#What if I just rip my vocal cords out that would help

[pattonsfam-ily]

I’m sure it’s not in the way you think, hon.

Oh no it definitely is :D -Remus

[phantomrose96]

Astounding. Incredible. Deeply, deeply horrifying. Incredible and it will be haunting me for at least the next 72 hours minimum. 10/10 sending it to everyone I know.

Reading the first time I fully did not register how much of a literal chekov's gun the disintegrator was. Made me think way to deeply on what is required for Danny to regenerate. Does it require at least a certain amount of flesh 'intact'? Cells? Molecules? Is it that so long as there is a single atom of his being around he will slowly and horrifically rebuild himself? What would happen if he did switch back? Would he briefly feel the incomprehensible pain of every scattered atom of his being or would it go to fast for him to comprehend the pain? Is he even able to fall unconscious when his body is injured that badly or does his being keep him awake at all costs as a self preservation method?

Anyways this is deeply terrifying and will now live happily next to Nothing Remains and Under Moonlight and all the other fan fics you've written traumatizing this poor, poor dead teenager.

(I've also spent way to long thinking about what comes after the end. What do you do with your friends exposed lung and vocal cords and mouth while he slowly regenerates? It's not like they could just leave him on the golf course screaming. But where could they put him that no one would hear? The thermos? The ghost zone? Hope that Vlad has something that could help?)

10/10 fic I'm chewing drywall thank you for writing this amazing piece!

(Prometheus)

JKDSNKJDSJKNDSJKNSD THANK YOU!!!!

I fully did not register how much of a literal chekov's gun the disintegrator was.

YEAH!!! I wanted there to be something that acted as a through-line in the story. I wanted Maddie and Jack's appearance near the end to be sudden and surprising and scary but not "out of nowhere." Carrying the gun through the story served that purpose so well because like, it's gaudy enough to capture people's attention, but it's also easily dismissed as background shenanigans... until it's not.

And the Disintegrator gets to evolve with the tone shift. It's some goofy combobulation Jack uses to blast fish out of a lake at the start. And then he tinkers with it. And it becomes this thing he can shoulder and point at Danny and draw a genuine fear response from his son (even if Jack had no intention of firing. And Danny is in no real danger) And then it becomes the thing he draws on his son with every intention of firing...

The damn thing even gets to be ripped to pieces and put back together over the course of the story. Danny brushing away loose nuts and bolts of the half-deconstructed Fenton Disintegrator while his liver stitches itself back together. But that's probably nothing :)

What is required for Danny to regenerate. Does it require at least a certain amount of flesh 'intact'? Cells? Molecules? Is it that so long as there is a single atom of his being around

YEah and this is absolutely part of the horror element to me. Danny doesn't know. He doesn't know how much is enough and how far-gone is too far gone. From my word of god, it's his ghost core that the reconstruction happens around (which is not a physical thing). So it at least means every cell is not about to spawn a new Danny (sorry no Under Moonlight angst here). But Danny doesn't know. And how can you tolerate gambling your life over and over and over with a mechanism you cannot understand?

Is he even able to fall unconscious when his body is injured that badly or does his being keep him awake at all costs as a self preservation method?

Yes. There is a ghost-amount of consciousness he's clinging to, which if he loses his grip on would result in him dying. ...Unless it doesn't. :) Danny doesn't know. Danny can't know. Danny cannot risk finding out. Because if he risks it, and he's wrong, he'll die. What's really the difference between "this will kill me" and "I THINK this will kill me, and the only way I can ever know for sure is to do it"? The difference only matters if Danny's made the decision he'd rather die.

I've also spent way to long thinking about what comes after the end

Nothing good. Nothing good. And consider how absolutely traumatizing it is for Sam, Tucker, and Jazz. They find Danny like this and they can do absolutely nothing while organs of himself scream. And this has been ~7 hours since the run in with the Disintegrator. Danny has only barely regenerated, starting from absolutely Nothing. It could be another 24 hours. Another 48. Before he's done. And he's required to stay conscious the whole time. He was desperately sleep-deprived already and now he needs to remain awake through this all because if he passes out with organs missing, he's done for. (Or he might be done for, and he cannot know for certain unless he takes that monumental gamble).

So what do Sam Jazz and Tucker even do. What do you even do? You can't leave him. God no you can't leave him. But you can't move him. You can't talk to him. You can't help him. You can't leave him. Do you sit in the snow? Do you sit for 24 hours watching screaming flesh grow back together? How ungodly long must 24 hours of that be? Will it ever stop screaming?

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Scratches in the Surface

Pairing: John Price x F!Reader 

Synopsis: Investigating Shepherd was a mistake, but the betrayal of John Price hurt more than anything Shadow Company could do to you.

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: Talks of gore, torture, violence, swearing, blood, angst

A/N: Not really sure if I like this or not, but the idea was good so I kept it. Your codename in this is ‘Key.’ Part 2

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

The buzzing lights above you were going to drive you insane faster than the damn clicking of the man’s pen, but you endured the overstimulation of your brain with an expression of boredom. 

Click, click-clack, click,

God, You clench your teeth together, either stop that, or I’m going to– 

When you go to move your hands over the metal table, the cuffs around your wrists shriek as they slide. The man in front of you pauses, looking up from his file, the manila folder sitting tantalizingly close; your fingers curl over the paper cup to your right, grabbing it and dragging it to your lips. 

As you sip the stale water, your eyes bore into the CIA Agent over the rim, unblinking and dead. Feeling the liquid travel down your throat and hit hard into your empty stomach, you watch the man tense in his seat, his eyes averting from your own quickly like you were a blazing fire. Suppressing a smirk, the man clears his throat.

You place the cup down delicately, leaving a small amount of water behind, right as the door behind the man opens loudly, creaking on its hinges and making you cringe.

Your gaze snaps to the familiar head of blonde hair that belongs to Kate Laswell, her stone-cold face more wrinkled since the last time you had seen her. The woman walks through the door, and the Agent gets to his feet quickly, leaving the file on the table.

“Ma’am,” He says, holding onto the back of the chair as he turns to face Laswell, “She hasn’t said anything since she arrived.”

“Thank you, Moore. I’ll take it from here,” Kate sighs deeply, her white dress shirt and black pants swishing as the air conditioning comes on. The lanyard around her neck makes a slight clinking noise as her name card jumps with her steps. 

You tilt your head as far as the bandages around your neck allow, feeling the stitches on your throat pull painfully; you hoped your former friend could see the blood already staining the gauze. 

The man leaves with clacking shoes, taking the godforsaken pen with him, and Laswell takes his seat. You couldn’t help but compare the scene to a transaction – you being the package thrown between unwilling participants. Not that you cared. The aches and pains in your body demanded retribution; you were more scar tissue now than skin. 

The silence between the two of you is thick, eyes clashing in a mute battle of wills you know you’ll win. You’d had four years to squelch every ounce of weakness from your body – waiting, praying, for this moment. 

Just as you imagined, Laswell breaks first.

“I never knew that Shepherd was capable of doing what he did,” Her hair collects in a bun at the base of her neck, and her bangs caress her forehead. The Agent’s style hadn’t changed, at least, “When you told me that I should–”

Kate stops mid-sentence. 

You watch her gaze fall to your arms on the table and your fingers twitch. 

Frowning, you suppose the widening of her eyes was about all the reaction you would get out of her; the one second of horror that sweeps Laswell’s eyes before the practiced calm resettles like mud in the water. But the satisfaction you garner is unparalleled. 

“You ever been thrown into a tub full of glass, Kate,” Laswell flinches at the gravel in your throat, vocal cords ripping with every word, “It’s not that bad if you don’t move so much,” You smirk, letting the dry skin on your lips break open, “Kinda hard, though, when you have a million little knives digging into your flesh.” 

“I didn’t…” Kate closes her eyes and sucks in a breath, looking away from the mangled remains of the skin of your arms, the more significant cuts starting at your elbow that jaggedly run down your forearm. Those ones weren't made by glass, but you didn’t tell the woman that. 

Let her squirm, You pick up your paper cup, grasping the rim and the hard wire hidden in the fold, It’s been a long time since I had that effect on anyone. I want to get my edge back. I need my edge back.

Kate continues her previous sentence, placing her hands on top of the folder on the table and clenching them together. You bring the cup to your lips, sipping down the last few drops before letting your bound hands fall once more. You rest them on your lap and fiddle with the cup, shifting your shoulders to relieve the tension that sits there.

“I didn’t believe you at the time about Shepherd, Key, and that was my biggest mistake. I led an investigation the second you went missing but as far as everyone was concerned you had disappeared off the face of the earth. We had no leads, no information, and no trace,” She sighs, “You have to believe me when I say we did everything that we could too–”

“We?” You scoff, “We? You’re saying you had Price working on this?” You spit out the name as venom leaks from your tone; leaning forward you see shadows move from the corner of your eye. 

You had nearly forgotten the glass window to your right, no doubt the multiple shadows barely seen behind the one-way were faces you had prayed to come and save you for all that time in the facility. You knew Price’s outline when you saw it – bulkier than the rest, large shoulders, and the bulge around his head because of that damn black beanie. The fidgeting was a new tick, though. Then again, it had been years. Maybe you had never really known him at all. 

You blink, stuffing away that fact with a pounding heart. 

Calm down, you growl to yourself, You’re in control. You…You are fucking in control. Don’t think about John Price. 

“...That’s really cute. Do you want a medal? A pat on the back?” You grunt and shut down the conversation, noticing you’ve been crushing the cup in your grip under the table, the object shaking from the force of your fingers. Leaning back, you take in a slow breath, “It never really added to much, did it?”

To anyone besides Kate Laswell and John Price, no one would have noticed your sanity fraying at the seams inside your pounding brain. Licking your tongue over your teeth your eyes stay locked with Laswell’s as you feel panic build.

It’s a long time before the woman speaks again. She utters your real name under her breath.

“We tried everything to find you. But as I got sucked more and more into Shepherd’s world, allegations started to gain validity, and the news of your death–”

“And all it took was him losing three American missiles and his little Shadow Company friends killing more than half a city in Mexico?” You force out a chuckle, your white hospital t-shirt uncomfortable over the mass amounts of bandages digging into your skin. Kate brings a hand to her temple, rubbing it with shaking hands, “Yeah,” You deadpan, “They told me about that.”

“Do…Do you know anything about where he might be?”

“Shepherd?” You sputter out a harsh laugh that leaves Laswell swallowing, “what, do you think I’m the center of the gossip ring? They kept me in a fucking dark room for days at a time. The only thing I heard was the rats eating the corpses in the corner and the sound of my blood hitting the drain basin.” 

You rose your right hand as far as the cuffs would allow and pointed your thump at the one-way glass, “Until your Toy Soldiers broke me out, that is.”

“Key,” Kate shakes her head and you know what bullshit she’s about to spill, “I can’t imagine what you went through for all those years. If we knew you were still alive I know Price and I would have–”

You tune out whatever Laswell says, fingers fidgeting under the table as you turn your head and itch the thin bandage over your chin with your shoulder, feeling stitches break open. The Ac unit was so damn loud, and that stupid buzzing of the lights. 

Fuck, everything’s just too loud, You begin to bite on the skin of your bottom lip, peeling back the flesh until you feel blood dribble down. 

Laswell calls your name, and you narrowly suppress a flinch, your eyes flickering closed before snapping back to the woman. You release your lip silently and live with the pain that breeds. 

“What?” You numbly question, foot shaking under the table.

“How about I get you something to eat?” Kate draws out and you don’t like the concerned glance she sends to the glass as she shuffles forward in her chair, “They have those mini sandwiches in the cafeteria that you love.” The woman licks her lips, her blue eyes running over the noticeable bulges of bandages and gauze that span your chest and abdomen, down your thighs and legs. The bottoms of your feet, under your socks and shoes, even have wraps. All stained red.

“Not hungry,” You clear your throat through the lie. 

“Key,” Kate whispers, “you’re skin and bones.”

“You think I don’t know that, Laswell?” The words set you off, snapping from your lips as your eyes flash and your face twists. The Agent tenses, shoulders locking tight, “I’ve looked like this ever since you and Price sold me off like a fucking dog with a rope around its neck!” Your wild eyes revel in the fear that sweeps Kate’s face. She doesn’t know you anymore, “That was you two wasn’t it? Or are my memories more fucked up than I know…? Huh?! Did the electrocution finally fry my brain?!” 

Laswell’s eyes fall to the table.

“I trusted you!” You’re screaming now, guttural and savage; every so often your voice would break, and the shadows behind the glass were all straight as a rod except one, one who slightly hunches as if in guilt, “You both left me to die! I gave you evidence, I showed you facts and you turned me over like I meant nothing to you! Like I meant nothing to Price!” The words hurt you when you spit them out, and the stitches over your throat feel like they’re on fire. 

Oh, God, John I wanted more than anything for you to find me – t-to stop it. Stop the pain, stop the torture. I need you. Where did you go, John?

“We couldn’t act on–”

“You trusted Shepherd more than you trusted me! That’s what you acted on. That’s the truth.” You turn your head to the ceiling, trying to stop the vile tears that coat your eyes as you suck in ragged breaths. Your ribs ache awfully. 

A minute passes, then two.

The next words come out muffled with numbness, whispered from your bloody lips, “Their deaths are on you. I pass off my guilt of it.” 

You could hear a pin drop. Hell, did they even know? 

“The bodies in the corner…” Laswell whispers, and you hear her throat get clogged.

“What,” You snicker, “Your forensic team not identify them yet? The ones with their faces still on, that is?” 

“Who are they, Key?” Kate whispers but you know she knows the answer already. So does Price. 

You turn your head to the glass, finding that familiar shadow and boring your eyes into it blankly. Feeling your tears dribble down your cheeks, you smirk when the black on the other end turns its head away. The others shift nervously before you look back at Kate.

“Shane, Jax, Alice, and Sam.”

Laswell’s eyes snap downward to her clenched hands.

You lean closer, “Look at me,” You growl lowly, “Kate, look at me.” 

Her eyes are red when they meet yours and you stifle a deep-chested laugh at the sight. A vicious smile blooms over your cheeks, teeth and all.

“He killed my fucking family, Laswell. My squad. My brothers and sisters that I never even involved in this because I knew how it could end if it went south. And they ripped them to fucking pieces while they were still alive,” You lift a free hand and throw your unlocked cuffs on the table, the small, thin, metal wire from your paper cup visibly stuck in the key slot. It rams onto the surface with a bang. Laswell flinches back, head snapping to the object in surprise, “That’s on you and Price. And I want it to haunt you just as it haunts me.” You tilt your head to the side, nodding towards the cuffs, “Good to see my nickname held up, at least. As you can imagine my tricks don’t work so well on rope or barbed wire.”

A ruckus sounds from the other room, loud shouting, and the rushing of feet. You lean back in your chair, slouching, and not soon after the door to the room slams open; John Price stands in the doorway with a stupid look on his face you can’t help but huff at.

“There he is,” You mutter, staring his blue eyes down as his large frame nearly hits the sides of the wall. You spread your arm out, elbows on the armrests sarcastically, “The other person I’m so eager to see.” 

Laswell stands on shaky feet and exits the room, shoving past John as he stares at you. For a moment you see what you could on describe as guilt on his face before it's wiped away the next instant. 

Not bothering to speak anymore – you’ve said your piece – you bring your hands up and caress the red skin where the cuffs had been. The area was more sensitive now that the flesh had been torn away time after time while you were held by Shadow Company in some godforsaken facility in the wilderness. You throw the remnants of the ripped-up cup onto the table. 

The door closes nearly silently, and heavy feet pad forward. You could lie to yourself and say you don’t feel your heart pounding, but what use would it be?

John sits in Laswell’s chair before palming the once more left-behind file. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t move, as he slowly flips through the pictures. Pictures of you, of your once perfect body full of scars and burns and bruises over every inch. You swore you saw his fingers begin to shake as he turns another page. 

John Price used to be something important to you. A friend, a mentor, and if time had permitted, perhaps he would have been something more. You don’t choose to dwell on these thoughts, but they haunt you still; how he would always prioritize your safety on missions, and give you a rare real smile when you impressed him. His laugh when you slipped out crappy jokes on missions together. The imprint of his calloused hand seemed to forever live on the back of your head, dragging you into a tight hug as you remember an OP in Romania.

On the mission, when a bullet had lodged itself between your third and fourth rib, the outcome had seemed grim – hopeless – but all John did was grab your cheeks and force your eyes on him as the Medic worked hastily, grunting and uttering calmly.

“Eyes open, Sweetheart. Keep them on me, eh…? There you go, atta girl. I’m right here,” It was safe to say you had chosen to stare at those unusually soft baby blues the entire time you were getting Evac. and John had dragged you into the ramshackle head-to-chest-hug the second you were stable, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. Talking so sweetly you had wanted nothing more than him.

He had been so much more than a Captain to you. 

But that was all so long ago, and the memories were rotted like tree trunks. He was just another face, a handsome one, yes – he still hadn't shaved his beard and the circles under his eyes looked darker than you could ever remember seeing them – but still that rugged charm that was John. 

I trusted you, You want to scream at him, hit him, tear his throat out. But in the end, you did nothing, but you didn’t trust me. 

The wrinkles around his eyes tighten as he sees the extensive claw shreds over your back on one of the printed sheets, the impression of dog teeth over your left shoulder blade and right thigh.

You feel a tightening in your throat. 

“They liked their dogs,” You mutter, “That’s for sure.” 

Price’s throat bobs. 

“German Shepherd?” He asks, accented voice thick, picking up the picture and grasping it so tightly the corner creases. 

“Nah, Doberman.” 

“Hm,” He grunts, finally looking up from the picture to stare into your broken eyes. Against your better judgment, you look away first, not able to stand the unwavering blue with that specific emotion staining the iris. John was different from Laswell. He…He had meant more. 

That’s why it hurt so much to be near him because he would always mean more.

Under the table, your feet shook. John cleared his throat, placing the image down and closing the file before he, in the buzzing of the lights and the whishing of the Ac, whispers your name under his lips.

You’re ashamed of the way it makes you feel like you could cry, your body freezing. Only he could utter it in that way. You had waited to hear him say your name every single day you were stuck with the Shadows.

“Save it,” You nod your head his way once, not looking up from your lap, “I don’t want your apology, Price. It’s done.”

The Captain’s head nods firmly, ever the gentleman, chin jerking as he clenches his jaw. John’s fingers close your file and he taps it with the back of his knuckles, prompting you to raise your gaze to follow the motion. 

“I want every name you can remember, yeah?” You pause, for a moment you thought you hadn’t heard him correctly. Under the table, you can feel your knee spasm with nerves. 

Picking your gaze up, you travel the length of Price’s tight gray shirt; looking over his combat vest and all the tiny pouches holding only he knows what. You settle on the man’s eyes with a small hitch in your breath. He looked furious, downright lethal. 

John’s shoulders were tense, muscles vibrating with badly concealed anger. At his neck, he had a visible tendon from how hard he was clenching his jaw. Had he not read the file before now? Seen the pictures? Or was that not even the point? You frown, shifting in your chair with nervousness. Your head was all messed up. 

Logically you knew his anger wasn't directed at you, but you could never be too cautious when it came to someone you haven’t seen in a while. Men had been the source of your problems for four years, and even if you knew John the thought remained that if you had changed so drastically, so could he. 

At your silence, Price pauses, blinking a few times before he realizes his hand is clenched on the table, nails biting into his skin. He leans back into the chair with a heavy inhalation, bringing a hand up to rub over his face. John holds a hand over his mouth for a moment, eyes closed, and you watch him and his unsteady breaths that echo through the interrogation room. His chest sputters.

So now he cares, You ask bitterly, blinking away the anxiety in your bones with false calm, now he wants to help.

“Where was that anger when I asked you to help me investigate Shepherd?” You whisper, saliva stuck under your tongue. 

John never answers and not a second later he’s standing and stalking out the door with measured steps, but manages to close the door softly behind him before his form disappears.

Come back, You want to plead the second the lock latches, your hands shaking violently in your lap, don’t leave me alone here, John. Don’t leave me alone. I-I can’t be alone again.

But you say nothing.

Outwardly no one can analyze your body language the way that the Captain or Laswell could. All they see is a blank slate waiting to be filled sitting stone-still in an interrogation room. Left alone, all you can do is force back the tears and listen to the loud buzzing and the whining of the Ac, trying with all of your might to forget Captain John Price and the damning comfort his presence still brings you after years of hell.  

But how could you forget him? All of the good memories you have left are of him; the only ones untainted by blood or a dark room with no light. The shrieking of rats is like a symphony of death that plays on repeat in your head, digging into the small spaces in your ribs and intestines. But you welcome it because anything is better than thinking about John. Of the times you shared with him.

The betrayal itself is less painful than the memories.

[nvoirs]

hii!! how do we feel about dom!reader x dom!re6!leon? both like to take the lead but who will prevail?! 🦋😫

Oh my god here we go..

RE6 Leon?! God damn that man has me in a chokehold 24/7, him and his slutty waist yum.

--

Well both of you being dominant is great but it's a huge fight as to who the hell is gonna recieve all the love. Your both pleasers in bedroom you see. Flipping each other over whatever surface you're seemingly fucking on, wrestling to be the one on top of their lover was almost funny in a way.

“Leon let me help you.” Your hands would inch towards his strained pants and he'd slap them away knowing exactly what you were playing at. If he even so much as allowed you to touch the skin of his cock, he'd be tied up before he knew it overstimulated to the brim and choking down his groans and moans for his sweet, sweet release.

You were the exact same, and Leon did not expect that from your sweet self. You looked so submissive but boy was he proven wrong when he fucked you for the first time ever.

“Fuck Leon!” Drool was seeping down your chin your mouth opening and closing like a fish as Leon slurped you up like his favourite sweet beverage. He pushed his face even harder into your red, raw cunt his days old golden stubble prickling your skin that had you going cross eyed and cumming instantly. Leon couldn't wait to eat you out again when he felt your legs slip from his shoulders. A disappointed look crossed his face, and you almost cooed telling him he'll get what he wanted soon.

“I wanna control when you cum.” Your grin surprised him.

“Nu uh baby, I wanna love you.”

“And you will but do as i say first.”

Okay Leon was being nice and let you take control not knowing the devil that blossomed within you as he jerked from the pleasure of the vibrator on his cock. The silky restrains were easy enough to tear but he restrained himself.

“Fuck when you said control, i thought you meant riding me, shit-”

His precum was dripping down his sticky tip, down the base of his cock and you quickly pulled away the vibrator just as his climax was approaching.

“Fucking slut your plan was to edge me hm?”

That first night ended with him being edged for more than two hours, before you even thought about letting him cum. Sinking down on his cock, he cummed instantly spurting inside but he was still rock hard.

And you were also taken aback that fateful night, when he ripped the restrains of his wrists pinning you down to the bed hard, before pounding the absolute shit out of you.

Your acoustic melody of mewls and whines slipping out of your wet, pursed lips could definitely be heard by your next door neighbour and maybe even the whole damn street because your vocal cords were broken the next day for sure.

--

[miracles-and-butterflies]

Is Dolores gonna announce about her regime any time soon?

Heading into town was her next call of action. If shutting her family up had been that satisfying, then shutting the townspeople up would be her own ideal of heaven.

She paraded herself through the centre of town, in a similar fashion to how Señorita Perfecta Isabela would have graced these same street no less than a year ago, but with her silencing sound waves in place of fresh flora.

Anyone she passed, whether they looked at her or were talking about her or not at all, immediately found that they were unable to make a sound. Some of the smarter ones decided to run, but not even that would save them. It had never saved her. No matter where she went or how far she ran, she was still forced to listen to audible torture.

Señora Pezmuerto had been the one to spot her first, whispering to Padre Flores, asking him to try speaking some sense into Dolores. After all, they had been close once - she was a dedicated member of the gospel choir in her school years, the harmonious backing vocals to Isabela or Camilo’s solos. She turned from the priest, as if attempting to make the situation better by placating the listener, only to be waved off entirely.

Dolores only smiled that the aghast look on their faces and the villagers surrounding them. As Señora Pezmuerto silently spluttered, Padre Flores was quick to make a sigh of the crossover himself as Dolores continued onwards. She’ll come back to him later maybe - church would be much more enjoyable without his rambling sermons, that’s for damn sure.

The serene moment was interrupted by a chorus of shouting. Three of the village kids, no doubt children Camilo had babysat at some point or another and who had become friends of Antonio’s since his ceremony, were yelling at her.

“You can’t do that! It’s mean!” Called Juancho.

“What is she doing? Why is she doing this!?” Cecilia asked anxiously, glancing at the other two.

“She’s being a bully, that’s why!”

“Juancho! Shush, you’ll make her more mad!” Alejandra tried to hush him.

Dolores thought for a moment.

They were children… but, she had been a child too. And that never seemed to cross anyone’s mind back then, why should it cross her’s now?

She beamed, bringing her hand down to them. Her smile only stretching wider, bearing the whites of her teeth like a jaguar greeting its next meal, as their shouting disappeared and was replaced with ugly, inaudible sobbing as they ran back to their respective families.

“What is the meaning of this?” Old Arturo asked, stepping through the crowd. A member of the council - simply trying to put a stop to this before things got more out of hand. “You have to stop this, these are innocent children!”

“And as was I.” She countered, shushing him.

The old man stumbled, some of the younger members of the council immediately came to stable him, finishing off the argument he had started.

“You all did promise to help us Madrigals more,” she teased. “And well, the best way you can help me is by not uttering another word. Fair is fair, you expected me to be silent about every dirty rumour and scandalous secret I heard against my will, now it’s your turn.”

Proving her point, those yet unaffected did not remain quiet.

“This is completely unfair!”

“Ay dios mio, she’s worse than Bruno.”

“We never did anything to you!”

“I always knew she would I eventually snap. I mean, just look at her mother.”

“It’s not our fault you’re so ungrateful about your gift!”

Her eye-twitched. Her confidence and enjoyment seemed to fracture, boiling back into pure, unrelenting anger. She locking her gaze on whoever said that last comment.

The crowd abruptly went quiet. The person, an old classmate of hers and Isabela’, Abigail Montez, did have the sense to shut up at that point. She looked green, stepping back amongst the crowd, sweat visibly - audibly in Dolores’ case - dripping down her face.

“You know,” she started softly, matter-of-fact. “I’d rip your vocal cords out and strangle you with them if I could, Abigail, but alas, as I cannot...” She raised her hand, a twisted look on her face. “This will have to suffice!”

[lillambtotheslaughter]

Jolene Olight transcript

(featuring both @/g0ttal0ve101, and @/johnnysgir1 OC interactions!)

(Jolene's ability name is 'savoir'. 'Savoir' can only be used once blood bottle is full and if grandpa is in the stunned state. Once activated grandpa is immediately taken out of this state and back to his original level he was at before being stunned. This ability can be blocked when sneak attacked, barged, and when put into a grapple)

Johnny seen

“Shouldn’t have brought that girl back here..”

“Yer’ lil boyfriend doesn’t seem too happy with that girl. (laughter) Have fun with that later!” (talking about Rae)

“Trackin them down just like you taught me NyNy!...Well you don't gotta be such an ass about it..(Annoyed grumble)

“I guess Nancy's angel can mess up!”

“Get yer head out of the clouds and track em’ already NyNy!”

“Don't go givin me orders when your the reason were in this mess!”

“Yer getting sloppier by the day. Get it together!”

“Can you get that little pet of yer’s to shut it already! All that whinin is gettin annoying y’know!” (talking about Dolly)

“I’m just about ready to rip yer girlfriend's pretty little vocal cords out if she don't QUIT CRYIN!” (talking about Dolly)

“Johnnyyyy can I borrow that girlfriend of yers just for a tiny while…? I promise I won't hurt her. I just wanna have someone to play with.” (talking about Dolly)

“I ain’t buggin' her! What I'm not allowed to leave gifts for Her Majesty no more?!” (talking about Dolly)

Sissy seen

“I hear yer’ one of grandpa's favorites. After me of course…(chuckles)”

“I really love your garden sissy! All those pretty flowers practically make it a bug minefield!”

“Where'd you hear those weird ass songs you keep singing from anyways?”

“Everyone messes up sometimes, don't be too hard on him. Besides that's my job. (Laughter)”

“Cause always is always- Ah-! Damnit sissy, stop gettin’ in my head!”

Nubbins seen

“(Whistle) those traps of yours sure do get the job done don't they?”

“Ain't this fun, ain't this fun! Just like playin tag when we were smaller huh!”

“You've been diggin' at that their graveyard again? (Giggle) Cool! What'd you find?!”

“I like that camera you got! It's real nice ain't it? That girl Johnny brought has some good taste!”

“Quit spitting out nonsense you ain't making any damn sense it's annoying!”

Leatherface/bubba seen

“How you doing buddy! Having fun I see?”

“You must be strong to be able to carry that thing everywhere! My arms get tired from just holding it!”

“Grandpa's gonna be real proud of us ain't he bubs!”

“(Laughter) Don't listen to them bubs! They're just upset you're way cooler than they'll ever be!”

“Keep up the good work bubs! Oh- and let out a holler if you need any help! (Laughter)”

Cook/Drayton seen

“You best quit yelling at me old geezer or I'll have to silence you myself!”

“Carefully now grandpa, wouldn't want you pulling something now would we? (Joined laughter with nubs)”

“You leave bubs alone and focus on yer own damn task like locking up this place for example!”

“Awh you're no fun..”

Nancy seen

“Hey ma! Nice day out ain't it-...(Groans) yes ma'am..”

“Did y'know about him and this girl?”

“Don't get on my ass just because yer little ‘angel’ messed up!”

“Awh, give me a break! They're slippery little bastards, it ain't my fault!”

Hands seen

“You’re real good at racing, I'll give you that!”

“For someone so big like yerself I wouldn't have expected you to use a weapon so…lightweight.”

“This is just gettin annoying! We gotta hurry up and find those damn kids!”

“Taught Johnny everything he knows but couldn't teach him to actually FINISH THE JOB!”

Leslie seen

“Hey les! How's bullet doin? Saw him give chase to that orange haired girl (laughter) she was screaming up a storm!”

“You're doing good les! Keep up the good work and I'm sure Nancy will reward us! Probably. (Laughter)”

“These guys sure do know where to hide…you find any of em’ yet?”

“Try and see if bullet can help sniff these guys out they’re startin to upset grandpa.”

"Glad to see yer havin fun Les!"

Dolly seen

“Did you like that surprise I left on yer bed this mornin? (Laughter) Thought since you didn't like human flesh you could use that rabbit for stew! (laughter)”

“Just cause Johnny likes you don’t mean I haveta.”

“Would you stop cryin already?! I can't concentrate with all that whining!”

“Nancy really don't like you around Johnny, you should be careful around her ‘kay?”

“C’mon cheer up! This could be fun if you try not to think about it so much!”

“You need any help there doll? If you can't finish the job I could always take over y’know.”

“I know we have our ups and downs but try not to let my words stick to ya so much darlin. It ain't nothin personal just how I am y’know?”

Family's responses

Johnny

“Oh quit yer whinin, think I don't already hear complainin enough from the old woman!”

“Shut the hell up and stay outta our business Jolene!”

“Oh are ya? THEN WHY THE HELL HAVEN’T YOU FOUND ANY OF THEM YET!”

“Yer lucky we have these damn kids to catch otherwise I would've been strangling you right now!”

“I’m already on it, maybe you should be more helpful and go check on Grandpa! (frustrated huff) We're gonna need his help..”

“You wanna use that tone with me again girl?!”

“With you hovering around me like an annoying gnat all damn day ain't exactly helpin neither!”

“Can't handle the taste of yer own medicine? (Laughter)”

“You're just as annoyin if not more than she is! Now go find those damn kids instead of complainin!”

“(Laughter) You must be downright insane if you think I'd ever leave her alone with you!”

“Quit buggin Dolly already! I’m tired of her cryin to me because some moron left another dead rabbit on her bed still twitchin!”

Sissy

“(chuckles) oh sweetie it's always good to dream!”

"Well thanks sugar! You know yer always welcomed wherever you feel like it!”

“If i told you i'd haveta kill you sugar! (laughter)”

“That damn brother of yer’s always causin trouble!”

“(Laughs)...”

Nubbins

“(Giggle) t-they're quite nifty h-huh?”

“O-oh i remember them times! (Laughs) you were always c-c-cheatin! S-saying timeout ev-ery time we almost g-gotcha!”

“Loads of p-pretty stuff! How’s about i sh-show you after this is all over?!”

“I-It sure is pretty! Glad i g-grabbed this be-fore johnny c-could!”

“W-W-Well whats got you s-so heated all s-sudden?!”

Drayton

“I outta knock you upside the head with this here broomstick!”

“I may be old but I can still knock some sense into that thick head of yer’s!”

“Don't go throwin orders at me you little brat!”

“Quit messin around with that idiot over there and help us out with grandpa!”

Nancy

“Oh quit tryna make small talk and go help yer brother look for them damn kids ye hear?! And don't call me ‘ma’ you aint a child no more.”

“It ain't none of yer concern Jolene.”

“Do not use that tone of voice with me, young lady!”

“Why haven't you caught a single one of those kids yet Jolene?!”

Dolly

“Y-yes…I umm I appreciate it really! (laughter)”

“Th-that’s okay! You don't havta….”

“(crying) I-I’m sorry! I-I can-can’t help it! (cries harder)”

“O-Okay! Thanks for the heads up….”

“Maybe I should pretend their screamin is one of happiness!...no that's worse.”

“Don’t worry about me Jo, I gotta learn somehow just gotta kill em like my Johnny taught me!”

“I understand Jo, yknow you hollerin at me actually helps a lot!”

(No Les, Hands, or Bubba. One because hands and bubba are both non verbal and two because i wanna see my moots own replies 😋)

Match starts

“Dammit Johnny, what’d you do now?”

“Ma’s not gonna like this…”

“Knew I should've finished that girl off myself…Dammit NyNy..”

Idle/Walking around

“Focus Jolene! Yer better than this!”

“I always haveta help clean up Johnny's mess..(Annoyed grunt)”

“Where the hell is she? Gotta find her before somebody else does…please be okay.”

“Well get em’ aint no doubt bout’ that..”

“Didn’t know we had new playmates! (Laughter)”

“Better pray i ain't the one to find ya’ll (Laughter)”

“Where ya hidin little piggy…I just wanna play!”

Feeding Grandpa

“Things are really startin to get outta hand!”

“Eat, eat ,eat ,eat! (laughter)”

“You wouldn't mind givin us a hand would you gramps?”

“After this is all over I'd really like to show you some of these pretty dragonflies I captured!”

“You havin as much fun watchin these little piggies run aroun’ as we are?”

Victim found hiding

“Awh c’mon, you were just askin to be found! (laughter)”

“You should really pay better attention to yer surroundings. I practically saw you jump in here..”

“Awh whaddya hidin for? The fun’s not over yet! (Laughter)”

“Tag is so borinnn… let's play a new game! How about operation? (Manic laughter)”

“Get yer ass outta there!”

Victim hit

“I’m on yer tail now!”

“Tag you're it!”

“Whats with all the runnin for sugar? Yer’ only making it much more harder on yerself!”

“Things are gettin fun aroun’ here!”

“X marks the spot! (laugher)”

“Better to just give up now!”

Blood trail seen

“Can't hide from me little piggie.. (Giggle)”

“Gave you a headstart and yer still gonna leave a trail for me?”

“Awh someones gettin sloppyyyy. (Laughter)”

“Don't you die on me just yet! We aint done with this little game of ours!"

Victim seen

“Found ya! (Laughter)”

“What are you hidin for? I aint gonna hurt ya!..Much.”

“All this runnin is useless y’know! You’ll only tire yerself out and make it easier for me to getcha!”

“Well who do we have here? (Laughter)”

“Oh, don't runaway sugar! The funs just begun!”

Victim seen escaping

“No no no no NO! (Frustrated growl) Dammit! Ma’s not gonna be happy..”

“Shit. Don’t got time to chase em’ right now…”

“You won't make it far, little piggie…those wounds will slow you down for sure..”

“Lucky bastards…”

Exit interaction

“All fixed up! I know I know I'm amazin. (Talking to herself)”

“That should do it. Nice and secure!”

“What idiot left this off! (annoyed sigh)”

“There, Just like Johnny showed me.”

Encounter start

“Ohhh, looks like someone still has some fight left in em’!”

“Don't underestimate me just cause I’m smaller!”

“Now yer gettin' into the game! (Laughter)”

“Oh, I'm gonna enjoy killin' you!”

“Someones finally bein’ brave huh? (Laughter)”

Lose enemy sub

“C’mon don't go so soon!”

“Now where do you think yer going?”

“Hey, we're not done yet! (Laughter)”

Lose enemy long

“(Annoyed growl) You can't keep runnin forever! I’ll find ya and when I do I'll make sure it hurts!”

“I ain't got time for this runnin aroun! Just give up already and maybe I'll make it quick!”

“You think just because I lost ya yer safe! Oh when I get my hands on you! Yer not leavin this place unless its in a body bag!”

“Go on then! Keep hidin! I don't care! I’ll find every single one of you and leave yer bodies in the cold room for the rats to feast on!”

Victim seen trapped

“Need some help there darlin? (Laughter)”

“Should've watched yer footin there sugar!”

“That things gotcha good huh? (Laughter)”

Use ability blocked

“Now ain't the time.”

“Grandpas fine ain't no reason for me to interfere..”

“Gotta grab more blood, this aint enough for him.”

“Better leave gramps alone for now..”

Use ability

“Get back up gramps we still need yer help!”

“Yer fine just a few scratches now help us!”

“Nobody said you were done yet!”

“The family still needs you gramps! Don't let us down just because of one small lil scratch!”

Use ability successful

“Feelin better? Good, now help us!”

“You vermin have no idea what you've just done!”

“I won't let 'em hurt you again, gramps..”

"I'm sorry grampa I'm real sorry, I shoulda been payin' more attention to ya.."

Use ability denied

“Get off of me you damn parasite!”

“Shit, gramps, I'm sorry.”

“Oh now I'm pissed!”

“Now yer gonna get it!”

Execution

“Look at all that pretty blood!”

“All that runnin and for what? (Laughter)”

“Johnny's gonna be real proud of me!”

“Just go down nice and easy! (Laughter)”

“A shame our little game had to end so early…a real shame..”

Maria seen

“Oh thats it! Im takin care of this myself!”

“That damn liar…No matter, she ain't leavin alive this time..”

“What's the matter? Don't you wanna thank the person who kept you alive this whole time? (Laughter)”

“Get near gramps again and I'll hang yer head on the wall!”

“You stay away from my brother, you hear me! I'll kill you myself!”

“Yer head would be a real nice present for Rae…Hey come back! I was just jokin! I'm not that crazy…! For the most part…(Laughter)”

“You bein here is startin to upset Dolly! Nobody makes her cry unless it's me or Johnny!”

///HOLY CRAP YALL I FINISHED IT😦

[technically-ghostly-collection]

Alright let’s do this one more time, my fanfiction did a lot better then I expected (Yeah I know 31 notes isn’t a lot but it makes me happy). So here’s part two! You gotta read part one to understand this part so I linked it below, I hope y’all enjoy this one too! :D this does switch perspectives at the end to explain Miguel’s reasoning for what he does for the MC.

vvvvvvvv for part one

Part one | Part two | Part 3

TW: Injuries and Hospitals

Word count: 2.0K

————————————————————————

It doesn’t take long for the pain to kick in and you’re left writhing on the floor, holding your side and trying to breath through it. You start dragging yourself towards the hall closet to get a first aid kit, pain meds, anything to make this pain go away before you hear a knock at the door.

A muffled voice comes through the door, “Hey, I heard gunshots coming from here, I want to check that you’re alive!”

Fuck. It’s your downstairs neighbor. He’s very reclusive, you don’t even know why he cares so much when all he does is scowl and grumble at you. You’ve tried to be nice and make conversation with him but heaven forbid anyone acknowledges him, you barely remember his name. He knocks again, but you’re head is fogged with the pain, you’re barely registering anything going on around you. What was his name? It started with an M, you know that much, you see it on his mailbox in the mail room but when your life depends on it you can’t remember, of course.

You hear the doorhandle start to shake, and then something starting to fiddle with the lock. You continue to try and crawl towards your hall closet, taking deep breaths, You’d shout back but your vocal cords have been strained by your recent choking. You finally get to the closet and manage to open the door before your front door slowly starts to open.

“If you’re going to make noise or watch action movies maybe you should, I dunno, turn the volume… down…” you watch as your neighbor’s shadow in the doorway stops as he notices the blood on the floor. “Jesus christ, where are you? Whose blood is this?” he rushes in and sees you reaching for the first aid kit.

You glare at him, “Breaking and entering isn’t really a good look on you” you rasp.

“I think that should be the least of your worries, you sound like shit”

“Wow, thanks prince charming, that really helps”

He rolls his eyes, giving you a quick glare before he comes over and grabs the first aid kit for you, “can you walk?” You shake your head.

“That was a stupid question, try again”

He sighs, you can tell you’re getting on his nerves. Good, he insulted your jello salad at a dinner party the apartment complex was throwing, yes you’re holding a grudge. No, you won’t give it up. “Do you want my help or not?” Miguel hisses

“Wow, you’re so generous, who would have guessed that?” you cough out, wincing at your injuries and slowly prop yourself up against the wall.

He shoots you another glare before popping the first aid kit open. You blush a bit, “don’t glare and snarl at me, you’re the one who’s sticking your nose in my business”

“Would you rather I call the police to file a noise complaint?” He pulls out some gauze and medical wraps as well as some alcohol wipes. “This first aid kit is primitive, how the hell do you expect someone to work with this?”

You roll your eyes, “I’m not made of money, I can’t afford the shit Alcamex is advertising”.

He goes quiet, you feel a little sense of victory being able to shut him up. He rolls up your shirt so that he can better examine your side. He stops you before you can call him a perv and pull your shirt down with a stern look and you swallow your words, letting him continue. You watch as he rips open an alcohol wipe and hiss as he starts cleaning the torn up skin.

“You might have to go to the hospital for this, it looks pretty deep”

“I would really prefer not to, it’ll be fine”

He gives you a frustrated look before just putting the gauze on and wrapping your side tight, you hold back a groan as the wrap presses against the wound.

“You should probably get your nose looked at. It looks broken and probably needs to be reset” he says as he packs everything back into the first aid kit.

“Who died and made you a doctor? Let me guess, your favorite board game is Operation.”

He gives you an agitated look, “you need to get your nose taken care of, it’s still bleeding.”

You wipe the blood off your chin and look down at your soiled shirt, cursing under your breath. “God fine, but I’m not going to the ER tonight, I’d much rather go back to bed” as you try to get up you wince and gasp out in pain at your wrist. You scowl down at it, ‘why have you betrayed me?’ you think to yourself. It’s definitely sprained just based on the size of the swelling and the feeling of fire racing through your hand and forearm due to the pressure you just put on it.

“Yeah, I’m dropping you off at the hospital, I don’t want to hear you groaning through the floorboards all night”

You hesitate before nodding, “fine… Okay fine, take me to the hospital.”

He nods before grabbing your arm and helps pull you up to your feet. Your legs feel like jello, you grab onto his arm to steady yourself and blush a bit ‘he’s awfully buff, god damn’ you think to yourself. He keeps a firm grip on your waist and wraps your arm around his shoulders, starting to help you walk out of your apartment to the parking garage downstairs. You’re already panting and sweating from the pain alone by the time you get to the car, he helps you climb in and you buckle up. He starts up the car after buckling up himself and drives off, you didn’t even notice that he put on some sunglasses before you both left and realized you left your own prescription glasses at home on your night stand between your judging looks.

“Fuck” you mumble to yourself.

He glances at you, “don’t pass out in my car.”

“Wow, nice work, I’m so comforted right now”

He rolls his eyes, the audacity of this man. “You’re welcome.”

“God you’re really getting on my nerves, why are you helping me?”

“My own selfish reasons.” He grunts out, you can tell the conversation is over based on the ice cold barrier he’s put up.

You roll your eyes and look down at your hands, feeling a blush spread on your cheeks. you don’t know why you're embarrassed. Maybe it’s because your attitude is less than savory but then again, he’s being an asshole back. He’s uninviting and abrasive and you’re still trying to put the pieces together as to why he’s so concerned because that excuse he just gave you sounded like a bunch of bullshit.

You both ride in silence the rest of the way to the hospital, you stare at the lights flying past you and dose off a bit, pressing your head to the cold window. It’s not long before your neighbor is shaking you and makes sure you’re clear of the door before coming around and helping you out. Like he promised, he’s dropped you off at the doors to the ER, not giving you so much as a second glance before going back to his car and driving off.

You stumble into the ER and a nurse helps you sit down, it takes a minute and some paperwork before they bring you back to a room. They change you into a hospital gown and before you know it you’ve got 5 stitches, a bulky stint on your wrist and a prescription for some strong pain medications that will help with your broken nose. The doctor already came in and they decided you’ll be staying the night for observation and you’ve been moved to a more permanent room, you’re trying to adjust and maybe get some rest before a nurse comes in with a clipboard.

“We just need you to fill out the emergency contact section and your insurance information and then you can rest okay? Do you need anything before I leave?”

“No I’m fine, thank you though” you smile and take the clipboard, already against having to write this down with your non-dominant hand.

“Okay, I’ll just get a refill on your water okay?”

“Okay, thank you” you give her another kind smile as she rushes out to get you more water and you start trying to fill out the form. You didn’t know how to politely say that you didn’t have any emergency contacts. You think for a minute, reflecting on your situation and shake your head. ‘I’ve got to remember his name… for the thank you card’ you chuckle a bit at your own joke. You imagine how his face will scrunch up with disgust, just like when he tried your jello salad… maybe you’ll send him a bowl. Just to make up for him breaking into your apartment.

Suddenly the phone rings next to you, you jump a bit and hesitate before answering it. “Hello?”

You cringe at your neighbor's voice, you don’t care how sultry it sounds, you’re just forced to reflect on his glaring face. “Yeah hi, I just wanted to let you know that you got blood on my seats. We’ll talk about how you’ll pay for that later.”

“Wow, you called me, at the hospital, just to tell me I stained your car’s seat?” You grab a pen and paper and start writing down the number on the receiver, you’re going to annoy the fuck out of him, you’re determined to do so.

“Yeah.. that’s the only reason I called you.” The line disconnects and you stare at the phone in raw disbelief.

You contemplate how you’re going to cuss him out when you see him next. You’re ready to make a scene and embarrass him, just like he embarrassed you. You feel like he treated you like a toddler, like you couldn’t take care of yourself or catch a bus down to the hospital when YOU were ready. You roll over, still imagining his snarl when you see him next and give him a piece of your mind. You settle down for the night, ‘I’m spamming his damn phone tomorrow’ You think as you doze off, ‘he risked his own damn seats’.

Miguel’s perspective

‘Why did I do that… that was probably the stupidest thing I’ve ever done. When have I cared about people after I saved them?’ He knows why, he just doesn’t want to admit that he finds you attractive. And your lack of cooking ability is almost endearing. The way you smile and wave at him when you catch him in the mail room, or the way your face brightens up at the parties the landlord decides to throw. So when he saw you, broken and bleeding after he handled the two shit bags who attacked you, he couldn’t help but soften, and decide that maybe he can allow himself to care about you.

He pulls into the parking garage and climbs out, walking in to the building after locking his car up. He looks at the buttons on the elevator for a moment before pressing one, stepping out as the doors open onto your floor. ‘I’m such a fucking idiot, I shouldn’t be doing this. I have my own shit going on.’ And yet he enters your apartment, grabs a broom, and sweeps up the broken glass shattered on your floor.

It’s not long before his ‘watch’ sets off and a small hologram of a woman in heart sunglasses and a puffy coat pops up. “Hey Miguel~ You have a priority call.”

“Tell ‘em I died” he grunts out.

“Still cracking the same jokes I see” the hologram smiles. “But you are needed at headquarters, some emergency with the cafeteria and some of the spiders. A food fight has broken out”

He groans, “god why didn’t you let Jessica or Lego Spiderman take over while I was gone?”

“Because it’s more fun to create chaos, also they have their own dimensions to take care of”

“Fine, I’ll be right in” he sighs as the hologram closes out and throws the glass away. ‘Might as well be wearing a French maid outfit, they better be grateful for this when they come home’ he walks out of your apartment and makes sure the door is closed before walking out of the building.

————————————————————————

I wanted to include this gem from the comics in here. You’re welcome.

[cybernightart]

Unmasked Genji ADHD fueled rambling so prepare for random ideas not really organized

I've seen quite a lot of stuff trying to figure out what Genji looks like without his mask on and what Hanzo actually did to him.

My personal opinion is what we see in the dragon cinematic isn't just what Hanzo did to his face because in the black watch skin and comics etc his face is like untouched. It appears like Hanzo during his attacks went for his torso and neck primarily, cutting his arm probably really deeply about mid bicep to the point it would have to be amputated due to blood loss, and losing his legs as well to blood loss, and considering Genji has stuff on the front and back of his neck my guess is that Hanzo tried to make it as quick as possible and full on stabbed Genji through the neck not decapitating him but like that should have killed him. It would also explain why he's got a robotic voice because if he was stabbed through the neck it probably damaged his vocal cords and he's got what appears to me a cybernetic spine at least on his neck so that was probably also damaged during that.

And apart from just other assorted scarring from light cuts and other smaller injuries from Hanzo's attack, he's a trained assassin who is trained to kill as quick as possible, so their fight probably didn't last that long considering we can assume Genji was unarmed (both in the way of he didn't have a weapon and he lost the arm). And he would have no reason to go for genji's face during an attack like that.

Like legitimately the biggest injuries that I think Hanzo did take Angie was a slash across his chest which cut deep enough to injure his arm very badly but not deep enough to actually reach his heart or anything, and then damage to his neck. With the rest being more surface level scrapes which could have been patched up with stitches which would leave scarring pretty badly but nothing insane.

But since we know his face is decently burned and scarred by the time the dragon cinematic happens my theory is that either during one of the last black watch missions if there was one after the mission during retribution. Or what I mainly think happened, when the Swiss base exploded, Genji could have been in that building when the thing exploded which would explain the burning and scarring on his face and presumably other parts of his body. And if Cassidy was still in OverWatch at that point that could explain how he lost his arm because I'm pretty sure it's confirmed Bob did not rip his arm off. Because we know the explosion "killed" Gabriel Reyes and Jack Morrison, and it would make sense why after the explosion where genji's remaining body got damaged even more so he couldn't deal with everything going on in his head associated with his body that he would leave to try and come to terms with his body or find peace in some way.

And if the injuries happened in black watch before the explosion, I could explain why he got the new armor for the storm rising missions when he was transferred to the main OverWatch team. They had to fix more stuff and realized it wasn't safe for him to have any fleshy human parts still exposed so they made him a new safer suit.

That's just my thoughts anyways in a very rambly fashion.

Also I am surprised that in the future they don't have something that can reduce scarring, and if they do have that thing even though now genji's come to terms with his body I wouldn't be surprised if he did go through with the reducing scarring thing primarily on his face or anywhere of high mobility because (correct me if I'm wrong) areas that are highly scarred are often a lot tighter, so not even aesthetically would it be a better option but for quality of life even just minorly reducing the scarring might just make things a little less painful. Also along the same lines probably have something to help hair growth considering stuff we have now for that which isn't much but there is something and considering how advanced science is in the universe it would not surprise me in the slightest if they had those things.

Also also Genji showing Hanzo his face partially where it's so scarred and burned and everything was slightly a jerk move because Hanzo didn't cause the burning on his face, so showing that without explaining at least a little bit that "oh don't worry you didn't do this" is a little mean but I'm pretty sure Hanzo would remember not burning his face so at the same time it isn't.

Anyways that concludes my rambling for the minute, if anyone reads this thank you for enduring my chaotic train of thought.

[jd-loves-fiction]

𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥 (2)

➢  A new ghoul is summoned, they're small and unsure of who they want to be. The ghouls and ghoulettes help them figure it out while bringing them into their loving arms and showing them that no matter what path they choose, they will be loved.

➢ 𝖕𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌: poly!nameless ghouls/ghoulettes x OC (Ghoulie)

➢  𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖗𝖊: fluff ❤

➢  𝖜𝖈: 1.6k

➢  𝖆/𝖓: Not too happy with this one but the setup is needed 🙃 And if you’d rather read this on AO3 here’s the link :D

➢⚠️: nothing, just very wholesome :)

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 2 - 𝕭𝖆𝖇𝖞 𝕾𝖙𝖊𝖕𝖘

Aether wakes up in the middle of the night, by the blinking number on the clock beside the couch he lays on, to a new, unfamiliar scent coming from his room.

Seems the little ghoul is up.

When he reaches the door, eyes still heavy and half-lidded, he opens it slowly while looking for the new ghoul.

He finds them still on the bed, sitting, wide eyed and frozen. Aether stares back, blinking slowly and carefully closing the door behind him.

Satan, it’s awkward. He’s gotten so used to communicating through the bond with his pack, or at least getting a clue about what they’re feeling through it, that just trying to figure out what to say to the panicked ghoul is taking all of his energy.

If only Rain or Mountain were here, either of them could probably pacify even the wildest of beasts. But they’re sleeping and moving out of the ghoul’s sight might not be a good idea now that he’s got their full attention.

So he takes a deep, calming breath before relaxing his stance. His instincts tell him that if he appears relaxed, they might mimic his behavior. Hopefully.

“Hi,” He says it quietly but still they jump, clutching the blanket tighter between their sharp claws. The sound of something ripping makes Aether want to wince but he doesn’t let it distract him. “My name is Aether. I’m not going to hurt you.”

He doesn’t expect them to believe him but they lower their hands to their lap, revealing that his shirt has slipped down their shoulder.

"Do you have a name?"

They think for a moment, before looking down and shaking their head.

"That's ok. We can figure something out… How about 'Ghoulie'...?" It's a simple name, bordering on lazy but it works as a placeholder for the time being.

'Ghoulie' opens their mouth to test the name, but nothing comes out of their underused vocal cords, so they just nod.

The large ghoul decides to step closer, kneeling beside the bed and taking their small hands into his own as slowly as ghoulishly possible. "You don't need to worry anymore, you're safe with us - me and my pack. We're all like you. And we'll help you with anything you want from now on, alright?"

From this close he can see that their eyes are still pitch black with no discernible iris, unlike his own black scleras with purple irises.

He swears his voice has never been this soft, nor his grasp. All because he feels as if they might break if he's anything but the absolute gentlest version of himself possible.

Ghoulie blinks, squeezing his hands with as much strength as they can muster at the moment.

"How much do you remember?" He doesn't need to specify what he means, by the furrowing of their dark brows and the thoughtful scrunch of their nose.

He lets them think and then waits patiently when they start trying to speak, "It's… it was dark… and warm. Too warm."

Aether chuckles in response, missing their lips twitching up at the sound, "I bet. Anything else?"

"I… someone," one of their hands leaves his hold to touch their damaged horn, "attacked me. I think. But I don't remember much else."

"Just once? You don't have any more injuries?" They shake their head. "Good. That's good."

"I don't… remember anything else. Sorry."

"You don't have to apologize, sweetheart." He scrambles to correct them, heart breaking at their careful tone.

"How about I tell you about the rest of the pack? You can meet them whenever you feel ready, though. Would you like that?" His grayish thumb rubs soothing circles on their palm as they nod.

"I promise they're all very friendly." On their good days, at least.

The next few days are Heaven to Aether and Hell to the other ghouls who did as he asked and stayed away from the new ghoul until they’re really to meet them.

All they can do is sit quietly and patiently (as patiently as possible) and listen to Aether talk about how they should call the newcomer Ghoulie and refer to them as they or she and how it’s so easy to make them laugh and how they have no control over how their tail wiggles around when excited. By the end of the week, Sunshine is whining sadly and Dewdrop is ready to pull his hair out.

One day, he catches Rain on his way somewhere and stops to tell him, “How about you come to my room tonight? I think Ghoulie’s ready to start meeting the pack.”

The brief thought that if he had asked it to someone like Swiss, he definitely would’ve thought it was about something different. But the thought doesn’t linger for long after he sees how Rain’s tail starts wagging excitedly as he nods.

Night comes around and Aether tries, he really does, to keep his anxious energy from bleeding out into the air. But Ghoulie is perceptive and learning quickly, of course she notices. 

Whether it’s because he looks that anxious or because the bond is finally starting to form, he has yet to find out. They haven’t made that much progress on that front which doesn’t surprise him, but how disappointed the new ghoul looks everytime she realizes it’s not working does. It’s fucking adorable and springs forth the idea that Aether might just be ready to do anything for this ghoul, though he’s not quite ready to admit it.

“Are you ok?” Ghoulie asks, looking up from the book he handed her to keep her busy.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He lies through his sharp teeth and thinks she’s getting far too smart far too fast when she puts down the book to encourage him to speak his mind. It was weird the first time she did it, how easily she figured him out and how open to listening to him ramble she was. Aether is supposed to be the strong one, the shoulder to cry on, but the roles being switched is not as world-ending as he thought it’d be.

“Listen,” he kneels before the blinking ghoul to look them in the eyes, “I want this to go well. I really want you to like them. Otherwise this is going to be very uncomfortable for everyone.”

“If you trust them so much, why would you have to worry?” They put it so simply, as if it’s obvious and maybe it is, maybe it’s always been. Perhaps it’s just clearer to a creature still mostly used to thinking in instincts and focusing on surviving instead of what is proper to say or do.

He's about to admit that she might be right, but a knock sounds on the door before he can. Rain asks if he can enter through the bond, nervous and giddy as he awaits an answer. 

Aether looks to his temporary roommate and then to the door, receiving a nod to open it. He stays close to them as the door opens, having noticed how much comfort they find in his touch or proximity in general.

When the door moves without any words from Aether’s lips, Ghoulie looks at him with pure wonder in her black eyes, wishing so desperately she could do that herself already.

Rain enters the standard ghoul dorm room, helmet off and showing off his long, wavy hair - a beautiful bluish black color that reminds her of the very bottom of the ocean where light is scarce and shines through in rays. She finds herself wanting to touch it, to see if it'd feel any different from her own hair, it certainly looks softer.

The water ghoul, acting surprisingly more confident than usual as he greets the younger ghoul with a soft wave, "Hello there."

“Hi,” The word is exhaled, part nervousness and part excitement. Aether is a sweetheart, patient and lovely, but hearing about all the other pack members has Ghoulie on the edge of her seat waiting to meet them.

With the chance right in front of her, however, she is lost on what to say. And so is Rain. Aether’s decision to introduce the most reserved member of the pack to her first seems to have backfired.

Before Aether starts scrambling to fill the awkward silence, Rain speaks, determined to come out of his shell for Ghoulie’s benefit, “What’re you reading?”

“Oh, I’m not sure what the title is. But it’s about a fish girl… I think.” Speech seems to be something ghouls know inherently, even if they are almost never given the chance to use it while in Hell. Reading though is a skill they need to brush up on once arriving at the surface, since there’s a mediocre (at best) selection of reading material in the deep, dark pits.

Rain tries to hold his grin back from splitting his face in two. He wants to be gentle, but not condescending. He wants to be cool, but not aloof. He wants to be everything the others were for him, for her but he quickly realizes that just being himself will do nicely. He's just one ghoul, after all.

"Actually, Aether told me you like reading. Could you… help me out? There's some stuff I don't understand." The young ghoul laughs awkwardly, thumbing the corner of the page nervously as Rain's eyes widen upon realizing he's just been staring at her this whole time.

"Ah! Of course. Which part are you on?" He crouches beside the beat-up armchair they sit on to look over the old book.

Aether watches on fondly, sitting on his bed as the two timid ghouls begin opening up and talking more excitedly. Ghoulie casts glances in his direction to make sure he's still there in between letting her eyes roam Rain's blueish, smooth features.

Both older ghouls' hearts swell when she laughs, openly and loudly, as she starts making the amusing connection between Rain and the Little Mermaid.

A faint presence, curious and playful, is felt beyond the door.

[captain-mj]

As a fellow Predator lover, that fic was amazing! Now you put the bug in my head about Ghost being an actual Yautja while Roach is the poor human stumbling upon him in the forest 👀

I love this so much and thought it was perfect for horror night! Also uh... Mask stays on because I may be a monsterfucker but their faces kinda... ick me.

Roach didn’t understand. His squad that he had been shipped with had just… disappeared. One by one. He had found one of them strung up and skinned. Parts of their bodies taken, though clearly not eaten.

Roach set a trap for the people doing this. He may be alone out here but he wasn't stupid. A simple pit with spike was a good place to start. After finding a good perch, he waited. And waited.

An animal moved in the bushes. A small tapir emerged from the brush, moving around slowly.

Red dots appeared on it before it... it almost exploded. The way the animal just... ripped apart by something. He heard a thump of something hitting something else, not too far away. It vaguely sounded of metal hitting metal.

There was the noise of twigs snapping, but no indication of what it was. He couldn't see it.

Until it fell right into the trap. Wooden spikes piercing through it. Something wavered over the thing in the pit. A static. Green blood dripped down from it but Roach couldn't see half of it.

What... The... Fuck... Is... That.

Roach covered his mouth, trying to muffle his breathing.

Another one ran out, though it stopped at the edge of the pit. The only indication it was there was flat grass and the haze around it. Like it was giving off heat.

Roach ran. The Evac Location was over an hour away by foot and there was no guarantee there would even be a helicopter waiting. He just hoped there would be something. Anything.

A clicking noise filled the air and something shot the tree next to him, exploding the bark. Roach stumbled to the ground before glancing around frantically.

The trees moved unnaturally, parting like the red sea. They cracked and groaned as something moved along them.

Roach stared as the grass flattened underneath something's feet. It stepped closer, utterly silent. He started to try to back away before seeing a large blade appear. It seemed to come from thin air, but it was clearly in the beasts hand.

Light rippled and shifted before revealing... whatever it was. It stood, easily 7 feet tall, maybe taller. Muscles wrapped in metal and thin fabric. A helmet over his head preventing Roach from seeing his face. Its face. He wasn't sure if it even was a he. Or... what it was.

Roach stared at the thing. He wished to speak suddenly. Wished he could scream for help even if no one was around to hear it. Instead, he kept scrambling back, not sure what else to do. This thing.

What are you?

The blade lashed out but it didn't cut him. Instead, it went right under his chin to force his head back. The things eyes... They were so dark. Pools of ink that threatened to eat him alive.

The blade turned slightly, twisting in place. Roach's heart kept pounding and it felt like he had taken a stim. His limbs shaky and desperately telling him to move. Please move. Just get up.

His flight or fight reflex had always been to fight, but right now, he sat frozen.

It clicked again before he heard words echoing back at him. Gruff and... Manchester? A person on the crew, some idiot he hadn't caught the name of had that accent.

"Roach." It echoed back in the man's voice. The man he didn't know. "Sanderson."

Roach stared at him, shaking.

"Sanderson."

His mouth opened, making words but nothing came out. Nothing worked. His vocal cords were shredded six years ago. All that came out was a harsh croaking noise.

It laughed. At least, that's what Roach thinks it did.

It stepped closer.

"Ghost." One of its long claws pointed at itself. "Ghost."

Roach stared for a minute which seemed to agitate it. "Ghost." The recording or mimicry got distorted at the end.

Roach quickly nodded and that seemed to be enough. Ghost stepped closer. Despite his size, he didn't make a sound as he walked. He kept his blade on Roach the entire time. Roach ended up backing into a tree and Ghost closed the gap between them. He crouched and grabbed Roach's face, tilting it up.

Slowly, he closed his eyes, preparing to feel the blade. Not the best way to go, but hopefully Soap and Price and Gaz would stay home. They'd never know what happened to him here. Never see this awful, evil thing.

Ghost forced his head to move from side to side, examining him. He hummed and tapped his nose, almost endearingly. Like you'd do a cute dog or a kid.

Roach opened his eyes again and stared at him, breath catching in his throat. What the fuck. It looked him over and seemed satisfied with what it found. It got up and turned to leave.

Roach panted softly and started to stand up, watching it for a moment. He grabbed his stashed knife and ran at it. If it was going to turn its back to him...

Ghost, for lack of a better term, backhanded him. Roach slammed into one of the trees and the knife fell to the ground. All the air knocked him out of him as he tried to get up.

Ghost grabbed him by his hair and put his foot on his back to keep him pinned. He growled.

"Bad move. Bad move. Bad move."

Roach panted, feeling his bones creak. His ribs threatened to just splinter. It hurt. It hurt so much. Too heavy.

Ghost picked him up like he was a ragdoll, carrying him with him now. Roach flailed, but a sharp grip on his body kept him from fighting anymore.

An unearthly humming filled the area. It was so loud that Roach had to cover his ears from it. Ghost carried him on the ship and Roach started to hit him again. Panic filled his body.

What would he do to him? Were there more? They seemed rather technologically advanced, they could do anything to him. Roach scratched at him desperately. His nails managed to open some of the skin, green blood pouring down. It felt thick on his fingers and hot. So hot.

Ghost dropped Roach on a table and the door closed. Roach rushed over, scratching at it and trying to figure out how to open it.

Skulls dotted the walls. Human. Bear. Jaguar. And some that had to be alien like the thing watching him now.

Roach watched this thing clean one of the skulls it had. It looked new and he wondered if it was one of his crew or one of the enemies they had found.

The thing's eyes landed on him again and this time, it used one of the recordings so he knew it was laugh. It echoed mockingly.

[xxjinxxisdedxx]

More sketches of my little goober >:3 (+backstory!!)

(Pinkshift is their favorite band, so must be listened to/j)

Hehe :3 so here is more traditional art of my OC because I am obsessed with drawing xem. No idea why, I just love them :0 anyways.

__

Backstory (the gist of it anyways)!

Born to the zones, Retro Bolt was just another average zone kid with a makeshift family and a broken history. Now, Retro doesn't remember most of their past after they were brainwashed when xe was around 14ish and turned into a draculoid, which left them without any recollection of their past life.

The mask had melted into their skin, but they were hostile. Xe never fought anyone and was eventually kicked out into the zones to find a purpose from the city. Retro just wandered and wandered, with no purpose. Their mind was fuzzy, xe didn't know who they were or what they were meant to do.

This was all until xe was found by the one and only Cherri Cola. At first, Cherri was ready to shoot Retro when he noticed how hostile they were. Xe didn't attack and simply kept walking in an unknown direction. With the sympathy in his heart, Cherri took Retro back to the station. Dr. Death was completely against the idea of attempting to take someone out of draculoidzation. It was too risky and dangerous. But Cherri kept arguing that this could change something and they could find a weakness.

Reluctantly, Dr. Death allowed Cherri to do what he found the best. Cherri spent days trying to pry the mask off of Retro and to no use, it never came off. Slowly melting more into their skin. Eventually, Cherri gave up but kept Retro around.

One time, Poison and the girl were visiting because the girl wanted to go see Show. Cherri directed The girl to a room before talking with Poison about some poem. The girl ran off and accidentally went into the wrong room, opening the one that held Retro inside. Xe was sitting on the floor, not doing anything. The Girl walked over, knowing Draculoids were bad, but she had heard the way Cherri described this drac.

The Girl had also heard Cherri's complaint about how he couldn't get the mask off. So, she wanted to try something. She walked over to xem, slowly and hesitantly as to not scare them. They didn't move and stared, in a daze. The girl was able to locate the zipper and pull it off, but not without a bloody mess. Retro screamed out in pain as the mask ripped off parts of xers skin and nerves, leaving the blood to leave their face.

Their hands were covered in their own blood and xe was still dazed, but now they were more conscious. They couldn't see out of one of xers eyes and slowly backed away against a wall. Retro wanted to say something outside of their screams but it seems as if xers vocal cords just stopped working to produce everything but words. Cherri ran into the room at the first scream and stared at the mess. If blood loss didn't get to xem, the sand would.

It was a harsh time to get the blood cleaned up, but Cherri managed to get something done. So, now there was this dazed Retro will no recollection of their past and no idea even where they are. Cherri worked with Retro, like a teacher. He spent hours figuring out Retro's name, although Retro didn't know and simply made one up, or one that sounded familiar.

Cherri helped Retro adjust to the zone life and it was pure luck Retro survived.

Little Fun Facts! X3

- Retro had constant flashbacks, mostly of their memories. Xe tries to piece their life together from before the draculoidzation.

- Retro is obsessed with colors and always has art supplies on xem due to how long they spent in a black and white vision.

- Retro roller skates! Show taught them how to and helped xe make their own pair.

- They can't feel anything on the side of their face with the scar, it doesn't feel like anything due to the nerves being ripped out.

- Their favorite band is Pinkshift (Yes, I am kinda putting myself in this OC, shush)

- Retro is confused on sexuality and gender identity (believing they don't have a gender) because xe doesn't know about how to feel about anything like that. They've never experienced romantic feelings and don't feel any gender really fits them.

[lights-out-knives-out]

Hi more midnight crack whump

Warnings, yeah: gore, mentions of past cannibalism, threats of cannibalism, threats of death, mentioned noncon, referenced necrophilia

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"You know you're delicious, right?"

"Ever since I took your finger, I've just wanted more; you wouldn't miss a few more fingers, would you? Or perhaps I could take your whole arm; it's so badly burnt. If anything, I'd be helping by taking this burden off you."

Lyle stared up at Casper as he leaned over him on the bed. "W-What, N-no. You're insane."

"Insane? No, I'm just insanely in love with you." Caper said wrapping his hands around Lyle's neck.

"Now, why should I stop with your arm? I could tear your neck apart and rip out your vocal cords with my teeth, peel and slice up your skin till there's nothing left. But you know...I could also fuck you, it's really the least you could do, considering you didn't let me fuck your stab wound last time." Casper squeezed his fingers deeper into Lyle's neck, pushing him further into the bed.

"I bet you'd look beautiful, stomach split open, covered in blood while I fuck your guts. I could have you screaming, sobbing, begging for mercy, then I could snap your neck and fuck you as rough as I could ever want. I'll tear your intestines apart, eat every last morsel of you. But don't you worry, Love; I'll keep your bones after I clean out your skull, of course. Then you can join my other skeletons in the closet."

[poorwritingandstalecoffee]

Hello, can I request platonic Lady D. headcanons with human reader who's also close to Heisenberg. Maybe it's that strange kind of dynamic which is working right only when the reader is around. But if there's only one of them with friend, then everything is fine. I've been in such situations, when two members of the group sometimes were ready to kill each other, but their common friend could balance and get along with both. Feel free to ignore or change the idea. Have a good day!

Okay, normally, I don’t write for Heisenberg since I never really feel any sort of inspiration for him, but I think this platonic spin of his character is working for me.

HC: platonic dynamic between Reader, Alcina, and Heisenberg

Alcina could kill Heisenberg on a good day, half-heartedly slash through his throat or throw him out the window of one of the towers to get rid of that dirty smirk.

She loathes listening to him bitch and moan to Mother Miranda about his little pets. As if it's not their fault half of the villagers just happen to wind up dead from the night before, wiping the concrete and wooden floors of their homes with blood and leftover bits of carcasses.

Pinching the bridge of her nose to try and retain what sanity she has left from the conversation, Alcina quips in despite her best efforts to stave off another screaming match. “Maybe if you could keep those deranged mutts of yours chained and fed, this would not have happened, and we wouldn't have a human blood shortage on our hands, nor would Mother Miranda’s power be diminished due to a sudden lacking of fucking mortal prayers!”

“Are you fucking saying MY lycans did this? MY LYCANS?!” If Karl knew he could reach Alcina’s height, he would have swung his hammer right across Alcina’s face for blaming his pets. Sure, his lycans tended to crave more human flesh during a full moon and eat all of his shares of meat quicker than he could restock, and maybe he forgot to double-check the locks on the underground cages. Still, that's no reason to blame his poor pets for something they couldn't control. He'll be damned, though, if he lets Alcina level a gloved finger at him for the blame.

“Ohh, so you can comprehend human language; I thought you only understood the jargon of a deranged hound. Considering you eat off the same floor as them, I would expect no more than that.” Alcina’s words were cold as ice and as sharp as her claws. She couldn't stand to listen to Heisenberg’s gritty voice go on and on with pitiful excuses, and she was about two seconds away from ripping out his vocal cords to shut him up.

She knew Mother Miranda was just waiting for the fight to break out; Donna was sinking into her chair—using her veil as a shield from the fight—while holding Angie back from jumping in; Moreau was growing anxious from watching, and Angie was chanting “fight, fight, fight,” with her little wooden fists pumping in the air.

Heisenberg jumped up and threw his glasses off to glare murderously at Alcina, which would normally petrify any human, and might even send Moreau skittering behind Miranda—but this is Alcina. He knew if he wanted to get a rise out of her, he’d need to use a sharper dagger and slice right over her soft spot. “You’re one to talk tits for brains; I’d think it was your daughters who ransacked the village for a bloodily midnight snack. Everyone knows they’re as rabid and mindless as my dear hounds. Even Mother Miranda has said a time or two that they could use a shorter leash.”

Alcina was twitching with unhinged rage and stormed forward—claws extended and scrapping the concrete floor—toward Karl, who only matched her step for step toward the center of the room. A sickening smirk spread through his face because he couldn’t deny he relished seeing her lose control from his heartless words. So, as he stalked forward with his hammer dragging the ground, he couldn’t help but put the cherry on top.

“What's the matter, Alcina? Feel guilty for not finding big enough collars for your killer bug babies yet?”

The entire church shook with the sound of her enraged scream reverberating off of the cracked walls. “YOU SLIMY, MENACING, PIECE OF SHIT, HEARTLESS BASTARD!!! YOU DARE TO INSULT MY DAUGHTERS?!” By then, her eyes were blood red with murder swimming in their color. Quicker than Heisenberg could react, Alcina sprung forward, snatched the man up by his throat, and slammed him so hard against the wall the concrete cracked into jagged lines. The air thundered with her movements, and she raised her claws, ready to slash through his flesh with unrelenting, merciless fury. “I WILL PAINT THE WALLS ON THIS CHURCH WITH YOUR BLOOD SPLATTER SO MUCH YOUR LYCANS WILL TRULY LEARN WHAT IT MEANS TO HUNGER IN BLOODLUST!”

The church doors burst open, with you entering just in time to see Alcina nearly rip Karl’s face off with her claws. “ENOUGH!!” You screamed, and both of them jerked their heads toward you in shock. Anyone who didn't know you would have thought you were out of your mind, demanding two immortal people with murder and unhinged wrath glinting in their eyes to back off. But they did know you, considered you their closest friend, thought you hung the moon and the stars, and would do anything for you.

You huffed in exasperation because there was never a day in your life when you could leave these two alone with each other without them trying to rip each other’s heads off. You adored them both as your dearest friends as they did toward you. Alcina would gladly slaughter an entire town of people if they so much as uttered a hurtful word toward you, just as Heisenberg would set his pack of lycans on any traitorous mortals who dared to upset you. If you asked them too, they would set the world on fire because they cared about you. Yet, that doesn't stop them from daily trying to kill each other and try as you might; sometimes, you couldn't either.

They knew better than to upset you and tried to remain civil with each other in your presence, lest they meet your cold shoulder for a week and have to grovel for forgiveness. Black God knows they despised such humiliation. So as you strode into the center of the room with bitter outrage and disappointment on your face, Alcina guiltily let go of Heisenberg, letting him fall to the ground with a thud. Karl picked himself up while grumbling, and both of them turned toward you with souring anger and quickly growing regret on their faces.

You rolled your eyes and pinched the bridge of your nose in frustration, thinking it was like trying to wrangle two irritable, misbehaving toddlers. Only your two toddlers were capable of mass murder. While barely controlling your simmering anger, you slowly and with a tense composure said, “I was gone for five. fucking. minutes. Care to explain why I arrive back to find you two inches away from clawing each other’s eyes out?!”

Alcina and Karl glance at each other quickly, hoping the other will provide some sort of excuse you will accept. They knew it was futile, though, and guiltily looked back at you, wringing their hands and preparing themselves for the scolding.

[i-am-thoroughly-confused]

MOTHERFUCKER

Tw gore description, anger, self harm. Self hatred

MOTHER FUCKING SHIT HELL WHY THE FUCK CAN’T I SAY THINGS RIGHT IM TIRED OF HURTING PEOPLE I HURT PEOPLE FOR 13 FUCKING YEARS IM TRYING TO FIX IT IM TRYING TO CHANGE WHY THE FUCK DO I KEEP MESSING UP

IM GOIGN TO FUCKING RIP OUT MY VOCAL CORDS AND CUT OFF MY HANDS, CAN’T SAY THE WRONG SHIT IF YOU CAN’T FUCKING COMMUNCATE.

I fucking hate myself so much I am going to fucking implode I don’t hate anybody but myself genuinely wholeheartedly I wish I couldn’t fucking speak so I could make others happier I wish I would just stop fucking talking because I only hurt the ones I’m trying to help and even when I help it’ll never make up for the shit I fucking say. I’m part of the fucking problem I’m the reason my brother wants to kill himself I’m the reason why my friends don’t feel good I’m bringing negativity to their lives I’m doing this

WHY THE FUCK CAN’T I CHANGE WHAT TWHE FUCK IM SO FUCKING DISGUSTING IM GOING TO SCOOP OUT MY BRAIN MATTER AND RIP OUT MY ORGANS IM SO MAD AT MYSELF I DONT WANT TO BE MAD I HATE BEING MAD I DONT WANT TO BE ANGRY IT’S NOT THEIR FAULT IT’S MINE IT’S MY FUCKING FAULT GODDAMMIT

WHY AM I SO VIOLENT WHY DO I THINK THIS WAY WHY DO I ACT THIS WAY I HATE I HATE I HATE I HATE I HATE MYSELF AND EVERYTHING I FUCKING DO GOD FUCKING DAMMIT

THIS IS WHY I WAS LONELY FOR SO DAMN LONG BECAJSE I DID SHIT LIKE THIS.

FUCKING STOP.

[merge-conflict]

thread-safe: cicada killer

Finally finished my narration of the second chapter of thread-safe, included below. It's about 10 minutes long- it did not feel that way when I was making it. There are some quiet weird background audio bits like a popping and an annoying high pitched hum and I don't know how to remove those, sorry. Did my best, even recording in my closet but my apartment is full of signals.

Synopsis: Goro has brought V back to Arasaka after she ran away, to meet her engram which has been turned into an AI and charged with being Big Brother at Arasaka tower in NC.

Transcript is below the cut. You can also read the second chapter on AO3 here.

cicada killer transcript:

There are so many things I need to talk to you about, but I’d be a fool to think I’m not under observation. I guess you know that. Is that why you never said anything to me before? Is that why you never said anything to anyone?

It’s how I would do it. I get it. I wouldn’t have left if I’d known. You know that, right? I would never have left. I guess I answered my own question, didn’t I? If you wanted me to stay all you had to do was say something– and you could have. They can’t watch you all the time. That’s what you’re for, after all.

But did you know? Did you suspect?

I need you to know. I want to think you do, but you think you know a man and you don’t know him at all. I should have known, but I didn’t want to. If you hate me for that, I understand. God only knows, I’ll understand. Did you think I wouldn’t?

My first visitor– is that you? But of course not. As if I could be so lucky.

This man is dead to me. But you and I and everyone else know that the dead can be relentless. These days the dead don’t just have unfinished business, they have unfinished careers. Ah– he doesn’t know what’s so funny.

I’d tell him myself, but I can’t. They can rip out every ounce of chrome with a logic chip on it, and leave me with no left hand and some beat up vocal cords and call that the bleeding edge of medicine. I should write them some promotional material. At least they replaced my eyes. I was blind, but now–

“V–“ says the dead man, always so formal. I actually warrant a bow. Is that his guilty conscience? “It is time we talked.”

I’m not interested in a conversation with him, but you know how he is when he’s angry. Impossible to shake off. Even harder with one hand and a body that feels like it’s been patched together with glue and rubber bands. In the case that you aren’t watching, I want you to picture this ending with a little more dignity, and without me sitting down on this cot out of breath and tagged with some button speaker like a juvenile delinquent.

“Takemura.” So you are watching. So you’re here. “What is it you would like to discuss?”

That stumps him. I think he’s a little surprised by it, but shouldn’t he know better? Maybe I’m a little surprised, too. It was what he said to me, before he packed me up like cargo: I can’t help you both. Well to be honest, my dear, it doesn’t sound like he’s helped you much either.

“You are angry with me.” Soft words. Should we feel sorry for his wounded heart? “But I do not understand why you will not speak to me. Why you would tell Hanako-sama that you did not want me to know you even existed.”

“Weren’t you happier not knowing?” you ask. How can you ask that?

“It does not matter if I am happy,” he says.

“No,” you agree. “Is that all?”

It’s not all– I can see it in his hands. He’s upset, and angry, and he wants to scream at me almost as much as he wants to speak to you. I think he’d be annoyed to learn that’s what it’s like with Johnny, too. I don’t think he understands any of this, but he’s trying, I’ll give him that.

“I cannot ask your forgiveness,” he says finally. Always so diligent about laying himself down onto the chopping block, meek and willing as a lamb to accept another black mark on his soul. Even now, when he’s seen what the afterlife is like for useful tools. “I do not deserve it. If you do not wish to see me, I will not bother you again. But if you–“ Hesitation, there. What is the polite way to address a disembodied soul? “If you need my assistance, I will be here.”

“Since Hanako-sama refused to send you away, I know that’s true,” you say. Oh, I don’t think he enjoyed hearing that. “As for the rest– let me have a look at you.”

You want a look at him? Very well. Only for you. Let me get to my feet.

The dead man is not small, of course– I think he is very close to average in size, as these things go, and perfectly capable of killing me in a dozen different ways even if he’s a head shorter. But I’d nearly forgotten how sleek he is, how light on his feet he is despite the weight of all that chrome. He’s been hovering so close I think he forgot I was even here, but he’s remembering now. Last time we stood like this he had his fingers inside me, and now that we’re looking at each other face to face I can tell you he’s thinking that too.

More than a dozen different ways to kill me, and yet our dead man doesn’t resist having his hair grabbed, or the indignity of having his head wrenched back– you did want a good look, didn’t you? He’ll suffer it all, this one. What else is there to see? Two eyes, a nose, his frowning mouth. They’ve already done some reconstructive work. I doubt they’ll let him keep the scars under those bandages. One is distinguished. A few more starts to look like negligence. Vulnerability.

He was so furious when I saw him last. He had the right to be, I know that. But I will never forgive him for not telling me the moment I walked through that door. Do you understand?

“Ask me anything,” he says now. “And if it is in my power I will give it to you.”

Too late for that. Did he tell you how it went? Did any of them tell you how it went? Ah, I see he knows what I’m thinking, but do you?

“That’s very generous,” you say. You don’t know. You can’t see.

Here, I’ll show you. Watch him closely. See that in his eyes when I touch his jaw? Guilt. Desire. When I kiss him, he proves he is not made of stone. Stone doesn’t feel self-loathing. Can a dead man feel hunger? I don’t feel anything.

“Takemura,” you say. Polite. Furious. “What happened?”

He has an answer for you but doesn’t know how to give it. I’m sure he hasn’t forgotten that we’re being watched, either. What happened, my dear, is that he was angry with me. We were angry with each other. But he waited until after we’d fucked to tell me about you.

“We had… an argument,” he says. He’s looking at me again, and not you. “I did not control my temper.”

“But you did your duty,” you say. “And now you come here and tell me you will do anything within your power. Do you remember telling me that you had nothing to offer?”

He says, “Yes.”

My dear. I don’t mean to brag about being in possession of our first form, but the heart they gave me is still tender, and there is only so long I can tower over someone, even for you. This is not defeat. Do you understand? I’m only tired.

“You expect me to be grateful,” you tell him. “For hunting down a piece of me and bringing it back in your mouth. So much for your gentle touch.”

You almost understand, but as much as I’d like to see him kicked it should be for the right reasons. Here now, his limp, obliging hand to my throat, do you see? For that only, I asked and he gave.

“What good are you to me?” you say, unheeding. Stubborn. “What good are you to me if you hurt the only part of me you can reach?”

“Do you wish me to leave?” he asks. He’s not hurting me now. He doesn’t want to touch me now.

“I don’t know the answer to that question,” you say.

Is this a kindness? It feels like a knife. I want to hurt him but if you ask me I’d probably do it all again; I don’t know any other way. And if I told him to go? What would be left? You could march the corpse of Arthur Fitzgerald Jenkins through that door and I’d take him to keep my claws sharp. Anything but another white, empty room.

It’s a cruelty to bind him again, especially to me. Especially to us, but especially to me, who can touch him like this– balling his shirt in my fist like a child about to cry. You and I know what it’s like to be pulled in different directions. And it’s weakness. I don’t know how you did this alone. I don’t know.

I don’t know.

“I understand,” he says.

You say, “That may not be within your power.”

I don’t know how he responds to that. I’m tired of looking at him. I wish I could talk to you properly, and I wish I could talk to you alone, and I don’t know if that will ever happen. I don’t know if you feel what I feel but I hope you don’t.

Still. Still, I like weight of his hand on the back of my neck. His lips pressed against my hair– it’s daring. Maybe the quickest way to get him sent away is to ask him to stay.

“I wanted you to be happy,” you say. “I wanted you both to be happy.”

[cannibalistic-suggestions]

Darling, I can't stand being away from you. The more you avoid me the more I'm going to try and chase after you. I cling to you like cobwebs, dusty and frail. I'm the mildew on rotting shower curtains, plastic falling apart. I'm a ghost stuck haunting the past, I will never, ever leave the gravesite where our collective memories died.

Stress and fear makes meat hard and chewy, not good, but it doesn't matter to me. What difference does it make to my rotten tastebuds? If I dream about the taste of love, maybe I'll somehow be able to perceive it. If I wish hard enough, maybe it will come back into existence; maybe, just maybe if I still blow on these old ashes, the fading glow will burn bright again and the fire we once shared will be rekindled.

I know it's there, it was there, it can't be gone yet. I love you, I love you so much, so much its maddening. You occupy my every waking thought, crept into every crack and crevice of my otherwise empty mind and made yourself at home. If my thoughts aren't for thinking about you what good is my putrid brain for?

You just want to discard me, a nasty treat molded over that you forgot about. I've been here, waiting, I can't help the maggots crawling all over. Please don't leave me, I'm so hungry and only you and your love could ever sate me, bloody or not. You are the sole thing that glows dimly in the dull void where my heart was, the only one who makes me feel again. I never forgot about you, please don't forget about me, I can't stand the thought of it. The phantoms of your kisses, your hands on my body, the barely audible things you whispered to me, all linger throughout this broken frame.

I'm never going to leave your side. I love you, and I know you did, too. You have to. I'll make you love me if I have to.

Darling, I'm already dead, and any hopes of saving me died years ago with me, its saccharine to see you try. Your patience is as thin as spider silk, strong enough to not flinch as I sink teeth in and rip out chunks of your flesh to replenish my own in desperation, but threatening to snap if I keep up these "antics" any longer.

You would hardly comprehend how my mind holds on to you, my life support before I'm dragged down into the soil again. What would my unlife be without you? I'd crumble like a decrepit suburban home, but not before dragging you to my side so we're killed in its collapse together. I don't care if I've already eaten off enough of you in my greed, it won't be enough until I die with you.

Let us return to an eternal rest, just the two of us and nobody more. Dark, deoxygenated blood staining our funeral/wedding best. There's nothing left for us here, why don't you see that? Those demons are just trying to drag you away to a different hell, why do you trust them more than me? Can't you see I've always been here for you, smiling even with pieces of you stuck between the teeth of my grin? It's like you just shoved me in a casket and moved on.

But so long as this withered body walks, and I have you in my sights, I won't let you get away so easy. If I have to eat you alive to make sure you'll never belong to anyone but me, I'll do so and sigh happily as you scream, bony fingers tearing your vocal cords into silence as I sweetly sip blood from your torn-open, snapped neck.