paracsmic

[paracsmic]

If you need me, I’ll be over here fucking around with some horror vibes! FOLLOW ME!

#self promo? kind of? #I’ve got an actual promo coming i swear #but this is my little E.ddie M.unson adjacent oc and I love him very much already so that’s where I’ll be! #I’ll still be here too but the muse is just much higher over there

[paracsmic]

                RENT HERE! 

#the people i love; promos #THIS PROMO LOOKS AMAZING #sunnie once again never fails to amaze me #GO FOLLOW HER OR ILL FIGHT YOU

[paracsmic]

      IF ANYONE HAS ANY INFORMATION PLEASE CONTACT HERE! 

#the people i love; promos #SUNNIE MY LOVE #everyone go watch her give Chrissy all the love and respect she DESERVES

[paracsmic]

his pack of cigarettes is fished from his pocket before he’s even fully out of the car - smoking calms him, pushes away the incessant anxiety always lingering at the edges of his mind. cigarette smoke mingles in the air with the smoke from under the hood as he raises it, assessing the damage. 

if he was honest with himself, he didn’t know exactly what he was looking at; he was horrible with cars. he knew how to drive them but when it came to engines and belts and gaskets, he didn’t know one end from the other. 

he took the easy way out provided by his sister - a sign in the distance read “greymire - nine miles.” the turn off had looked like a dead end as far as he could see, so he had ignored it; now it seemed it was their best shot.

he slammed the hood closed again and began grabbing his things from the front seat. phone tucked into his pocket. keys. wallet. he looked over the top of his car to his sister at the passenger side. “its a long walk. you wanna stay with the car ‘til i come back with help? up to you, but i’d keep the doors locked if you did.”

there was nothing but desert surrounding them up to the base of the mountain range where trees began spattering the view, where this greymire must be tucked away. something just seemed off.

( @paracsmic / walker. ) “what’s that sound?”

she asks, waking up from what was a pleasant nap before she was rudely interrupted. a huff of breath escapes her lips as she glances around, only to see smoke beginning to pour from the front of their vehicle. walker has gone and pulled over on the side of the road, out of the way of incoming traffic. unbuckling her seatbelt, rhiannon clambers out to stand beside him, getting a face full of smoke as soon as he opens the hood of their old busted up honda.

“i think…somethin’s wrong.”

she says, and he flashes her a look of no shit, sherlock. she simply rolls her eyes, before leaning in and trying to clear some of the oncoming smoke by waving her hand in front of it. much to no avail, she can’t clear the air of the incessant fog created by something inside their vehicle.

hands on her hips, she begins to pace. the sun is setting and there is no one on the road at this time - they haven’t seen another passenger for a few miles now. she bites down on the edge of her fingernail and glances over at her brother, shoving her opposite hand into the pocket of her jeans.

cell service was a no-go at this point. they’d lost that once they started towards the mountains. when they left home, they didn’t have much of a plan, except to escape the constant glare of anyone and everyone. killing wasn’t in their blood, but that didn’t mean they weren’t accused of such. she shifts from one foot to the other before reaching for walker’s spare flashlight in the glove compartment.

“i think there was a town a mile or so back. we could go there, maybe find some help?”

she says, trying to appear as if she wasn’t on the verge of being frightened. you’re a big brave girl, rhiannon. she repeats it to herself, like a mantra.

#threads: walker bishop #dynamic: walker x rhiannon #badcompanys

[paracsmic]

badcompanys​:

she holds the red solo cup in her hand, taking small sips of what could be considered really cheap beer. it wasn’t good, but it was something to occupy her hands, something to stop them from trembling in the very least, save she spill the contents onto her clothing.

lulu’s legs are stretched out in front of her, toes perched towards the sky as she lifts her chin and stares at the vivid shocks of color that flash across the sky. each one is beautiful in it’s own right. the sounds used to scare her when she was younger, but now she’s gotten used to the random explosions ( partially because junior is junior ) and it’s more of a comfort than anything else.

the sound of a camera going off, the gentle flash of it’s bulb has her glancing over in gus’ direction, a slight flush spreading across her cheeks. “thought you came to take pictures of the sky,” she says, handing over the almost empty cup of beer for him to take a final sip if he should choose to. “it’s quite beautiful here, y’know.” they’re one of the many groups among a field, a space left to the wilds in it’s own moment.

and it’s nice to indulge in city things, every once in a while. pull her out from underneath that constant shell she’s set herself into. a particularly loud bang causes her to shift slightly, and out of the corner of her eye she sees junior running across the field, somehow having gotten hold of a roman candle, releasing his own bursts of energy into the stars above.

“y’know i used to be afraid a’these. scared outta my wits. but junior, he always loved ‘em. got his hands on ‘em whenever possible. kinda desensitized me to the whole ordeal. now i’m just….” she stops, takes a breath before continuing to speak. “i’m in awe of their beauty. that something temporary could hold so much color and light.”

its hard to imagine a time when lulu had been afraid of fireworks given her brothers inclination toward them. gus could name five times off the top of his head when junior had produced random fire crackers, smoke bombs or even roman candles seemingly out of thin air. he always seemed to have some kind of danger hidden away in those hoodie pockets.

made sense that she hadn’t been afraid of them for long.

his eyes moved back to the sky - the last few brightly colored blasts were beginning. the grand finale. he took it all in. the beauty, the colors, the noise. he was glad the twins had drug him out of his house. glad for all the the craziness that seemed to come along with lulu and weston. glad he’d met them and they’d accepted him as a part of their lives.

his lips turned up into a smile as he looked back at lulu. “wanna ditch the kid and go get tacos?”

#threads: gus parker #dynamic: gus x lulu #badcompanys #mans doesnt say much but he does ask for tacos

[paracsmic]

badcompanys​:

“don’t forget my olives this time,” she says, mocking tone before she pulls up the application for the local pizza place. lulu is tempted to ignore her brother’s wishes, per usual, but after seeing him shove money into their secret ‘hiding’ space, she figures she can indulge him just this once.

“you’re gettin’ half of a pie with olives. i don’t want  that shit on my side.” fingers tapping against the illuminated screen, she places the order. pizza. pasta. wings. hell even a bit of dessert. it was an indulgence, but she was hungry and figured that after selling a pretty picture at the art gallery this evening, she should reward herself for a job well done.

pushing up from the couch, she pads her way over towards the mostly barren refrigerator. it’s got a few drinks in it, at least, and she chucks a bottle of gatorade over at junior before taking a water for herself. it’s not much, but it’s something, enough to quench their thirst and combat dry mouth.

she turns on the television in the corner, a low iteration of some old television show playing in the background for nothing other than noise. despite the raging night life outside their window, it was still too quiet for lulu to be comfortable. she’s still used to the screaming neighbors when they lived with johnny marks, in the small garage apartment that they’d made into their home for a few months.

and there were no train tracks like there used to be near their old house from their younger years. for a while, she had to listen to the sounds on her phone because she was unable to fall asleep without it. now, she managed otherwise, but it was still difficult sometimes. the sound of a doorbell being pressed knocked her out of her stupor, and realizing the time, she went and grabbed her wallet out of her bag. 

she gave the kid a tip and grabbed all of their food items before dropping them onto the coffee table before junior. he was already about to dig in before she sat down, so she let him, but managed to throw a couple of unused napkins in his direction - just to be on the safe side.

“busy night?” she asks, tilt of the head as she glances over at her currently ravenous brother. he must have done something to work up an appetite like that.

junior shrugged at the question as he shoveled another bite of pizza into his mouth. fingers plunged into the open can of olives in front of him, dropping a few extra black chunks into his mouth to ‘enhance the flavor’ as he liked to call it. it was a ritual he’d done with every pizza he’d ever eaten - as far back as he could remember, that is - because too many olives was never enough.

“not really. just hung out with some friends.”

lies tumbled easily from junior’s lips, they always had. so easily, in fact, half the time he couldn’t even discern whether or not he was being one hundred percent truthful. to call anyone that junior spent time with a friend was almost laughable. but he knew that once he made it home in one piece and without an officer or two escorting him back, she wouldn’t pry too much.

“what about you? how’d your painting thing go?”

#threads: weston reed #dynamic: junior x lulu #badcompanys

[paracsmic]

junior was going to die of boredom if he didn’t talk. he was willing to bet money on it. there were only a couple people at the bus stop and he didn’t know if any of them were listening - to be frank, he didn’t care. his own voice was the only thing stopping him from going insane.

the words tumbled out and they weren’t even a lie like most of the things he said - he had in fact, earned himself a special mention as “probably being the antichrist” in mrs. robbins suicide note. it was a tragedy - he shouldn’t have laughed but years later, he still considered it an accomplishment. 

his head snapped up to the woman sitting next to him. someone was listening! “awesome. my senior prank, i set off some fireworks in the school cafeteria and caught a christmas tree on fire. fully engulfed.” he pulls a bag of flaming hot cheetos from the backpack sitting on his lap and pops one into his mouth, crunching as he talks. “we’re talking, like, full evacuation, multiple fire engines, hoses, the whole nine yards. almost took out an entire wing of the school!”

a smug smirk pulls up the corners of his lips. it isn’t the only fire he’d started in his life and it certainly wouldn’t be the last - not with the backpack full of lighter fluid and the bad idea floating around his head at that exact moment. however, the memory of students and teachers all scrambling to get away from the growing flames and the sprinkler system did make it yet another fond memory for him.

“chaos reigns.”

( @paracsmic / junior. ) they’d been sitting on the side of the road, waiting for a bus for what felt like forever. rebekah had to resort to public transportation since the engine in her old truck went out and she needed to get it fixed. somethin’ about her insurance not wanting to give her a rental or another was a pain in the ass, but she would manage for now. she didn’t have another job for a couple of weeks it seemed, so getting around town would be easy enough with the local bus schedule.

the kid beside her is talking, random nonsense spewing forth at a rate that harries her own ability to speak. when the words leave his lips, a look of shock spreads over her own features, for a mere second, before it’s turned to an odd sense of pride. 

his voice rings out in a sense of pure unadulterated ‘i don’t give a fuck.’ “not to brag, but i was name-checked in my kindergarten teacher’s suicide note.” shrugging her shoulders, she reaches over and holds her hand out for a high five, to which he reciprocates.

“when i was younger i tried to set my school classroom on fire. my teacher told me the project i worked so hard on was basically shit. she learned her lesson that day.” she doesn’t know why she’s sharing this information with a total stranger, but it felt like a weird sense of bonding.

“chaos reigns.” she says, a smile spreading across her lips.

#threads: weston reed #dynamic: junior x rebekah #badcompanys

[paracsmic]

badcompanys​:

“this ain’t no regular ghost, lady.” she says, and there is anxious energy running through her veins. so much that she’s sure she could power a whole small town with the amount of electricity pumpin’ through these veins. her hand fidgets and she reaches up to draw a piece of hair away from her eyes, before leaning both hands on the counter in front of her.

“this…it’s something different.”

how the fuck was she supposed to describe this? she didn’t know what the hell it was that slipped through and into her friend, only that it was slowly taking apart her found family dynamic one by one. tyler had nearly committed suicide just shy of two days ago, and erik is a fuckin’ mess by anyone’s standards, but he’s turned jumpy, really on the edge of his seat. neither one of them can stand to sit still for more than a few moments and she still doesn’t know what’s going on.

“it…i don’t know how to put it into words,” she says, her voice low just in case anyone else were to enter the shop. she doesn’t need to be called out for being a dumbass more than she already has been, since, y’know, this was her fault and all. “i’ve been havin’ these hallucinations. there one minute and gone the next. lil’ flashes into things.” 

she tries to summon up the courage to tell kori everything, and it all comes sputtering out in a mess of jumbled words and half-finished phrases, by the time she’s done she’s breathing heavily.

“please tell me there’s somethin’ you can do to…i don’t know, fix this shit.”

kori pieced together emma’s fragmented thoughts. hallucinations, terror, the overwhelming sense of doom. kori had felt the shift in energy in town. the animals were hidden away. people were acting out more and more. she had tried to chalk it up to the change in seasons but her instincts knew better. something dark had been unleashed upon their little town and this girl in front of her had done her part in unleashing it.

“no.” the answer was definitive and immediate. “there’s nothing i can do for you. there is no saving your friends.” it was harsh and blunt but it was the truth. “i warned you before you didn’t listen. this demon is going to tear this town apart - starting with the ones who opened that door.”

#threads: kori blake #dynamic: kori x emma #badcompanys #kori said sorry kid you're fucked

[paracsmic]

badcompanys​:

madelaine wants many things in this apparent death and that’s mostly for people to suffer in ways that she has done. for them to feel the consequences of her actions when things go awry. 

she sighs, trying to flit through the inner most workings of her mind, a random jumble of different thoughts and ideas that are constantly flowing through her brain. it’s hard to focus, and the noise is so loud sometimes that she twitches slightly. it comes across as though she’s receiving a bolt of energy or an anxiety shiver that works it’s way up her spine. 

“your kindness is enough,” 

she says, shifting to stand towards where mira currently stands. watching as she stands there amongst semi-rotting foliage that litters the ground. this place has long since been abandoned, there is no caretaker that comes to wash the stones away, to cut the grass.

“i appreciate you coming to talk with me. sharing bits of your own life. it’s fascinating, seeing how others manage to work through struggles and such on their own and overcome potential downfalls.” she’s rambling now, words leaving her lips just to hear the sound of her own voice. 

it’s overgrown and yet somehow, there is an eerie sense of peace surrounding the area. madelaine cannot explain it, but it brings comfort. maybe it’s’ the accumulation of lost souls coming to comfort her, she is not aware, but she likes coming out here sometimes. it’s quiet and refreshing and just. it’s a reminder that things never turn out as they’re supposed to.

“revenge is best served cold, they always say. i don’t know if i’d prefer it icy or steaming hot. guess it probably depends on the situation.”

 she says, chancing a smile in mira’s direction.

“do you speak with the dead often?”

she asks, a tilt of the head. she’s curious about mira’s own experience with those in the afterlife. secretly, she’s wondering if she’s the favorite, but considering she just unloaded a whirlwind of emotions onto mira’s plate, she’s assuming that she’s not.

“i didn’t used to.” she answers the question honestly. “for a long time, i didn’t talk to much of anyone - i was so scared to be seen as the weird girl talking to myself because other people couldn’t see what i could.”

she turns away from the makeshift graveyard. she can’t stomach the sight of other spirits creeping into the clearing to mourn their own loss of life - and being forgotten. 

“my mom taught me that i should talk to spirits more. you have a story to be told and you want someone to listen.”

there are some spirits that are angry, tired of living in a world where they couldn’t be heard. those spirits are dangerous. if just talking to someone and letting them know that there’s at least one person in the world that can still see them - hear them - and feel their pain helps ease that pain? she would.

“i couldn’t save people when they were alive, but maybe i can save them from losing themselves now?”

#threads: mira weiland #dynamic: mira x madelaine #badcompanys

[paracsmic]

Call my muse by their full name, see how they respond.

#whos gonna do it #whos gonna be the one to call junior weston

[paracsmic]

badcompanys​:

“no problemo.” 

she says, sitting on the ground with her back to the wall, knees pulled up towards her chest. the comic book is handed off and she’s holding onto the bag of treats, not yet bothering to indulge herself. the night sky is beautiful above them, full of stars and a lack of light pollution brings out the different shades of blue and black that culminate to create a palette that would rival most painters.

fingers reach up and brush through her long hair, let loose from it’s usual ponytail. she rarely lets it go free, except in moments of quiet and calm. the moonlight illuminates the angles of her face and she glances up to catch sight of cd, a small smile spread across her face.

“quiet night’s aren’t always bad, y’know,” she says, a shrug of her shoulders. if only all nights could be quiet. the downside is that a night like this usually needs to be balanced out with a day full of bloodshed, and she doesn’t want to get involved in something of that magnitude.

sometimes camila wishes things could go back to normal, whatever that contained. she doesn’t quite remember what it was like before the outbreak happened and millions of souls were lost to whatever is causing this plague upon the world, wretched and sour in it’s own right. she stretches her legs out and lets a small sigh leave her lips.

“you ever wonder what you’d be doin’ if the world was different?” she asks, a tilt of the head as she glances up towards him. she thinks about it often enough, but she still doesn’t have a hold on what she would want to do herself. 

would she be good enough to do anything other than this?

 the idea of being police again enters her mind, the idea of wanting to do nothing but help. it falters, because it feels like a time so far fetched that she can’t fathom anything but this. “i wonder if the world went to shit for a reason, cause people didn’t seem to care about what was really happenin’ out there.” 

cd thinks over the question for a moment. he didn’t want to say that the end of the world as they knew it had given him a purpose - that putting a rifle in his hand and a target in front of him was the best thing to happen to him - but it wasn’t entirely false either.

“i’m not sure. i was never really good at anything before.” he stared up at the sky thinking about the life that he could have had. “college could’ve been cool? maybe for video game design or something.”

this is the most he’s talked about his interests in a long time. most people didn’t tend to ask - or care - what was happening before the world ended. they didn’t care that he’d spent countless nights wide awake beating a video game that he’d just bought that day and had refused to put down. how many mornings he’d gone to school barely able to keep his head off the desk and his eyes open because he’d spent the early hours of the morning grinding out video games. 

people only cared if he could aim well enough. he was respected - not for who he was but for what he could do. he’d lost the most human side of himself and hadn’t even realized. “i miss video games.”

#threads: colin darby #dynamic: cd x camila #badcompanys

[paracsmic]

there’s nothing better after a long day than soaking her muscles. everyday, kimmie is a little more grateful that her and cait had sprang for the rv with the full bathroom instead of just the toilet and sink. it had cost a pretty penny more but it had been worth every cent.

comfortable and clean, she headed toward the front to relieve her sister from driving duty for the night.

all at once, she was flung to the side. the sound of squealing brakes and skidding tires fill her ears seconds before her head collides with the frame of the top bunk. 

everything goes hazy before it all comes back to her.

on instinct, she follows cait out of the rv, eyes surveying the damage. “yeah, i’m ok!” she answers to appease her sisters worry. her fingers reach up to her forehead, blood smearing along the tips from a small cut. “it’s not bad.”

she’s can’t help but feel sad for their rv; but more importantly, where even are they? 

( @paracsmic / kimmie. ) there is something about the open road that is extremely calming. it’s the middle of the night, though despite it all, cait is behind the wheel, music blaring into the space. rather than sleep, herself and kimmie decided they’d drive through the night, stop somewhere in the morning for breakfast and maybe add a day or so to their trip schedule.

when they agreed to undertake these road trips together across country, visiting small dive bars and doing gigs whenever they had something available, the girls wanted to make an adventure out of it. they had gotten used to traveling the roads when they were on tour with their parents, but they never got to really see any of the sights.

it was more or less a ‘get there as fast as possible, do the job, then leave’ kind of deal with mom and pop. and while that might have worked for some, cait didn’t save up her funds from working odd jobs to just blow them on alcohol and drugs like most bands did. she wanted an experience unlike any other.

tucking into a bag of candy that sat in the cupholder of her space, she glances back to kimmie who comes into view out of the shower, dressed in pajamas and looking rather comfortable. it was almost time for the girls to switch over, seeing as how they had slept off most of their hike earlier that day and were rested.

maybe it was the amount of coffee and sugar they had in their systems, but both girls were raring to go by the time it reached eight at night.

just then, in the middle of nowhere, cait loses control of the vehicle, unable to stop it from nearly careening with a tree. a blown out tire seems to be the culprit, and it forces cait to collide with the guard rail in the process. it does more damage to the rv than to the girls.

immediately jumping out of her seat, she runs over to kimmie, who’s been knocked around in the process. there is smoke coming from the engine and she has a desperate need to get her sister out of there so they can further assess the situation. grabbing kimmie’s hand, she scrambles to get the door open and they both collapse into the dust and dirt as they shift away from a pretty badly damaged recreational vehicle.

“are you okay?!”

she asks, voice full of concern as she reaches to check the small cut on her younger sister’s forehead, instantly filling with regret over the situation, as if it were somehow her fault. it wasn’t. but that didn’t stop her from feeling guilty in the moment.

#threads: kimmie sutherland #dynamic: kimmie x cait #badcompanys

[paracsmic]

badcompanys​:

the gesture left eleanor on alert - junior, being nice out of nowhere? she figured he was only stringing her along until he could use her for distraction tactics or something else in the wilderness, but alas, she could deal with it for now. 

a slight wince when she put weight on her ankle, but she still managed to see when junior wiped the cheeto dust onto her shirt. rolling her eyes, the duo started back in the direction of where they thought they’d seen the cabin. darkness was encroaching and they were slowed by eleanor’s ankle. 

forty-five minutes to an hour later, they spotted a small clearing. things hung from the trees, little bits and bobs and somethings she’d never seen before

lights were on inside the building, illuminated curtains in the windows were enough to signify the fact that there was someone inside. eleanor could only hope that they were friendly. leaving junior to his own devices, she shifted towards the window and leaned her head against it, listening and looking through the cracks for someone - surveying the area before knocking on the door.

glancing back at junior, she shrugged her shoulders and bit the bullet. a heavy knock, fist rapping against wood, and the sound of shuffling from inside. eleanor crossed her fingers behind her back, and junior came up from behind her. at least they’d be facing whomever was behind that door together. 

gave ‘em a better chance if they had to fight to the death. granted, they’d be at a disadvantage, seeing as how their only ‘weapon’ was now inside junior’s stomach, but she was sure they’d manage well enough. she’d go out kicking and screaming if she had to, most definitely.

what junior lacked in survival instinct and poise, he made up for in enthusiasm. if he had to go out fighting, he just might - or he could stay behind eleanor in case a quick getaway was needed. eleanor was injured, it would take her a while to hobble away from the door and whatever was behind it would catch and kill her before it could catch him.

the door creaked open.

nothing.

there was no person - or creature - on the other side. but they’d just heard movement a second before? confusion knotted junior’s brow.

“so this is weird, right? we agree that this is weird?” he whispered, stepping around eleanor to poke his head into the open doorway. “hello - knock knock! whatever’s in here, you opened the door so you can’t be mad at us for coming in!”

#threads: weston reed #dynamic: junior x eleanor #badcompanys #you know those scenes in horror movies where someone is standing precariously in front of or underneath a gaping hole #they just get yoinked through it and are never seen again #junior is the dumbass who would immediately go stick his head into the hole to see if whatever did it is still there so he can see #i said junior lacks survival instinct but i actually mean junior lacks every instinct

[paracsmic]

Drafts are finally down to single digits for the first time in FOREVER! Next focus is inbox things so feel free to send more memes and I’ll get to them!

Also, hit me up for the discord if you want it! We can plot or just vibe!

#ooc

[paracsmic]

the song had played three times already. walker had tried to changing it, but the machine had kept his quarters and the song had continued on. he watched others approach it and try, all to the same result he’d had. he was almost certain he’d even seen one person reach behind the jukebox and pull the cord from the wall, but all the same, the song carried on.

there’s only one other person not humming and swaying to the twangy guitar. he asks the bartender what she’s having and is presented with a neat glass of whiskey - the same as him.

he takes it to her and she accepts.

“i was about to ask you the same thing.” walker glances around. each set of lips around them is mumbling along to the lyrics playing through now for the eighth time in a row. “between you and i,” he lowers his voice and crouches slightly toward her seated height. “and i know this sounds crazy, but, i don’t even think the jukebox is plugged in anymore. i think it’s just...playing.”

( @paracsmic / walker. ) while her parents don’t usually like the idea of her slumming it down with the lower class locals in town, she often frequents one of the dive bars near the central loop, just shy of the old general store. it’s there that she is able to listen in on town gossip, where she goes to escape the scrutiny of her parent’s watchful gaze.

the elder grey duo wouldn’t be caught dead in this place. which is why it became one of ainsley’s favorites. she started sneaking in as a teenager, figuring she could do no wrong. almost lost her virginity in one of the bathroom stalls with some older guy whose name she doesn’t remember. drunken nights out in the snake eyes tavern were best back in the day - and even though she’s of age now, she still enjoys them from time to time.

but the atmosphere is different than she last remembers. there’s an old song playing on the jukebox in the corner. people have tried to go and change it, but it doesn’t work, just eats up their quarters and causes them to complain. about halfway through the night everyone’s humming along, eerie notes on a discordant breeze.

so come on, pretty mama, let me take your troubles away.

by the time another person walks in, they’re into the second verse, whistling and humming and it’s becoming overwhelming. her buzz has long been started and at this point she’d much rather be anywhere than here.

it’s then when the stranger walks up to her, tall and lanky, and a smirk spread across his lips. he hands her a glass of straight whiskey, clinks his glass against hers and knocks it back like it’s nothing. she does the same.

“don’t suppose y'know what the fuck is goin’ on around here,” she asks, gesturing to the crowd and all the folks who seem to be in some sort of…shared trance. she’s fascinated by it.

#threads: walker bishop #dynamic: walker x ainsley #badcompanys

[paracsmic]

“hey if you don’t want it-” junior snagged the gum back, quickly unwrapping it and letting the second half of the stick replenish the now flavorless first half in his mouth. no stick of gum - or half stick - should ever go to waste.

“did i say i had pull?” a hiss of air sucked through his teeth. “that’s awkward. i meant you have pull here.”

he had caught on quickly in this little town - the name grey held power, esteem and respect. to prove his point, the waitress approached, taking one look at ainsley and nearly went bug-eyed before stammering out a greeting.

he ordered his usual: “a blt with mustard, but put the mustard on the side because mustard is nasty and i hate it.” so why order the sandwich with mustard in the first place, one might ask? because the color yellow makes him happy.  its an argument he’d had with lulu and gus and danny and this waitress and several others constantly. though she didn’t dare argue today.

“before you say anything, yes; i did invite you here to get free food. however, i did offer you the friendship gum so that it wasn’t completely one-sided, so if you feel used, its kind of your fault for turning down my present.”

( @paracsmic / junior. ) a piece of gum is slid across the table into ainsley’s vision, a look of curiosity spread across her features. “if this is some’a that trick shit, i’m not buying.” she says, eyes hidden behind a rather large pair of sunglasses. she’s got a book in her lap and she’s meant to be reading at this diner - having agreed to meet junior in for a big ice cream sundae he’d been promising he would show her how to customize to make it the ‘ultimate treat’.

“it’s a friendship present!” he exclaims proudly, and this has her pulling her glasses from her eyes, dangling the piece of foil covered chewing gum in her fingers before dropping it to the table. “it’s a fuckin’ piece of gum.” he shrugs his shoulders and continues making paper footballs with the napkins, impatiently kicking his legs against the back of the booth.

ainsley reaches for the gum to find it’s half chewed on the inside, a big bite having already been taken out of it. she chucks it over in junior’s direction with a huff escaping your lips. “that’s fuckin’ gross, kid. try that on andrew or somethin’, or else i’ll spill about your lil’ side hustle.” she’d caught him trying to break into their house, helped him boost a few things of their mothers that she no longer seemed interested in.

ainsley was in it for nothing other than the sudden thrill, but like most things for her, it only lasted briefly and she easily got bored again. “where is this waitress? i thought you said you had pull here or whatever.”

#threads: weston reed #dynamic: junior x ainsley #badcompanys #im so sorry hes like this but not really

[paracsmic]

the moment talia’s voice sang through the cabin, a smile crosses tabitha’s lips. all is right in the world. there wasn’t an ounce of regret in tabby’s heart for what she’d done.

she pops the lid onto the last small jar and places it aside with the rest of kori blake’s order. anyone who’s worth anything knows cemetery dirt is sacred - and every good witch needs some from time to time. she has a contract with kori to get a small percentage of the earnings from each jar sold out of kori’s shop. it’s certainly not the most lucrative of her business ventures but it brings in a chunk of change from time to time.

she rises from her chair and steps out of her office, finding her daughter coated in dirt and mud in the living room. an image flashes before her eyes of her very same precious girl coated in crimson instead of brown.

she quickly shakes the thought away and steps up to her daughter, smiling as she tucks a strand of blonde hair behind the girls sweat slicked earlobe. “no need to apologize, little lamb. go get yourself cleaned up and i’ll get started on dinner. what sounds good?”

talia could do no wrong in her mother’s eyes. not when the possibility of not having talia at all had been an all too real reality.  

( @paracsmic / tabitha. ) she’s coming into the small cabin near the woods with dirt covering her clothes, mud up to her elbows. she’s been planting flowers in the graveyard, trying to keep up appearances. a place that was so depressing should have a bit of life within it, she thought. 

most of the graves have no one to care for them, so she takes it upon herself to do a bit of landscaping now and again. fake flowers were nice and all, but she thought they deserved a little better. while they may be buried in the dirt, lost to the elements, the flowers in place near their graves would thrive - cultivating the land and making it a more beautiful place. 

“mama!” she calls, letting boots rest by the front door. tabitha is in back, gathering the jars of grave dirt they set aside for certain clientele. when she hears her daughter’s voice, though, talia notices her peeking her head out around the corner before beckoning her back.

“sorry for trackin’ mud in the house again,” she says a sheepish look spread across her visage. “i couldn’t find ya to hose me off in the garden.” she shrugs her shoulders, pulling the filthy gloves from her fingers and tossing them onto one of the work benches that litter the space. 

“i planted those flowers you got me, graves a-j have a fresh set of florals. sun’s coming down so i couldn’t get to the others, but i reckon i’ll have ‘em in the ground by tomorrow!” a smile pulls at the corner of her lips. “got any other tasks for me?”

#threads: tabitha crowley #dynamic: tabby x talia #badcompanys #i read somewhere that one of the meanings of the name talia is lamb and i was like holy shit thats adorable #tabby is mom of the year and i will hear nothing else