&. AK-47

i've got edges that scratch and i don't got a filter.

[ashagainstzombies]

Ashley was not surprised to see his wife shortly after finding his dog running off. It was entirely like the dog to just run off whenever he felt like it, Aster rarely shortly behind. Ashley would tease her, make a comment about her short legs that always made her roll her eyes with a smile. “Oh really?” Ashley laughed, crouching on the ground as the dog bounded into his arms, licking his face. “Just like his daddy, eh?” He teased with a salacious raise of his brows, a lopsided smirk to match. Getting up, Ashley walked right up to his wife, barely giving her time to react before he was placing a kiss on her lips. Pulling back, he grinned. “And how was your day, Mrs. Forsythe?”

[asterkuhns-blog]

an eyebrow inched upwards with a sharp retort at the back of her throat; the words withered in her mouth without blossoming when habs showcased his affection through licks. the sight of her dog with her husband felt surreal; a fond smile accompanied her look of hazy wonderment. the expression was shaken off with a subtle movement when she realized how schoolgirl with a crush she must have looked; ashley didn’t need another thing to tease her about. “does that mean he argues with his girlfriend about the grand slam tournaments the same way his daddy does about the stanley cup?” her chuckles were interrupted by the brief kiss; her hand rested at his forearm while she drew him closer towards her, unwilling to let him grow distant even after he shifted back. “i’ve wanted to nap all day,” aster whispered to him with a conspiratorial tone before her fingers toyed with the fabric of his shirt out of habit, “but i was waiting for you to come home... you know how it goes: drink chamomile tea and bring a six foot something man to bed to sleep peacefully.”

[kalebhellers]

Kaleb would admit it was surprising when he saw a dog bounding down the street towards him, although the small dog at his feet was probably the reason. He still couldn’t believe he’d let Eden name him Bark Obama but here it was five years later, still alive. They all took switches with the dog but Eden was it’s rightful owner who Kaleb was more than happy to return him to. He had only let the little ankle biter out for a piss and now he had a dog and its owner running towards him. It really was too early. “Hey.” He smiled at the dog, reaching over the scratch behind its ears.

[asterkuhns-blog]

habs had taken a fondness towards her husband; when ashley got home from work, habs was waiting at the gate of their fence to greet him. despite the undoubted sweetness of that picture, it had a con: he listened more keenly to ashley than he did her. it was almost comical how much harder it was for aster to reign in their dog. “habs, still --” she crinkled her nose before she came to a stop. her hands placed at her hips with an exasperated sigh as the dog settled himself near the foot of a stranger and a much smaller dog. “i’m real sorry about him -- he’s rowdy and he doesn’t listen to me,” she shot an apologetic look towards the man, “he is friendly though.”

[chinuplittlepup]

[ashagainstzombies]

Ashley couldn’t lie, the New Order had been good to him. He had a real life, actual fucking wife and a dog, complete with a nice house and a cushy job. Life was, well, it was fucking good. Despite that he didn’t get to play hockey every day like he used to, it was damn near perfect. He was walking home from work when he heard the unmistakable voice of his wife yelling out for their dog. Instantly he found their dog sniffing around another. Bringing his fingers to his lips, Ashley whistled and caught the attention of their shared canine. “Hey, c’mere, Habs! Get over here!”

[asterkuhns-blog]

her tread came to a slow when she caught wind of the whistle that was followed by ashley calling out for habs; an old habit lingered as her hand came up to cover the smile blooming on her features. in wexford-maryvale, she would have been teased for grinning like a newlywed when she so much as heard her husband speak. though in fairness, aster had reason to be in awe whenever she was called detective forsythe ( she insisted on reclaiming her rank as the best detective in the city ) or came home to him: she had never expected to be married, especially happily in the suburbs with a pet dog. life had slowed her down and taken away what she worked for, but gave her what the wexford women would call a blessed life. “my bad--” she offered ashley a sheepish grin while she drew close, “he decided to fence-jump and find himself a girlfriend instead of the tennis ball.”

[gwendolynmaclaine-archive-blog]

Gwen smiled as she saw Habs bounding towards them. The puppies had been a much needed light in the darkness. Robo and Kitty’s friendship had been a joy enough as it was, but it was the puppies that brought the most joy to everyone. As Robo noticed his son, he bounded comically towards him. Thank god there weren’t cars on the streets like before. 

“Aster!” Gwen called with a smile, picking up her pace to a jog in order to keep up with Robo. “Hey, family reunion.”

[asterkuhns-blog]

there was an unmistakable familiarity in the distant brunette and her dog; it was gwen and robo, a friend and habs’ father. through the grapevine, ashley had found out about the litter of puppies and gwen -- perhaps charmed by aster’s starry eyes and coos of adoration -- gave them the first pick. the blonde had cradled habs like a baby on the way to the forsythe house; she could vaguely remember someone laughing and saying that ashley would have to compete with habs for her love. smartly and with her dry wit, she had said she’d been competing with the habs for his undivided love.

“gwen!” her voice rose playfully as she slowed her jog when the dogs decided to stop and roll around. the blonde ventured her stare to the dogs before looking back at gwen, “looks like they’re happy to see each other, hey?”

[asterkuhns-blog]

white picket fences, it seemed, struggled to keep things in or out. it sure looked pretty outside the forsythe household though, perched spotless between the sidewalk and the lawn that weathered the paws of a pet dog. speaking of the beloved pet, there he was -- abandoning the tennis ball to run down the length of the street when another dog caught his sight. aster sighed out before leaping over the fence herself, “habs!” she called after him as she skimmed past a puddle, “c’mon, habs!”

[rurikids]

[asterkuhns-blog]

rurikids:

You said we should take it really slow…

[seyfreak-deactivated20160401]

[asterkuhns-blog]

Five survivors you don't know but would like to get to know.

@briar-sinclair, @tatumxslade, @fvccvbvs, @callum-saxon, and @rhettmajor ( honourable mention: @iggypena )

[amandamseyfrieddaily]

[asterkuhns-blog]

Say three things anonymously to any person, alive or dead.

“i am trying to be better with love.”

“i used to wonder why it was people liked to carve their initials into things, bind their names together forever with a plus sign, entomb it with the shape of a heart. they are reminders of our utter arrogance in the permanence of fleeting things. ( love was here. it was really really here. ) ( and it was good for the while it lasted. ) and it makes me sad, now. it does. wistful. because now i know. now i really know.”

“my soft, strong mother survived... i’m sorry i was asleep for it.”

[lennoxdelarose-blog]

Fingers tugged slightly on the comforter until it finally gave way, and she could successfully and completely cover the sleepy blonde. “I know that now, silly, but back then I was just a dumb, scared kid who had no idea where she was.”

[asterkuhns-blog]

“y’know, when i was starry-eyed and new--” tears sprung from her eyes after a powerful yawn; she buried her face into the soft fabric as an effort to wipe them into nothingness. “um -- to the academy,” the blonde continued, “i left my patrol car parked -- key in, unlocked -- in the middle of the road to chase a perp. it was a mess.”

[dxncingwiththezombies]

Survival, she’d come to learn, was something that varied from person to person. It was a vast concept with chutes and ladders and darker than night tunnels, and every being had their own definition and their own way to carry it out. For Piper, survival looked less like a bad word, less like conforming, and more like glimmering, toothy smiles. Like soft eyes. Like the taste of chocolate, long out of date. Because survival, to her, was not getting by. She’d done that, waited and waited and waited – she’d lived floating with her head barely above the surface and that was not survival. That was death. And Piper was not a dead girl, not anymore.

“Perhaps,” she joked, smile in place, “though I think it has less to do with the color of our hair and more to do with what’s here,” she tapped her temple twice. “Fiercer people would ask why you’re alone,” she blurted and there was a heavy weight built from truth upon her words. Fiercer, scarier, people would see either of them, golden haired and fragile, and lick their lips and the sight of prey. Fresh meat. 

[asterkuhns-blog]

aster kuhn was a dead girl walking; god knew she was pallid in her complexion and tired in her tone, she had the makings of one. along with those came ghosts of loves long dead and buried; she attempted to leave those ghosts at the subway station, but they knew their way home. her body was a shallow grave and its nature rotted her from the inside out; the crisp cold of the forgotten cemetery held her down by the throat, and she hadn’t the energy or motivation to kick or squirm. aster had mastered the craft of getting by, but it left her a starved pile of bones. getting by let her hungry.

her smiles struggled to reach her eyes; this fellow blonde was testing that with her well-placed and warm grins. fiercer people; those that ran with wolves much like aster, fangs bared and snarling --there was comfort in being among them, but jealousy seeped into the corner of her hungry heart. this woman was seemingly unashamed of being less-than-fierce; aster hoped that she could grow to embrace the soft and bruised parts of herself. “it would be strange if i wasn’t alone,” she shook her head lightly, “some people are best left to their own devices -- if you will.”

[ashagainstzombies]

“This is all Leafs territory.” Ashley replied, hands gesturing vaguely towards the space around them. He personally preferred to call them, the zombies, Leafs, that started as a joke with Andy. He kept using it, though other terms for the undead had come into his parlance, to keep his former teammates’ memory alive. His brows creased together, nose scrunching slightly. “Now, please, tell me… what the fuck is flower language?”

[asterkuhns-blog]

often, it was difficult for aster to address those things as their known nomenclatures: zombies, walkers, or biters. leafs though, that was an oddly endearing way to address them -- one that she was assured had its story, and one that she knew he would be reluctant to share. her weight shifted into the tips of her toes as she leaned in to tap at his nose with a mumble, “i love the commitment to hating the leafs -- it’s kinda cute, forsythe.” back down to her measly five-two, she stared up at him with a purse of her lips. “flower language... every flower means something. asters mean dainty, love. if you put them together, you can send messages in bouquets.”

[asterkuhns-blog]

💞: A drunk text from my muse (in that nice au where they're actually together and nothing is wrong)

💞 : a drunk text from my muse // @ashagainstzombies​

( sms from: af 🔐) baby ( sms from: af 🔐 ) baaaaabe

her eyes squinted as she looked at the source of the muffled noises; two text messages in short succession from her live-in boyfriend. the sigh pressing past her lips was exasperated, but she smiled when she reread the texts: aster could almost hear the drunken whine of baaaaabe.

( sms to: af 🔐 )  babe, i know you’re drunk with your team but i’m exhausted and your texts are waking me up.( sms from: af 🔐 ) sssh… shh… i knoow. but baby  his response had been quick; it was obvious that he hadn’t texted her and forgotten, that he had sought her out in his drunkenness to have a conversation with her. she leaned her weight onto her elbow to avoid having the surprisingly heavy iphone fall onto her face as she typed out her response.

( sms to: af 🔐 )  yes?? ( sms from: af 🔐 ) aster lets make a baby( sms from: af 🔐 ) just take yo ur top off lets make a baby right now

her giggle was pressed into her pillow ( it smelled vaguely like his shampoo from the time he stole it ) before she composed herself. she was in her late twenties, for fuck’s sake, and he managed to elicit schoolgirl reactions from her with the stupidest texts or jokes. but it was what she loved about ashley: he made her world light.

( sms to: af 🔐 )  ashley, i’m telling your friends to cut you off  ( sms from: af 🔐 ) babe im serious tho

[asterkuhns-blog]

💔: Our muses break up

💔 : Our muses break up // @ashagainstzombies​

it made her indelicate: the thought of being in love. she was afraid to love. aster was a woman that liked those things that were concrete, things that she could point to and know what they were; like the ocean, the ground, and her body. that was perhaps why she had struggled with god, and why she had struggled with love. it was intangible; she couldn’t touch it, she couldn’t hold onto it and make sure that it never changed or faded over the course of time.

indelicate was how aster had been behaving. her heart felt too big for her body when ashley pressed her close and upwards to leave sloppy pecks at her forehead -- his quips about her height left pink flourishing along her cheeks rather than loud protests. though, her efforts to suppress those toothy grins and giggles into the sleeves of his shirts were in vain; their brightness could be seen, like it was some cutesy scene from a romantic comedy. for him, aster didn’t mind being sally, allie, rose, or whoever-the-hell -- and she didn’t know what to do about that.

“ashley... say it,” her lips were perked into a strained smile in her attempt to coerce him into saying the words she was desperate to hear: i’ll see you tomorrow. there was a gloom draped over them when she had hugged his arm; their foray into cheyenne had been quieter. her intuition let her know that something was amiss; perhaps it was her fear of being abandoned, but she was assured that there was no tomorrow. no next week. no next month. “please -- please, ashley, just... say it back, i’m begging you--”

 when aster saw his figure grow smaller in its distance, she felt delicate.

[whambamthankyoubram]

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