#Eden Sinclair | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sketchy-rosewitch · 10 months

Text

Take Hold of Me: Eden and Bo Sinclair

Warnings: Mentions of abuse both physical and verbal

A/N: Made something cause I wanted to write more Eden. Also for some reason I had Little Women in my head so little blurb is based on Something’s are Meant to Be

Taggies: @rottent33th @soupbabe

“Ya know. Not even an hour after you and Lester were born. Vincent and I came into the office. Ma started talking to Vince, ‘bout how to hold Lester properly. Was ignorin’ me though. Probably because she didn’t want me touchin’ you or him. Anyway, Pa was too focused on Vince and Lester also, so I came up to you without askin’, put my finger in the crib and you held right onto it. I looked over at how Vincent was holdin’ Les. Did the exact same thing. You were so calm, you didn’t wiggle or make a noise. You just stared at me and smiled, continuing to hold onto my finger. I got excited. Told Ma and Pa, ‘Eden’s mine!’. Both of them were livid that I had held you without askin’ first. Pa took you from me, handed you to Mama and you started cryin’ and both of them blamed me for it. Pa beat the shit outta me. I didn’t care though cause I already called dibs on you and I promised I’d look over you no matter what Mama or Pa said.”

The night was cool with a small bit of humidity as Eden and Bo sat together on the porch. It was quiet before Bo started talking, only thing that could be heard were the mockingbirds and crickets singing in their nightly band.

“Guess sayin’ I hated mama my whole life isn’t being dramatic.” Eden comments, watching as lighting bugs flash softly close to the grass. Bo chuckles softly.

“No it ain’t.” He shakes his head and sips on his beer.

“Is that why you were always lookin’ out for me Bo? You called dibs on me and decided it was your life’s mission to make sure I ended up okay?” The blonde looks over at her brother, the porch light illuminating his skin. He shrugs nonchalantly making Eden frown.

“Yeah, I knew Vincent and Mama would be at the House of Wax all the time. She wouldn’t have time for you or Lester. And I knew Pa was always takin’ care of the older folks in town, not that he ever wanted to be ‘round his kids anyways.” Bo answers, he takes another sip of beer and looks over at his sister, she didn’t have a smile on her face, it was tight lipped look as she nodded, hearing every word Bo said to her. “I knew how different you’d be too. We’re one and the same. Shit I didn’t think anyone could throw bigger tantrums than me. You beat me the first time you didn’t wanna take off that dress Junibee Smith had put on you.”

Eden and Bo share a laugh reminiscing in the memory.

“Mama made me cry so hard from her spankin’ with that paddle and I still didn’t take it off… we’re too stubborn for our own good Bo.”

“We got every right to be with parents like ours. We understood that we deserved nice things too.” Bo gets up and chucks the glass bottle into the garbage can. It shatters as it hits the bottom of the can making Eden flinch slightly.

“Bo.”

His sister fumbles with her skirt and kicks a bit of dirt off of the deck.

“What.”

She takes a deep breath, nervous to even bring this subject up. “Why do we even bother with this town? I understand Vincent, but we didn’t do nothin’ but cause Mama problems and we hate her, don’t we? She hurt us.”

Bo is still facing away from his sister. His mouth twitches and he crosses his arms, slouching, hiding away from the conversation. Eden’s anxiety spikes and she stands up. She makes a quick decision beginning to head towards the door to go inside and forget about the night. “Neverm-“

“Cause maybe when we reach heaven… She’ll look at us and tell us how good we did. That she’s so proud and that she forgives us for behavin’ so badly when she was alive.” Bo’s tone changes. “We deserve to be loved by her. What better way to do it than by helpin’ her favorite, yeah?“

The two siblings face each other. Bo’s arms go down to his sides. He looks down and kicks his boot lightly. Eden steps closer to her brother, walking up to him like a scared and injured deer before wrapping her arms around him in a tight embrace. Bo hesitates, tensing up almost completely then he wraps his arms around his sister tightly.

“You really think we’ll be able to make it to Heaven? Even after all we’ve done?”

Bo brushes his little sister’s hair to comfort her and kisses her head. He looks at the night sky, the stars twinkling.

“Yeah, cause if Mama made it then, we will too.”

#bo sinclair #house of wax #house of wax 2005 #eden sinclair #slasher oc #house of wax oc

8 notes · View notes

lonelypond · 1 year

Text

Secret

Wenclair, Wednesday (TV 2022), 1.2 K, 1/1

Wednesday is preparing Enid's Secret Santa gift.

No albums were harmed in the writing of this fic.

Secret

Wednesday Addams sat on the chair she used for cello practice, leaning forward, her foil in hand, rather than a bow. Music was represented by the pile of moonstone, bloodmoon, and jade green, and mahogany Taylor Swift vinyl trapped under the point of the foil. Wednesday spun the sword, slowly, but inexorably increasing the force she was exerting downward. Her father would chide her about proper sword care, Bianca Barclay would brush away all future tossed gauntlets as Wednesday would be an opponent unworthy of her rank. But Wednesday found as the point of the foil drilled through the vinyl, shattering it, a sensation of pleasure rose each time the point broke through to a new platter. Her Secret Santa gift to Enid Sinclair was recorded, the mixtape, authentically lodged on a cassette with Wednesday’s careful calligraphy listing the song and commentary list scratched onto the paper cover tucked inside. She wondered if she should have recorded the albums as they shattered as a backdrop to her commentary. She had delicately shredded the covers, cutting strips with the sharpest of craft knives, until Taylor Swift’s face became a muddle of flesh tones and dark backdrops. She appreciated Ms. Swift’s craft; what she did not appreciate was how Enid’s eyes lit up when a Taylor Swift song came on or how Enid had bouncily requested Wednesday donate a couple of rare books to the “Get Enid Taylor Tickets” auction. Yes, the books were dusty (She had hidden Thing’s favorite hand cream for that betrayal), but they were also irreplaceable. Yes, they would have made Enid’s auction a success if the billionaires lusting for them had found them, but surely transferring enough cash to buy out an entire stadium to a high schooler’s account would have raised some kind of ATF alarm. This is part of why Wednesday had given up cannons at a young age; blade weapons attracted much less government scrutiny than the gunpowder and projectile variety. Pugsley was going to have to learn to obscure the trail of his purchases. Perhaps Wednesday would start a demolition company to gift him for his next birthday.

“Howdy, bestie.” The door opened and Enid rushed into the room, a swirl of butterscotch gold and brightness that could no longer be contained by any means Wednesday had researched. Even midnights seemed brighter since Wednesday had demurred Enid’s offer to replace the duct tape. Where midnights now her afternoon when Enid was present? Was Taylor Swift a Cassandra, prophesing all the dooms. Wednesday was intrigued by that thought. Perhaps she should listen to and shatter some of Taylor’s earlier albums (Taylor’s Versions only, if available). Was this now Wednesday (Enid’s version)? If she was going to cross pollinate any features, Wednesday thought, nay prayed, could it be the fangs and not the blinding colors.

“Wednesday?”

Wednesday (Enid’s version) re entered the physical space of her body opening her eyes to discover an Enid barely the width of a blade off her nose. Blue eyes, worried blue eyes, blue eyes Wednesday would forget to swim in so the weight of her emotions would drag her to doom, looked puzzled. Wednesday flounced back, sword flipping up, Enid skipping back to avoid the tip, Wednesday throwing herself forward, to the floor, arms out, to cover the carnage she had been creating.

“Secret Santa collage.” Wednesday(Enid’s version) hissed. “Don’t ask, don’t tell.”

Enid frowned, “You’re acting…” Weird, strange, odd…all of those words would describe Wednesday’s behavior on any ordinary day so Wednesday was very curious as to how Enid would describe this.

“Silly. Silly.” Enid turned to talk to Thing, “She’s being silly. Isn’t she?”

Wednesday (Wednesday’s version) glared from where she was sprawled on the floor, across destroyed Midnights albums, shards of which cut into her ribs. Thing scuttled over to hover by her nose. He smirked. Wednesday glared.

“I was not expecting you back until later.” Wednesday (Enid’s version) in a weak attempt to cover up embarrassment, scolded Enid.”I do not think you are ready to interact with my messy side.”

“You have a messy side?”

Wednesday (Wednesday’s version) pulled off a devious smile, remembering days coated with dirt, mud, cobwebs, viscera, feathers.

“It’s a private thing.”

Enid stared, then shrugged, “Yeah, some days I just feel like making a pile of all my clothes on the bed and diving in; figures you’d prefer the floor.”

“An ascetic pleasure.” Wednesday (Enid’s version) could feel the hyperventilation start as her heart rate accelerated like an avalanche. What was she saying? Did any of it make sense? How could she get Enid out of the room before Enid discovered what she’d been up to and assumed the Prophet Swift had made Wednesday’s murder list. Well, she had, but after Wednesday (Enid’s version) discovery of the singer’s new found link to ancient prophetesses, Wednesday would draw a careful black line through the name. Future knowledge could be useful and Enid owned all the albums.

Enid reached down with both hands and easily put Wednesday (Enid’s version) back on her feet, fortunately holding on for just 32 seconds too long so when Wednesday’s (Enid’s version) knees buckled as she swooned at Enid’s werewolf strength, Wednesday (Enid’s version) managed to remain upright. Wednesday (Wednesday's version) stepped forward, broadening her shoulders, head held high, chin tilted forward, challenging Enid, daringly blocking the werewolf’s view.

Enid knelt down. Wednesday’s (Enid’s version) throat closed to keep her stomach in. Was this a proposal? Did the revelation of a less perfect side sway Enid to impulsive, impressive possessiveness.

Enid was back on her feet, Wednesday’s foil in hand, examining the tip, “It’s not the sword’s fault Bianca keeps getting first touch. You’ve been letting your defenses down.”

“It’s a trap. A trap. A plan. To win. One I thought about. A lot.” This was all babble. Wednesday (Wednesday’s version) never EVER babbled. Was never ever flustered. Wednesday (Enid’s version) grabbed the foil back, hugging it, “I always have a plan. And I never fail to execute it.” A pause. This needed something else to finish it off, something convincing. “Don’t tell Bianca.”

Pugsley would have done better, Eugene would have been more eloquent. She hadn’t even threatened Enid with defenestration. Wednesday (Enid’s version) brought both hands up to her face and the hand guard rammed her nose, eyes watering as she winced with pain.

Enid very gently put one hand on Wednesday (Enid’s version)’s shoulder, took the foil back with the other, and led Wednesday (Enid’s version) to her bed.

“You’re red, Wednesday. You probably have a fever. That’s why you’re acting so strange.”

Fever, yes, a deadly fever. Wednesday (Wednesday’s version) snarled at Thing, who was on his side, rocking with laughter.

Wednesday (Enid’s version) stopped. An idea. “Get me soup. Quickly. I’ll die without soup.”

“Okay.” Enid sounded more confused than worried, but soup was a request she could deliver on. “I’ll be right back. Lay down. Thing, make sure she doesn’t strain anything.”

Wednesday (Wednesday’s version) reached for the sword. If she rammed it through her chest with enough velocity, no further conversations would be necessary. Ever.

Enid, worried werewolf reflexes fully activated, dodged. “You’re not getting out of this world that easily, Addams.”

And the wink. And the pouty flirty smily perfect poisoned lips. And Wednesday (Enid’s version) was falling back on her bed, actually feverish, pierced through the heart, head full of ENID ENID ENID ENID ENID ENID.

Alas and most unfortunately, for her now not to be birthed future heirs, Wednesday Addams (all versions) was no Mastermind at existing in the presence of Enid Sinclair’s celestial glow.

A/N: My first for this fandom. Wenclair is currently driving my brain. Who doesn't love a good storm cloud raven/sunny day werewolf story? Written for @sapphicfest.

#Wenclair #Wednesday Addams #Eden Sinclair #disaster demisexual #fluff #Secret Santa prompt #fun #Taylor Swift #Taylor Swift lyrics

24 notes · View notes

the-pinstriped-hood · 11 months

Text

"Hail Persephone Jones, Daughter of Hades, Lord of the Underworld, The Silent One."

Part 2: Swimming Shades

That had been three days ago and the camp had finally died down again from all the excitement. Percy had been moved into Cabin 13, meeting her cabin mates, Milo and Ciarán. She admired the green fire glowing in the brassiere outside the cabin. Inside, heavy metal played from a Bluetooth speaker at a reasonable volume. The bunk beds had been made out of a polished dark wood and silver rivets held them together. The room was overall dark, which is how the boys liked it. The windows and curtains were closed 24/7.

The young girl set down what little she had, her toiletry bag from the camp store, her collection of gems she found around camp in a small box.

Milo nudged his Irish half brother. "We never guessed we'd get a little sister…" Milo tried making small talk. This part wasn't his favorite. Ciarán could already feel the icy distance growing between himself, Milo and Percy.

"Why couldn't he tell me that himself?" She asked, Steel blue eyes flashing with hurt.

"In a way, lass, he did. Ya have to understand that our parents, the gods can't have direct contact with us. It's against ancient laws."

Percy hopped off her bed and went back outside, slamming the door behind her.

"We tried man…"

"Aye."

The youngest demigod was in no mood to be bothered. She was so upset. Being tossed around in the foster system like a ragdoll, used and abused. At least the ones that were greedy, had gotten their dose of Karma. If Percy didn't give you one of her gems willingly, it would be cursed with bad luck to keep it with you. Most times resulting in death.

Then, she thought of the opal skull around her neck. It had randomly appeared while she was in the orphanage one night, she also thought of Bubba. The large hellhound that had managed to find her wherever she was, no matter what state she had been sent to for a foster home.

A pit in her stomach made her feel bad. Hades had tried in what little ways he could to make sure Percy was being cared for.

"You know, I'd never seen a girl as pretty as you around here~" a southern tinged voice purred. To her left, Percy found the Aphrodite cabin, all pink and pristine like a Barbie doll mansion come to life. A young boy with slicked back chocolate colored hair and eyes as blue as the sky was leaning against one of the columns. Percy rolled her eyes.

Only now would she get attention like this. Because she was considered somebody important.

"You know that only now are you interested in saying hi it makes you look shallow."

The boy snorted, standing up and getting close to Percy. Bubba growled at Bo, steaming drool dripping from his jowls. Bo paid the dog no mind.

"Baby doll, you'll have to forgive me. I've been busy."

Percy prayed to the gods for a distraction. She wanted out of this interaction. Luckily, someone answered her prayer.

A shadow hovered over both her and Bo, It was Max. The counselor from the Hermes cabin made himself known as Bo stepped back.

"Hey, Percy. Archie wants you to get fitted for armor for training."

Percy nodded, mouthing a small, thank you, to the blonde and jogging away from the situation towards the Hephaestus forges, Bubba on her heels.

"But Archie don't do fittings." Bo looked up at the blonde. "You're right. He doesn't. But I won't stand for bullying, Bo. I know you."

The southern boy skulked right back into his cabin with his brothers and sisters and closed the door.

At lunchtime, Ciarán, Milo and Percy ate at their designated tables at the pavilion while Bubba gnawed on a large bone on the floor. The pavilion was buzz with talking and laughter. Ellie, the councilor for the Demeter cabin was talking about growing Venus flytraps in the garden on the roof. Darrell was laughing along with his brothers and sisters about almost getting scorched in the lava pit on the rock wall. He had holes in his shirt to show for it. The Apollo kids were harmonizing at their table, with Ava leading. The chatter from the Hermes table was loud as usual being the biggest Cabin, the Dionysus kids were the opposite, talking quietly and some of them even waved to Mr D. Over at the Aphrodite table, Vincent and Lester were looking at Ellie and Ava longingly while Bo was fixing his hair in his sister Maggie's hand mirror because the wind had messed it up again Eden was admiring herself in her own mirror making kissy faces.

Percy finished her food and sat silently. The air was awkward around the Hades kids. There wasn't really anything they had in common besides their parentage but the half brothers figured they should make a genuine effort this time.

"So…..that collection of gems. Where'd you find them?" Milo asked, mindlessly sipping his goblet of Red Bull.

Percy's hand crept to her necklace. "I just have an eye for finding them, I guess. It's always been this way. I find geodes too. They're really pretty. But…"

"But?" Ciaran asked silently.

"My foster parents kept taking them away from me. And while I was at school, I'd be shuffled off to the next set of parents because they had died somehow."

Stunned silence from her brothers.

"I later found out that the gems are cursed. If I don't share them with you, the curse remains."

"So its sharing or theft." Milo nodded.

The little black haired girl returned the nod. Pulling something out of her pocket, she produced two necklaces. One made from glassy obsidian in the shape of a sword, one made from a fire opal in the shape of a blood droplet.

"I asked Archie from the Hephaestus cabin to help me make these for you. They aren't cursed."

The boys exchanged glances and took the respective necklace putting it on.

"Thanks sis, that's really thoughtful of you." Milo reached over the table, ruffling her hair.

Ciarán stared at her as if to say "welcome to the family, sis."

@rottent33th @slaasherslut @devil-doll13 @bluecoolr @ajarofpickledtears @shonkgobonk @soupbabe @slasherscrybaby @solmints-messyocdiary @ahmnom @probably-a-plant-thing @damien-mlm @kalid-raven @angxlslasher @allthingsblood

8 notes · View notes

soupbabe · 1 year

Note

Should doodle Maggie and Eden bonding just for funsies

They’re practically sisters 😌

In the perfect AU, they are sisters 😌

Idk what they're laughing at, but Maggie made Eden a sundress

Tagging: @rottent33th, @slaasherslut, and @the-pinstriped-hood

#hands r hard sorry bout that #Eden Sinclair #magnolia sinclair #My oc and not my oc #my oc #friends oc #art

7 notes · View notes

simplegenius042 · 16 days

Text

Last Line/s, OC Question and Pinterest Tag Games

Tagged by @cassietrn @cloudofbutterflies92 and @josephseedismyfather

Tagging @socially-awkward-skeleton @direwombat @adelaidedrubman @strangefable @strafethesesinners @g0dspeeed @josephslittledeputy @derelictheretic @aceghosts @turbo-virgins @shellibisshe @red-nightskies @purplehairsecretlair @carlosoliveiraa @softtidesworld @shallow-gravy @icecutioner @imogenkol @inafieldofdaisies @starsandskies @ladyoriza @wrathfulrook @florbelles @skoll-sun-eater @sleepyconfusedpotato @rhettsabbott @afarcryfrommymain @titiagls @voidika @la-grosse-patate @minilev and @thewanderer-000 + anyone else who wants to join.

Given how short this post would be if I just did one each, I decided to do three series for each one. You can find the Last Line/s, answers to the question and pinterest stuff below the cut!

Last Line/s for my original The UnTitledverse WIP A Blast In The Past, my FC5 The Silver Chronicles WIP called Strawberries and lastly my The Invitation WIP from Life, Despair & Monsters called An Invite To Wine And Dine below:

THE UNTITLEDVERSE It is too much for you to handle; the entourage of meaningless yet familiar images assaulting your mind, the thin air in the room threatening to suffocate you, the stress from drowning in the darkness again. And so, my old pal, you collapse.

THE SILVER CHRONICLES Her kiss was messy but swift, unfairly so, and from what he could capture, Nadi's lips had been firm, lacking action and experience, but hungry and desperate all the same. John felt lightheaded in his shock, his palms sweating and his pulse beating faster, his breath lost as he stared at the blonde; her blushed face, the hidden dimples and the surprise forming on her face, even when she was the one to kiss him.

LIFE, DESPAIR & MONSTERS

Evie smiled, but this time it wasn't a kind smile, nor was it a polite smile. Her eyes seemed to darken, the brown that could be seen lost in this supernatural transition. "In truth," she repeated, eyes staring hungrily at her cousin from the other side of the dining table, her audience captivated by her unprecedented display, "I'm here for a change in this family business' management."

Now for the OC Question: How would you describe your character but in a metaphorical way? What feeling, thought, smell, imagery, etc comes to mind when you think of them? Everything from the good to the bad, what are they?

THE UNTITLEDVERSE Lisa Cobalt: Lisa is like a common storm; a persistent chaotic force that pushes others forwards but also away, coming in unannounced and always when you're unprepared, a rapid swing between a gentle harmless drizzle to a raging fit no fault of her own. She is also a form of melancholic pessimism, a frenzy of unreliable and invasive thoughts that make you doubt every decision you make but are ultimately empty. Lisa is the smell of vinegar; sharp and stings your nose, but a reliable repellent against the rust and grime and unclean. Lisa is the feeling of self-doubt and exhaustion that wants you to give up, but at the same time, a drive to know that things aren't done yet, and you have to keep going.

THE SILVER CHRONCILES Silva Omar: Silva is a fire. A fire that never ceases to burn. An unstoppable force that returns every time. A fiery of flames, a dangerous element that is capable of destroying everything around her, an ire to be weary of, and if she so wished, she could engulf the world too. But though a risk her presence can be, she is also a light of safety, a shield of protection, and a source of warmth. An undying existence; one you can stomp out, let sizzle and die, pinch close, put out, but never end, as just like fire, and the right components, she'll reignite. She is a passion; for creativity, curiosity, love, life, the mundane even. She is the determination to keep going, to find the happiness, the peace, the fulfillment in a good ending she deserves. She is the summer and spring, an appreciation for the past but also grounded in the present and looking forward to the new beginning.

AN OLD BALLARD OF CHANCE AND EMBER HEARTS TRILOGY (ORIGINAL WORKS) Discord, the Mad Kin of Carnage: Discord is a slow and yet abrupt end. A decay in nature, the rust on metal, the ash from embers and the end of the material plane. He is the unspoken inevitability of death, destruction and decay. He is the desert that buries pharaohs' tombs, the sea that sunk cities of the past, and the breakdown of societies and empires. Inexplicable chance, unexplained phenomenon. His beating heart like the bells that toll. But he is also the absence of beginning, a disruption of the cycle that begins anew. He is the extinction of life, unfair and cruel, an obstacle of preservation, of progress, of choice and of life. Needless and necessary, constant and brief, an end with no beginning and a breeze that refuses to rest. Discord knows what he is, knows what he does, isn't ashamed of his nature. And that's enough for him.

Pinterest Tag game for OCs from The Silver Chronicles, Life, Despair & Monsters and A Radioactive Calamity Of Love, Bombs & Gore. rules: search ‘your name + core’ on pinterest and post the first 6 pictures.

PAUL YELLOWJACK (THE SILVER CHRONICLES)

[NOTE: I'm not happy with my Pinterest]

SIR ENIGMA MALVOLIO (LIFE, DESPAIR & MONSTERS)

[NOTE: Bottom right image is how I feel about my useless Pinterest]

MARISSA "RESS" BISHOP (A RADIOACTIVE CALAMITY OF LOVE, BOMBS & GORE)

[NOTE: My disappointment in my Pinterest is immeasurable]

28 notes · View notes

swdefcult · 1 year

Text

#rhona mitra #eden sinclair #doomsday #cyberpunk #scifi

109 notes · View notes

victoryrifle · 1 year

Photo

DOOMSDAY (2008) dir. Neil Marshall

#doomsdayedit #filmedit #filmgifs #moviegifs #scifiedit #scifigifs #doomsday #doomsday 2008 #doomsday movie #rhonamitraedit #rhona mitra #eden sinclair #neil marshall #eye horror #mine #gif:mine #gif:doomsday2008

171 notes · View notes

lavenderstobins · 1 month

Text

Dustin invites the rest of the Scoops Troop to the Bingham family events, sometimes. It's a running inside joke: he brings his family to meet Suzie's. It's nice. It's fun.

Then Robin starts dating Eden. Only half a surprise, really, and Dustin feels like he should've seen it coming. Nothing about the family events change; if anything, Robin, Steve and Erica attend more than they used to.

Then Erica starts dating Tabitha. From what Suzie's told him, Tabitha is the menace of the family, which... makes sense as to her dating Erica.

3/4s of the Scoops Troop dating members of the Bingham family is just uncanny. At least it can't be the full group; there's nobody else around Steve's age that he could date.

Well. There's one person.

Which is how Steve finds himself entirely confused when Dustin barges into his room and gasps out, "PLEASE DON'T FUCK SUZIE'S DAD."

#stranger things #steve harrington #robin buckley #dustin henderson #erica sinclair #eden bingham #suzie bingham #tabitha bingham #scoops troop #my posts

38 notes · View notes

crazy-together-cambria · 2 years

Text

Saying a specific character carried this season makes me kind of mad because let’s be real they all carried.

764 notes · View notes

sketchy-rosewitch · 1 year

Text

So excited to introduce you guys to my newest oc!

Rosalie Genevieve Nods II

Gender: Cis-Woman (she/her)

Age: 25

Personality: ENFP-A, Creative, Spontaneous, Loud, Friendly, Talkative.

Sexuality: Bisexual

Face Claim: Auli'i Cravalho

Appearance: Short, Light Brown, Average Build

Hair Color: Brown

Eye Color: Brown

Height: 5’3

Abilities: Can talk herself out of situations, strong

Bio: Grew up with an artistic grandpa, he often took her on vacations to different states in the summer time. Went to school in Georgia a majored in Fine Arts. Grandpa died soon after she graduated, she inherited a lot of stuff but only took a few things and his camper and she decided to hit the road and paint around the states.

Relationships:

Bo Sinclair: Tries to get along with him but she pisses him off cause she talks a lot. Bo teases her but she never takes it personally and he does like her but sometimes she just won’t shut up.

Vincent Sinclair: Appreciates having another artist around. He likes when they bounce ideas off of one another and how Rosalie is a bridge to get closer to Eden since he never got that relationship with her growing up

Lester Sinclair: These two talk for HOURS, won’t shut up about anything and sometimes she goes out to help dig up stuff for Eden. They don’t have much to bond over but she does like learning about his taxidermy (she will not touch anything though).

Eden Sinclair: She’s Eden’s soulmate. Eden herself believes it. Strange how Eden’s first name is after the Garden and Rosalie’s last name is after The Land of Nod. Eden doesn’t talk much so she loves listening to Rosalie talk about anything and everything. They often are seen taking walks together and they’ve gotten along since they laid eyes on each other.

#house of wax 2005 #house of wax oc #new oc time #oc #sprout speaks #sprout writes #bo sinclair #lester sinclair #vincent sinclair #eden sinclair #rosalie genevieve nods II

6 notes · View notes

the-silver-chronicles · 5 months

Text

Music Monday + "What Are You Doing Here?" Quiz

Tagged by @g0dspeeed and @inafieldofdaisies

Tagging @socially-awkward-skeleton @direwombat @derelictheretic @shallow-gravy @strangefable @strafethesesinners @josephslittledeputy @purplehairsecretlair @deputyash @afarcryfrommymain @depyotee @voidika @onehornedbeast @softtidesworld @snake-in-the-garden @nightbloodbix @adelaidedrubman @wrathfulrook @chazz-anova @cassietrn @jacobmybeloved @henbased @carlosoliveiraa @ladyoriza @minilev @vasiktomis @neverthesameneveranother @thewanderer-000 @corvosattano and @vampireninjabunnies-blog

Here's three songs for my other Far Cry The Silver Chronicles stories, known as the following; Call To Arms duology starring Nadi Sinclair, Ain't It A Joy? staring Alexander Khaos and finally No One's Safe At Home starring Gavin Turquoise. The Quiz will be for an OC who appears in A Radioactive Calamity of Love, Bombs & Gore (a Fallout fanfic series). The quiz can be found here.

The Call To Arms fanfic duology of the Call Of Duty Modern Warfare games (at least only one and two, both taking elements from the original and reboot) starring Nadi Sinclair, a sharpshooter and recon for Task Force 141, fighting off terrorists like Makarov alongside her brothers (and sisters) from other misses and misters. This will only be a few years before she eventually leaves and joins the Project at Eden's Gate in Montana, Hope County.

youtube

"Come on

Come on, people Stand tall for the beast of America Lay down like a naked dead body Keep it real for the people workin' overtime They can't stay livin' off the government's dime

Stand tall for the people of America Stand tall for the man next door We are free in the land of America We ain't goin' down like this, come on, now

Come on, people Come on, people Come on, people Ha!

I will be right to you I will be right to you I will be right to you And together we can stand up to the beast."

Ain't It A Joy? is a modern-ish fanfic adaption of the We Happy Few game, starring Alexander Khaos as the main protagonist, as he finds out the lies behind Wellington Wells, the self-proclaimed happiest city of England which is closed from the rest of the country, is in fact nothing more than a cult stuck in a perpetual state of drugged bliss with the inhabitants believing they're clean of atrocities and stuck in a 1940s/60s mindset while being taken advantage of by a pharmaceutical tycoon, Crawford Klaus, as he replays old videos of a TV personality named "Uncle Jack" and supplies the next batches of "Joy"... and the newest variant called "Glee".

youtube

"A brilliant day is dawning A million smiles are forming Our shimmering isles are all enthralled No, there's nothing like conforming

Perish the thought of mourning Did you ignore the warnings? All negative thoughts abhorred "My Lord! Did you take your Joy this morning?"

Ask anybody in Wellington Wells They'll tell you it's terribly swell Delirious denizens swell where there's nary a speck between heaven and hell

They say that the empire fell "Oh, but you never could tell!" You say you remember it well? "You'd better forget it or else!"

Why try to better yourself? Reach for the medical shelf Just take your medicine, death and the pestilence melt into pleasant locales

Another rebellion quelled Dust off your suspenders and belts It's horrendous to dwell, so remember how splendid it felt to surrender yourself The roses we grow have a terrible smell

It's a Joy! It's a Joy (it's a Joy) It's a Joy (it's a Joy) To be among we happy few It's a Joy It's a Joy (it's a Joy) It's a Joy (it's a Joy)!"

No One's Safe At Home is a fanfic set in the Welcome To The Game universe, where the inner circles of "the Ministry" run their illegal activities behind the dark web as it reigns at the top, with constant murder, kidnappings, trafficking of all kinds and the most vile corruption persist in a world where morals are a joke. Until Gavin Turquoise starts going to great lengths in his intent on wiping their repulsive stain out of society and rigging the Game in his favor. In his crusade, he finds a strange child with... the most abnormal abilities. I can't help but laugh at the irony that this feared vigilante eventually becomes a lawyer in Hope County, being a bane to the Project at Eden's Gate and John Seed's existence.

youtube

"As Property Manager, my job is sorting the utilities Disposal of the garbage and the laundering facilities Why would I compile a full report on your activities? I'm just a standard landlord, "Glory to the Ministry"

Lock the doors and close the curtains, hold your breath lest you should speak your sins But you can't keep a secret from the building that you keep it in Befriend your fellow tenants, show a smile and keep it pleasant But know everyone's a friend until you need to turn some people in It's the breathing on the phone, hiding just beneath the tone It's the things that shift when no one's home Well, you may be on your own, but you'll never be alone Yes, we all live here, but it's no one's home

("They're here!")

To get through the day It behoves you to play by the rules and behave Do the state preapprove all the tunes that you play? When alone in a room, well, to whom do you pray?

Assume that your neighbours are moving away When the black van comes in the night And you're numb to the sight Of another fumbling for somewhere to hide As their wife just runs for their life 'Fore the ones with the guns can arrives And they're gone 'fore the Sun can arise To a government provided bunker for some realignment It's just fine, you can trust it's a wonderful time

Just go about your business normally No one's following, I'm not recording Your paranoia is awfully boring According to all of your friends that talk to me

Most importantly, please speak clear when you're broadcasting Your honest thoughts on the law or economy My provided mics are tiny And I can't transcribe properly Should you ever behold Me with my peepers pressed to a keyhole You can trust I'm just checking the tumblers for rust I'm a custodian, not a Ministry mole

Settle in for a night on the couch No questioning what that red light is about Now bleeping on your ceiling since the time you were out It's just a little gaslighting, put aside any doubts

You're fine in your house, so you confide to your spouse any crimes carried out Any tiny amount of new ideas found just a mite out of bounds 'Cause I'm writing them down in a timestamped account

What's it matter, every night or two? If I sneak in, have a rifle through? But depending what I find, well, You'll be faced with another kind of rifle, too

Privacy is the cry of the defiant to compliancy But grease my palm and I might not see Those books they banned from the libraries What do you mean, that's not yours? It appeared one night in your cabinet drawers? I have to report it, I regret But, of course, I could forget

Societal ideals are reliably pliable So the rise of a tyrant becomes entirely viable You will find that the spying is really quite justifiable Why are you crying when it's your blind eye that's liable?

Handy landlord here to fix your ventilation whistling Too many questions and it's not the air that needs conditioning That telephone's not tampered with Of course it isn't listening But were it, it prefers the words: "Glory to the Ministry!"

And last the results from the quiz! From my character:

Ortega "Ore" Brantley (A Radioactive Calamity of Love, Bombs & Gore, a Fallout fanfic series)

Ore has this "hope" that he carries with him. Despite the Wasteland he walks in, just as his sister Ress does, unlike her and their father, he can't help but focus on the beauty that has thrived even after the destruction. He's no fool, the world he lives in is dangerous, and as powerful as he is being a half-human, half-magical-creature-from-another-dimension, there are beings like his father, Arcane Urias, and his lackeys, like Aggravor, who can and will kill him if given the opportunity. Ress is hopeful... hopeful that with his efforts, the Wasteland can heal. That the people he's bonded with can live long content lives. That his sister can appreciate the lives of who she views as "weak" and see the strength these folks have despite the disadvantage they have against the likes of the Super Mutants, Synths and the Occult Urias founded. To see the responsibility to protect these people that they as the "strong" must carry. He hoped he could have seen the day where him, his sister and their companions could just lay down underneath the blue sky one day and just share with each other without the burden of death and destruction hovering over them in a moment of peace. Though he himself never lives to achieve this vision, he at least was glad to look at his sister and reassure her one last time before Aggravor's curse cut his long life short.

21 notes · View notes