#finnstokely

send me a pair name and I’ll tell you what I think it would be like if they had a child.

Name: Keisha Siobhan StokelyGender: femaleGeneral Appearance: soft dark strawberry blonde hair with her mother’s annoyed looks and eyebrows and her father’s eyes.Personality: guarded but not unfriendly–terrible at talking about feelings. on her cell phone a lot at family dinners.Special Talents: I feel like she plays the clarinet and volleyball.Who they like better: she probably prefers her father when she wants to get something she wants, but for all topics concerning being a woman it’s obviously Cameron?? like can you IMAGINE papa stokely trying to take her shopping for tampons? A living NIGHTMARE.Who they take after more: it’s a 50/50 split bc Cameron and Finn are both TERRIBLE at the same things. She has all their bad habits too.Personal Headcanon: This poor girl had to go to BOTH sunday school AND hebrew school.Face Claim: Antonia Thomas

Ghost - Halsey

I’m searching for something that I can’t reach

She wonders if this is truly love she feels for him, or the desire of wanting to love someone. But why would she do that to herself on purpose? Love a man who could and would never love her back? Love a man she wasn’t even sure cared for her the way she cared for him? It was thoughts like this that entered her mind when they lied together on a bed, doing nothing but the simple act of sleeping. On the nights when she couldn’t sleep and he could, and she looked at his face and let these terrible thoughts enter her mind. Does he truly care for her, or simply tolerate her? Is she kidding herself for having hopes?

When she’s with him she starts to think romantic love was not meant for her, that no one could love her back that way. Maybe there would be someone who did love her, maybe there already was, but she was blinded with him and couldn’t see anyone else. She found it funny, he was a priest yet he was her devil. Or maybe she was his, it all blended in and she was unable to find the truth in it.

Roxy had been doing much of nothing, as there was nothing much to do. She spent most of her time coped up in her fathers house, though technically it could be considered her house now. She’d been the only one residing in it for such a long time, yet she still never called it hers. It was a lovely house, and while it was small considered to her last house it could still be considered big, but she was never the type to stay inside all the time. She needed to go out and have fun, she needed adventure. She wasn’t going to get much of that in the zombie apocalypse though, so she settled for walking through the area and kicking rocks around. 

She was a bit surprised, she’d been in Cheyenne since the beginning of hell on Earth but had never walked around. She usually walked around her house and the neighborhoods near it, but today she had ventured farther into town. She wasn’t sure where she was headed, there was no destination in sight, but she soon found herself walking near a park. She spent a bit sitting there, her hand on her gun she barely knew to use just in case one of those walkers came. Roxy tried her best to be cautious while remaining relaxed, and frankly her mind was barely on protecting herself in case of zombies.

It occurred to her it might begin to get dark soon, or maybe that was an excuse to hide in her house again, but she began to walk in the direction of her home. She had walked quite a distance, and hoped she’d remember exactly how to get there. Roxy had hope she would, and while thinking about the way to get home she turned a corner bumping into someone. After tumbling back a bit and having to regain her balance, she was about to apologize to the person. She had hoped it was a living human being, at least. “I’m so –” Roxy began to say until she looked up at the man, stunned for a bit. “I was about to apologize, and then I saw your extremely handsome face and realized I’m not sorry at all.”

after hours of wandering, aster’s trembling hands rapped at the church doors.

“please, finn… please, please,” her whisper frenetic and desperate as her knocks began to mimic the tone, “open the door, please, please –” her breath hitched in her throat when a rustling, her erratic state left her unsure of where it came from. her eyes were wide – wider than usual, those bug eyes looked watery and frightened. “oh god, finn, please –” her curled fist peeked out from the much too long sleeve of her knitwear. well, it’s not her knitwear.

it belonged to ashley, though it clung to her petite body like a dress because she looked cold when they were together. by the end of their time, aster had an unsettling feeling that it had been too … normal. that she felt like he would drop her off at her apartment with a minute hug because her doorman would be watching. that she would wake up and make a kale smoothie while texting him, then head for tactical training. and when aster felt things got too real or too normal, she did something destructive. 

that was how she ended up wandering around the wooded areas of cheyenne, her thoughts like a car at a hundred something miles per hour. they took her to a world of her own, but a harsh reminder came when she had to pull a knife – again, and again, and again. it wasn’t the blood of the long dead that upset her, she had been accustomed to corpses since her promotion to detective. she didn’t have a chance to remember what made her run, the door creaked open.

finn said nothing – a furrow of her brows and the corner of his lips down-turned as his fingers gripped at her shoulders gingerly, she didn’t flinch at his touch. he wouldn’t hurt her, he wouldn’t lay a hand on her if it wasn’t for comfort. he didn’t need to convince her of this, aster placed her trust in his hands without thinking about it. he seemed to be someone that would handle it with care. their bodies were swallowed up in the inky black of the church, door closed behind them.

they’d all but abandoned the pews when their acquaintanceship changed – they were friends now, the blonde smiled when she thought about it. they were honest to god friends, they spent time together and he knew little secrets about her. she liked to think she knew his too – or that she came the closest. for all intents and purposes, one could call finnegan stokely her best friend. they spent nights talking, aster often laid on the floor the pews faced and gave him friendly smiles – open, welcoming, new.

her legs were crossed and she made herself comfortable on the floor, thumbs swept underneath her eyelashes to ensure she wouldn’t cry – she hated being this scared, she hated wearing it on her sleeve. with this in mind, she should have returned to the station and curled up in a duvet at the corner of the holding cell. however, she didn’t want to be alone. aster didn’t want to be alone, and she came to finn – he didn’t hesitate to wrap his arm around her shoulders. 

finn knew better than to ask about what had put the fear of the devil in this woman; this wild and stubborn woman. it was noble of him to comfort her when she was in tears, but even better: it was noble of him not to talk about it, not to address it because he knew it was something she felt uncomfortable with. instead, he rubbed at her arm gently until her body found stillness.

“i wasn’t ready to go home,” she mumbled before she cleared her throat, “… i’m too scared.” of a lumbering man in the woods with a knife, and she was aware of how reminiscent that was of a b-rated horror movie.

he offered her a soft smile and she hoped it didn’t have an apologetic air to it – please, please, please, please, she didn’t open her mouth but she was pleading with slumped shoulders. a pat at her arm, “you don’t have to go home if you don’t want to.”