Age: 26 | Slasher writing blog for the Sinclairs and more | Gambit Lover | Main: number1120 | Asks are open| pic: This image was created with Picrew’s “tunasalad character maker“!! https://picrew.me/share?cd=8T62mk829g #Picrew #tunasalad_character_maker
Hello! I’m Cliff, They/Them. I have a creative writing background, so I’m down to write things! I also made a Sinclair Ask Blog! Here’s the link to it :3
Headcanons |dabbles |full on stories |asks for them as characters (like they will answer asks you have like an ask blog) |poly Sinclair (not with each other) |fluff |letters from the Sinclair Brothers
I won’t do:
Noncon |NSFW (only if I’m in the mood) |Insets between brothers
Bo’s eyes crinkled into a smile. From the hood of the car, he glances and sees you playing fetch with Jonesy with her favorite stick. He didn’t mean to pause to watch. He’ll blame the sun stuck in your hair, the clouds trapped between your smile, the smoke and willow branches weaving around your eyes. There was a type of…bliss? Calmness?
What do you call this feeling?
It’s the same feeling when he sees dew in a spider’s web in the early morning. It’s the same feeling when the faded sound of birds heading to the north for spring, leaving this pit. Bo couldn’t name it, and it didn’t scare him. He didn’t need to be scared of this feeling.
He caught your smile in the rainbow of yellows and greens, and he felt whole with it sown under his skin. The piece he thought was missing fell perfectly, and he couldn’t resist falling harder.
He looks back at the engine to hide behind his hat. It’ll be his private joy, something he’ll share when you’re old and gray as him, and he wanted that day sooner.
Tw: obsessed gambit, blood, murder, mentions of kidnapping, stalking, mention of gutting/torture, gore, yandere gambit, very obsessed with you
Whumptober day 7 and 11: Pushed beyond the breaking point || Hidden Injury
Remy had done it.
He killed your ex.
It wasn’t easy, the tracking and the pattern remembering, but Gambit is good at remembering things. He’ll remember that pig’s face forever even if he hates that portion. Still, he took pride in making sure your ex wouldn’t forget this moment. How dare they hurt you, his pearl, his muse!? How could anyone hurt you?
The other day at the cafe, you smiled brightly when he came in, and you already had his black coffee with two sugars ready next to a wrapped banana muffin. By everything, he hates banana muffins, but he ate it as if it were a blessing from you while on call. He marveled that you made it for him. Just him.
Even his powers seemed to have an extra kick with every charge and explosion, and it only drove him to come back near the end of your shift with a small thing of flowers…but it was ruined when your ex showed up. They were talking to you, trying to get you to look at them, and Remy snapped.
You smiled at your ex.
You smiled?
Why?
What did they say to make you smile like that? What joke? Remy’s funny! He’s made you laugh and smile, but this smile seems more brighter! This one seems so much better! He felt his hand crumpled the little flowers in his hands, the blue flowers you once had in your hair last summer, and he let them fall. That smile is his.
It’s like how your light touch was his when your hands brushed against the coffee makers whenever you made his cup. It’s like how he hugged you after you got into medical school and you hugged him so tightly that he thought he’d die. Every little heart you drew on his to-go cup, the deck of tarot cards you’ve touch, his ace of hearts—everything. You are is lighthouse.
Gambit does not share your smile.
So, he started stalking. He started looking, tracking, and found something out: they were seeing another. They lied to you about being single again. They lied about wanting you and only you. They lied to you! They wanted to be greedy and steal your smile from the world, Remy’s world! You were not a side piece. You were the whole work of art. You were the whole piece of a marble block of some goddess. You deserve more than lies from this filth! Gambit wasn’t going to let this slide. He wasn’t going to let your ex lie to you. You were his. Only his!
He finally got to the point to kidnap your ex and took them to the old motor factory. It was so easy that it almost made him laugh! All he had to do was send a text from your phone when you left it out, and he blocked his number for you to cover the evidence. He’ll never have you take his fall. Never.
He took off their hood, and pushed them to the ground. Gambit’s robotic face mask lights up in a dangerous purple. His dark brown coat was cut and worn, and his x-men symbol was obvious on the collar of his jacket. He wanted them to see that even mutants had a breaking point when it came to their love. And he was damn well down to take back your smile!
“Run,” he growls, his voice static from the robotic filter. Flashes of your smile filled him along with your perfume, intoxicating him to the brim of madness. “Run, you sonofabitch.”
He gave chase to your ex, hunting them like a wolf and toying with his prey. The first card that sliced and the blood that spattered was enough to get the race on. He wished he recorded the show for you to watch as proof of his devotion to you. He wanted you to see the way his eyes gleamed when he took a spade and cut. He didn’t stop. He wasn’t going to stop. He took his time, naming each bone he shattered and laughed whenever they begged to be let go, but his mind numbed with a field of those blue flowers and you in the center. He saw you free and happy; why couldn’t he?
Your smile broke him completely that he didn’t notice that he had cut himself. He hissed in pain, which only made him madder and ripped your ex apart with the whole suit of spades, leaving nothing of them left. He left behind his jack of diamonds for the police as he does and leaves, hiding back toward his apartment, and it wasn’t a pretty sights.
Organs thrown all over, their heart exploded and on the ceiling and broke wall. Their skull was caved in from an exploded card, and their bone bits scattered around the battered body in a shape of a web. Remy made sure to stick the card with a spider design on the back near the broke lower spinal cord. In a way, it’s as if he was letting them know that his victim was apart of a web of lies and Gambit was the spider who caught them. Honestly, it was almost his best work! So good that he took a picture with his pocket polaroid camera. 
Each step felt heavy and dragged, but echoes of your laughter led him back home. He held his injured arm close to his chest, hiding it from the world and his neighbors as he slipped back. He’ll throw away the jacket and get rid of the bloody shirt, but he’ll keep the two of spades that dealt the final blow. It was redden and beautifully you.
Maybe he’ll give it to you after they find your ex’s body spun up in a bloody web with the picture he took? He’ll want to see your face and be the one to comfort you from the horror. Oh, the horror he’ll cause just to hold you tight and comfort you! Then you’ll smile at him through your tears as he promises to keep you safe from this “madman”, and that smile would be his.
Your smile will belong to him again, and Gambit was certain he’ll never share it.
Wait a minute... if you said there's more of the Slasher Gambit fic in the wings... with Kurt and other X-Men... oh my GOURD ARE THEY ALL SLASHERS TOO?!
Okay! Um, so, hi! Nice to meet you! First, I love your Slasher Gambit one-shot, that is beautiful, and I adored seeing someone else write yandere X-Men. Second, will you ever write a part two for it? And three, thank you for writing and sharing your work with all of us on Tumblr, thank you for the time you took to write that oneshot/part one, and I hope you are having a great day/night! Please take care!
1: Thank you! I enjoyed writing him like this!
2: I mean…whumptober is coming. I have 3-4 more parts to this already in the wings with Nightcrawler and some other characters.
But if Vincent whispering “My Muse” over and over again like a chant as he carves a wax figure of you without you knowing, tracing the waxed sides as if it’s really you…
I want a vampire Bo to pin reader against the wall and bite. Like the type of bite that stays forever because he wants it to stay and burn. He wants to see it there every morning he wakes and every night before he watches reader sleep. He’d trace it, knowing he caused it. He’ll kiss it because it’s his. He’ll remark it if it fades or he just needs to remind the reader—
Can you write about a young lone female Un-Blooded yautja who is trained by her Leader uncle alongside her Un-Blooded brothers in order to take part in the Xenomorph Hunt.
What she lacks in size and brute strength, she makes up for in stealth, agility, and acrobatic ability. She goes through a lot to make it to Young Blood rank.
Her Name is Sha'kala V'reth
Sha'kala combines sharp, swift sounds to evoke agility and stealth, reflecting her swift and silent hunting style.
V'reth adds a melodic elegance, symbolizing her beauty and intelligence. The name overall conveys a graceful yet deadly huntress, revered in Yautja lore for her cunning and finesse.
Better Prey
Yautja x reader
Tw: killing, physically fighting, punching, kidnapping, death
******************
Inhale deep then exhale slow. There’s much to speak off but so little time, but keep your breathing steady. Keep your eyes on your target and pull the trigger between heartbeats, Young blood—
She did; she followed her mentor’s guiding voice.
Sha’kala watched as the human went limp where they stood and took in a deeper breath just to enjoy the fear she created. She watched them scattered, forgetting their loyalty for each other. Three went towards her brother with the other four went to towards her mentor. She hopes that her mentor caught the four humans to be used for the greater hunt to come, and she felt a bit excited. But there was a slight thing. The last two stayed, either too scared to move or too brave to stay behind. Either way, her hunt would be easy.
She unfolded her spear and activated her cloaking device. This should be easy. Too easy.
“This is all your fault!” She pauses at the male voice before sneaking closer, stalking the last two. “I told you this before we left!”
“My fault?” You snapped back, scuffing. “I told you my van wasn’t the best and it would break down! I told you about this so far before!”
Sha’kala steps to the side and hides behind a thick tree. Her mandibles clicked silently, but the humans didn’t notice; they never notice.
Your friend pushes you roughly, making you stumble back but you stood your ground. “This is not my fault, Damien. I didn’t do a damn thing besides drive the can! And I didn’t even want to go! It was was all you—!”
Damien’s hand made a fist and punches you in the mouth, splitting your lip. Growling, you punch back and made sure it counts. All the name calling, all the let downs this man created, the lies, the cheating, the late night waiting—it was now being let out. You held nothing back this time around. Someone had to stand up for you, and it had to be yourself this time. You had no friends, no one was coming, and no one would miss you; odds of a coal in a glass house. You never really know how strong you are until you find yourself against the wall.
So, why not go down like a badass than a bitch?
One thing’s for sure, Sha’kala was impressed. Her eyes widen when you tackled Damien. For a moment, for a small moment, she considered not to hunt you; you were no longer prey in this moment. You were like her in a way but minus the rage and reason. You didn’t want glory or anything like that; you wanted to prove that it wasn’t your van that caused this. And that was true. Her uncle wanted to take those scientists up the road!
But this was better. A group with guns and a knife, this was better. Better prey for a better hunt.
Damien pushes you off and stumbles to his feet, drawing his gun towards you. “You were never worth it.”
“Damien, wait—!”
Sha’kala’s spear whizzed through the air, hitting Damien in the chest. He fell backwards and fired a shot, barely missing your head. His struggled breathing echoed through the night trees, and each breath was a fight. You scrambled to his side, and tried to take the spear out of his chest, but bright red dots fell over your arm then inched up your arm. You followed the lazor to the source, and you freeze up.
You watched how she stepped out and waited for you to pick the gun up just to give her a reason. Her sleek armor that covered her chest and lower half was black and had a torn cloth over her hip, which covered a scar on her thigh. Her back helmet looked to be the same shape as a moth, and the carving on the large forehead was in a language you didn’t understand. It made clicks, chirping in mocking bravery, and inched closer.
“It’s okay, Damien; I have you. Damien? Damien,” you finally looked down as eyes looked back, dead and empty. “Damien…no,” you forgot the hunter and the hum of a gun. You forgot the sound the humming of her gun and clicking. You say his lifeless eyes looking up in fear and regret. You cradle his head and let out a scream that shook the hunter to her core and spread across the forest.
Sha’kala stood over you, her head tilts to the side like a curious cat. Why weren’t you fighting now? Why not pick his weapon? You are prey now, so why aren’t you acting like it?
You met the blacked out eyes and relaxed. “Do it,” you challenged boldly. “Do it. You took Damien and Zane—so take me. Do it.”
It felt wrong. Something didn’t feel right and didn’t set well in Sha’kala’s chest. She’s seen some prey beg for death, and she’s head how some hunters accept their fateful moments. But seeing you like this, seeing that same fighting spirit in your eyes fade with your friend, Sha’kala didn’t like it and didn’t feel honorable.
She stood in front of you, her head titling and clicking, and made a decision.
You weren’t prey.
You were better than prey.
She unclipped a small circle ring on her belt and held it out to you. “What are you…?” A sweet lavender mist hits your face. Blurry vision follows and the noise muffled, and your head was heavy when you feel to the side.
The last you see before you close your eyes were her crouching beside you and letting out a lion-like roar.
Tw: foreshadow of him murdering those from your life
*******************
Bo brushed out his cigarette and leaned against the base of the tree, his dark blue eyes studying your every move, noting every little thing that made you smile in the garden of roses and lilies. In the summer dress and flower crown adorning your hair, you looked like some fairy from a story he heard. He only smiles softly to himself as he was about to light another cigarette. It’s not that he’s nervous; he liked how the smoke at the end of the bud twirls around you like wisps of fog and fire. He would give anything to draw like his brother to capture this moment to memory.
As the sunset behind you, dipping into the marsh and willows, his breath was taken from his lungs. You were a marble block, and he felt like the carver, seeing the beauty you held under untouched skin. But he wouldn’t break you. He wouldn’t dare raise his hammer or chisel to set you free for all the world to see. You were his masterpiece, his treasure, his and his alone—
“Bo!” You called over like a song, snapping his thoughts. You held a small bouquet of wild lilies and a mixture of yarrow in your hands like some bride. Your smile broke him, and he wasn’t made. “Bo, I found a stream! I think it has geodes!”
There you go again without even knowing it. He dropped his cigarette, his hammer and chisel, and came towards you, his perfect love inside a hidden valley of rocks and flowers. He walked upon the graves of broken bones and sailors who will never speak of you again.
As he stood in front of you, you reached up to place a small flower crown over his hat, and he smiles warmly. The oil on his hands the was mixed with dry blood faded as he held you by your waist. What a way to waste a sunset. What a way to waste a day of sunshine. Even the smell of you drove him above madness but he’ll never show you. He’ll never tell you.
