#ashley denner is fucking feral

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Uh, let’s see... how about “You die on my terms, not yours.”

CW: Sadistic whumper, dissoci@ted whumpee/reluctant whumper sidekick, blood

“Nah, ah, ah,” Ashley sings more than speaks as she circles the chair, running fingers caked in blood up to the knuckles over the torn, stained tank top of the woman tied to it. “You’re bleeding too much, pretty-pretty, and you die on my terms, not yours.”

The woman coughs, and shudders as fresh blood wells from the marks over her abdomen, trickling down to soak into her blue jeans and drip onto the floor. “I’m n-not-... not trying to die, I sw-swear, you f-fucking-... cut me-”

“Sssshhhh, I know.” Ashley pats her on the head, and the woman tries to flinch away from her touch. Ashley leaves streaks of drying brown-red on the woman’s scalp. “I know. But it’s your fault for bleeding so much. I guess i’m going to have to do medical care on you.” She looks back at the woman, cocks her head to the side, and smiles. “I need you to live a few more hours, I haven’t eaten in weeks.”

The woman’s eyes widen. Her face is shiny with sweat. “Wh-what?”

Ashley turns and looks to the corner, where Ora stands staring fixedly off to the side, to a point in space that no one else can see. “Ora,” She singsongs. “Wake up, honeybear.”

Ora jerks into motion, blinking rapidly as if they had forgotten how to do it until Ashley spoke their name. “Yes?”

“Bandage up all of...” Ashley waves her hand in a vague gesture at the woman on the chair. “That. I want to go drink a Coke. I’ll be back to kill her.”

She walks out the front door and down the steps, and Ora watches her go with the same blank stare, then turns to look back at the woman. 

“Please,” The woman pleads, coughs again, cries out in pain. Ora watches as bloodstains along her tank top widen, darken, go from drying to fresh again. “Please, please help me-”

Ora is silent as they step across the room. They give the woman nothing - no hint of compassion in their eyes, no look of sympathy on their face. They are green hair and a black shirt and black pants and nothing else. 

It’s all burned out. 

There’s nothing left.

Almost.

When they pull the first aid kit out to bandage the woman, they use the scissors to carefully, so carefully, wear away at the ropes, loosening the tightly wound threads.

“She doesn’t like dead blood so much,” Ora murmurs.

“What?” The woman’s face is pale, gray around the edges. Ora doesn’t meet her eyes.

“When she gets you next, pretend to die. Maybe-... maybe we’ll leave while you’re still breathing.” 

“You could-... call someone, the cops-”

Ora looks up, then. The woman’s words dry up in her throat at the empty, desolate world that lives in Ora Collins now. “No. I can’t. All I can give you is a chance.”

The woman hesitates, then slowly nods. “I-I understand.”

“No,” Ora says flatly, laying a bandage over a place the blade went in deep. “No... you don’t.”

#five sentence fics #daniel michaelson's story #ora collins is always nervous #ashley denner is fucking feral #blood tw #knives tw #sadistic whumper #whump #dissociation tw #caretaker whumper

[ashintheairlikesnow]

As long as they didn't look, it was almost like it wasn't real. -- five sentence fic starters, for anyone!!

CW: Description of a dead body, dissoci@ted whumpee, creepy whumper

As long as they didn't look, it was almost like it wasn't real.

Ora keeps their eyes fixed on a spot of mismatched paint on the wall, a bit of old wallpaper peeking through a layer of primer poorly painted over it. They don't speak while Ashley finishes what she's doing. They don't see the man on the floor, they don't see the blood soaking into the fresh new carpet underneath him.

Ora stretches their bare feet, wiggles their toes. The carpet is soft. The man picked a good carpet to die on.

"Aren't you going to help me carry the body, Ora-bouros?" Ashley grunts as she picks up both of the man's feet.

Ora's stomach flips as they turn and see he put on mismatched socks this morning, before Ashley Denner walked in his house and made them the last socks he'd ever wear-

Ora's stomach flips and they bring from the room, breathing, trying to stop tasting the heavy cloying scent of blood in the air.

They stumble and fall down the stairs, curling up at the bottom, shaking their head, whispering, "If I don't look, it's not real. If I don't look, it's not real. If I don't look..."

Ashley calls down the stairs, "You'll never get used to this unless you help me, you know!"

#ora collins is always nervous #dead body tw #creepy whumper #blood tw #dissociation tw #whump #ashley denner is fucking feral

[ashintheairlikesnow]

27 for Ashley from the poem prompts? 🥺- Pink

She is the one who without hesitation comes to my aid & my defence.

CW: Careless treatment of a corpse, Bram and Ashley are gross

"What's that?"

Ashley shrugs thin paperwhite shoulders even more bleached by sunlight. "Dead guy."

Bram takes in a breath and lets it out again, leaning on the doorframe into the wooden shed, staring in. Appearing to look back at him is a decomposing dead body. The smell would be terrible, if Bram cared about it. He doesn't. "I can see it's a dead guy, Ashley. Why is it here?"

She shrugs again, flicking her long white braid as she turns, eyes half-closed, humming to herself contentedly. "It was his house."

"And you didn't dispose of the corpse?"

"Nope." She pops the 'p' like bubblegum and walks away, and Bram closes the shed door, darkness falling back over the body as he follows her.

She is a few minutes older, and for centuries, in the end, he has followed her. "Do you know if he has family?"

"No photos, no obvious numbers in his phone, no emails on his laptop. Lives alone. Been dead seven months and we pay the bills. Who cares?"

She looks over her shoulder to smile at him, bright as sunlight off a lake full of sleeping monsters.

"You needed somewhere to bring home the puppies, Brammie. Don't I always take care of you?"

"Yeah." His eyes raise to the window where the puppy room is. They nap in the afternoon heat, when he lets them. They're in there now.

Together.

He starts moving towards the house. "You always do, Ash. I'm going to go visit my good dogs."

"Enjoy," Ashley singsongs, and spins in a circle in the yard.

Bram passes Ashley's pet on his way in, rocking on a porch swing, staring listlessly off into the distance.

He doesn't say a word. Neither do they.

She did, in the end, and always had.

She always took care of him.

#daniel michaelson's story #whumper pov #creepy whumper #dead body tw #referenced murder #ashley denner is fucking feral

[ashintheairlikesnow]

🧠+reflection, Ashley

Ashley walked into a clear glass door multiple times when people started putting them in houses. For a while she would just take hammers to them because they infuriated her.

During the Bad Arc, when she thinks that Ora seems sad or depressed, she will make them go stand in front of a mirror and say good things about themself until they turn bright red with embarrassment and can’t talk any longer, at which point Ashley will say nice things about them instead.

This is one of the reasons that semi-immortal feral killer abductor is still one of the best familial relationships Ora has ever had.

#ashley denner is fucking feral #ora collins is always nervous

[ashintheairlikesnow]

🛍 for Ashley and Ora bc I needddddd!!!!

CW: Brief references to pet whump and noncon

“I want this, too.” Ashley dumped the family-sized bag of Cheetos into the cart, and Ora stared down at them, wondering if this was what family meant, now.

Ashley and her terrifying brother and her brother’s captives, the two guys that Ora was trying to care for in-between following Ashley around to murder innocent people and it felt like their hands were sliding in blood everywhere they walked.

Ora took a deep breath.

It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters.

“Can I... can I pick something out, Ashley?” Ora asked the question softly, keeping their voice low and submissive. Ashley was usually pretty nice to them, now, but they still tried to show that they wouldn’t fight, that they could be good the way Ashley wanted them to be.

Always ask permission. Never flinch or pull away.

“Huh? Yeah, sure. That’s why I brought you along, Ora-bora-who-I-adore-ah. What d’you want?” Ashley leaned over to look at some potato chips, and Ora caught a couple of guys at the other end of the aisle blatantly staring at her ass in the little black shorts she wore, her long pale legs stretched.

Don’t talk to her, Ora thought, she’ll kill you.

The words were dulled. Ora didn’t really care any longer, everyone was going to die in the end, it was only a matter of how long it took Ashley to get tired of them living.

“Could I get the, ah, the puppies something?” Ora asked, pitching their voice even lower.

Ashley paused, in the middle of grabbing two bags of kettle-cooked chips, and she turned to look at Ora. A bit of white-blonde hair fall over her eyes, and for a second Ora could see the blood spotted on her face-

But no.

No blood, not today. Today was Shopping Day.

“What do you want to get them?” Ashley asked. There wasn’t any anger in her, or jealousy. Just curiosity.

“Doughnuts,” Ora said quickly, forcing themself to speak without hesitating, or they’d never be able to do it. “Just... chocolate-covered doughnuts, please. We could, um, have them for breakfast tomorrow?”

Ashley paused, then dumped the two bags of chips into the cart, too. “Yeah, no problem. Honestly, those two could use the calorie intake, my brother’s going to fuck them into the ground at this point.”

Ora winced - and caught a look between the two guys that had been looking at Ashley’s ass. When Ashley noticed them and turned the full force of her glacial coldness on them, the interest that had been in them died away, chilled and froze, and the two of them made a quick exit from the aisle.

Ashley smiled, thinking. “Where do you think they live, Ora?”

Ora sighed, closing their eyes.

They hated seeing the bodies before Ashley killed them.

“I don’t know. Can I get the doughnuts now?”

They didn’t care about those guys. Getting Red and Faerie Boy the doughnuts was the only thing Ora could do to help anyone now. Not that it mattered

"Oh, yeah, let’s go. We’ll get those, I think they’re two-for-one on that table over there. Get like six bags.”

Ora nodded, swallowing back the unease they felt whenever they were out in public now. Ashley bounced along, a spring in her step, and Ora followed with heaviness weighing them down.

It didn’t matter.

Nothing mattered.

But they could do a nice thing for Red and Faerie Boy, and maybe that would make up a little bit for all the things they couldn’t do.

#the bad arc #ashley denner is fucking feral #ora collins is always nervous #Daniel Michaelson's story

[ashintheairlikesnow]

For the sentence starter: "There are things that I can do to you that are much worse than this."

“There are things I can do to you that are much worse than this.”

Nate stares at her, one eyebrow slowly raising in an expression of pure skepticism. He practiced this expression for years in his previous life, and he has never had a chance to weaponize it as effectively as he does now.

“I f-f-fail to s-see how there’s anything w-worse you can do than f-f-force me to, to, to l-listen to your story about Ch-Cheez Whiz again.”

Ashley rolls her eyes, kicks her feet up on the kitchen table, and settles in for the challenge. 

“What about if I tell you about that time Brammie kept a monk for a year?”

#ashley denner is fucking feral #five sentence fics

[ashintheairlikesnow]

3 and 4 for my wife Ashley - Pink

3. Scars or painful spots

Ashley does have scarring across her palms. It's faint, from a childhood accident near a riverbank. She was alone at the time and no one knew what happened, she came back with bleeding palms and no memory of the past several hours.

It was her mother's first omen that perhaps their family was different.

Other than that... Oh, @pinkcupboardwitch, Ashley leaves the scars, she doesn't get them.

At least, it would scar if she ever let a victim live.

4. Best places to kiss on their body

You'll die trying

But if she likes you... Well, she isn't averse to kissing that starts at her mouth and makes its way down from there.

#ashley denner is fucking feral

[ashintheairlikesnow]

BTHB: Forced to Watch

That’s right, it’s that time again! @muffinworry​ requested: @badthingshappenbingo​:  forced to watch with my girl ashley

As always: puppy stickers equals fulfilled, blood stains are requested

Tagging: @bleeding-demon-teeth, @spiffythespook, @finder-of-rings, @whumpywhumper​ @special-spicy-chicken​

CW: Stabbing, blood, referenced/implied noncon and abuse

“Ora, if you don’t start paying attention, this story is going to take a really long time to tell.” 

When Ora didn’t look up - a flash of the green hair on their head, dirty and clumped together by now, all they gave Ashley to look at -  Ashley sighed heavily, wondering why she put up with this. Sure, she didn’t know how to drive and Ora Collins at least appeared to have the car mostly under control (totally under control at the moment, as they were not even in the car, they were tied to a chair), but they were three days in and they should feel bonded by now.

Right? Shouldn’t they?

How long did it take Bram to start getting his boys to bond with him? Oh, but Bram had the eyes, and Ashley was never going to have the eyes. Not unless they met another like themselves and Bram helped her cut that one’s eyes out. 

“Ora. Come on, this place is a shithole and I do not have all day to walk you through this.” Ora sniffed, and Ashley paused while licking a bit of red off one fingernail. “What? What’s that noise for?”

Sometimes - if she was truly honest with herself - Ashley envied the other vampires. It would have been nice to live on blood, copper-salt-sweet and sparking with life in it. She could have been a great vampire like that. Instead, here she was, buzzing off the conflicting miseries of relief and hate and - strongest of all - fear that came from the poor little thing she carried along with her.

Well, and nice and full already from the meal currently slumped hard to one side and tied to a chair across the table from Ora.

“Ora, I am talking to you, and you remember the rules-”

“I’m sorry!” Ora jerked their head back up this time, meeting Ashley’s gaze with wide, frightened hazel eyes. Honestly, Ora’s eyes were their best feature, and Ashley never got tired of how they looked ringed in white from fear. “I’m s-sorry, Ashley, it’s just-... it’s just, it’s really h-h-hard to watch, to watch you...”

“What? To watch me cut him up?” Ashley blinked, looked at the man tied to the chair next to where she stood, then back to Ora. She gestured with the large chef’s knife she held in one hand, already smeared with the man’s blood. “He died like two hours ago, Ora, what’s the problem?”

“H-he… I kn, I know he’s d-dead, Ashley, but you k-keep cutting h-h-him…” Ora’s voice hiccupped, finally, into sobs and their head dropped once more as they began to cry, tears wetting little droplets onto the fabric of their jeans. They were still wearing the ones she had met them in, although Ashley had been nice enough to steal a bunch of different shirts and underwear somewhere in Iowa.

She was pretty sure they were in Nebraska now? It was flat and pointless, in any case, and Ashley had vague memories of the center of this stupid baby country being flat and pointless. Harder people lived out here, but fewer of them. 

No one like her could live long without a nice big population center to feed on, and Nebraska… Nebraska wasn’t it.

Ashley sighed and raked a hand back through her hair, frowning as she remembered she had a lot of blood on that hand. Oh, well. She’d have to shower before they left anyway. Brammie would take Ora into the shower with him, if he were here, start that whole mess back up, but Ashley valued her private time more than her Brammie ever had.

She missed her baby brother.

Baby by a few minutes, anyway.

But they’d find him soon enough in that prison in California, and then Ashley would set him free. It wasn’t fair to lock up something so beautifully wild as her brother. Do you blame a wolf for eating deer? Do you lock up a raccoon for digging through trash cans?

“Ora. I’m going to get rid of this whole…” She waved the knife around in a lazy circle, gesturing to the man who’d had the bad luck to piss Ashley off. “... mess. But I’m not going to do it until you have finished listening to me, and you have to look or the whole visual aid part of this just isn’t going to work.”

“B-But I don’t want to see the visual aid!” Ora wailed, and the sound of their sweet sad voice echoed off the walls. Ashley shivered, pleasantly, felt electricity light up her nerve endings and flood her veins. Moments like this were why Brammie kept Nate around, weren’t they? That little buzz in your fingertips, behind your eyes, the way Ashley felt like any moment now her hair might stand on end from the pure perfection of Ora Collins and their precious little fear.

“Ora. Darling. Light of my life, love of my heart. My absolute goddamn treasure.” Ashley leaned over, pointing the blade right at Ora’s little face. 

She watched their head slowly rise, eyes nearly crossing as they focused with new panic on the point of the knife so close to them. Ashley licked her lips, slowly, and tilted her head to take in more fully the sudden quick rise and fall of Ora’s chest under their baggy shirt. 

“Watch. The visual. Aid. Or I will cut your eyelids off so you can’t blink any longer. Am I understood?”

Ora’s throat moved in a sudden a swallow and they nodded quickly, hair falling into their face, and Ashley used the chef’s knife to gently - ever so gently - push it back to the side. She loved watching the wide hazel eyes following every movement.

“So. As I was saying. Brammie’s little boyfriend and I - he’d been living with us for three years by then, give or take - were alone in the house. Brammie still had to hunt, because he wasn’t doing enough to Nate to just, to just really eat him by then. It’s that whole nonsense thing about love, you know? We’ve been around for so, so long, and Brammie’s boys are a dime a dozen for forever and then we run into this pretty little prince of his and bam!” Ashley slammed her free hand down on the table and Ora jumped, letting out a scared little cry.

Ashley felt the reverberation of that cry right down her spine, like the lick of a lover’s tongue.

“Bam,” She repeated but gently this time. “He’s in love. He’s in love, Ora Collins, and you know what my Brammie and I don’t do?” Ora swallowed again - they swallow so much when they’re talking to Ashley, don’t they? - and ventured, in a trembling voice, “You, you don’t… fall in love?”

“Right. Absolutely right, Ora-who-I-adore-ah. We don’t fall in love. Why would we? Everyone dies in the end but us. What’s the goddamn point?” She sighed and rested her free hand on Ora’s shoulder, giving it a little reassuring squeeze, leaning over to look right at them. Ora stared back, their eyes shifting back and forth, as though trying to find some softness or give on Ashley’s.

There was none to find. 

Ashley knew her eyes were empty, reflection of light off the ice of a vast, lifeless lake. Bram had all the life in his. Ashley was nothing but walking death.

“So, anyway. Nate came to live with us - and at first we had to lock him in, and my Brammie… oh, the things my Brammie did to him.” Ashley breathed out, the happy memories flooding her system, and moved slowly away, circling the chair Ora was tied to, turning to look at the dead man on the other side of this small, sad little Formica table in some stupid shit town in stupid fucking Nebraska in this absolutely pointless fucking country.

“Wh-what things?” Ora asked, voice still shaky, but a little steadier now. “I r-read a little about the trial…”

“Hmmm, I doubt much of that came into play. Nate liked the things my Brammie did. You don’t talk about the parts you like in court, in my experience.” 

“Have you… eh-ever been to court?”

Ashley paused, tapping her chin with the blunt side of the knife. “I guess I haven’t. Well, unimportant to my story so shut your fucking face for five seconds while I set up the visual aid.”

Ora nodded, biting down on their lower lip. Ashley watched them stretch their wrists against the strength of the rope and find just enough give to add a little comfort, not enough to escape. Ashley was being nice to Ora, but she wasn’t going to be that nice… or that stupid.

Brammie had been stupid, once. 

Ashley would never be dumb enough to give another body the chance.

“So. In any case, after three years, you know, we were pretty used to each other.” Ashley started walking again, looking down to watch her own toes spread out against the dingy tile floor, yellowed with time. She stopped behind the man’s body, grabbing it by the short black hair on its head and yanking back, lifting the empty horrified green eyes to stare right at Ora. “We had our routine. Nate did all the cooking and cleaning like the good little housewife Brammie kept him to be, they fucked a lot-”

Ora winced.

“Oh, what, you’ve never fucked someone? What about Penny? I mean, it seemed like you did-”

“N-no, it’s just… it’s not that, Ashley, I swear, it’s just-” Ora’s gaze went to the fridge - wide open with only a jug of expired milk and a half-empty box of baking soda inside - and then it danced everywhere but at Ashley. “Can you not make me look at his, um, his eyes?”

“Oh, this is the problem? Yeah, sure.” Ashley dropped the head and it flopped hard back down, chin on its chest. “Sorry about that.”

“Th-thank you, Ashley,” Ora whispered. Oh, they learned the rules fast, and they learned them well. Ashley might actually regret killing Ora once they made it to her destination.

“Anyway. My story. So we had a good thing going, the three of us. Nate was a dartboard, he was a footstool for me one time, I cut the shit out of him, he and Brammie had some weird fucked up sex thing going… it was just a really good life, trust me. Then… then Brammie goes out hunting one day because he couldn’t hurt Nate anymore, he was in love the absolute dumbass, and while he was out…”

Ashley sighed, resting one arm on the shoulder of the corpse, looking down at it a little fondly. “While Brammie was out hunting, Nate picked up a knife. I didn’t expect it anymore. I thought… I was an idiot. He fooled us both, that son of a bitch. He shouldn’t have been able to but he did. He was cooking for me, and I came in to check on the progress, and…” Ashley’s grip tightened on the handle of the chef’s knife.

“And… and what?” Ora looked up slowly, nervously.

Ashley smiled, and there was blood smeared on her teeth. “Then he fucking stabbed me to death, Ora.” 

Her arm moved with inhuman speed to jam the blade right through the corpse’s chest, and Ora let out a startled breathy scream, jerking at their restraints. “Like this. And this. And fucking this. Get your fucking eyes back on me!” Ora started to cry, again, tears racing down their face on either side like gorgeous little raindrops, and Ashley laughed, a high-pitched half-shattered sound, at the sight. 

Ashley kept stabbing, making new wounds in a dead body over and over and over again, checking to see if Ora was looking, and they were, they were. The horror and disgust, the way Ora’s face went white and then green, it all fed Ashley, settled deep inside her bones and she felt the most ancient parts of her shift in happiness, in every single second being exactly what she was made to be.

She counted up the wounds - she thought maybe 37, it was hard to remember when you were being fucking stabbed to death by your brother’s boyfriend - and when she was done the knife clattered back to the ground, and Ashley stood, breathing hard, a snarl pulling lips back from her pinkish-stained teeth. “He killed me, Ora. Brammie’s little boyfriend killed me. Then he got up, and he left while I was still choking on my own fucking blood, and when I woke up it was five years later and you and your little asshole girlfriend were in my fucking house and my brother’s in fucking prison!”

Ora cringed back into their seat, into the restraints, trying to choke back their sobs and failing, failing miserably, failing beautifully. The sound of their tears bounced off the walls in this dirty little kitchen and everything seemed, in that moment, just a little bit brighter.

Pl-please,” Ora half-whispered, trembling and beautiful. “Please don’t, don’t do th-th-this anymore, please…”

Ashley sighed, nudging the corpse with her foot. Blood leaked from wounds as an afterthought, the motherfucker was too dead to be worth much of a show. Ashley looked down at her own hands, ran them over her chest and torso, reminding herself that her wounds were gone. They had healed, while she waited to come back. 

They had healed.

She was healed.

And she had a fucking job to do.

“That was the end of the visual aid, Ora. But my point is, Nate Vandrum is a piece of shit who didn’t know how good he had it, he murdered me, and I would very much like to find his dumb ass and murder him right back. But I have a feeling my brother won’t let me. So you - and I - are going to do the next best thing.”

“We… w-we are?” Ora raised their head one more, and Ashley moved to them swiftly, leaning over to take that softly rounded little chin in her hand. They did not flinch or pull away from her touch - they knew so many rules now, they were such a good little friend. “What’s the next best th-thing, Ashley?”

“Please,” Ashley said gently, lovingly, petting at Ora’s face, leaving little red stripes there that would dry and turn brown and flake away. “Please call me Ash, Ora, we’re friends now, aren’t we?”

“R-Right. F-F-Friends, Ash.” Ora nodded quickly, swallowing hard again. “We’re friends, right. Wh, whatever you say, is, is right.”

“That’s my… well. That’s my little Ora. See, this is why you got to be the one that lived. Lucky, lucky little thing.” Ashley kissed them once on each cheek, then petted one hand gently through Ora’s hair. After holding themselves stiffly still, Ashley felt Ora slowly force themselves to relax, and smiled with delight when Ora pushed their head a little harder into the touch of Ashley’s hand.

“Oh, you’re so good,” Ashley murmured, nearly purred the words, and Ora let out a shaking, audible breath of relief. “You’re such a good Oracle. We’re going to find my brother, we’ll let him out, and he will lead us to Nate Vandrum and that redheaded mop he tried to kill him for.”

“And, and then we’ll k-k-kill them?” Ora asked, keeping their voice low, whispering right back to her. “Then they’ll d-d-die?”

“Hm.” Ashley cradled Ora’s head in her hands for a moment longer, then let go and stood, stretching her arms high over her head, until the knobs of her spine cracked, until she felt the stretch of every single muscle in her body.

You should never take those living muscles for granted, after all. They could die any day, and not everyone would die with the coins to pay their debt.

“I d-d-don’t want to help you kill anyone,” Ora said, low and pleading. “I don’t want to be a murderer, Ash.”

“Don’t worry, darling, you won’t.” Ashley smiled. 

“B-but… you’re going to kill them?”

Ashley kicked the bloody knife until it banged hard into a wall across the little room. “Probably not.” Ora looked up, hope in their pretty hazel eyes, and Ashley licked her lips against how it was about to feel when she drained all that hope away. “They tried to kill my brother, after all. Killing them is going to be his job. But you and I… well. Have you ever heard about how the people who lived here before the colonists fucked it all up used to trap buffalo?”

Ora blinked, and slowly shook their head. Hair fell back over their eyes, but this time Ashley left it there. “N-No, Ash, I haven’t.”

“They would find the buffalo, and set up a trap. And a few would wave blankets and shout and maybe shoot an arrow or two, but the buffalo would stampede away from what they saw at the threat and run right into the trap. They’d get caught there, milling around, and then they just waited to die. So we’re going to set my brother free. We’re going to find his pretty little buffalo roaming the open range.” Ashley slid her hands into the back pockets of her own jeans, licking a drop of blood from the corner of her mouth. “Then you and I are going to wave some blankets and yell.”

“And… and y-y-your brother does the, um, the killing?” Ora’s voice was low, but after a second they nodded, thoughtfully. “I can… I can do that. If I don’t d-d-do the killing, Ash, I can, I can do that.”

“Wonderful. I knew I liked you for a reason. Now stay here and watch over our little buddy while I go take a shower. Once I’m clean, you can have yours and we’ll see if we can’t find you some fucking sweatpants or something in this house.” Ashley paused, then clapped her hands together in sudden delight. “I’m pretty sure I saw a KFC when we came in through town, let’s have fried chicken for dinner!”

Ora stared at the dead man who had once owned this house, and who had made the mistake of catcalling Ashley and calling Ora some kind of slur while they were getting gas. He was a dick to Ashley, and now he was dead.

To Ashley, it all made absolutely perfect sense.

Finally, Ora said softly, “Fried, um, fried chicken sounds pretty g-g-good…”

“And what do we say when someone offers to give us a gift, Oracle Collins?”

Ora smiled up at her - it was watery, and frightened, but it was a smile. “We s-s-say thank you, Ash. Thank you for offering to get me fried chicken for dinner.”

“You’re so welcome, love.” Ashley ruffled Ora’s pretty green hair and then turned to walk away. As she stomped up the stairs, she called out, “I’ll buy you some new hair dye, too, let’s get you all bright and fun again before we head west tomorrow!”

Oracle Collins, wearing week-old dirty jeans and tied down to a chair three feet from a corpse still leaking blood from too many stab wounds to count, let their eyes go slowly unfocused so they wouldn’t have to see anything at all any longer.

Somewhere nearby a police siren started up, but Ora didn’t raise their head. 

They knew those sirens weren’t coming to help.

#whump #bad things happen bingo #bthb daniel michaelson's story #Daniel Michaelson's story #violent whumper #intimate whumper #female whumper #whumpee #restrained #captivity #tw: blood #tw: stabbing #Ashley denner is fucking feral #ora collins is always nervous #whump road trip #tw: murder #bthb

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Ashley Denner, Everyone

(Technically this is the first half of the next Bad Things Happen Bingo - Forced to Watch - but the actual Forced to Watch part didn’t make it into this one. Sooooo consider this a kind of prequel for that?)

CW: Ashley Denner is fucking feral. TW: Choking, violence, beating, blood

Tagging my peope: @special-spicy-chicken, @spiffythespook, @bleeding-demon-teeth, @finder-of-rings - and @muffinworry because the next two Ashley bits are 100% for you!

Ashley Denner opened her eyes for the first time in five and a half years to find they were absolutely fucking full of dirt.

She hissed out the last whispers of her final breath, caught in her throat all this time, and shook her head wildly to try and dislodge the soil, brought hands up to her face only to find they were covered in dirt, too, smeared with dried blood from long, long ago.

The dirt in her eyes, on her face, ground into the knuckles of her hands, had been loose, perhaps, once. Now it was packed down by weather and the feet of the animals that had stepped over her all unknowing while Ashley had waited for her debt to be paid. Her bones ached, underneath what passed for skin, stone-cold and deep white in the shallow grave in the woods, still wearing the black shirt she had died in, torn to shreds along the front where her brother’s boyfriend had stabbed her to death, faded to soft charcoal by time.

“Fuck,” She said, or tried to - her voice was a hoarse nothing-sound, her throat felt scratched from the inside out. Lungs that had lain dormant struggled to take in air again, inflating within her only with conscious effort. Her heart beat sluggishly, off-kilter, missing beats that paused too long and left her gasping, ice-blue eyes wide.

Her hands moved, well enough, and when her heart and lungs finally began to cooperate Ashley simply pushed the dirt off of herself, felt it shift to the side. She sat up, staring around, her legs out straight in front of her in a slight depression in the earth, her head right up against her favorite oak tree.

There were no coins on her eyes - her payment back had been accepted. You are not done, child. Go home and feed.

It was dark around her, the final piece of sunset when there is just enough light to see by... but the sky she could see in snatches through the leaves on the trees was a rich void, and the first hints of stars glittered here and there.

She could see Mars, tonight, she thought. How wonderful it was, when they had discovered the planets. How beautiful it had been to watch them be named one by one. How disappointing, when she and Brammie and the world had learned there weren’t any of the things they’d hoped for on Mars.

Only here, on Earth, were there the bodies to feed from. She and Brammie had been so upset - they’d had such plans for the future.

Leaves slowly decayed and rotted around her, and she thought there might be a chill in the air. Fall? Ashley looked down at herself, at the skin visible through the tears in her shirt. Perfectly unmarked skin, the palest small curve and shadow, a hint of her navel.

She blinked the grave dirt from her eyes, spat it out of her mouth to the side, and began the arduous process of forcing the muscles in her legs to remember how to stand up. Still wearing the jeans she’d had on, too - the fabric smeared with mud but softened by years out here in the elements. She was barefoot but that has never bothered Ashley Denner, she took first one halting step and then another.

Her legs struggled to hold her - the muscles and bone don’t want to do this, they want to be dead, to die, to rot and decay away like the other bodies do. But Ashley Denner is not like the other bodies.

She found a hairtie still around her left wrist, and smiled as she pulled dirty, stiff, clumped-up hair back into a ponytail. There was a perfect ring of untouched white skin where the hairtie had been all these years.

Through the woods she could see the house, and knew without having to be told that her brother was no longer there. Instead, the sense of him was very far away - too far, they have never been so far apart once in their lives as they are right now. Her eyes slowly moved, dancing in the darkness, to stare towards the west.

Brammie had gone to the west, somewhere, and she could feel him itching at walls, waiting for her to find him. They are stronger together. They have always been stronger together.

She had been the one to balk, at the end, to try to leave the circle when Mother gave them over. Brammie had pulled her back in, just a little too late - she hadn’t been ready, then. But she had been declared ready enough, and time had taken care of all those odd little uncertainties she had once had about this.

She was a good and willing servant, now.

She spat another gob of soil and saliva onto the ground, and trudged, her feet dragging through leaves and kicking aside sticks, towards the house her brother no longer lived in. Something does - she could see movement, the hint of a light. She could feel them inside - two bodies, heartbeats and breath waiting to be stilled.

Out west, Brammie was waiting for her.

But she had a long way to travel, and Ashley Denner had been dead for a long time.

She was very, very hungry.

Honestly? She was fucking starving for a good meal.

Her feet began to move with greater purpose and assurance, as bones and muscle remembered themselves, what they were made into, what they are designed to do. She cracked the knuckles in her hands, smiled at the satisfying little pops of sound. The light moved from window to window.

The paint peeled along the side of the house, coming off the siding in strips. The white birch tree that Nate used to watch through Brammie’s window was still there, but it looked sickly now. The great big rock at the bottom of it, with a soft depression on one side perfect for settling into - for pulling Nate down onto her lap and watching him grind his teeth to make himself hold still while Brammie laughed and laughed - was still there, too.

The yard was overgrown, with grass she waded through more than walked. They lived at the end of the street, backed up against the woods, and there was an unfamiliar car in the driveway just in front of the stairs leading up to the front door.

Beat-up old car, and Ashley cocked her head, staring at it. Her eyes glowed, just a little, in the dark as she realized that they have been living in her house. These bodies have been here unharmed, staining it, maybe sleeping in Brammie’s bed and only he and Nate are meant to sleep there, now.

“Someone has been sleeping in my bed,” Ashley said out loud, her voice scratched and cracking from disuse, and she began to laugh, a high-pitched cackling sound like shattered glass, the echo of her brother’s laugh.

Her brother, who was so far away from her, but he would not be far away for long.

“Shit, did you hear that?” She heard in a sudden hiss from inside, and cut herself off. No good to let them hear her too quickly.

“Hear what, dumbass? I have my headphones in.”

She moved with deliberate slowness to circle around to the front of the house, letting her eyes linger on the car - it’s solid enough, a deep blue Hyundai something-something, with a bumper sticker that says COEXIST in religious symbols, and Ashley smiled and dragged her fingernail across it, slowly.

“We do not coexist with you,” She whispered to the sticker, to the unknowing bodies inside the house. “You exist for us.”

There was a laugh from inside, a trill of sound that ran up Ashley’s spine like her mother’s voice calling them in for supper. “No way!” She heard - higher voice, probably female. “No way we’re staying here overnight! This house is fucking haunted, Ora, the Carver used to live here, remember? It was on the news, he lived right here in this fucking house. No way I’m staying in some pervert’s fucking abandoned nightmare mansion.”

“I wouldn’t call it a mansion,” The other voice answered - lower, but she can’t decide if it’s male or female at all. Ashley stood on the bottom step, looking at the front door - the screen door banged open and fell off long ago and lay flat on the front porch, the screen torn to shreds. The larger wooden door still stood, but it was open, and when she took three steps up she saw straight inside to the entryway, where the steps go upstairs to her left and the coat closet with the big long mirror was on the right. “This place has been abandoned since way before that shit kidnapped that guy. Besides, he’s in prison. What the fuck’s he going to do?”

Ashley cocked her head, paused with three steps left to go.

Prison? Brammie is in prison?

“You don’t think he probably killed some people while he lived here? I’ve read true crime books, Ora, these shits don’t ever just stop at one thing, you know? Remember the other guy? He said they weren’t the first.”

“Brammie never killed anyone here,” Ashley whispered, knowing it wouldn’t carry to them. She didn’t want it to. “I did.”

“Yeah, I know, but I’ve read the books, too, Penny, and they escalate to killing, they don’t start there. He got his rocks off with the abduction of that Michaelson kid, that was good enough for him, so he didn’t-”

“Oh, fuck off, Ora. I’m not staying here, and that’s final.”

“Yes, you are,” Ashley whispered, and took the final three steps. The front porch was solid poured concrete, with bricks lining in and little columns she moved past towards the door. Her feet were silent, and the old doormat was still there to prickle at her heels with the rough woven fabric she’d once used to wipe mud and blood off her boots when she came home after a good hunt.

Walk in to the house well-lit and warmed, with Brammie and Nate making dinner, the light and joy in her brother’s eyes when he looked at his true love, waiting for him to be ready. Now, the entryway was cold and dark, the brown shag carpeting that had been old when they moved in here looked even worse now.

“... Okay now I definitely heard something!”

“Oh good Lord. I’ll go check, Penny, keep your pants on. I just thought we could crash here tonight, but if you’re so fucking scared of fucking ghosts-” Ashley stood just inside the doorway, head tilted, as a skinny little thing with bright dyed-green hair and a pile of oversized clothes on turned the corner between the kitchen and dining room to come into the entryway and stopped stock-still, staring at Ashley, wide-eyed.

“Oh holy fuck,” Ora whispered, and then Ashley smiled.

Oh, right. Her teeth were covered in dirt, too.

“Oh, shit, Penny-” Ora looked over their shoulder, already turning to run, but Ashley was faster - she’d always been fast, fastest runner in the village when she was still alive - and her hand closed around the little thing’s throat, closing, feeling the crush of the windpipe, the vocal chords, the air that whistled with effort in and out of panicking lungs. She grabbed an arm, too, twisted hard and felt the bone break clean in two under her fingers, heard the whistling hiss of agonized half-breathing from the sweet young thing writhing against her.

Fear spiked between them - fear and agony - and Ashley shuddered as the yawning hunger inside of her lessened, just a little bit, at the panic and pain as the body struggled to breathe. She pulled them with her, back around the corner and up onto the carpeted steps upstairs. The body was warm and sweet against her, maybe a hint of curve under all that clothing, maybe not - Ashley didn’t care.

All the bodies were beautiful when they were dying.

The Ora-body was still mouthing words, though none came out, attempting to swear or to beg, who knew? She didn’t care. Ashley grinned at them, licking at her teeth to try and get some of the grave dirt off, then turned her head towards where she thought Penny had gone. “Oh shit, Penny,” She said, in a perfect imitation of the Ora-body’s voice. “Shit, someone keyed the car, that must have been what you heard! Come look!”

There was a sudden rush of motion from the kitchen - she could picture it, right where the microwave and the toaster lived side by side, the little electric can opener built-in under the cabinets the line of cookie jars Ashley had collected along the very top of the cupboards near the ceiling. The one that was a little cat was her favorite, and she wondered, idly, if it was still there.

“No,” The Ora-body tried to shout, to warn her, but without air she could barely even get out a sound. “No, Penny, no-”

“Someone keyed the car? Oh, fuck, Ora, we have to-... Ora?”

Penny stopped, just in the open doorway between dining room and entryway, less than five feet away, her head turned towards the open door. Ora snorted, the last bit of noise they could manage, and as Penny’s head whipped back to look at them, Ashley bashed Ora’s head into the wall as hard as she could.

The sound wasn’t a crack, or a thud, but something delightfully trapped somewhere between the two. Ora went limp in her grip and Ashley threw them straight into Penny, bowling her over. By the time Penny had started trying to get back onto her feet, Ashley was already on her.

Ora lay on the ground, groaning and whistling air, twisting to try and get their feet back under them, one hand up to their throat, clawing at it like maybe Ashley had simply wrapped something there, the other bent at a hideous angle against their stomach. She stepped right over the Ora-body and tilted her head, taking in the Penny-body where she had managed to push herself back up, terrified wide eyed between her friend on the floor and where Ashley stood blocking her way out.

The Ora-body moved as she stepped over it, and she hissed and kicked them hard in the stomach. “Stay down!”

The Ora-body huffed in pain, curled up tighter, and stayed still.

Oh, good. At least one of them had a brain.

“Wh-what the fuck, what the-... what the fuck,” Penny whispered, tears in her eyes, and Ashley tilted her head. Brown hair, brown eyes, pale skin, the same oversized layers of clothing the Ora-body wore. They smelled alike, too, the scent that drifted off of both of them a mix of each other’s skin-smell, sweat, and fear.

“Oh,” Ashley said softly, something dawning in her mind, a spark of light and understanding. “Are you not going to run, Penny?”

“Pl-please, what do you-... what do you want? We don’t have any money, I swear, we don’t have anything,” Penny’s voice was a whimper and Ashley swallowed, ignoring the grind and grit of the remaining dirt moving down her throat.

“Yes, you do,” Ashley said, raising an eyebrow, gesturing back over her shoulder. “You have a car. And I have a very, very long way to go.”

“Y… you want the, the car?” Penny’s eyes skittered that way and then back to her, trying to keep her in her sights, her hands up in submission, in supplication. “You can have it! Here, I have, I have the keys in my front pocket-”

“You don’t understand. I can’t fucking drive, you goddamn idiot. And I’m really fucking hungry.” Ashley snorted and kicked the Ora-body again - if she were alive she might have snapped some toes, but all that happened was that the Ora-body shook and made a low soft breathy whine of pain. Ashley’s eyes narrowed at the sound, the itch in her fingertips to recreate it again and again and again.

I think I get why Brammie lets them live for so long.

“You’re… hungry?” Penny glanced back towards the kitchen and then back to her. “We, um, we brought some granola bars…”

“Oh for the love of Christ. I don’t want your fucking granola bars. You know, this was always so much easier when Brammie was here.”

“Br-Brammie?”

“Bram. Abraham. Whatever.”

“… Abraham Denner?” The Penny-body, backed up a couple of steps, her eyes back on her friend, then one step more. “The, the Carver in the Cabin? You know him?”

“Oh, is that a new name for him? I like it. Brammie’s my brother,” Ashley said casually. She moved to reach down and pull the Ora-body back to their feet when Penny lunged to try and run past her, and Ashley laughed, abandoning Ora for the moment to grab Penny by the arm, yank her back up against her, feel the twist and wriggle of her body through her clothes as she fought to get out of the grip and failed. “Oh, you were just going to leave your poor friend here? Damn, Ora, Penny’s a stone-cold bitch. Did you know that the first time you slept together, or did that knowledge come to you gradually?”

The Ora-body’s eyes widened, and they began to try and get to their feet, only for Ashley to kick them again, in the head this time. Ora’s head snapped back and they cried out, the sound cracked from the damage already done to their throat. The noise bounced around the inside of the dark, abandoned house.

Ashley felt it come back to life, just a little bit, at the sound. She slammed her feet down onto Ora’s leg - the bone didn’t break but Ora’s gasp told her it had at least hurt.

Her body blossomed, grew warm deep within her, and she felt a rush of saliva into her mouth all at once. She would make Ora bleed - both of them, really, but she could already tell Ora was going to be a lot more fun.

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” Ashley said conversationally. “I need a ride out west to see my brother. You two want to live. I’m hungry. You’re about to be in so much pain. All of these things are related and oh fuck, I’m so fucking hungry.” She glanced over at the Penny-body, clawing fruitlessly at her grip to try and get free, then slammed her into the wall.

Penny’s head cracked against it and she yelled, but it wasn’t loud enough, so Ashley hit her into the wall again. Louder pain this time, and Ashley licked her lips at the spot of red that appeared on the peeling white paint. Finally, a third time, and this time the Penny-body went limp. Still breathing, but Ashley would take care of that particular problem very, very soon.

She let the body drop with a thump to the floor, turned to look at Ora, who stared back with wide, slightly glazed hazel eyes, hand pressed against their head where she’d kicked them. Ashley dropped into a crouch next to them, leaning over and pushing a bit of the bright green hair out of their face, tucking it behind one heavily-pierced ear.

“Ooooh, you have gauges, pretty,” Ashley murmured, flicking one with her fingertips to watch the stretched skin move around the deep mottled green stone inside.

The Ora-body flinched, trying to roll to the side and away, and Ashley’s eyes narrowed. She slid her hand back around Ora’s neck and tightened her grip, just a little, felt the body go still and frightened as she pushed into the skin that was already starting to darken with bruising. “Rule number one,” She said, quietly. “Never pull away from me.”

“Wh-what?” Ora’s voice was raspy now, a little desperate. The kid was sweet honestly Sweet and scared, their throbbing pain a shudder of good yes now more through Ashley’s body, filling in under her skin, lighting her up with energy, with satisfaction. “I, I don’t… please, please don’t hurt me anymore-”

Ashley tilted her head. “Be good and I won’t have to.” She looked over at the Penny-body, a still-breathing unconscious lump on the ground.

Not right away, anyway. Two good meals could last me a while if I can make it work like Brammie does. One big meal to start, lots of little ones during the trip.

“Listen, Ora. My brother is in prison somewhere out west-”

“Ca-... He’s in California,” Ora said quietly, and Ashley’s eyes snapped back to theirs. Ora seemed to shrink into themselves, into the layers of shirts and the big coat. “S-Sorry, I’m sorry-... don’t tighten your hand anymore-”

“No, don’t apologize. I like this, this conversation we’re having. California? Why is he all the way out there? We’ve never been to California. We never wanted to go that far.”

“He, uh… you don’t know?” Ashley frowned and tightened her hand, and Ora’s hand clawed at hers, scrabbling to find some kind of purchase, their broken arm twitching as they tried instinctively to move it and then keened, higher-pitched than the noise they’d made before, at the pain. “I’m, please, I need, I need air-”

“Answer my question, Ora. Rule number two - always answer the questions Ashley asks you.”

“Uh, he, h-he-he… he, uh, um, abducted this g-g-guy, guy was from, from California, he got caught and he’s in prison-”

“We don’t get caught,” Ashley said, eyes widened slightly in horror at the idea. “What does that even mean? How did he get caught?”

“The, the other guy-... the other guy turned him in.”

Ashley’s world went dark and narrow, the only pinpoint of her vision the face of the little body in front of her. She rubbed her thumb against Ora’s jaw, feeling their bone underneath, the shift of the skin in their throat as they swallowed hard, the little wince of pain at how it must hurt to force even just a swallow through the damaged esophagus. “... the other guy?”

She didn’t have to ask.

She knew exactly who the other guy had to be.

That son of a fucking bitch never knew how good he had it. Oh, I am going to find you, Nathaniel John Vandrum, and I am going to flay you the fuck alive and make you watch me turn your skin into tanned hide and then you can wear it as a coat and Brammie will just have to-

“I d-don’t know the name of the, the-”

“Sssshhh, that’s okay, Ora. You don’t need to know everything. You’re doing great.” She leaned down and kissed the wrinkled, frightened little forehead of the young one in front of her. “How old are you? What’s your whole name? Just Ora?”

“Wh-what?”

“I asked how old you are. Your name. Rule number two, Ora.”

“I-I-I remember, rule two, answer ques, questions. I’m sorry. I’m, um, I’m 21. I’m 21 years old, and my name is Oracle, my parents were super fucked up when they h-h-had me, I have, um, I can do… I’m sorry, so sorry! Oracle Collins but, but I just go by Ora... Penny is, um, Penny is 20.”

Ashley smiled, pleased, nuzzled against Ora’s face, felt them trembling under her touch. “Perfect. You even guessed my next question and answered it first. That’s great, Ora. That’s really, really good. Plus, I like your hair better than Penny’s hair, so you win.”

“I… I win?” Ora shivered as Ashley pulled away, their face white and tight with pain, arm clutched hard against their chest. “What do I win?”

Ashley moved back and yanked Ora to their feet by their neck. Nothing seemed to be out of place - everything right where Brammie had left it. Which meant everything she needed right now was probably still in the supply closet, waiting for her.

“I need to go west, to California, to find my brother. I’m hungry and I need to eat. I need one driver, but I have two new friends. And your girlfriend tried to leave you here alone with me. I don’t like that about her. People should be loyal to each other, and she’s not loyal. I don’t like her.”

She looked down at Penny’s limp body, then back to Ora’s wide, pretty little eyes. She drew the backs of her hands down Ora’s cheek and this time they held still for her, didn’t even move or seem to breathe. “You tried to warn her and you didn’t try to leave her with me. I like you. Tell me the rules you know now.”

“Don’t pull aw-... away,” Ora whimpered. “Answer questions.”

“That’s good, Ora. That’s so good. Congratulations, fucker. You get to be the dumbass who lives.”

For now.

“Rule number three, dumbass who lives. You should say thank you when someone does you a favor.”

Ora blinked. “A… a favor?”

“Letting you live. That’s a favor, a motherfucking gift. Say thank you for every gift you are given, and every goddamn breath I let you take is a fucking gift. So say thank you. Don’t be rude, Ora, or I won’t want you to be my driver after all.”

She squeezed Ora’s neck again and bit her lower lip, just a little, with the rush she felt when Ora whimpered, “Th-thank you, I’m sorry, thank you! Please!”

She totally understood why Brammie did this shit now.

“Good job, Ora. Now let’s get into the closet in the laundry room so you can help me get started on my dinner.”

#whump #violent whumper #Ashley denner is fucking feral #Daniel Michaelson's story #female whumper #introducing oracle collins #sorry ora #frightened whumpee #whumpees #whumpee #tw: choking #tw: violence #angry whumper #misery vampire #whumper #captivity

[ashintheairlikesnow]

🎁📦 Faerie Boy and Bram; maybe Red or Ashley if it works :) :) :)

CW: I... I don’t know how to tag this. Some blood, stabbed by scissors, I just... what the fuck, Ashley

“What do you think?”

The voices are smothered - muffled - what he can hear of them. It’s pitch black in here, and he’s been curled up inside the box for a couple of hours now. His back aches, his legs ache, everything aches.

“I think you should probably give him some fucking airholes,” Ora Collins says in their strange flat voice, numb to this as they are to everything else now.

“Oh, shit, right.”

A pause.

“Okay, Faerie Boy, try not to be near the top of the box!”

Ryan would badly like to point out that he doesn’t actually have a choice, but the gag in his mouth means all he can do is make angry muffled noises as Ashley begins to stab the large pair of scissors into the top of the already-wrapped box she forced him into.

He flinches with each new jab that misses, until finally one connects and he yelps around the gag at the flash of pain in his shoulder, the trickle of red blood.

“Oh, shit. Do you... think I got him?”

“... it would be a miracle if you didn’t.”

“Well, fuck. Oh well. Brammie will like the present anyway.”

#ashley denner is fucking feral

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Do you have a faceclaim for Bram or Ashley?

Ashley - Samara Weaving

Bram: Jedediah Goodacre

#abraham denner is a bad bad misery vampire #ashley denner is fucking feral

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Ora and Ashley 100% went through a drive-thru carwash on their road trip before they got Danny and Ashley was Horrified and Delighted and she Demanded that they go through at least five more times. Ora,, suffered

... holy shit yes.

Yes this happened.

Ashley sitting in the passenger seat with like gigantic surprised delighted eyes, clapping her hands together. “IT’S SO LOUD!”

Ora staring at her, their eyes flat and blank. “What are you, a toddler?”

#ora collins is always nervous #ashley denner is fucking feral

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Sorry if you’ve already addressed this, but what is Ashley’s sexuality?

Blood.

(in all seriousness, she prefers women but prefers to murder men. Make of that what you will.)

#ashley denner is fucking feral

[ashintheairlikesnow]

To the twins: have you ever had anyone understand what you are, and in light of it willingly try to give themselves to you/to subject themselves?

"Once or twice, yeah."

"Did we ever try to dedicate anyone? Can't remember."

"No, Ashley. You killed them all."

#abraham denner is a bad bad misery vampire #ashley denner is fucking feral

[ashintheairlikesnow]

13 for the main three (and denners if you want)

13: their embarrassing memory from years ago

Ryan: once, he was sliding down the stairway banister with a rose in one hand to give a girlfriend, and he lost his balance when he did the little jump at the end, fell over, crashed into, and smashed the rose.

Nate: getting kicked out of a bar during grad school when he and some friends got in a very loud argument about Lord Byron

Ashley: Embarrassed? What's that?

Bram: Crashed the first car he ever drove twenty minutes later. It was a Model A Ford. It was very fancy. Bram preferred horses.

Danny: Oh, he has a ton. Like when he has a boyfriend over and Ryan burst in on them just as things were getting pretty fun. Or when he asked out a guy only to have the guy admit he was only interested in Ryan. Or all the times Corrine has ever introduced him as "My adopted son, Danny."

#oc asks #daniel michaelson is a tall smol bean #ryan michaelson is a good brother #ashley denner is fucking feral #abraham denner is a bad bad misery vampire

[ashintheairlikesnow]

heheeheehe got an idea from that other anon. *points to Ashley's feet, where I assume she's once again not wearing shoes* WHAT ARE THOOOOSE

Ashley stares slowly down at her toes, then back up at you. "Ora painted them. It's called Red Light District." Her eyes narrow. "Is this a joke? Am I missing something? Ora, are they telling a joke?"

Ora, in the corner, cracks a small, thin smile. "... Yeah, Ashley. It's... a meme."

Ashley pauses. "What the fuck is a meme?"

Ora sighs.

#oc asks #ashley denner is fucking feral #ora collins is always nervous