gay gay gay gay gay

prv multimuse for ellie since shes a bitch who made me come back to tumblr rp

[atepride]

nazdom​:

@atepride​

“no, no, no, no, no.”   a symphony of sobs cascade from her lips, hands resting on her knees. her throat is becoming raw from the screams and sobs, specks of blood covering her knuckles from smashing them against the concrete moments prior. her armor is heavy but her heart is heavier, tugging her chest down towards the ground. her gaze can’t lift — there’s a part of her that wants to look up at ikora, just for her to see the tears threatening to slip from her eyes. but she doesn’t. this isn’t her fault. this isn’t anyone’s fault; that’s part of being a guardian, right? resurrection. (fucking ulden sov.) he was like a cockroach; a bullet to the head wasn’t enough to keep him buried. no, it would never be enough. 

when she feels a hand linger on her shoulder, she finally tilts her head upwards, eyes landing on the warlock. she tries to catch her breath before speaking.   “cayde — i,”   cresora pauses before fingers wipe the scorching tears underneath her eyes. her lips tremble, mouth searching for the words she wants to speak into existence. her vision is red and blurry, a hybrid of the anger boiling inside her. vengeance already consumed her once; does she dare let it consume her again? only time will tell. 

“i will fucking kill him again. the crow or not, he’s still ulden sov.”   ire buries itself inside her eyes.   “you … encouraged me to go after him for fucks sake, ikora!”

uldren sov, the man who killed cayde. whenever ikora thinks of her friend, butterflies bounce inside her stomach — there’s not a day she doesn’t miss cayde. she misses the banter, his horrible jokes, and the way he was always there for her. when cresora came rushing towards her, cerulean hues glossy, ikora could only assume the worse. this was, in fact, the worse. uldren sov had risen from the grave and had aimed a gun at the awoken; the crow was flying. there’s a guilt resonating inside her, though; you encouraged me, ikora. she encouraged the end of uldren sov inside a prison cell, not a gunshot to the head. 

cayde wouldn’t have wanted that.  

“i’m aware, cresora.”   she breathes, her hand moving to the blonde’s back. circular movements are made, an attempt to bring some comfort to her anger.   “we both know that resurrection works in weird ways, though.”   if uldren had known who she was, he would’ve squeezed the trigger. ikora knows that and even if cresora doesn’t want to see it, she will. the woman drops her hand to her side and takes a few steps forward, placing herself in front of the other. hands rest in front of herself, a deep breath being inhaled through her nose. it was hard seeing her like this. ikora understood her anger — there was some boiling inside herself, as well. she was right, though. resurrection worked in mysterious ways; you don’t always recognize who you are. you don’t always remember the actions you once did. 

“when you were resurrected, you didn’t remember anything. if uldren knew who you were, he would’ve destroyed your ghost. he would’ve killed you. you know this.”

[emiliaaclarke]

Hey, you know what? I have magical powers. Wanna see?

[darlingshane]

Jon Bernthal as Braxton in ‘The Accountant’ (2016)

[debbielouocean]

[daantaat]

[atepride]

@bloodnose​  +  surprise   (rio)

he’s helping marcus color a picture when he hears the front door open. it’s quiet enough only he hears it because he’s always paying attention to shit like that, but enough to make his brows furrow. he’s got two options: send marcus running into his closet and grab his gun, or act normal and get up slowly to check it out, like any other normal person in america would do. the last thing he needs is his son telling rhea about this shit — so he chooses the latter option. slowly rising from the carpeted floor, he makes his way out to the front door, mind trying to remember where he put his gun last just in case. (it’s gotta be in his room — probably in the last pair of pants he wore.)

it’s not until he sees the mop of blonde hair when he furrows his brows even more, head cocking to the side. it doesn’t take much to put two-and-two together. “hey, nosebleed.” he says it to entice her but because he’s also curious as to why the hell she’s here in the first place. he’s always told her no business conducted at his house, especially not when marcus is here. (there’s also the boiling question of how she even found out his address in the first place.) he’s gotta give her credit, though — she’s got a lot of nerve showing up here unannounced. if marcus wasn’t here, rio wouldn’t have thought twice about grabbing his gun and squeezing the trigger, without even knowing who was at the door in the first place. 

“ain’t you supposed to be somewhere else? like, anywhere else but here?” 

[atepride]

bloodnose​:

She isn’t sure how long she was locked up.   If her math is right, she got picked up by the cops at around 9PM and got out of county lockup at around 4AM. She was locked up in a cell over a tiny ziplock baggie of cocaine for 7 hours. It was a comical in a way   —   she knew Miguel wouldn’t see it in that way, but she did to an extent. They could’ve been spending their time on much more important matters but instead, they were concerned with the tiny 25-year-old junkie who couldn’t hurt a fly. Real smart. 

Cassandra’s thankful he called Saul, though. She’s not sure how much longer she would’ve been in there if he hadn’t. Whenever Saul walked through the front door of any police department, all the officers were groan in unison knowing whatever charges they had planned wouldn’t last. That was the case this evening, which the blonde couldn’t have been any more thankful for. It meant she could finally go back home, crawl in bed, and get a nice night’s sleep. She wouldn’t be sitting on the cold cement ground of the a jail cell, waiting for Miguel to collect whatever money he needed to bail her out. (Or him having to call Wes or her parents to help collect the money either.)

When they open the cell and pull her out, she collects her belongings before making her way outside. Outside the entrance of the jail, she spots Miguel and Saul standing by a pillar, giving Saul a quick thank you before sending the lawyer on his way. When it’s just her and Miguel left, she lets out a relieved sigh.   “Thanks for getting me out of there.”   She chuckles, bouncing on the balls of her sneakers. She’s sure this is the last way he wanted to spend his evening, especially given it’s the first night back from being overseas for months. But that’s what happens when you’re best friends with a drug addict, right? She’s just glad he didn’t leave when he could’ve. Honestly, she wouldn’t have blamed him if he had. 

“You wanna’ hit up Waffle House real quick? I’m starving   —   I was planning on ordering a pizza when you got to the apartment, but … you know.”

a feeling of relief is sent through his body when he sees cass walk through the doors. he can’t help the genuine smile spreading on his face, but then he remembers why they’re here in the first place, so it quickly fades as vividly as it formed. he wants to be mad (and he is, to a point. why the fuck did the most two important people in his life have to get fucked up by drugs?) but then he remembers he’s home. he can’t be mad for that long — it’ll ruin his whole furlough and he doesn’t want that. miguel rather take a deep breath, tell himself he’ll deal with this another time, and at least spend the rest of the evening in a semi-pleasant mood. 

when saul leaves, miguel twists his head over at cass, head nodding. “waffle house is fine.” an arm is extended and draped over her shoulders, pulling her closer to him as he begins walking. just because he was gone for months, it doesn’t mean he’s forgotten everything about town. he remembers where all the spots are — hell, he even remembers the exact park of where he lost his virginity. when they’re walking, he stays quiet, mulling over whether he should take the conversation in the way he’s thinking. there’s a reason they spent their night the way they did. penelope is at a nice facility, he thinks. he visited her once before he got shipped overseas; he’s planning on visiting her tomorrow as a surprise. if the place is nice, maybe he’ll consider bringing a pamphlet back for cass. she needs it. 

as they continue walking through downtown albuquerque, the glowing yellow neon sign for waffle house appears in the distance. once they reach the entrance, he opens it for her and he trails into the restaurant behind her. it’s easy to snag a booth and slide themselves into it. he makes sure they claim one in the back, just to make sure there’s no cops on breaks with ears that like to eavesdrop. (not that he’s going to mention anything of tonight — you can never be too sure with her, though. he knows she can be emotional; like there’s two buttons she can hit: good mood or pure panic.) 

“you gonna’ leave me hanging or what? what’s been going on? how’s work? how’s wes? all that stuff — you didn’t say a single thing while we were walking... it makes me nervous.” it does make him nervous. like there’s something she hasn’t told him yet, or like there’s something more going on behind the scenes he has no idea about. that’s the thing with being gone for months; letters and emails to one another don’t cut it. you get lazy writing, not wanting to add every single detail that make a story an actual story. then those details come back to bite you in the ass, leading to another story you can’t tell because guess what, you forgot to add those details in the original story. he would know because it’s happened plenty of times with penelope. (granted she hasn’t answered his emails in months; he figures it’s because of her still being mad over him leaving. in his head, he deserves it — she needed him and he got shipped away. great job, miguel.)

[atepride]

bloodnose​:

Nightmares suck.   She’s experienced her fair share of them throughout her life, but for some reason, they’ve been getting worse. It’s easy to assume it’s because she’s been doing more coke than usual, but if that was going to affect anything, it should making her more sleep deprived. Instead, all she’s been wanting to do lately is crawl in bed and sleep the days away. She shows up to work, does a few lines to get her through the day and whenever she comes home, she immediately gets under the sheets of her bed. It’s becoming a cycle and she can’t pinpoint why. (She can never pinpoint anything, though. If she was talking to a therapist, they’d say you’re depressed and she’d laugh in their face, knowing damn well it’s the truth.)

One moment she’s running down the hallway screaming for her life, the next moment she’s sitting up in bed and covered in sweat. When she realizes she’s about to smack Jesse in the face, a quick fuck is mumbled softly under her breath, air expanding throughout her lungs. It’s an attempt to collect her composure. She still feels constricted in her chest, even after waking up   —   it’s almost like she’s not even awake, even though she knows she is. Jesse’s embrace doesn’t help either   —   what should be comforting is more uncomfortable than anything, it only makes her feel more constricted than she already does. It’s what causes her to throw the sheets off herself and stand up, turning the bedroom lights on as she begins shuffling to put her t-shirt and shorts on. 

“I’m not cool.”   She responses hastily, aggravated chuckles trailing closely behind her words.   “None of this is cool, actually. In fact, this is the least fucking cool thing I’ve ever experienced in my life.”   It’s an exaggeration but still close enough to the truth for her. For months, they’ve been playing this game   —   she refers to it as a game because that’s exactly what it is. It’s a game of chess, both of them awaiting for the other to make a move and to decide how they want to proceed. It’s becoming cumbersome; she’s aware they could talk about this another time, especially given the fact she’s more angry at the nightmares than at him, but right now is the perfect time in her eyes. 

Arms are shoved through the holes of her shirt as she slips it over her head, flaxen hair being tossed over her shoulders.   “I’m just fucking tired, you know? I’m so tired of sitting here and acting like we’re cool, when in reality, I don’t even think you like me that much in the first place. So it’s like, what’s the point? Why am I even here?”   A pause as she scoffs, vexation clouding her features.   “So, don’t say you’ve got me because you don’t. Dick.”

the outburst wasn’t expected; at least, not at two in the morning. when she rises from the bed and switches the lights on, a hand is brought up to his eyes, trying to shield the brightness from his eyeballs. “jesus christ, cass!” he hisses, lowering his hand once he’s adjusted. confusion washes over his face as he sits further up, watching as she begins getting dressed. 

in his eyes, the night had been good — they watched a movie, ordered a kickass pizza, and had some great sex after everything. it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary for them and when she starts ranting, he almost chooses not to listen to a single word she says. he’s stubborn like that, picking and choosing when to hear things; but he has to listen to her. if he doesn’t listen to her, it’ll give her even more of a reason to dart out of the bedroom, and he doesn’t want that. (no, he really doesn’t want that.) so instead, he listens to her words like a champion, head edging the slightest to the side. 

once she’s done with her speech, he finally breaks his silence. “you think i don’t like you?” his head tilts towards, sight narrowing on the blonde. if there were a spotlight in this room, it would be aimed directly on her. he can’t help but laugh at the sentence, eyes squinting. “if i didn’t like you, trust me — you wouldn’t be here. i wouldn’t invite you over as much as i do or let you stay the night either; i’d kick you out.” it’s the truth; he does like her. he likes her more than most of the girls he invites over. (which he hasn’t done in weeks, he might add.)  he enjoys her presence most of the time — in a way, she almost keeps him grounded through all the crazy shit going on his life. she reminds him there’s more to life than making meth with mr. white and he expects, in some type of weird way, he does the same for her in some way. if no one else will be there for them, they could at least be there for each other.

his right hand runs through his hair, jesse unsure of what else to even say to her. if she has her mind set on leaving, he can’t stop her. he’s not going to get on his knees and beg her to stay. “can we just talk about this in the morning or something? please? it’s two in the fucking morning, i can’t think right now.” he grumbles, falling backwards into his original position on the bed. blue eyes look up at the ceiling, his mind hoping the lights will shut up and he’ll feel her crawling back underneath the covers. 

[atepride]

@bloodnose  +  nightmare  (jesse)

he can’t remember what he was dreaming about. there’s a part of him that wonders whether or not he even does dream — it feels like every morning he wakes up, he’s just as exhausted as the following night. he’s lethargic and sure, you could blame the meth — that probably has something to do with it. but part of it has to be dealing with mr. white, too. there’s only so much of his bullshit jesse can take, and dealing with it every day on end? he’s beginning to get to his breaking point. no wonder he doesn’t dream. 

but that doesn’t matter because what does matters is the bed is shaking, and not in the way he wants. instead, his eyes open right before the blonde is about to hit him dead in the face. he looks like a deer in headlights as he hazily watches her jut forward, as if she was about to fall off a cliff and just stopped herself at the last minute. he doesn’t need an iq of 100 to figure out she was having a nightmare — the sweaty outline on their bed says all he needs to know. he props himself up on his right elbow, eyes squinting as he tries to get adjusted the darkness of the bedroom. 

“cass —” his voice is a whisper, yet too casual to be deemed remotely romantic. (because they aren’t romantic. nothing about them is romantic, minus the dinners they spend together and the nights they end up making out on his couch — which jesse isn’t sure whether he likes or not. he doesn’t have to play the boyfriend role but sometimes, he wishes he did. other times, the nights he wants to be left alone, she comes over and won’t leave.) 

his left hand slowly rubs circles on the lower part of her back, watching as she tries to collect herself. it’s not until he finally sits up, chin nuzzling itself into the crook of her neck and he presses a quick kiss to her cheek. 

“hey, you’re cool — everything’s fine. don’t worry, i gotcha.” he debates whether to speak any further; their situation is already odd. he doesn’t need to complicate it any further — he has a knack for doing such things. 

[atepride]

@bloodnose​​  +  arrest  (miguel)

miguel knew the blonde had a knack for getting herself into trouble, but by god, he wasn’t expecting this. there was a difference between problems seeming to always follow you versus creating the problems that follow you everywhere; from their time together in high school to now, it was clear she always created the problems. 

when he arrived at the apartment complex, he was expecting to pull into a quiet atmosphere, just like every other apartment complex in all of america. instead, flashing red and blue lights lit up the area, shouts of officers to follow their rules filled what was supposed to be silence. in all honesty, miguel wasn’t even expecting to see cassandra outside — he figured he’d have to listen to her complain about the lights shining through the windows. instead, there she was, the one in handcuffs being stuffed into the backseat of a police cruiser. it took awhile to even understand what was going on in the first place, but thankfully, being a marine has its perks. possession of cocaine caught on her person — what a surprise. it’s enough to make miguel laugh through the rolled-down window of the car, head cocking to the side as he stares directly at her. (had it been any other day, he’d be furious — but of course, it has to happen on the first day back on his leave.)

“you still got that shit lawyer?” he asks smugly, watching her eyes roll as she utters something under her breath. (he swears it has to be about how they share the same shitty lawyer, but still, he can’t stop laughing. the only reason he is laughing is because he knows saul will get her off. he’s done it with penelope enough times with heavier shit than cocaine from when she used to be with henry.) arms are folded over his bulky chest, sight moving over to the officers who command him to get away from the vehicle, as they’re in the process of leaving. 

“i’ll call saul for you.” it’s breathed through a snicker, head shaking as he watches the officers roll up the window, eyes watching as the car drives off into the distance. see you in a few hours. 

[morememesforall]

word prompts compilation

complies THIS MEME // THIS MEME // THIS MEME

ADD ++ FOR REVERSE

[ attention ] for your muse to touch mine as a way of getting their attention

[ wake ] for your muse to wake mine

[ cover ]  for your muse to cover mine with a blanket or a jacket

[ lift ] for your muse to give mine a hand stepping up or over something etc.

[ kiss ]  for your muse to come up to mine and kiss them without warning

[ run ] for your muse to run their fingers through mine’s hair

[ braid ] for your muse to braid mine’s hair

[ embrace ]  for your muse to hold mine

[ smile ] for your muse to smile at mine from across the room

[ wave ] for your muse to gesture to mine to come closer

[ panic ] for your muse to grab mine’s arm or get behind them in a moment of danger

[ touch ] for your muse to rest their forehead against mine’s

[ weep ]  for your muse to catch mine crying

[ eat ] for your muse to offer mine food

[ hit ] for your muse to attack mine

[ love ] for your muse to touch mine as a show of affection or reassurance

[ nap ] for your muse to fall asleep against mine

[ rest ] for your muse to rest their head in mine’s lap

[ look ] for your muse to catch mine staring

[ seduce ] for your muse to touch mine sexually

[ help ] for your muse to lean on mine for support

[ give ] for your muse to offer mine their arm

[ entwine ] for your muse to hold mine’s hand

[ laugh ] for your muse to laugh at something mine did

[ dance ] for your muse to dance with mine

[ sit ] for your muse to pull mine into their lap

[ yell ] for your muse to calm mine down

[ cry ] for your muse to wipe mine’s tears away

[ dream ] for my muse to share dream with yours

[ nightmare ] for your muse to wake mine from a nightmare

[ surprise ] for your muse to show up at mine’s house without explanation

[ fix ] for your muse to treat mine’s injury

[ sacrifice ] for your muse to get hurt protecting mine

[ guard ] for your muse to step between my muse and danger

[ taste ] for your muse to cook for mine

[ sing ] for your muse to sing to mine 

[ goodbye ] for my muse kissing and/or hugging your muse goodbye

[ secrets ]   my  muse  sharing/confiding  a secret

[ bloody ]   for your  muse  coming  to  my  muse  with  blood  stains 

[ drunk ]   your  muse  takes  care  of my very drunk muse 

[ bed ]  my  muse wakes up in  the  same bed as your muse with little  recollection  of  the  night  before

[ scream ]   my  muse  hears  your  muse  scream  and  runs  to  them

[ trail ]   my  muse  watches  as  your  muse  traces  one  of  my  muses  scars,  asking  them  about  it

[ piggyback ]   my  muse  gives  yours  a  piggyback  ride

[ jump ]   my  muse  holding  yours  up  by  their  thighs

[ carry ]   my  muse  carries  your  muse  to  their  house

[ lighter ]   my  muse  pulls  out  a  lighter  and  lights  it  for  your  muse  to  use  to  light  their  cigarette

[ shot ] my  muse  gets  shot  and  struggles  to  your  muses for aid

[ wound ] my  muse  patches  and  bandages  a  wound  your  muse  has  gotten

[ fight ]   my  muse  stops  your  muse  from  getting  into  a  physical  fight  with  someone  else

[ arrest ]   your  muse  finds  my  muse  arrested  in  cuffs  

[ hospital ]   my  muse  awakens  in  a  hospital,  finding  your  muse  by  their  side,  asking  what  happened

[ betrayal ] my  muse  finds  out  that  your  muse  has  betrayed  them and  confronts  them  about  it

[ nude ] my  muse  walks  in  on  your  muse  accidentally  seeing  them  naked

[ karaoke ]  for our muses to sing together

[ wet ]   your muse  strips  down  to  their  under  garments  and  runs  into  the  water,  motioning  for my muse  to  join  them

[ crawl ]  for  your  muse  to  crawl  into  bed  with  mine .

[ flower ]  for  your  muse  to  offer  my  muse  their  favourite  flower

[ gift ]  for  my  muse  to  surprise  your muse  with  a  gift

[ homemade gift ]  for  my  muse  to  make  your muse  a  gift

[ bestow ] for your muse to give my muse a gift, bought or handmade ( bonus if you add what it is )

[ serenade ]  for  my  muse  to  sing  to  your  muse

[ caress ]  for  your  muse  to  gently  run  their  hand  down  my  muse’s  face

[ caught ]  for  your  muse  to  catch  my  muse  wearing  their  shirt .

[ love letter ]  for  your  muse  to  give  my  muse  a  love  letter  they  wrote  for  them

[ boop ]  for  your  muse  to  boop  my  muse  on  the  nose

[ date ]  for  my muse  to  ask  your  muse  to  go  on  a  date

[ confess ]  for my muse  to  confess  their  feelings  to  your  muse

[ sleepy ]  for  my muse  to  slowly  fall  alseep  on  your muse

[arwens]

[echogroove]

THE PURGE (TV SERIES):   MIGUEL GUERRERO 1 / ∞

“ aren’t you supposed to be gone somewhere, fighting some stupid war? ” “ well lucky for you: i just got back. ”

[ariesrain]

manny montana as rio in season 3 of good girls (season 1)