, doing his best to ignore Ambrose’s stares.

Ambrose had Kit’s phone in between his thumb and index finger, using his fourth finger to twirl it slowly, in a controlled motion over itself and back again.

Kit took a mug out from the cupboard above the counter, spooned three spoons of coffee into a cup clanging the metal spoon into the mug and turning to face Ambrose. He was wedged in the corner, crossing his arms over his chest as he shrugged and asked: “what?”

Ambrose smiled, “what do you mean what?”

“Don’t play coy, Ambrose,” Kit said with a groan, wiping a hand down his face. “It doesn’t suit you. I can hear your cogs turning in your brain.”

Ambrose’s smile turned coy, “isn’t that my power, Mallory?”

Kit scoffed and turned, throwing his hands in the air.

“Whatever,” he mumbled to himself as the kettle boiled, the switch flipping up as the water rumbled soothingly within. “I’ll probably find out soon enough anyway.”

Ambrose’s smile fell when Kit turned his back, his eyebrows drawing together in quiet contemplation, whether to broach the subject or not.

“I’ve been thinking Kit,” Ambrose said after a while.

“Uh-oh,” said Kit, stirring his coffee.

Ambrose smiled, despite himself, at Kit’s inability to shut up sometimes. Kit turned again, steaming hot cup cradled between his palms as he regarded Ambrose with an impassive expression.

“Should I be worried?” Kit asked, taking a tentative sip.

Ambrose let out a soft laugh. “No. It’s actually something that could benefit both of us,” said Ambrose. Kit’s eyebrows shot to the ceiling, then immediately pinched themselves down into a frown, suspicious and on guard immediately.

“I know,” said Ambrose. “You have every right to be skeptical, but I think… after recent events that we should consider a way to do things more effectively.”

Kit’s lips curled back into a snarl, like that of a stray dogs. “You mean you want to be more efficient in how you torture me?!”

“No,” Ambrose said, dark eyes meeting Kit’s light ones, bright with anger. “I think we should be able to have a conversation without getting defensive.”

Kit scoffed, rolling his eyes to the sky. “I wonder, god, gee Ambrose, you’re right. I wonder why the fuck we can’t be civil with each other. It’s a real head scratcher, huh?”

Ambrose’s voice took an edge to it and Kit’s mockery fell vanished in their throat.

“There is no reason we can’t both somehow get along.”

“I don’t know, Rosy,” Kit said, which drew a cutting stare from Ambrose. “Somehow getting along with my torturer is not on my bingo card this year.”

Ambrose laughed. He laughed a moment too long at Kit’s outburst, before he settled his gaze on Kit again and his entire expression went blank like the fucking psychopath he was.

“I could take every single freedom from you, Kit,” said Ambrose, voice full of sadistic promise. Kit swallowed hard, and covered it up with a sip of his coffee. “I could have you on your knees right now begging me to hurt you again—“

“You would just love that wouldn’t you?” Kit snapped. Ambrose inclined his head at Kit, a warning, so Kit shut up.

“The truth of the matter is that I don’t want you to be some drooling, half formed thing,” Ambrose said, leaving the phone on the table and getting to his feet. Kit’s expression faltered for a moment, fear flashing across his features before schooling them neutral again.

Ambrose approached slowly. Kit took an unconscious step back but was quickly reminded that he was standing in the corner of his kitchenette and silently cursed himself for cornering himself.

“I want you to struggle and fight me, otherwise you wouldn’t be as entertaining,” he said getting closer and closer. Kit tightened his grip on the mug to stop his hands from shaking. “I want you to have your free will and be, well, Kit, because you are the most fun I’ve ever had.”

Kit swallowed, wanting to look away but too scared to do it. “Glad to be of service.”

“See?” Ambrose said, eyes bright and voice brighter as he stood in front of Kit, forcing Kit to stare up at him. “You just can’t help yourself.”

Something flittered across Ambrose’s face that Kit couldn’t quite identify. “Your defiance is what makes you so fun, but, it’s tiring subduing you all the time.”

Kit didn’t dare speak, no matter how much he wanted to. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled when Ambrose put his hands on the edge of the counters boxing Kit in more. Ambrose leaned in, teeth bared in a wolfish smile as Kit’s eyes widened and he leaned back awkwardly to try and keep some space between him and his tormentor.

“See? That fear,” Ambrose whispered, as if he was saying a prayer, eyes searching Kit’s face and drinking in every last detail, every minute wince or flinch or hint of discomfort. “You just can’t bury it no matter how hard you try to hide it from me. It’s commendable really, but, this doesn’t have to be just me benefiting from this relationship.”

“Relationship?!” Kit breathed with a scoff, disgust written across his face and lacing every syllable. “I want nothing to do with you!”

“But wouldn’t you enjoy your life a bit more if there were days where I didn’t have to wrestle every piece of your defiance from your body?”

The words left Kit speechless. His chest rising and falling in time with Ambrose’s. The thought of not having to worry about Ambrose’s power invading his mind sounded too good to be true, so foreign. How long had it been since Kit didn’t have to worry about Ambrose torturing him for fun? To worry about what he was going to say in case it flipped a switch in Ambrose’s brain and made him hurt Kit.

Kit was tired. He was exhausted. Life before Ambrose seemed like a dream, not a reality. He missed being ignorant. He missed not having to be terrified every day.

Ambrose got his answer when Kit’s shoulders dropped.

“See? You want it just as much as I do.”

Ambrose leaned back, backing out of Kit’s space and allowing him to stand properly again. Kit’s eyes dropped to the floor as shame flooded his system.

Deferring to a Villain?! Who was he? He was so weak, how could he kid himself into being a Hero when he couldn’t even fight a Villain for himself?!

“What do you suggest?” Kit asked, voice quiet and broken. How could thoughts of freedom take this much life from his body?! The guilt burned red up Kit’s neck, but he couldn’t not concede. He was exhausted. He just wanted a little semblance of normalcy, and if that price was whatever Ambrose named then so be it.

“Your… obedience,” Ambrose said. The words hit Kit in the chest harder than a kick from a horse. His head snapped up, eyes locking onto Ambrose’s in accusation.

“You want my consent to hurt me?!” Kit barked out with a humourless laugh. “No. Absolutely not.”

Ambrose rolled his eyes and folded his arms across his chest. “Would you just hear me out before making a judgement?”

Kit grit his teeth behind closed lips and nodded.

“I was thinking about it all. The amount of power I have to use to subdue you everyday, not letting you use your power, not letting you leave the house. It doesn’t all happen naturally. My power’s working overtime 24/7 with you. It’s getting exhausting.”

Kit’s eyes narrowed but he said nothing. Oh boo-fucking-who, he thought, torturing someone takes effort, poor Ambrose.

“So I came up with a proposition if you dare to consider it. I will leave you alone for most of the week,” he said, and Kit’s heart stuttered to a stop. It must have shown on his face given Ambrose’s smirk. “I will pop in sometimes, only two or three times a week. All I ask if that you obey this little schedule change without fighting me.”

Kit’s words came out breathless, “so you do want me to consent to being tortured,” he said, an unreadable expression screwing his face up tight.

“Think of it more as consent to not being tortured as you are now,” said Ambrose taking a step closer, closing the gap between them again. He placed a hand on Kit’s cheek, thumb hooked under his chin and tilted Kit’s head up. Dark eyes searching Kit’s. “Don’t you want to be free of me, even if just for a little while?”

Kit’s bottom lip trembled. He did, he wanted it more than anything. He wanted to have some kind of normal life even if it meant agreeing to this outrageous condition. He missed his life, he missed Superhero and his job. He missed grocery shopping and late nights with his friends. He missed being able to make decisions for himself.

“What else does obedience entail?” Kit asked, spitting the word obedience as if it was some monstrous creature.

Ambrose’s eyes shined a little at the question. “It means that when I do come and see you, you drop everything. You can still fight me, still defy me, curse me out do whatever you need to — but you simply accept it.”

Kit worried his bottom lip, eyes going faraway as he considered Ambrose’s proposal. Ambrose stepped away again, turning to lean against the opposite counter in the kitchenette. He crossed his arms over his chest again, regarding Kit as he mulled everything over.

“I can see you’re conflicted, Kit, so let me sweeten the deal,” that got Kit’s hesitant eyes back on Ambrose. “If you agree to this, I won’t attack another Hero.”

It seemed as if all air left Kit’s lungs, like an anvil had fallen from the sky and landed on Kit’s shoulders weighing them down suddenly. This was Ambrose’s ultimate cruelty. Appealing to Kit’s heroic nature, forcing him to be a martyr and shoulder the burden of Ambrose’s torment to save other heroes, the people he loves. His friends, hell, at this point his family.

Kit swallowed hard. He didn’t want to be heroic, he didn’t want to shoulder this unfair burden. He didn’t want to protect everyone from this torture, he wanted… he just wanted to be left alone.

If you agree to this, I won’t attack another hero.

Which really was a double edged sword.

If you don’t agree to this, I will attack another hero. Take another Hero hostage, do everything I’ve done to you and more. Break them, and when they break I will let you know that it’s all because you didn’t take my deal. Then Ambrose would probably present the deal to Kit again and Kit would take it, the guilt forcing his hand.

“I can have a normal life?” Kit asked, not meeting Ambrose’s gaze.

“Semi-normal, but I can’t see why not,” Ambrose replied.

“And I’m guessing I can’t tell anyone about our little arrangement?” Kit asked, voice mutinous. Ambrose stepped closer and put a hand on Kit’s shoulder. Kit suppressed a flinch, he hated Ambrose touching him. Kit glared up at Ambrose.

“If you like I can make you forget about it all until you see my face, then you could really live a life.”

“In ignorance,” Kit spat, batting Ambrose’a hand away. “No thanks. I’d rather know what’s coming than be caught unaware again.”

Ambrose smirked. “Fine by me.”

Kit licked his lips, passing his coffee cup into his left hand before extending his right to Ambrose. “Fine then. Deal.”

“Ah,” Ambrose said, holding up a finger, “I think we should try this out before you accept.”

Kit’s eyes narrowed and let out a soft tch of disapproval. He knew Ambrose wasn’t going to make it as easy as he made it out to be.

“You’re already reneging on your deal,” Kit said, looking to the side and taking a long, slow sip of his coffee. Ambrose stepped back again to lean against the opposite counter.

“I’m not, just consider this a test,” said Ambrose thoughtfully, rolling the words around his mouth thoughtfully before speaking. Kit rolled his eyes and set his mug down on the countertop with a dull thud.

He shrugged his shoulders and said: “fine. What do you want me to do?”

Ambrose’s eyes lit up in that eerie way they did when he got an awful idea to further humiliate or caused Kit pain.

“Let’s start with something easy,” said Ambrose simply, slipping his hands into his trouser pockets. “How about… sit?”

Kit scoffed and walked towards the chair beside the table. Ambrose’s voice stopped him again with a soft, “Ah.”

“What?” Kit demanded. “You said sit. I’m going to sit.”

“I didn’t say sit on a chair, Mallory.”

Kit’s eyes burned as well as the tips of his ears, shoulders bunched up. He clenched his fists at his sides and turned to face Ambrose again.

“What? You want me to sit on the ground? Like a dog?”

“Your words,” said Ambrose with an innocent smile. “Not mine.”

Kit grit his teeth, glaring up at Ambrose and keeping eye contact as he bent his knee and dropped to the ground. He planted his butt firmly on the ground and crossed his legs.

“Now,” Kit spat. “Happy?”

“Ecstatic.”

“Good,” said Kit, moving to get to his feet again. Ambrose pressed a boot down on Kit’s ankle to stop him from getting up. Kit clenched his fists tight but settled himself back onto the ground.

“I didn’t say you could get up, Mallory,” Ambrose chides, removing his foot from Kit’s ankle.

Kit crossed his arms across his chest in a huff like a child throwing a tantrum but he didn’t care. He didn’t care what Ambrose thought of him.

“You’re such a dick,” said Kit, grumpy.

“Look at you, you’re adorable. Are you pouting?”

Kit bared his teeth up at Ambrose in reply. “Okay, you can stand up now,” said Ambrose.

Kit scoffed and remained stubbornly on the floor. “Fuck you.”

Ambrose shrugged theatrically. “Fine, I guess I was expecting too much of you when I proposed my deal.”

An obvious ploy for Kit to protest, but still Kit couldn’t do anything but protest. The thought of freedom… it was too enticing to say no to.

“Wait,” Kit grumbled, casting his eyes to the floor as his mind screamed at him for obeying Ambrose at all. Of his own free will!“Just… wait.”

Kit swallowed hard and got to his feet, still not meeting Ambrose’s hungry stare. “Kit,” Ambrose said, but Kit still didn’t look at him.

“Kit, look at me.”

Kit felt his blood flood his cheeks with humiliation as he raised his head to meet Ambrose’s gaze. His hands were shaking, with anger or frustration or shame Kit didn’t know, but he knew they were shaking and that he didn’t want them to.

“Show me your scars,” said Ambrose.

Kit took a step backwards, as if Ambrose had just assaulted him. His lips curled up and he cut his hand through the air as if to say enough.

“No,” Kit said, voice thick. “No.”

Ambrose tilted his head to the side. “Will I have to say everything twice, Mallory?”

“You are fucking loving this aren’t you?” Kit hissed, throwing his hands up in a helpless sort of gesture. “Whether I agree to your deal or not it doesn’t matter because you still get to hurt me like this. You’re fucking sick. You disgust me.”

Ambrose stared at Kit’s emotional outburst like one would judging the weather from their bedroom window in the morning. “Do I have to say it again, or are you flat out refusing?”

“Fine!” Kit snapped, voice higher, almost hysterical. Kit reached up to grab the collar of his shirt and hoisted it over his head to reveal his back, not taking it off all the way. He turned his back to Ambrose and said: “that one on my left shoulder? That’s from a nasty run in with Other Villain when Another Hero called for aid on a mission. I got it from his fucking scythe if you can believe it—”

“That’s not what I meant—”

“Here,” said Kit, turning again and shrugging his shirt back on before lifting the bottom of it to reveal the scar just above his hip. It wasn’t one but three. “Villain’s whip,” Kit told Ambrose. “It stung like a bitch but she only ever caught me once with it.”

Kit flung his shirt down and grinned at Ambrose. “There, Rosy. I showed you my scars. I obeyed your fucking command. Are you happy?”

Ambrose hummed in the back of his throat. “We must be spending too much time together, Mallory. You’re starting to understand the power of words.”

Kit’s eyes narrowed into slits. “You learn to when your freedom is limited by them.”

Ambrose didn’t say anything for a moment. He pursed his lips together, taking his hands from his pockets.

“Perhaps the deal was too premature,” Ambrose said. Kit’s heart skipped a beat in his chest, his throat suddenly dry at the prospect of losing his chance at a semi-normal life again. “I’m sorry Kit,” said Ambrose. He meant it too, because he turned to go but Kit’s hand shot out before he could stop himself and grabbed Ambrose’s arm stopping him from leaving.

“Kit?” Ambrose asked, looking down at the hand on his arm then at Kit’s face which was hidden behind his hair, his head tilted down.

“Okay,” Kit whispered. “I’ll show you… you just… you have to use the right words.”

Ambrose stiffened under Kit. “Which are?”

“You said show me your scars. The scars on my arm? They’re not mine,” Kit continued in that same grave, self-hating voice. He raised his head to meet Ambrose’s black eyes with his own haunted gaze. “They’re yours. I didn’t earn them, they mean nothing to me. My scars are mine, wholly mine. I got them.”

Kit ignored the way his voice cracked and let Ambrose go, rolling up his sleeve. “Not these. I didn’t get these, they were forced on me, much like you are. So there. Have I passed your fucking obedience training, or do you want me to bark?”

Ambrose couldn’t help but be a little impressed at Kit’s speech. He didn’t even look down at Kit’s arms the whole time that Kit spoke. He was too focused on the spark of defiance that defined Kit in his mind. The way it left a strange sort of glow to Kit’s features, made them brighter, more animated and life like. As if fighting back the rage he wanted to scream at Ambrose was going to energise other parts of his body.

He didn’t tremble once. He didn’t shake. Everything he said he was certain of, and he didn’t fear any retribution because of it. Ambrose wanted to see more of it, not less, and he feared if he kept Kit isolated and locked away from life forever that spark would dwindle down into nothing. He could search the entire planet ten times over and never find something like it again.

Ambrose smiled. “No Kit. You proved that you can do what you say.”

Kit’s eyes went to Ambrose’s with that same delicious conviction. Ambrose stuck his hand out and Kit shook it.

“I think we have a deal.”

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here

The Orphanage roll call (tag-list, lmk if you wanna be added or removed <3 ): - @nameless-beanie @andithewhumper @annablogsposts @whumpasaurus101 @0eggdealer @rejectedbytheempty @sleepy-pearl @n3rv0usn0v4 @whumpatize-me-captain @sunshiline-writes @burningkittypoet @honeyed-euphrates @sacredwrath @theonewithallthefixations @acer-gaysimpstuff @m3rakii @xxgalgurlxx @princess-bubble-blossom @blood-enthusiast @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @andtheysaidspeaknoww @dutifullykrispyland

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cosmoweirdkid · 2 months

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sapphiccharacterstournament · 8 months

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Canon Sapphic Characters Tournament Round 4 (Bracket 4)

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little-leaf-man · 1 year

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Hi. I finished my 2nd batch of art party characters.

#sorry 4 drawing u silly Fedsy Ambrose and Marwyd #also I can’t draw glasses. I got angry and gave up #gw2 #vsartparty #my art #kit art

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eddiemunscns · 1 year

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This Barbie….and my female ocs

Taglist: @steveshcrringtons @acabecca @fakedatings @starcrossedjedis @cas-verse @chrissymunson @sgtbuckyybarnes @asirensrage @drbobbimorse @malafvma @reyofluke-ocs @steve--harrington--gal @arrthurpendragon

#ch: joanna montgomery #ch: kit gallagher #ch: Maeve Ambrose #ch: lorelei grimes #ch: Stephanie Tyler #ch: persephone featherington #ch: callie meyers #ch: catherine turner

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chimeowrical · 7 months

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Am I stupid or did you used to have a different oc named Kit?

You are not stupid and are absolutely correct!!!

One of my DA:I Inquisitors went by the nickname Kit!! And now I also have cowboy Kit!!

Inquisitor Kit was a very silly and like… stoner-core rogue who ended up being like a fun little guy to ship with my friends’ DA:I characters LOL

Cowboy Kit is a traumatized small-town guy with homeschool vibes who is also fun to ship with my friends’ characters ahskdjdk

They have no relation apart from being silly and I hate reusing OC names but “Kit” made it onto the cowboy name list and everyone I asked unanimously loved it so!! I’ll have to doodle them hanging out bc I think they’d get along 💕

#my art #kit #kit x2!!!#desperately want to doodle them now but i have a drawing hand injury ahsjdhdkdjkd #also fun tidbit abt cowboy Kit #the name kit was super low on my list of possible names and I was heavily leaning towards #the name ‘Ambrose’!!

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donospl · 8 hours

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LIVE: 60 Jazz nad Odrą (wybrane koncerty)

Wrocław, 24-26.4.2024 Wrocławski festiwal Jazz nad Odrą świętował w roku 2024 swoją 60 edycję. Słuchacze mieli możliwość wysłuchania kilkunastu koncertów, które zawitały do trzech sal koncertowych. Pierwszy dzień to tradycyjnie chwila dla uczestników konkursu na Indywidualność Jazzową im. Wojtka Siwka. Spośród siedmiu finalistów jury wyróżniło nagrodą Grand Prix zespół Mateusz Kaszuba Trio.…

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i-eated-paint · 6 months

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Sometimes you just need to pressure wash somebody

#ambrose bassford #I'm going to break him like a kit Kat #i say something from my brain

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saintswell · 1 year

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tag dump.

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kiss-theggoat · 9 months

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Ok okay okay- I’m back and I just have to pitch this idea to you. Don’t feel like you need to write anything for it but I just need to slide this over to you. House of Wax setting again lol- okay so the clothes and outfits- the boys have a lot already from their previous victims. But sometimes they want something a bit different for an exhibit. Enter the S/O. Who’s sitting in the garage with Bo, sowing outfits together for Vincent’s new figures. She can’t be in the basement with Vincent since she needs proper light- but can’t be completely alone since the boys are still, even after years, unsure if she’ll try to leave.

So She’s just there, tongue sticking out as she thoughtfully sows glass beads onto a dress. And if any victims walk through the garage, and ask why she’s sowing in here or what she sowing- she’ll say;

“Oh its clothing for the museum”

“Oh I’m working on one of the girls prom dresses.”

“Oh, one of the old men in town ripped his pants again.”

“I just enjoy the company and music.”

She’s also always repairing the boy's clothes when stuff… happens (cough cough knife and chasing)

Angrily sitting there, sowing up Bo’s shirt and lecturing him. “I just re-did this Bo! Now I have to pause my work on the gown for Vincent.”

-🪴🖤

A/N: Hi hi hi 🪴🖤!! Thanks so much for the request and I love the idea! It’s so cute to think of one of the boys coming up with some clothes that need mending. Anyways, on with the one shot!

The Sinclair Seamstress

Sinclair Brothers One Shot

Summary: You find yourself as the personal seamstress for the Sinclair brothers.

TW: none 🖤

The radio was quiet, filling the kitchen with a soft melody which you hummed along to. You were hard at work at breakfast for the Sinclair brothers, whom you’d become very close to in your year in Ambrose. The toaster popped up beside you, and you held the pan that contained almost nine eggs worth of cheese covered scramble. You’d filled the house with an amazing aroma, mixing cheese and eggs and bacon, and onions in half because Bo and Lester liked onions and Vincent and you didn’t. You smiled as you grabbed the toast, now having two pieces for each of you. You placed the carefully on the plate and then buttered them all before putting the egg scramble between the two pieces, along with three pieces of fresh, crispy bacon.

“Somethin’ smells good.” You heard Bo’s raspy morning voice and it filled your chest with warm honey, making you turn around with his plate in your hands like a little kid presenting a handmade gift.

“Breakfast!” You said happily, setting his plate down where he usually sat, at the head of the table. “Sit.” You said, walking towards the fridge. You wanted to grab out the gallon of orange juice you’d gone so far to buy, but you knew that he’d hound you for a beer, so you skipped the hassle and grabbed one for him. You popped the cap off and set it besides his breakfast. Bo looked up at you with a quaint lopsided smile, which you knew meant he was pleased.

Before you could ask what he had planned for the day, you heard the creaking of the steps and whipped around to see Lester, sliding his loose old button up over one arm. As he moved, you noticed the huge hole near the armpit seam of the shirt.

“Lester, you can’t wear that. It’s falling apart.” You scolded and walked towards him, fingers finding the tear and tracing it.

Lester sighed, “Well I ain’t got another shirt today. It’s fine.”

“I can fix it for you before you leave. Do you have a sewing kit?”

Lester gave you a look with one eyebrow up. “You can sew?”

You smiled and nodded. “Yeah, I used to make my own clothes and stuff. It’s a really easy fix, no time at all.”

“…Well alright. I’m sure we got some sewin’ stuff somewhere.”

And this conversation was how you became a personal seamstress for the Sinclair brothers. You never thought you’d be in this position, living with three men in a town of wax and making clothes for their sculptures. But, here you sat, red fabric draping over your legs as you moved closer to the seams you were sewing. The only downside to this was that they didn’t own a sewing machine, so everything you made had to be by hand. This definitely simplified yours and Vincent’s designs, but you made it work.

The dress you were working on now was for a pretty blonde girl in a classy red cocktail dress. You were excited about the fitted bodice and the slight flare of the knee length skirt. Vincent was particular about this dress, and the girl that was about to become wax didn’t have anything that fit that vision.

You hummed to yourself as you sewed, enjoying the pace of the activity and the feeling of the fabric under your fingers. You were sequestered to your room in the house, locked, because the boys were dealing with a new group in town. But it was already close to two in the morning, so you decided that you’d stay in your room until sunrise and then you’d go out and look for them.

That concern and worry was quickly flushed away by the sound of the front door slamming shut and familiar big boots stomping up the stairs. You ran up to the door and unlocked it, seeing a sweaty but thankfully not injured Bo.

“Oh thank god.” You said, practically tackling him with your arms around his neck. “You scared the shit out of me, Bo.” You whispered. “Where are Lester and Vincent?”

“They’re alright. They’re in the workshop.”

You pulled away from him and nodded, sighing a breath of relief. As you stared at him, subconsciously scanning for injuries and blood like you were used to, you noticed a giant hole through your perfect sewing.

You reached forward and touched the edges of the tear. “Dammit Bo, I just fixed this! You guys can never keep your clothes in shape.”

“Not exactly my fault, darlin’.”

“Take it off. I already have my stuff out.” You grumbled, moving back towards your chair and moving the dress onto your bed.

“We’re gonna have to tell Vincent that this dress is gonna take longer now because I have to fix your shirt for the ninth time. And he also wants me to make a pair of pants for another sculpture, but-“

“You don’t have to fix it, doll.”

“Take your shirt off, Bo.”

Bo slid his button up off and handed it over to you with a sly smile on his face, chuckling a bit at the fact you were so perturbed at the hole in his shirt. You grabbed his shirt and finally your supplies, sitting back down in your chair to begin sewing.

Just then, you heard more footsteps clunk up the stairs. You looked up from your needle to see Vincent and Lester. And even though you were relieved that they were okay, the stack of drawings in Vincent’s hand, surely new clothes for his new sculptures, made you anything but happy.

#slasher x reader #slashers #horror movies #horror fanfiction #slasher x y/n #house of wax fanfiction #bo sinclair fanfiction #bo sinclair x reader #lester sinclair #vincent sinclair x you

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dblairlaw · 5 months

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Gathering herbs for the temple used to be a walk in the park. A beautiful garden that was overrun with crops tended by the local worshippers. A few months into his stay, and it was just him and the elderly worshippers. Half of their crop would die, leaving Ambrose scrambling to buy up the rest with a few pieces of gold.

A small shop of curiosity catches his eye as he searches for any potion kits or leftover herbs, drawn away from his purpose to wander through the doors. Maybe it has what he’s searching for. The full moon is tomorrow, and no wolfsbane has managed to grow since the last one.

@waveringfaith

Everything is perfect. He would know. He spent half an hour making sure everything was in its place. Making sure none of the artifacts caused any mischief. And that his stick was filled and ready. Today would be a good day... he could feel it in his bones.

Dexter taps his fingers from behind his desk, his patience already kicking in. He's prepared to wait. Hes always prepared to wait. But, just his luck, he didn't have to.

"Hello, welcome to the Potion Parlor!" He greets, giving a kind smile to his newest patron. "Looking for something?"

#faithful and furry #a land far far away... (fantasy au)

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chaotic-orphan · 3 months

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hiii!! so i am asking (reaaaally nicely) if you are able to continue 'intoxicating fear'? its so good and your work is amazing. thanks for your time <333333

-athena (@andtheysaidspeaknoww

Intoxicating Fear — part X

ATHENA?! BADASS IN THE ARENA?! UNMATCHED, WITTY AND QUEEN OF THE BEST STRATEGIES WE’VE SEEN?!

I am honoured, I have always loved your work except for a couple questionable things with Medusa but I understand…

Of course! This is for you @andtheysaidspeaknoww I hope you enjoy it <3 I also want to dedicate this part to @xxgalgurlxx for making ART of the boys™️ which I’m attaching to the bottom because it is so cool and I love it a lot :;) ENJOY SOME FLUFF/comfort for Kit (Hero).

Also! In case you haven’t seen Hero and Villain have names now! Hero’s name is Kit, and Villain’s name is Ambrose. I will link their character descriptions here.

Read part one here

Continued from this part here

I hope you enjoy this part!

*~*~*~*~*

Kit cleaned his arms of the leftover blood, gritting his teeth and hissing when the water ran over his cuts. He screwed his eyes shut, trying to ignore them as much as possible, but it was hard to when they still hurt. When Kit stood from the bath his tracksuit bottoms clung uncomfortably to his legs. He stepped out with a squelch of his socks hitting the tile and dabbed the towel gently over his arms.

The towel came back with bright red streaks across it and he wanted to scream. He can’t even have a towel in his own fucking house. Kit stormed out of his bathroom and straight into his room, slamming the door shut. Just for effect. Just to show Ambrose that he was pissed and he would let him know it.

Though, now that he thought about it, the sadist probably got off on his anger or something.

Change out of those clothes.

The command echoed off the walls of Kit’s skull, but he just stood with his back against the door, hands on his knees. His breaths coming out laboured and rattly. Kit tightened his grip on his knees until his knuckles turned white, trying to hold himself back from obeying Villain’s command.

If he fought it long enough… when Superhero came back they’d see.

Kit squeezed his eyes shut and grit his teeth as he felt his body fighting against his mind.

Come on, Kit pleaded with his limbs. Please. Listen to me, not Ambrose. Obey me.

Even if Kit wanted to disobey this particular command he couldn’t fight the damp coldness permeating from the wet clothes. If he stayed in them any longer he’d probably get sick for real. The sleeves on his shirt weren’t wet per se, just damp, cold and irritating. And his tracksuit clung to his legs awkwardly making Kit feel colder than he actually was.

Kit let out a sigh.

He would change, he decided, and that was important. That Kit decided to change, not Ambrose and his stupid power.

Kit took his hands off his knees and straightened up before stepping into the room and grabbing the bottom of his shirt and pulling it up over his head. Once his shirt was off he already felt ten times better as he obeyed the command got out of their wet clothes. He quickly slipped out of his tracksuit, the soggy fabric slapped wetly against the wood. Kit took his socks off and dropped them on the dirty pile to bring to Ambrose.

Kit opened his wardrobe, eyes drifting lazily over the selection of clothes and froze. His eyes caught the multiple cuts on his inner wrist and he wanted to throw up. Kit swallowed the dry lump in his throat as he reached over gingerly to run his finger down along one of the deeper cuts. He felt the ridges the knife created against his skin, the valleys between the flesh of his wrist and how much was cut away.

Kit stepped back, casting his eyes to the ceiling to stop the tears from falling. It wasn’t like they were the first scars Kit ever had, but it didn’t feel like a scar he got from fighting some random Villain. It was so much more personal than that.

So much more violating because Kit had done it to himself, but it was Ambrose’s marking. His brand. His sign of ownership over Kit their strings. Ambrose decided exactly how many cuts, the varying depth of each of them. A cruel, insidious reminder that Kit really was nothing except what Ambrose wanted him to be.

That even if Kit fought tooth and nail against Ambrose he would never be able to win.

A sudden, helpless fury overtook Kit, the energy coursing uncomfortably under his skin. Tight and wired and itching to be released. Kit drew his fist back and punched the wall of his wardrobe, and without waiting delivered a second harder punch.

“Kit?” Ambrose called from some other part of the apartment. “Everything okay in there?”

Kit swallowed a sob, a mix of anger and despair clogging his throat. He wiped the tears from his cheeks and swallowed again before calling back: “yeah fine.”

Kit pretended it didn’t come out as pathetic as it sounded, because that’s all he could do anymore. Pretend. Fool himself. Cower in his imagination away from Ambrose.

Make himself appear more like a Hero and less like a… Fuck, what even was he anymore?

Kit grabbed a black crew neck jumper from his wardrobe and another pair of slate grey joggers. He slipped on another pair of socks before scooping up the wet clothes and walking out their door.

“Here,” Kit grumbled, handing Ambrose the wet clothes. Ambrose smiled down at him.

“Thank you, Christopher.”

“Don’t call me that,” Kit snapped. Ambrose grinned and pinched his cheek like Kit was a child.

“But you did such a good job following orders,” Ambrose cooed. Kit slapped his hand away with a huff and turned on his heel towards his room again.

He hadn’t even taken a step forward when Ambrose spoke. “Ah, where are you going?”

Kit’s hands balled into fists at his sides. “To my room. Is that allowed?”

“Hmm… why don’t you ask nicely?”

Fury winded through Kit again as he turned, eyes blazing at Ambrose who stood with the wet clothes still in hand just smiling at Kit’s anger.

“Haven’t you humiliated me enough already today?” Kit demanded.

“Clearly not if you think you can take that tone with me,” Ambrose replied nonchalantly, cocking an eyebrow at Kit when he took a step forward.

“Please, just give me peace, for…” Kit said all anger leaking from his frame once he knew he wasnt getting anywhere with it. He ran a shaky hand through his hair, licking his lips before continuing: “For an hour or two, I’ll be good I’ll just go into my room and make no noise or do anything bad I promise just please can I have a moment alone? Please?”

Ambrose said nothing for a minute. Instead he just drank in the desperation oozing from Kit’s tired frame, his sunken shoulders and his hands out, palms facing up as if to show he was no threat.

Begging.

Maybe Ambrose’s lesson finally sunk in this time. Maybe he did crack a little of Kit’s usual steel resolve.

Ambrose inclined his head. “Fine. I didn’t really have anything else planned for the day anyways so your time is yours.”

“Thank you,” Kit said with a breath. Closing his eyes and savouring the moment. Kit turned for his room again, walking towards it waiting for Ambrose to speak again. To laugh or say “gotcha” and force Kit to do another horrible thing to himself or…

Kit’s hand touched the handle of his bedroom. The cool metal beneath his palm and fingers a shock to his system, that Ambrose was actually allowing him to relax. Kit kicked his lips in anticipation and opened the door. Before he walked in though, Kit looked over his shoulder at Ambrose.

His dark eyes were following Kit the whole way, and when they met Kit’s the corner of his lips twitched up with amusement.

“Thank you,” Kit said again, forcing his gratitude and relief into his voice. Ambrose blinked, tilting his head slightly as if trying to see from what angle Kit was trying to get over him. “Really.”

Kit turned again and walked into his room after that, letting the door close behind him. Ambrose stood rooted to the spot, staring at the closed door where Kit had disappeared behind.

He swallowed them remembered the wet clothes in his arms. Ambrose cleared his throat, ignoring whatever that was all about and focusing instead on getting the clothes out of his arms.

Perhaps he went too far… perhaps he did more than crack the little Hero. Ambrose’s gaze flickered back to the door.

Only time would tell.

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here

This is @xxgalgurlxx art for Kit and Ambrose. Which I love, thank you again <3

The Orphanage (plz lemme know if you want to be added or removed <;3) - @nameless-beanie @andithewhumper @annablogsposts @whumpasaurus101 @0eggdealer @rejectedbytheempty @sleepy-pearl @n3rv0usn0v4 @whumpatize-me-captain @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @sunshiline-writes @burningkittypoet @honeyed-euphrates @sacredwrath @theonewithallthefixations @acer-gaysimpstuff @m3rakii @xxgalgurlxx @princess-bubble-blossom

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loveandmurders · 1 year

Note

Hi! I love your writing style so much!

Sorry if this is weird but could I request something with the sinclair brothers getting injured and having to let their S/O take care of them? I live for a bit of angst and loads of fluff!

Hello there! Thank you so much <3 <3

Your request isn’t weird at all! I considered this as a poly!sinclair x reader (my first one), so I hope it’ll be good enough!!

Enjoy! <3

Gender neutral reader with no physical description

Warnings: mentions of killing and general violence, a few strong words, mentions of blood, injuries, pain, morally grey reader, mentions of dead bodies

It had been a few years since you started to live with the boys and to be treated like their partner.

They should have killed you but they all saw something in you they had always craved: some softness for Bo, some kindness for Vincent and some caring for Lester.

You wrapped them around your little finger, and even though you knew how dangerous and insane they were, you trusted them.

If Bo used to be rough with you, he was now quite careful around you.

If Vincent used to be very manipulative with you, he was now trustful.

If Lester used to be all shy around you, he was now happily hugging you and complimenting you all the time.

Despite the murders, despite the emptiness of the town and despite the fact you couldn’t leave Ambrose, you enjoyed your life there.

No one was judging you and the boys were taking good care of you.

Sane people would argue with you that you were suffering from Stockholm Syndrome, but you couldn't have cared any less, because you were happy.

Even if life wasn’t always all pink and pretty.

Especially when some tourists decided they wouldn’t get killed so easily.

When you received a message from Lester asking you to stay home today, you knew it meant he was worried the tourists would be violent and difficult.

And the boys made it clear that if one of them felt you needed to stay home, there was no argument possible, and you stayed in your room until they decided it was safe enough for you to go out.

You learnt to obey but only because you didn’t want to distract them during the hunt and put them in danger.

It was basically the only rule you respected and the boys were grateful for it, because they would fully lose it without you.

So today you stayed in your room, jumping at every scream and gunshot. You were trying to be strong but more time was passing and the worrier you were getting for your lovers.

You couldn’t even imagine if anything happened to them. No. It was out of the question. They were all very good killers and nothing could happen to them. You weren’t in some stupid horror movies, it was reality and in the real life bad people were always winning.

It was almost night now and you were going crazy in your room, just silently praying to the devil to bring your boys back home safe and sound.

When you heard the front door open, you instantly got up from your bed and waited, your heart beating so violently inside your chest.

“Babe?” Lester called out for you and in a flash you were downstairs.

Relief turned into worry once again as Lester was bleeding.

You quickly brought him in the kitchen and sat him up. His arm was bleeding, and he clearly had been beaten as his right eye was swelling.

“And the twins?” you asked as you came back with the first aid kit.

“On their ways home. Ain’t lookin’ good” he admitted and you let out a sound of distress.

But you promised yourself to be even stronger for your boys. You couldn’t let them take care of their own wounds, especially not in their state.

You focused on the task at hand and started to clean up Lester’s wound before handing him a bag of congelated peas that he could press on his face.

As you finished with him, Bo and Vincent stumbled inside.

You had no idea which one of them was looking the worst but you didn’t comment. You both sat them up as well.

You didn’t know which one you should take care of first and Bo seemed to have read your mind as he weakly pushed you toward his brother “Vinny first” he hummed, and you obeyed.

It was rare for the boys to see you that serious and focused, but their well being was the only thing that mattered to you at the moment.

Lester leaned against his chair, trying to get more at ease but you noticed the flash of pain going through his face, so you let go of Vincent’s face to get them painkillers. You hoped it would help.

You needed to sew Vincent’s chest, arm and thigh. You cleaned him up as much as you could despite the blood that seemed to always drip away from the deep wounds.

Even if the needle hurt him, he didn’t say or show anything, almost out of it because of the pain.

You noticed it and saw Bo wasn’t doing much better so you thought you needed to talk so they could focus on the sound of your voice.

“They’re all dead?” you asked

“Yeah” Bo simply said, but deep down he was grateful you were there, and unharmed too.

“Tell me what happened” you ordered and the boys obeyed because they recognised a new kind of authority in your voice; you never talked to them like that before.

They told you the tourists were quite numerous, 6 actually. And it was all men who thought the world belonged to them and who had guns and rifles with them, knives probably too.

You praised the boys for having killed them, and you commented it was a big catch because you never had enough weapons in the house anyways.

Once you were done with Vincent, you checked Bo. He had been shot at the shoulder and you needed to remove the bullet.

You didn’t even ask yourself if you were able to take care of that kind of injury, you had to and it was that mattered.

You removed it and sewed him as well, while you continued to ask questions and talk to them and praise them.

For the moment you were too worried, but deep down you were very impressed and proud of them. They were your little warriors, and you loved to live with such dangerous men.

If they hadn’t come back so hurt, you would have been quite aroused actually.

Once you finished patching them up, you went into the bathroom to look for clean towels and you came back to wash the boys as much as possible.

They were starting to feel a bit better thanks to the painkiller and you.

You finally put them all to bed. They weren’t hungry, and you had simply been able to force them to have some water.

They were all exhausted.

You, on the other hand, didn’t sleep at all that night; you just couldn’t.

You checked the town, and you brought the dead bodies in front of the garage. You made a mental list of all the things that had been broken. And you checked the car and the bodies to find anything useful.

There were a lot of weapons indeed, and some man clothes, but also drugs and cash.

A lot of cash. It made you smile.

Even if you weren’t materialistic, you thought with that much money, you could convince the boys to all go to a restaurant or something like that.

When you came back home, you cleaned up the bathroom and the kitchen, trying to make as little noise as possible so the boys could rest.

And then you checked on them all. You made sure they were all sleeping and comfortably settled.

You kissed their forehead too and rearranged their sheets when it was needed.

In the morning, you prepared breakfast, which was usually Bo’s job.

Lester stumbled into the kitchen and you helped him sit down one more time. He was feeling a lot better, and he was even smiling and praising you for taking such good care of them all.

“Don’t know what we’d do without ya, love. Don’t know how we survived so long without ya either. Ya’re our little angel, we love ya so much”

Bo was soon in the kitchen too. He went straight to you and hugged you.

You knew it was his silent way to thank you for last night. You stayed like that for a little while and he noticed you cooked for them and then he saw how you seemed like you hadn't slept.

When you admitted you haven’t, he wasn’t too impressed but his heart fluttered with warmth. You really loved them so fiercely.

You went to check on Vincent and he welcomed you by pulling you to his bed. You were careful to not hurt him and you cuddled on his side. He showered you with little kisses and caresses.

You fell asleep on him actually, not that he minded it at all; it allowed him to look over you. But your worry for your boys woke you up not even an hour after and you brought Vincent some food, no matter how much he tried to protest to keep you by his side.

You continued to take care of your boys and to be extra affectionate with them until they were all healed up and good.

You also helped a lot with cleaning up the mess around Ambrose.

And you swore that after this event, the boys started to be even sweeter to you.

Bo was always finding little stuff to give you from the tourists and he made sure you ate well and felt happy around them.

Vincent was spending a lot more time with you, teaching you how to sculpt too and you created a lot of things together.

Lester was bringing you wild flowers and cute rocks every day and he started to compliment you even more.

Life wasn’t all pink and pretty, but life was definitively happier now you lived at Ambrose.

Taglist:

@feathery-ass

@g0thl3zz

@erasable-mustache

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wrestler-smash-or-pass · 2 months

Text

Weekly Wrapup 3/10/24

This Week's Rankings:

Utami Hayashishita - 88.9% smash

Jon Moxley (Dean Ambrose variant) - 84.6%

Eddie Guerrero - 80.5%

Edge and Beth Phoenix - 75.1%

KENTA - 75.1%

Unholy Union (Alba Fyre and Isla Dawn) - 74.3%

Carmelo Hayes - 71.6%

Bear Boulder - 69.1%

Pretty Deadly (Elton Prince and Kit Wilson) - 59.9%

Minoru Suzuki (Current Day) - 51.8%

Randy Orton with a mustache - 50.9%

Sami Callihan (CZW Era) - 26.4%

Gangrel - 24.1%

Gorgeous George - 21.4%

Average smash rating this week: 61.0%

More stats under the cut, along with my observations, commentary, and some of my favorite tags...

Most total votes this week (most enthusiasm)

Jon Moxley (Dean Ambrose) - 364 votes

Minoru Suzuki - 361

Utami Hayashishita - 343

Edge and Beth Phoenix - 338

Eddie Guerrero - 303

And least total votes this week (least enthusiasm)

Sami Callihan - 178 votes

Gorgeous George - 187

Unholy Union - 206

Bear Boulder - 217

Carmelo Hayes - 222

The closest poll was Randy Orton with a mustache, who won 115-111

Top Ten Overall

Kris Statlander - 91% smash

Athena - 90.2% smash

Hikaru Shida - 89.7% smash

Utami Hayashishita - 88.9% smash

Minoru Suzuki (Young Variant) - 88.7% smash

Swerve Strickland - 88.3% smash

Toni Storm - 88.1% smash

Hiroshi Tanahashi - 87.7% smash

Hangman Adam Page - 86.4% smash

Bianca Belair - 86.4% smash

Bottom Ten Overall

Vince McMahon - 3.9% smash

Ric Flair - 4.6% smash

Kane (Corporate variant) - 10.1% smash

Miracle Violence Connection - 11.8% smash

Gene Munny - 12.4% smash

Spike Trivet - 12.% smash

Kevin Sullivan - 13.1% smash

Triple H (Terra Ryzing variant) - 18.6% smash

Eric Bischoff (NWO) - 20.0% smash

Gorgeous George - 21.4% smash

Top Women Overall

Kris Statlander - 91% smash

Athena - 90.2% smash

Hikaru Shida - 89.7% smash

Utami Hayashishita - 88.9% smash

Toni Storm - 88.1% smash

Bottom Women Overall

Eve Torres - 47.1% smash

Carmella - 47.8% smash

Nikkita Lyons - 48.2% smash

Julia Hart (Cheerleader Variant) - 49.8% smash

Kelly Kelly - 50.3% smash

Top Men Overall

Minoru Suzuki (Young Variant) - 88.7% smash

Swerve Strickland - 88.3% smash

Hiroshi Tanahashi - 87.7% smash

Hangman Adam Page - 86.4% smash

Hikuleo - 86.0% smash

Top Tag Teams

The Golden Lovers - 80.4% smash

Unholy Union - 74.3% smash

Best Friends - 66.7% smash

Motor City Machine Guns - 65.5% smash

Roppongi Vice - 62.7% smash

There were some new additions to the overall lists this week. Utami Hayashishita earned a spot on both the top overall list and the top women's list, and Gorgeous George just barely kicked Charlie Dempsey off the bottom overall list.

We've now had three polls on Jon Moxley, and the ranking is:

Current AEW Mox - 84.8% smash

Dean Ambrose - 84.6%

CZW Mox - 82.3%

Also, people prefer non-mullet Eddie Guerrero (80.5% smash) to Eddie Guerrero with a mullet (77.0% smash), and people prefer Randy Orton sans mustache (62.3% smash) to Randy Orton with mustache (50.9% smash).

Also like...88.7% of you would have done Minoru Suzuki when he was young, but only 51.8% of you would do old Suzuki? To echo the sentiments of a few reblogs, is this not the "sexualize that old man" website?

In actual blog news, the 250th poll was posted today, and we hit 500 followers a couple weeks ago but I forgot until now. Thank you so much to everyone who's followed, submitted poll requests, reblogged, liked, and otherwise interacted with this blog!

And now for some of my favorite tags and comment

@lghockey on Gorgeous George: #what in the revolutionary war is that haircut

@booboo-eyedbambi on Bear Boulder: #i need him to squish me like he's trying to get the last of his toothpaste out of me

@midcarder on Minoru Suzuki: #the only reason to not fuck suzuki is because you're afraid

@regalityandcoffee on Carmelo Hayes: #on one hand hes hot#in the other hand i once had a dream he tried to kill me so- I once had a dream that William Regal put drugs in my suitcase as I was going on vacation with Mox. Wrestlers are rude af in dreams.

#weekly wrap up

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