call me Ash, baby

protip ; dont give up bc ppl seem to flock to male muses much easier. dont give up bc female muses are judged much more harshly. dont give up bc the double standards between them is so disgusting.

write your female chara in spite of all that, bc they are strong and so are you, far more powerful than the hypocritical ‘ i love girls but dont give female ocs the time of day & hold them to different, twisted standards as male ocs ’ sexism tumblr perpetuates. 

dont stop writing bc ppl dont seem to be interested in her (and by extension, you, i know that feeling sucks but i promise it’s not true). write her bc you LOVE her and she deserves to have a platform in which you can express and develop her like she deserves, how YOU deserve as a writer to write strong, wonderful, female characters.

don’t let her & your confidence to write her be suffocated by this community that is infested with phake snakes. 

She certainly didn’t want him to get the wrong idea, it went without saying that she was too cheap to do repairs on damage she hadn’t even done. Honestly, part of her was more willing to drive smashed than she was to let someone else drive the Delta, but her fingers played along her keys. “Hot chicks’re the ones you shouldn’t trust,” she snickered. “Even I know that!” She unlocked the car, but she went for the back seat first. With a hand cupped against the window, she peered inside.

Though she had a few seconds to compose her expression, the wince was still evident. “So y’aint scared of death, ya said?” She gave a laugh that had a nervous edge to it as she cranked open the door. A thick waft of rotting flesh followed.

chainsaw-chick:

dontstepinmypuddle:

chainsaw-chick:

dontstepinmypuddle:

chainsaw-chick:

Her hand was clamped to her stomach, she could feel every pulsing, hot gurgle of her organs, just barely held in by the plane of her palm. Along with the hot and sticky sensation of her own insides, there was a pressing feeling of burning and cramping. Drawing in a shallow breath, it was hard not to choke on the blood bubbling up in her throat. “Hey,” Ash croaked, tanned flesh tinted bone white. The corners of her lips tugged up in something that resembled a pained smile. “You good with a needle an’ thread?”

“Gonna need a lot more than that,”

Laughing was too painful, but the corners of her lips tugged up briefly in a small smile, within the split second before she realized that he was indeed about to pour the whiskey down anyway. Her lips parted, and she cringed when the liquid hit her tongue, mingling with the blood that felt like a coating there.

The fingers of her good hand dug down into the stiff, gore stained carpet. She could feel herself slipping. The edges of her vision blurred into blackness, her glassy eyes rolling back–no! Fight it, fight it you useless bitch! The thought played on repeat in the back of her mind: fight it, fight it, fight it. The tattered skin around her stomach was almost bleaching whiter, a stark contrast against the practically black blood pumping from the wound.

It wasn’t hard to see the spider web of veins beneath translucent skin, in fact, the sight was decidedly unnatural. Like tree roots, the capillaries trailed up her exposed belly, completely visible not unlike a victim of a lightening strike, but they were grey, almost pitch dark.

The needle plunged into tender flesh, her teeth baring almost immediately. She didn’t just look like she was dying, she looked like she was dead. Her eyes were marred with bruise like circles beneath them, her lips were colorless, tinted purple. She retched, turning her head to keep from puking, but instead a little giggle streamed out. The sound was demented, and it sounded like more than one voice, the second layered over the first and pitched down to an inhuman degree. Her giggle rose to a cackle, white eyes peering back up at Chi with a level of consciousness that she had lacked since sitting down.

“ W̼̭̬a̸͚̻̞̹̣̣n̪̟̝̟̰na̧͍̭ p̰̯̩̯ͅͅl̤̠ą͉̞͖̪͎̮̣y̖ ̳̝̭w̯̩̦͡i̳̹̺͈̬̭͘th͚͙͖ ̢͓m̲͙̕y̡ ̴̗g̗̮͔̣͇̟̥u̻̼̻̳t̤̫͍s͙̩͕͙̙͓͓͠, ͓͓͍̬̼͟b̲͕̩͞i̠̭̣͕͈̪̘g҉̭͓̮͉͙̥ ̝ͅb̪͕͜o–”

Her hand was extended to help him up, and there was a slight tilt to her head, as if she didn’t understand his discomfort at being shown up. But, if she were the one getting choke slammed by a zombie, she probably wouldn’t be too happy either.

“Well sorry, didn’ mean to interrupt yer private auto-erotic asphyxiation time,” she hummed innocently, slipping her knife back into its spot at her hip with a private giggle as he stormed off.

Her eyes shifted over her shoulder. There had to be a reason why they were here. The book? Or maybe a necromancer was in the area.  Cracking open her shotgun, she pulled out the spent shells and tossed them aside, stepping back through the hole in the wall with a little wince. Well, maybe he was an angel, because even she woulda been sustaining several broken ribs, and probably some internal bleeding.

Ash was reloading when she felt something catch her ankle, almost sending her into a rather marvelous face plant. Instead, she caught herself on her elbows and twisted around, cramming her boot into the creature’s face before it could think of using those misshapen teeth to rid her of another much needed limb.

Quickly snapping her gun closed, she cocked it back and took aim, before firing into the deadite’s skull. “You couldn’t handle one’a my slumber parties, sweetcheeks. It’d make yer brain leak out your ears,”

“Why? Do you have something that is not known to us men? What do you have a Barry manilow sing along? or something? Don’t tell me? you girls talk about how cute boys are and talk about your sensitive areas? Because count me in” he winked. Of course, Ramey was on the joking side of his little speech, or was he? Well not all of it anyways.  “look little lady, we need to either fuck these demons up the rear with that shinny object you keep cutting people up with? Or you need to tell your little boy friends that the foreplay is over?” he said. Ramey slightly raised his right eye brow up just a bit he knew they didn’t have a lot of time whatever this was? was coming faster than a woman in heat. 

 “Sweet cheeks as much as I would love to keep this little heat of love that you and I share? But something bigger is coming I can smell it. Well, it’s either that or you really haven’t showered in a while.” His nose wrinkled just a bit  in a mild of disgust. He thought about it for a moment as he raised his own left arm “Maybe I haven’t shower in a while” he said shaking his head from side to side thinking about it for a moment or two.

 “look the point is these fuckers need to be punch in the gut and a slap in the rear to get this shit over and lady I plan to hunt every single one of your college buddies till there all dice into tiny little cubs and perhaps mix it in a nice cocktail for the big bad boss down stairs, now I know your scare so if you don’t wish to get your nails all dirty perhaps you can let a real tough guy handle this while you go do your hair.” He shook his head walking towards whatever he knew was heading there way.

“Yeah, yeah. I got yer back in case another braindead zombie gets ya by the throat again, gramps!” The woman called, trotting behind.

Her eyes stared solidly through whatever they were focused on, glassy and glazed. She wasn’t in the kitchen anymore–at least not mentally. She was somewhere else, far away. In the woods with no escape, pushing her thumbs through Scotty’s eyesockets. The dulled screaming from the turned down TV played well into her thoughts, it made her grind her teeth so fiercly that the bones of her jaw creaked in protest.

The stinging of warm tears broke her away, back into the empty house. There was a puddle of rum around her shot glass, but it received no visual reaction from the girl. Instead, she picked it up and brought the edge of it to her lips, but didn’t drink. Something caused her to pause in the gesture, the sound of the recliner groaning.

She turned slowly, her breath catching in her throat. She hadn’t even noticed her dad sleeping in the living room, so the sight of him standing in the doorway, cradling a baseball bat was a shock. Her fingers slipped from the glass in her hand, and it tumbled free. She darted out her right arm to catch it, but the realization that her hand was still in fact missing occurred to her with the shattering of her favorite shot glass on the floor.

“Fuck,” she mumbled, her lips giving an infuriated, upset tremble, before she bit down on them. Her dark hair was matted and stiff with blood and gore, but the mess she had made was more pressing. She knelt down, quickly picking up the pieces. “Sorry, Pops. Why don’tcha go lay down in bed? You’re gonna be kickin’ yourself tomorrow,”

Artificial life flooded back into her expression, but it couldn’t quite reach her eyes. Somehow, she managed to smile.

@dontxxgetxcockyxxx

“Where the hell you been? Do you have any idea how sick I was that-“ he looked at her hand “what in the hell?” he rushed to her side. “Ashly? Who did this?” he looked into her eyes “what did you do?” he asked with a panic look pressed upon his face. “I saw the news I wanted to.. go look for you but-  I didn’t know if you were going to come back… you were gone for gods knows. I thought, I feared the worst” he said he grabbed her with a firm grip hugging her tightly.

 He placed his chin on top of her shoulder as the streams of a river slowly melted its way down his face. “I thought I lost you” he said softly but what he didn’t know what had really gone wrong.  “tell me everything” he said. “especially that” he said.  Ramey’s lips tried to grasp whatever saliva he had left to swallow since he couldn’t help but to feel as someone was playing some sort of mean trick on the family’s house perhaps someone voodoo it.  ramey knew perhaps Ashly didn’t want to be anywhere near the house since he had been drinking his troubles away, but he still cared even if she couldn’t see it.

Her teeth chewed at the inside of her lip, fumbling for the drawer where the rags were kept, but she couldn’t quite remember. It felt like she had been gone a lifetime, but the anxiety was like a hot fire crawling up her stomach. Another drawer sliding shut, the next slamming at the question of ‘what did you do’. “Nothing!” She burst, steeling a panicked gaze over her shoulder that weakened when she saw the look on his face. Fuck, fuck, fuck. The urge to claw out her eyes and just abort mission was hard to ignore, but she couldn’t back out. It wasn’t right to just sneak in and try to act like all was normal. There was an explanation owed, and one that was formulated, at least.

The pull of arms around her scrawny frame made her shrink away somewhat, but there was a sense of comfort that it wasn’t hands around her throat. She shuddered, but there was no sound that left her lips. “’M uh... Sorry,” she mumbled, her jaw tightening behind a pursed mouth.

Ashley had a story--or a set of stories. She wasn’t sure which one to tell her pops, because whatever it was, she’d have to commit to it for good. “You...heard on th’ news?” Her voice was thick, caught in her throat along with the lump of suppressed tears from sore eyes that had already been rubbed raw over the course of the past few weeks. She didn’t want to have to tell him about Cheryl. She didn’t want to see it on his face. Avoiding the topic of her hand was simple enough, but that was the easiest part to talk about, really. It was the one thing she didn’t really miss all that much, after everything she lost in that cabin.

The spray of gravel and the thumpthump of bald tires dragging over the rumble-strip made his stomach give an impressing somersault. It was almost comical, because the same wide-eyed look Ashley pointed his way mirrored his own. Ash didn’t look that different from a spooked cat, clutching the overhead handle (or, as he referred to it, the chicken bar) with white knuckles. 

“Couldn’t tell,” he said with a sniff and a metric fuckton of sarcasm, wrinkling his nose up. The bratty expression could only last a second or so, before it gave way to a snickering laugh. Ash gave his head a playful push with the tips of his fingers. “Save that shit for the shower, huh?” His arms stretched out towards the dash, easing the aching muscles in his shoulders while he shifted uncomfortably from one edge of the seat to the next. Taking a glance over at Ashley for approval at his joke, he followed the younger man’s gaze with a squint of his own. “How many names d'these Southern Belles gotta have?” he yawned. “Hope they got somethin’ t'drink in this pit…” He was all too familiar with the down South concept of dry-counties, and he wasn’t so sure that he’d be able to handle the news of being trapped in another one too graciously. Arching forward, he pawed the music a few notches lower. Fuck, that song was gonna be stuck in his head for the next week. “You wanna uh… Sleep in a hotel room tonight? Maybe ol’ Maryanne Lou knows some nice digs…” Sleeping in the Delta was all fun and games until you hit a certain age. Then, it felt more like sleeping in a spiked sarcophagus than an actual bed.

as shy as he ever is, he bows his head, smiling as he  faces the dashboard of this ancient, if not well-kept beauty  he ( they? ) drove. save it for the shower indeed – whatever that meant. he didn’t get the joke, he just liked ash’s smile.

turning back to him, he’ll offer the more grown-double a simple, borderline-listless shrug.

                   “ sure, but you’re splittin’ it with me this time.                      not payin’ for another room where you hog the freakin’ bed. ”

as if that really mattered, ashley had grown accustomed to ash’s near-constant presence, and thus, laid on top of him whenever & wherever they slept. mostly. the delta was an exception, but only because that tall son of a bitch barely fit in the backseat alone, it’d be a nightmare if ashley’s neediness extended to that sleeping arrangement.

time passes pretty quickly, and it wasn’t long till the delta was parked out front of this cutesy diner from a time long-past, decorated head to toe in authentic fifties memorabilia. the jukebox played buddy holly in the soft  distance, and this place seemed to be a living time machine.

                    “ cute place! ”

he quips cheerfully, hands thumbing through the dinky little place’s  menu. he knew exactly what he was gonna get, ‘cause ashley gets the same thing every time they stop at a diner; grilled cheese with a tomato soup he never tries ‘cause it looks too much like blood, and a lil’ chocolate shake.

Which honestly, wasn’t all that incorrect of a description. “Yeah, yeah, I hog the bed, you hog the covers. Fair trade,” the male’s voice was somewhat strained as he shifted uncomfortably. “We can’t all be pipsqueaks like you, y’know,”

A grin surfaced on his features however strained it was, but ultimately he would spend the rest of the short trip bitching, as was to be expected. Once he finally uncramped himself from the passenger seat however, he was back to his usual self, shaking out gangly legs one at a time. He was still stretching them out when they were seated at their table.

“You c’n tell a chick decorated this sockhop,”

Despite his words, there was a clear fondness in his tone--he couldn’t hide the fact that he liked the look of the place. He wouldn’t call it cute, because his mouth refused to form the word under any circumstances except mockery, but... it kinda was.