#they knew he was gonna get some people killed for what they'd done to him]. Bulldozer was also fighting off Rocketeers during this

[wolfylch]

Later :

Some shots of a scene from our AU that will live rent free in my brain forever ✨️

[befuddled-calico-whump]

Total $hit$how: Roses for the Knuckles

in which Hunter doesn't always listen

cw: referenced violence, adult language, implied abuse

previous /// masterlist /// next

×~×~×

“You'll each get one hour. Nowhere near enough time for anything real, but it should serve its purpose.”

Everyone was in the room with the mats, where they should've been running through their morning training. Obstacle courses or fighting or some shit, but instead of doing what they were supposed to, Sahota was following muscle girl's dumb idea.

Hunter knew what its 'purpose' was. Proving them all wrong, demonstrating that he was better than them for the hundredth time. Why was he even gonna bother? Why not just tell them no and be done with it? Why not just do what Vic wanted?

He didn't know what the big deal was anyway. Muscle girl had been in the army or some shit, so hadn't she already killed people? And fucking Manak didn't seem like he gave a shit about anyone else, so why did he care? Hunter didn't care. It wasn't like he knew Finley anyway, and he could just forget about the whole matter after she was dead and they had what they wanted.

If he would’ve told Vic about this last night during their training session, maybe he could’ve put a stop to this bullshit, but the ancient law of snitches get stitches kept his mouth shut. It wasn’t that big a deal anyway. Just a waste of time.

Hunter slouched as Sahota droned on and on about the rules, body and face rigid as he addressed the group. Like a fucking statue.

“I want each of you to come up with some arbitrary information that you want from me, and then I want you to try to extract it. You are permitted to do anything, so long as I can recover from it by tomorrow.”

Whatever that meant. It had been two days since he'd got his face beat in, and he already seemed just fine.

Muscle girl raised her hand. “What's the point?”

“I’ve been in the business for a while,” Sahota replied. “I know a good technique when I see one. If you manage to impress me, you win. I'll let you do it your way.” He thumbed at the scabbed-over cut running through his lip. “But don’t count on it.”

Some of the rest threw in their own questions, but Hunter tuned them out, pinching the skin of a knuckle between two fingernails until flowers started blooming there. No one would want to hear his side of the argument, his ‘we should listen to Vic, not Sahota’. If they didn't hate him already, he'd bet they definitely hated him after the video, after he was the only one who didn't want to go save their asshole trainer. But he'd been right, Vic had been right. Sahota got back just fine, not the slightest shift in his stupid slate-gray color unless you counted the bruises on his face.

He was right, but it seemed like no one wanted to look at him anymore. Not that they had in the first place, but it seemed more on-purpose now. Manak had been just as icy as ever when they'd worked together on the list, a task mostly completed in bitter silence. Hunter hadn't helped much, just kinda leaned back in his chair and looked for new patterns, distracting himself from the red ribbon of irritation that started coiling around the other man as soon as Sahota told them to work together.

And whatever, he didn't care. He didn't need Manak to like him, or Sahota, or muscle girl, or even… even the big guy. No, he didn't need them, not when he had Vic on his side, not when Vic wanted him to stay.

“Cavan, why don't you start us off?” Sahota said, and muscle girl straightened, her neutral blue brightening.

Cavan. Cavan, Cavan, Cavan, he’d try to remember it, but sometimes names were hard.

“I want the rest of you training. Spar for the first hour, then branch off into individual skills.” He gave Cavan a curt nod, and she followed him out, leaving a fading trail of blue behind. Hunter couldn’t tell if she was excited or nervous, and didn’t really care.

Beside him, the big guy let out a heavy sigh. “So… sparring?”

“Dibs on Jericho,” makeup guy said quickly, sidestepping towards the big guy and slipping an arm through the crook of his elbow.

Jericho, Jericho.

That left him with Manak. Whatever. Smug little richboy wasn’t that great with his fists, and Hunter wouldn’t mind breaking his stupid snobby nose. The big guy—Jericho—seemed to catch a whiff of Hunter’s plan though, a brighter flash that was probably alarm arcing through his purple.

“Actually, I think I’ll fight Harbor,” he said, shaking himself free of makeup guy, who put on a pouty expression. Hunter scowled up at him, squaring his shoulders.

“Yeah? What if I don’t wanna fight you?” he challenged, scanning the big guy’s—Jericho, it’s Jericho, fucking dumbass—silhouette for a shift in his color. The purple didn’t change.

“Do you not want to?” A little smile crossed his face. “You’re pretty good. I just want to see what you’ve got.”

Hunter scrunched his nose. He was good, but he knew what was really happening. Just the b–Jericho trying to save Manak’s ass. Whatever. Whatever, a fight was a fight. Training was training and he didn't need to be liked. He didn't need to be chosen for him, not by them.

“Fine.” He lifted his fists. Roses for the knuckles. “Fight me.”

~~~

The first hour went fast. Sparring always went fast, at least for Hunter. Maybe ‘cause it was something he was actually good at. Muscle girl (Cavan) came strolling back in near the end of the matches, and makeup guy (Benny?) took her place. From the dull in her blue, Hunter guessed she hadn't been successful. He coulda told her that.

Jericho spent the next hour looking over the folder with her and Manak, so Hunter spent his time wandering and practicing with patterns.

Find a pen, find a tool, find one of those screws that has an X on top, until makeup guy came back and Manak replaced him and his head was pounding.

He ignored the oncoming migraine.

I want you to come back after.

The next hour passed, the headache dug blunt teeth into his skull, and then it was Hunter's turn.

~~~

Sahota was sitting comfy when he entered, bound in place by ropes that wound around his wrists and the arms of the chair he was planted in. No sign of any blooming colors in his slate-gray, no hint of an expression on his bruise-mottled face.

Like an oil slick, he thought. Guess it's your turn to wear it.

The three who'd gone before him hadn't done shit by the looks of it. If anything, Sahota looked bored. Hunter could change that.

“So what,” he said, lingering in the doorway with his hands stuffed into his jacket pockets. “Do I just start?”

“What information are you pretending to be after?” Sahota asked, hardly shifting in his seat. Hunter wished he'd slouch, or sneeze, or yawn, or do something a normal human would do. 

“I dunno,” he said, eyes darting away from the stiff slate shape of him, looking for anything shinier. “Your birthday or whatever.”

“Creative bunch.”

Hunter scowled, pulling his hands from his pockets and pinching a fresh cut that cracked through the back of his hand like a line in a broken plate. A little shower of rose petals started pouring from it in reply. “Can I hit you?”

“Do it.” Sahota rolled his neck, shrugging his shoulders like he was prepping himself for the first blow. “Is that your plan for Finley?”

“I don't have a plan for Finley,” Hunter said. “I didn’t ask to do this. You can just kill her for all I care.” That's what Vic had said to do. Why was Sahota of all people trying something different? He was in the spy shit too, shouldn’t he know better? Didn't he want to follow Vic?

The trainer’s gray sat plain and stony as Hunter talked, not the slightest flash of surprise, or approval, or even just being pissed off that he didn’t want to play along popping up.

“Are you going to participate?” he asked in a flat voice. “Or should I have you send for Davis?”

He'd like that, wouldn't he? Hunter leaving, giving up, going away. What would he think, if he knew that Vic wanted him here, if he knew that maybe, maybe Vic liked him better?

“I’ll play the stupid game,” Hunter said, rubbing his knuckles. “Just wanted you to know that it’s stupid.” A pattern had begun to swirl around them, starting out small and starry and distorting into silvery splatters. They might’ve been a warning, but Hunter didn’t know for what. That Sahota would get pissed and try to beat him up? That he’d try and kick him off the team? Fat chance, not when Vic was here to say otherwise.

“What’s your birthday?” he muttered. Sahota replied with a silent stare, his stupid gray color unchanging, his stupid expression stony and blank. Fuckin' statue.

Hunter hit him. Not hard, or anything. A little backhanded stroke across the face that didn't draw the slightest ripple through Sahota's gray. The back of his hand stung with the blow. Roses.

Sahota planted the even stare on him again, like he was challenging him, saying, ‘is that all you got?’

Hunter’s upper lip pulled back into a snarl. “When’s your birthday?” he said again, practically spitting the words out. The splattering silver whirled around him like a tornado. He tried not to look at it. He didn’t need his headache getting any worse.

Sahota still didn’t answer, so Hunter popped him across the other cheek.

“Do you really think this will get you anywhere?”

“You think I’d fucking know that?” Hunter snapped. “I’m not a psycho like you. I never tortured anyone.”

That seemed to have an effect, the gray getting a few shades darker in the middle of Sahota’s chest. Hunter’s mouth tipped up in a grin.

“S’wrong?” he said, circling the chair in an unhurried stride. “Don't like being called out on it?”

But just as fast, the gray was gone, and Sahota was quiet again. Of fucking course.

“When's your birthday?” Hunter said, this time leaning over the trainer's shoulder to hiss it into his ear.

“You’re sloppy,” Sahota replied, not seeming to care when Hunter popped him in the jaw. Barely even a grimace.

Sloppy. Just like he'd said when they fought the first time. Well who was the one getting hit? Sahota was sloppy, for letting the rest of the team have their way when an easier solution was right in front of them.

“When's your birthday?”

“Is that all you have to say? Does your entire plan revolve around asking the same question on repeat?”

“I told you, I don't have a fucking plan,” Hunter snapped, hitting him a little harder than he'd meant to. Closed fist tangling with the bruises on his cheek, reopening the cut that cracked his knuckles, rose petals.

That got a little gasp from Sahota. A blinking wince that made Hunter hesitate, his fist dropping to swing at his side.

I'm sorry. He wasn't. Sahota asked to do this, Sahota said he could hit him. He could take punches, they could both take punches, it was no big deal.

“I want to listen to Vic,” he said in a small voice. “I want to just… just kill her. If that's the easy way.”

Sahota's eyes narrowed. “You've never killed anyone.”

“Don't pretend you know me,” Hunter said, his voice rising again. “You don't know shit.”

He had, probably. He'd never actually watched them die, but he'd been in enough gunfights and brawls and shit that he'd probably killed someone. “I don't care, anyway,” he said, taking a half step backwards. The silver-spatter pattern swirled faster now, dizzy and bright. “Vic knows best, so if he says that's what we should do…”

“Vic doesn't always know best,” Sahota said. “Not for you.”

There it was. Hunter scowled, scanning the trainer's shape, seeing no sign of the jealous black cracks that had come crawling out of his throat before. Not like that meant shit. Maybe they weren't jealousy. He didn't know fuckall about what they could be because he didn't know fuckall about Sahota.

“What do you know about what's best?” he grumbled. Maybe he should've gone to Vic about this bright idea after all. Maybe this had all been a ploy to trick Hunter into going against Vic’s idea, to highlight him as a problem, to make him another outsider.

“I know this isn't the life you want," Sahota replied. "Finish this job and get out, or you'll end up wishing you had.”

Had Vic told him about the plan? About letting him stay? Was he just spouting this bullshit because he couldn't stand the thought of Hunter sticking around?

“You don't know what I want,” Hunter spat. “There’s nothing else for me. There's nothing else to want.”

Sahota grimaced. His gray was starting to darken at the center again, spreading like black clouds. “Harbor—”

“You want me to get out?” Hunter cut him off. “Fucking fine, I'll get out. Already said this was stupid.”

The green, the burning of chlorine in his nose hit him before he could turn around. Vic.

“Done already?” the handler asked in a voice that was danger-quiet. Like if Hunter answered wrong there'd be trouble. He'd heard it before. With teachers at school, with his dad at home, with Rex and the syndicate. 

He froze. Sometimes the best answer was silence.

“I heard you're running them through an impromptu training exercise, Sahota,” Vic said, and Hunter realized the tone wasn't for him. He felt the tension seep away from his shoulders; vines unwinding and hanging there like deadweight limbs.

“Quite an interesting lesson plan today.”

“It's a demonstration, sir.” Sahota’s eyes dropped. “Proof that interrogation doesn't work the way they think.”

“Oh? Do you not think my word is proof enough for them?”

“I didn't mean that.”

Vic clicked his tongue. “I was under the impression that today's training was meant to be a little more standardized. Was that a lie?”

“No, I… it seemed like something too small to bother you with. Once they failed, we'd move on. Nothing would change.”

“So you'd rather keep it from me.”

“No, sir.”

Vic let out a little hm, letting silence sit prickly in the room for what was probably a full minute before he spoke again. “I do apologize for interrupting.”

Sahota didn't lift his gaze. Or even say anything.

“It's fine,” Hunter put in. “This is a waste of time anyway. Right? We should just—”

“No no, it's not my place to swoop in and change the curriculum for the day,” Vic said, letting out a small sigh. “I'm sure it's exactly as beneficial as you say, Sahota.”

Hunter didn't know why the change in his tone wasn't letting him relax, why the splatters in the air were turning razored at the edges, why some anxious color was starting to squeeze him again.

“In fact, why don't I watch the rest of the lesson? It's interrogation, right? You're letting them ask you questions?”

“Yes, sir,” Sahota said in a flat voice. 

“Wonderful. Hunter?”

“Yeah?”

“Carry on.”

Hunter shook his hands loose, nervous energy bundling up in his fingers, tiny vines tangling between them like thread. Sticky and annoying. Vic wanted to watch? But what if he fucked it up? What if he wasn't good enough? 

“When's your birthday?” he asked, his tone emptier than it had been before. Sahota didn't answer, just like before. Hunter hit him, not like before. This time he was careful to aim for even, unbruised color, to pull back on the blow.

He turned back to face Vic, feet shuffling him away from the man in the chair. “That's what I've been doing, Vi—sir. Pretty much just that.” Nothing to see here, no reason to watch, to find faults.

Vic chuckled. “And this is your idea of an interrogation?”

Hunter shrugged, letting out a quiet, “guess so.” Vic couldn't blame him for being bad at it, right? He'd never done this before, so it wasn't his fault, right? All he had to go off of was movies and the bloodied remains of Rex’s discarded rivals, and at the time he was too busy hoping it would never be him dead on the cement to memorize the fucking injuries.

“Here.” His handler stood, laying a hand on his shoulder, gently guiding him so he was standing in front of Sahota again.

Silent, stony, Sahota.

“Let me help you out.” Vic pressed something into his hand. Cold metal, warmed by fingerprints. He didn't want to glance down, but it was from Vic, so he made himself look, eyes confirming the shape that he held. Brass knuckles.

A thought sped through his mind as he looked at them, wondering whether Vic just always had the weapon with him, or if he'd packed it for the occasion, if he knew this would be the outcome before he'd even stepped into the room.

“Try them on.”

Metal slipped past his fingertips to circle his knuckles, the shiny brown quickly choked out by dull green vines. Vic patted him on the shoulder.

“Looks good on you.”

Something pleasant zipped through Hunter at the words, but it felt wrong, out of place

“Go on, Hunter. Hit him again. And this time, don't hold back.” Vic squeezed his shoulder. “Let's show you what a real interrogation can look like.”

Hunter clenched his fist around the metal that enclosed them, letting it pinch the skin on the inside of his fingers. Hit him again, hit him with a weapon, hurt him, why did Vic want him to hurt him? Weren't he and Sahota partners?

“Vic…”

“What are you waiting for?” The handler leaned in, hands on his shoulders, lips on his ear. “Show me you can handle this much. Show me you belong here.”

Hunter tried to steady himself with an inhale, but the chlorine smell was choking him and the room was all dizzy from the spinning silver. He kept upright, locking his gaze on the man in the chair who sat stiff-backed. Unflinching.

He didn't want to hit him, he didn't want to hit him again, he hadn't even wanted to watch him get hit on the video two days ago but it was what Vic wanted.

The black cracks were back, branching out from the pit of Sahota's throat as they met eyes, and Hunter knew then that it wasn't hatred. It wasn't annoyance, or even jealousy.

It was fear.

~~~

@theonewithallthefixations , @violets-whumperflies , @whump-me , @pirefyrelight , @soheavyaburden , @snakebites-and-ink , @whumpsday , @kixngiggles , @echo-goes-aaa

[mhbcaps]

I got tagged again for this by @chevvy-yates :3 thank you!

OC INTERVIEW: Sanctuary Zelenko & Joey Armas

▪ NICKNAME:

"Named myself Sanctuary after my favorite cologne, back when I was twenty. Company went under a year later, and then someone drank the rest of the only bottle I had. You remember Axis, baby?"

"That dumb piece of shit? Wait, that why you scrapped with him? Over the cologne?"

"Yeah. That's how I ended up with this. Couple people called me Zipperface for months."

"I 'member that. Won't lie, I thought it was pretty funny."

"'Course you did. Answer the question."

"Oh, my mama prob'ly named me Joseph or John or something but I've been Joey all my life."

▪ GENDER:

"I want you to guess."

"C'mon, I don't wanna be here forever. I'm a boy, and they're Sanctuary. 'f you try to make it make sense, your little head'll explode."

▪ ORIENTATION:

"I'm a man of many tastes."

"Nah, he likes anybody who looks like they'd grab his hips and make him beg. Isn't that right, baby?"

"Ain't denying. Hey, what're you squirming for? You asked the question, choom. We're just bein' honest."

▪ NATIONALITY/ETHNICITY:

"Born and raised here, but my parents both came from Ukraine. Don't really know what that makes me."

"You know more than me. Which is fuck-all, honestly. Whole family is dead now, though, so what's it matter? Sorry, 'm I makin' you uncomfortable again? Don't feel bad. Not like you killed 'em. Fuckers who did were taken care of years ago, don't worry."

▪ HEIGHT:

"Depends on what boots I'm wearin'."

"Flat, he's five-nine. And I'm five-eleven. I like to wear heels, though, so people look at me. Nothing gets someone's attention like a nice pair of heels. Or a big fucking knife."

"Yeah, I got the big fucking knife covered."

▪ STAR SIGN:

"Scorpio."

"I ain't even sure what my actual birthdate is. My citizen record says March twentieth but Mom always said she was just guessing. So that's, what, Aries or somethin'?"

"Not like it matters."

"Yeah, don't believe in that shit anyway."

▪ FAVE FRUIT:

"Ate a banana once. Real one. That shit was good."

"Where the hell'd you get a real banana?"

"Got a donor once who had a suite at the Highcourt, years back. Dub did her copycat thing and got in pretending she was a girlfriend experience or something. Stole everything she could carry. Not much, bitch had scrawny arms, but she got the fruit and some sweet threads."

"Don't remember that."

"Nah, it was right before we met. I remember, 'cause I was wearing the guy's underwear when we did meet."

"Do you still have the underwear?"

"No. Had to toss 'em after I got stabbed one time. Would've kept them 'cept that the bloodstain looked like I shit myself."

▪ FAVE SEASON:

"You think the twenty-degree flux we get counts as seasons? Well, it's winter, anyway. Shorter days, less sun."

"Fall. I make good money in the fall. Everyone's done partying for the summer, got their new implants, lookin' for glory on the streets."

▪ FAVE FLOWER:

"I dunno dick about flowers. I don't even know what kinds I got tattooed on me. Guess those would be my favorite, 'f I knew what they were called."

"I don't pay much attention to flowers, either."

▪ FAVE SCENT:

"Sanctuary. ...You didn't like it when we were talkin' about my "orientation" or whatever. Gonna really hate it if I go into detail about scent."

"I use pomegranate shampoo."

"Yeah, that's part of it."

▪ COFFEE, TEA, HOT CHOCOLATE:

"Don't like hot drinks. I'll drink lemonade, though."

"I used to drink coffee, but these days caffeine just fucks me up. I have enough headaches without it."

▪ AVERAGE HOURS OF SLEEP:

"Who keeps track? I'm a night owl, anyway."

"I try to get a reasonable amount in so I don't kill my patients."

▪ DOG OR CAT PERSON:

"I've never met a dog. Friend of mine has a cat, though, and I like her well enough, so that's one-zero in cats' favor."

"I like 'em both. Hunters and survivors, in their own ways."

▪ DREAM TRIP:

"Somewhere with a lotta trees. Grew up in the concrete jungle - a little more green'd be nice, y'know?"

"Yeah. I wouldn't mind visiting Ukraine. I don't know how much green is left, though - anywhere."

▪ NUMBER OF BLANKETS THEY SLEEP WITH:

"Two, so we each have our own and nobody's stealing it - baby, what are you doing?"

"Fuuuuuuuuck! My fuckin' fries are cold. 'Cause I've been sittin' here answering stupid questions. Are we done now?"

"We're done now."

▪ RANDOM FACT:

"I'm fucking hungry and now I gotta eat cold fries, that's a fact for you."

[starlightshadowsworld]

Beast Atsushi who can't even tell Chuuya about why Dazai did what he did.

Because only 2 people can know or the world will be unstable.

Atsushi who had to watch both his mentors fall apart and can only watch.

He knows Dazai wanted him to leave the Port Mafia for good. He'd want Atsushi to smile and be free of his chains.

But it doesn't matter what Dazai wanted now is it... Because he's gone.

He's gone and it's all Atsushi's fault.

If he was stronger... If he had been faster, Dazai wouldn't be...

Atsushi had gotten a glimpse of the light, of what he could be had he stayed with Mori at the Orphanage.

... And he turned his back on it, and walked away.

It was a life that Atsushi didn't deserve, he had failed to save Dazai. And for that he would pay with his own suffering and pain.

Chuuya didn't deserve that.

So Atsushi bore his hatred, it was better for Chuuya to hate Atsushi more than he hated himself.

No one else could see it but Chuuya was in pain, so much pain. But Atsushi knew him better, he'd seen what most hadn't.

Atsushi is the first to kneel before the new Boss, and swearing his loyalty to him.

If he sees suprise on Chuuya's face, the first emotion other than pain and anger the man had felt in a long time, he doesn't comment.

Atsushi falls into near silence, only speaking when spoken too. His address is always formal and he fades into the shadows and stalks the halls like a ghost.

It's like he stopped existing.

Chuuya hates it. He shuts that shit down because it feels wrong, so completely and utterly wrong to see Atsushi act like some perfect tamed beast.

That's not the smart-ass kid he knows. And fuck it Chuuya isn't losing him too.

"I'm not gonna vanish on you, Atsushi." Says Chuuya one night, Atsushi's eyes widen but Chuuya isn't done.

"I'm not gonna ask what you saw, frankly I don't wanna know... But, you didn't fail him. You haven't failed me either. "

Tears are falling down Atsushi's cheeks before he can even register it, Chuuya sighs pulling him into a hug.

And that's all it takes for the White Reaper to break down. Chuuya holds him throughout, stopping him from apologising after.

"And none of that boss stuff in here. You got that?"

"Sure thing Boss."

Chuuya snorts, relieved when Atsushi shyly smiles back. "Okay, Chuuya."

They had a long way to go before either of them could even be considered fine, but they'd be okay.

"Typical mackerel, bet your having a right fucking laugh at us aren't you... Bastard... " Says Chuuya, after sending Atsushi away.

He can feel his own tears in his eyes that he let's fall in private. And even if no ones there he address's his next words quietly.

"I'd say I've got him, but kids got me too. Go rest in hell or wherever the fuck you ended up...wait for me would ya? Im gonna be a while."

He smiles, for the first time in a long time. "And when I get there I'm gonna kill you myself."

[starry-blue-echoes]

okay so I went on a walk and my brain started rotating the Merstars AU SO hard so I'm just going to yeet a bunch of random bullet point thoughts that I came up with and see what comes out of it-

the "world" the AU takes place isn't really like "real" life and is instead a super huge archipelago with hundreds of thousands of islands of varying sizes and kinds

Mers and other various Sea Magics are pretty well known as A Thing That Exists. Is it accepted? Depends on the location and the people, and Mer Hunters are unfortunately a pretty common thing, but it's slowly started dying out. This is actually thanks to Speedwagon since after Jonathan's death he started trying to use his influence as a Very Important Wealthy Merchant to change public opinion, and it's actually been working

Jonathan was a pretty well loved and very social member of the mers. He wasn't their leader by any means, but almost every mer in the archipelago knew about him, and his murder pissed a LOT of people off. Luckily thanks to Speedwagon, since then relations have gone from "it's on fucking sight" to "don't approach me and I won't approach you"

Morioh is one of the more isolated islands and a bit of an exception to the above thing, being the most accepting island in the whole archipelago. Honestly, at this point like half the town has at least a little mer blood in them, but they are primarily human passing. There are a couple of full blooded or half blooded mers that hang around, but Josuke was one of the first ones born in the town in a long while

currently debating how exactly the Morioh Trio are gonna be, since I want them to be a "full blood, half blood, human" trio for the funnsies, but other than Josuke I don't know which should be which. My current thought process is 1) Okuyasu is the full blooded and when he was younger he had a run in with Hunters which is where his scars came from since his dad more or less just fucked off and left him at their mercy at which Keicho had to save him which led to the two of the moving to Morioh, Koichi is the human and is Their Little Guy, is super familiar with how to work around mers and climbs them like a god damn jungle gyms, or 2) Koichi is the full blood and a really small mer but still Big for humans, he's a cuttlefish, got separated from his family when he was little which led to him being adopted by the Human Hiroses and Okuyasu is human and the resident Normie Guy, he's recently moved to Morioh and is getting used to how Positive human mer relations are here

still trying to figure out how the Stand Arrows work, since Stands..... aren't really a thing now. Probably some kind of super powerful Sea Magic thing going on, maybe turn partial mers/humans into full blooded ones?

the "Italy" of this world is a collection of islands that are under Passione's control, aka a group of pirates that have a literal fleet. Diavolo and Doppio are brothers, with Diavolo being a half-mer (maybe lion fish? I'm still deciding tho) and Doppio being a full human. Doppio is the face of the operation, but his brother is always lurking in the depths below the ship and even makes a couple appearances as the True Boss in human form. Trish is by extension 1/4 mer and they want to kill her so the truth about Diavolo won't get out

Passione, despite all the shitty stuff they do, is actually a surprising area of Human Mer teamwork. There are a lot of hybrids and even full blooded mers to the point they're almost the majority. For the most part people don't care what you are as long as you get your job done, and honestly if what they did wasn't drug trade and trafficking, they'd be pretty cool

the Bucci Gang don't have a whole lot of mer blood, and any they do have is pretty distant to the point they're almost human save for a couple little features (they also don't get full transformations), with the exceptions being Trish and Giorno. Trish I've explained, but Giorno is...... Really Really Weird with what he is. His birth mom was a mer, but Dio had mostly been using her to try and lure other mers so by the time Giorno was actually born she was killed. Giorno was then taken in by the Shiobana's, which obviously sucked ass, but he was able to pass as a human for a shocking amount of time because Sea Vampire Genes fucked with his aging, so he also looks a lot smaller than he should be. He's also been forced to stay in his "human" form for much longer than is strictly healthy which ALSO fucked with his size and health

Giorno is gonna be a giant sea snake, because I think it'll be funny because That's The Traditional Sea MonsterTM. Maybe during the final fight with Diavolo he gets shot with the arrow and falls off the ship all dramatic and everyone thinks he died but SIKE he suddenly grows to full Absolutely Fucking ENORMOUS Size And Kicks Ass

Jolyne is a siphonophore, I don't make the rules, she's Really Fucking Long

[whumpster-fire]

Yeah I'm still not done Hazbinposting.

Two takes I keep seeing re: the Overlord Meeting are "See, nobody gives a shit about Alastor, nobody cared about his absence because he's irrelevant to the other Overlords, he's small fry compared to them" and secondly "Carmilla brushing him off DESTROYED Alastor's ego."

Which I mean come on, like:

Every Overlord active in Hell in [current year] who isn't younger than Alastor is, necessarily, someone who's powerful enough or good enough at their job to not been killed or dethroned during his initial rise to prominence so most likely some of them are stronger than him and the old guard are probably at least peers. Younger overlords aren't necessarily safe (e.g. unless Husk's backstory was revised, he's younger than Al, and Vox is certainly on the menu but Vox might have picked the fight first), but in general that's a room full of people who respect one another's abilities enough to consider each other useful allies / potential foes to be wary of. They probably all keep tabs on each other enough to be like "what the fuck has this asshole been doing for the last seven years?"

Despite Alastor not seeming to really participate in the accumulating territory / contractually bound souls game he was considered relevant enough to invite to the meeting even though let's be honest, he's the most likely to be annoying and disruptive other than the V's.

Alastor's also been around long enough that everyone who isn't an idiot like Vox probably knows he's a fucking troll. If he's going "Guess where I've been?" in an Overlord Meeting he's either going to refuse to say anything, lie through his teeth, or try to get something out of them in exchange for the info. And also if the answer is that he's been setting up a secret plot that would screw over one or more of the other Overlords (which is the thing they'd most want to know about) he's not gonna say shit, because if he thought his plan would work even if the target knew about it he'd be bragging about it already. So it's better to just not give him the attention he craves and have someone try to research it later.

Despite the above, someone (Zestial) did ask, and Alastor predictably played coy about it.

Carmilla especially did not have time for Alastor's bullshit and did not want to have the important emergency "The extermination date has been moved up, what the fuck do we do about it?" Velvette derailed the meeting anyway but she tried.

Come on, Alastor was moderately annoyed about nobody biting the "what wacky antics could The Radio Demon be up to?" bait. His ego isn't that fragile. Which isn't to say he might not have found another way to liven up the meeting if Velvette hadn't shown up and done it for him.

[lucifer-is-a-bag-of-dicks]

last night's shower thought that may or may not have been done before but I haven't personally seen it done so I'm gonna write it anyway

so the phandom has dabbled in halfas potentially existing before Danny and Vlad, in the hypothetical million to one chance of 'what if a natural portal opened on top of a human'

gonna take a hard left turn here but we'll circle back I promise, that part will be important later

I love the unreliable narrator aspect of Vlad in TUE but what if Vlad's story about how Dan came to be was completely true, Danny's ghost half really did go absolutely feral as soon as it was torn from him

because even though Vlad says it was his ghost half that corrupted Phantom, in the flashback it was obvious that Phantom had already gone a little wonky before that, considering the acts of actually ripping out Vlad's ghost half and then absorbing it, very weird and out of character

(and I have other headcanons about that but we're ignoring those for now shh)

so the first time Danny was split, it split two of his personality traits that were both dominant at the time, his need to be a hero and protect people, and his need to be a normal teenager just enjoying life

after his family died in TUE tho, his dominant traits would have been more like misery, guilt, and anger, we can guess which one Phantom got

same thing probably happened to Vlad when he was split but we didn't get enough time with future Vlad to get a clear idea on what his dominant traits were, (but I'm gonna guess they were something akin to guilt and spite, spite having been absorbed by Danny and making his whole situation so much worse)

all this to say, what if Pariah Dark was the first known halfa, created by that million to one chance with a natural portal back in the dark ages (or earlier), and he was once, much like Danny, a protector, a hero, keeping a peace between humans and ghosts, whether he also fought a tyrant king for his crown, or was gifted the position by the former king wanted to retire (I kinda like this idea better), he became the ghost king with the support of the ghost populace

but I wanna touch in on the aus people throw around where to become the actual rightful king, Danny has to die

and maybe this is what happened to Pariah Dark, and maybe it was not a 100% consensual affair, maybe the Observants, whether sneakily or by force, somehow managed to separate Pariah from his human half

and in that moment, one of his dominant traits was rage

betrayal by ones he trusted, half of himself stolen from him, his fury was overwhelming, and it was what consumed his ghost half, and began his reign as a tyrant, his human half, whether deliberately or accidental, was killed in the process

this is why the Observants wanted Danny dealt with in TUE, they were seeing history repeating, they didn't care that Clockwork saw an alternate future because they didn't want that alternate future, TUE happened after Reign Storm, they were clinging onto the one excuse they had to get rid of this new halfa before he realised he had a claim to the throne and became the next Pariah Dark

they knew Danny was just as attached to his human half as Pariah was, and they'd seen evidence of that already in Dan, they couldn't have a king who was part human, and they couldn't take his human half from him without dire consequences

so of course their solution was just make him go away

see! in this one particular future he becomes a monster just like we said he would, Clockwork go destroy him, problem solved, good job everybody!

when Danny finds out about all this and presses them on why he has to be a full ghost to rule, assuming it's some mystic law that cannot physically be broken, the Observants are just like

"oh... uh no, technically it's physically possible, it's just... well, it's against tradition"

cue a Danny blowing up

"YOU CAUSED THE ENTIRE PARIAH DARK MESS OVER FUCKING TRADITION?"

"well it would be have been quite embarrassing having someone half alive ruling over the dead"

Danny has to be physically wrangled out of the room by Clockwork before he brings the whole fucking building down

it's completely absurd but the Observants just really feel like the kind of assholes who would stick so rigorously to that kinda shit despite all logic and reason telling them not to

[catherine-bisset]

Introductions

Ft. @zackastor , in which the new councilman and the new arrival resonate.

Zack

Familiarizing himself with the new arrivals was something he'd done even before he was on the council. Being able to put a name and some facts to the faces he met on the daily, even if he never talked to them, always came in handy. And now, as a member of Redwoods leaders, that'd become his job.

"Name's Cat, right?" Zack asked, in a tone that made clear it wasn't a question, as he stepped up the cell, hands in his pockets, and regarded one of two of Redwoods new arrivals. "Name's Zack, part of the council. Figure people already told you about how this place works. So, we're gonna have a talk."

Cat

Dominant tone, no hesitation in approaching melee range with hands in pockets. Statements instead of questions. Well presented, real or not.

By way of answer, Catherine settled cross-legged in the center of the cell and ignored the crackling of aged viscera flaking loose. They'd have to sweep the place out when her time was up.

Isaac said they had rules here. So far the singular rule was We Ask You Answer. So fine, let this one have his turn Asking.

Zack

He'd expected something of an answer, though her sitting down in the middle of the cell seemed to be the only one he was getting for now. His eyebrow raised, Zack regarded her for a moment. As far as he knew, she was a former Reaver, one of Ike's friends. Which meant, Zack was cautious, even if he didn't show it as he entered the cell and closed the door behind him.

"What job did you do for the Reavers?"

Cat

Held eye contact, no poker face. Cell unlocked. Good - people only locked doors when they didn't want to be interrupted. He wasn't worried about her getting past him. Test unlikely. She'd come willingly, wanted to stay.

Tasting each thought, each observation, she watched him as predator watches predator. Wary respect for the display, for the coiling of some darker thing behind his eyes. This was a curiosity - if he was more than peacock.

Zack

He took in the quick, shotgun-like countdown of her duties. While he couldn't quite yet be sure where her short-wordedness came from, whether it was irritation, lacking respect or her nature, his bets were on the latter option.

"Lure, huh?" Zack posed, not expecting much on an answer just yet. "You lured in victims for your Reavers." He was all too familiar with that concept from his time with the Daybreakers, except that the Daybreakers didn't treat their lures well. Meg was just an example of that. Zack regarded her from narrowed eyes. "Did you like it?"

Cat

Her Reavers. Such blood to paint her hands with.

So be it. Let him believe her that persuasive. A leader at last, for the lawless and chaotic.

The question halted her smirking internal monologue. After moments' reflection, Cat chose honesty. "Some earned their end."

Zack

"What exactly does that mean?" Zack stepped towards her and knelt down in front of her, resting his elbows on his thighs as he regarded her. "People got different views of what makes somebody worth killing. Or enslaving. What are yours?"

Cat

Chin lifting, Cat met Zack squarely. He came to her level, almost into her space. Dominant energy but not aggressive. The dam held.

"Zack," the word emerged somewhere between reprimand and purr. "You made it here. Thick arms. Strong jaw. Voice rolling out all rumbles in a tiger's chest." Her eyes moved over the skin he showed, close enough now. "But not flawless." Scar at the lip. Another not entirely hidden at the throat. "You know what it is to choose." *Hypocrite*, her answer whispered.

"Fight. Flight. Freeze. Fawn. Zack." Cat purred it again, dragging the syllable over her teeth. "Zack. When the hand is on you, when the fingers creep and the blade cuts - what is your view of their worth?"

Zack

That wasn't the response he'd expected. He'd thought there'd be the same short, precise answers. Her response made something at the base of his neck prickle. It wasn't the feeling or being in danger, or even being eyed up by someone who wanted to put a knife in your throat. It felt like she was looking at him, working to get at his innards and sort through them. Much the same way he was working at her now. The way she spoked itched at something primal.

"Mh." Zack trailed his tongue along his canines, feeling them poke into his flesh. It'd been survival to her, as much as what he'd done was to him. It'd been that with the guilty, as with the innocent, he figured. "Why did you leave the Reavers?" He shifted the conversation. "Just because your old pal was in town? You like him enough you'd abandon your people for him?"

Cat

Smallest shifts under the skin, but no lashing out. No cringing away or denial. No, Zack had let her answer dance over his tongue and recognized the truth.

Her voice still tasted like biting a fork, but Cat had found a path with Zack, and took it. She'd given away her story before. This was just recap plus new chapter. "Spend thirty-six years less-than-human, Zack. Be another's spectacle. Sinner. Monster. Over and again. Eternity in cold, hard, bloody places. Then-" Cat inhaled sharply, remembering. "Someone looks at you and it isn't for profit. What you can do or be for them. What they can *take*-"

Cat paused, annoyed at her own voice for going thick. For the puncture of jagged nails in dry palms. "He saw me. Accepted and cared. Put in me this hope like teeth that maybe I could finally be human." Cat had let her focus drift, but snapped it back to meet his eyes once more. "Isaac chose Redwood. I chose him. There is no other reality than this."

She could feel her jaw tighten, the scars burning like new. "We left them on the same day - a few insulted Reavers spent the end of their lives trying to force me to regret it. To-" Again she caught her anger in bared teeth, lips drawn thin, word spat in disdain. "*Apologize*."

Cat laughed. Bitter echoes around the cell. "All that time, they still didn't know me."

Zack

She went from what seemed like a pointed offense into defense, revealing more about herself, her story. Except it wasn't really a defense. It felt as pointed, as sharp as her previous remarks. Almost cryptic, but perfectly posed to convey what she meant. She'd been treated as less than, and then found someone who was willing to treat her as more. It didn't take much imagining what the Reavers had done, or tried to do, and how they'd paid, in the end.

"So, you're loyal to Ike. Where he goes, you go and all. And-" Zack spoke low, and deep. "If Ike leaves, you leave too. If he says jump, you jump. If Ike betrays us, you betray us too." His words probably would have been provocative to anyone else, but for her, it was probably a matter of fact, her reality. Zack regarded her for a moment. "How far would you go to follow him?"

Cat

Further exchange of touch, brushing, pressing - not experimental but strategic. Zack took the offered story and plucked the essence from it, the moral, without emotional response.

The kind of neutral only another escapee from Hell could manage. The wire inside plucked again. Synchrony.

Reflection and assessment and finally the point - the real point. Cat took her time, eyes holding eyes that held hers. Her Isaac, built to puppeteer others - how many times had she watched him do exactly that in the Reavers? Measuring out sweet and salt as each needed to secure his outcome. Even here, even now, he sat at the table of influence.

Yet, never had Cat been treated as someone in need of filtered, managed reality. Every atom of her devotion had been earned, and Cat knew implicitly Isaac would never ask what was not his to request. "As far as he would ask."

Zack

"Mh." The open devotion shouldn't surprise him. Ike attracted people like that. Or more like he was purposefully gathering up the strays who didn't quite fit in anywhere else. In turn for being given a place, they were loyal, swarming his sides like a pack. That wasn't an issue. Zack could work with that, because he could work with Ike.

"You seem pretty damn sure of Ike." Zack said, the words indicating provocation but not his tone. He regarded Cat for a few moments longer, seizing her up. Letting her size him up in turn. "What are you gonna do when he dies?"

Cat

The ebb and flow of Zack was steady familiar now. Acknowledge. Digest. Press or move on. Resonance.

Something approaching a smile had been forming when Zack spoke the idea she had rejected for years. Return was the axle on which the world turned. Now, mere hours after that reunion, could she conceptualize Isaac's death?

Zack wanted the word everything else grew around. The word at the bottom of the coil that wound its way through her. He would smell a substitute.

Her smile was gone, but calm remained. "I survived before Isaac. I will survive after."

Zack

He could watch the gears turning. She didn't like the question, just like none of the raiders enjoyed it. He'd posed the same question to Nicki. Nicki said she'd continue his work, or probably go out with him, following him into death. Ike seemed to be very much a part of her core, and yet-

"You'll survive." He repeated, trailing over the syllables. He narrowed his eyes at her, staying quiet for a few, long moments before finally easing up. "Alright. That's enough." He took a step back, regarding her, still seated on the ground in the same position he'd found her in, barely having moved. "You can stay. Tell Ike the good news."

[bellysoupset]

I'm steadily falling in love with Jonah's character! I loved that Leo carsick fic where he was nervous about Jonah because he knew he'd get called out once Jonah noticed. That being said, I have a prompt for you! What if the team goes out for breakfast the day they have a long bus ride ahead of them, and as they start the journey, whatever Jonah ordered starts to give him awful indigestion. He feels horribly bloated, which eventually makes it impossible to properly muffle the painful burps that keep sneaking up on him. He of course gets called out by teammates for his double standards, and is pissed about it until one deep belch brings up his entire breakfast.

"Alright everyone," coach Eric all but yawned, pointing the bus, "get in."

It was late evening and they had just done a quick stop for a light dinner, after much much complaining from Vince and Ryan. Now most of them were too tired for all the ruckus and chatting that had been in the morning and they obeyed without a word, falling on their respective seats.

Jonah settled on the back, because nowadays Leo took his seat on the front in order to not get obnoxiously nauseous - not that it helped 100%, but it was better than nothing.

The problem with sitting on the back was Lucas and Vince's non stop bickering. Tonight, however, they were stuffed to the gills and quiet, or as quiet as they managed to be.

They were going to be driving into the night, so Jonah took his neck pillow out of his backpack and settled against the window.

"I don't think that's right," he heard Lucas mumbling to Vince, "they're not gonna kill off Tom, he's the main character."

So much for quiet.

Jonah frowned, but said nothing for a moment, hoping they'd take the hint and shut up. To add salt to the injury, not only he was sleepy and cranky, but his stomach felt stretched tight, making it difficult to breathe.

His annoyance grew as he overheard Vince go on a spiel about the main couple of their tv show. Couldn't they do this in the morning?

"Shut the fuck up," Jonah snapped at them, "some people want to sleep."

"We're being quiet!" Lucas cried out and Jonah glared at him.

"Not quiet enough!"

Both men grumbled and complained, but eventually shut up as Mikey too joined in Jonah's chorus of "just shut up dude"

Happy he had some peace and quiet, Jonah closed his eyes and settled back down. Now, however, he had no distraction from the pulsing in his stomach.

Literal pulsing, it felt like his belly was stuffed full and pulsing under his hand. He shifted on his seat, pressed the heel of his hand to his side and rubbed it in circles. In the half lit bus, no one could tell, or no one cared.

He winced as a sharp cramp hit him, then grimaced even more as a hot burp rolled out of his mouth. It burned its way up and made Jonah regret having the spicy chicken. Bad idea and he blamed Leo for that.

Jonah opened his eyes to glare at the front, at the general direction of his friend. Leo was curled up against the window, knocked out by meds and blissfully unaware he was being cursed at.

Jonah groaned as he felt his stomach start to churn. it was already bloated and pressing against his jeans, but he'd be damned before opening his pants in the crowded bus. The pants hurt, though, pressing against his belly and squeezing him right in the middle. He burped, loudly now and felt his cheeks burn.

"Gross" Lucas scoffed, while Vince joined in with:

"Some people are trying to sleep".

"Fuck off," Jonah scoffed, turning on his seat again and cradling his stomach. It was starting to feel really disgusting inside of it and the thought of his dinner came back, now powered by repulse.

He belched wetly, clamping a hand over his mouth and Vince kicked his seat.

"Shut. Up. Jon."

"Kick my seat again and I'm going to-" he cut his threat short with another large burp and now Mikey, who genuinely had been trying to sleep unlike Lucas and Vince - who were just assholes - joined in.

"Goddamit, Jonah, shut up. Your burps are disgusting."

"I'm not tryin-"

"I want to sleep," Lucas said cheekly and Jonah glared at him, then winced as a cramp made him want to curl up. He didn't curl up.

He tried to swallow down the burps or at least to let them out slowly under his breath, but it wasn't bringing him any relief. In fact, every little airy burp he shakily let out, tasted just like dinner and Jonah dizzily planted a sweaty hand to the bus window, trying to unlock it. it was jammed shut like all windows, because of the constant a/c they had.

His stomach gurgled omniously, loud and clear, and a hiccup wrecked through him. It made the contents in his gut slosh up and morphed into a burp at the end.

"Jonah, dude!" Mikey whined and Jon wanted to tell him to fuck off, but another hiccup sent him into a burping fit.

One, two - the third one got stuck in his chest and he heard Vince scoff, "finally"

Jonah had a hand firmly clamped over his mouth, but his jaw and head felt heavy... He gagged, then the stuck burp came up, loud, wet and carrying with it his dinner.

It sprayed between his lips, on the seat to his right and Jonah didn't have a second to breathe. He retched again, loudly, and more orange vomit joined the mess, covered his lap-

"Ah shit" he heard someone say, then the lights overhead were turned on, by either Lucas or Vince, while the other ran ahead to get the bus driver to stop.

His stomach was far from done and Jonah moaned, giving up on trying to hold it back, since he was already drenched in it. He seized with another gag and burped up more vomit, coughing as the chunks clung to his throat.

Finally the violent heaves tampered off, though the nausea didn't.

"Fuck, Jon" it was Leo's voice and he could've cried, because Leo was twenty times a better comfort than Vince or Lucas or any of the others.

"I don't feel well..." he groaned, pathetically, eyes still squeezed shut and breathing through his mouth. If he saw the mess, he knew he was going to hurl again.

"Yeah, no shit, man" Vince sounded guilty as he said it, planting a heavy hand on his shoulder, "we're stopping in a second, ok?"

Jonah's only answer was another deep belch and with it more watery puke, that covered the arm he had wrapped around his complaining stomach. It was still churning fiercely, nowhere near done.

"You're okay" Leo sighed, voice gentle like he was talking with a wounded pet, "try to breathe, Jon."

"Can't-" he choked up, gagging, "...sick."

Jonah felt, before he heard, the bus stop. The lack of movement helped, minimally. Helped the vertigo at least, if not the nausea.

Then, "oh hell no-"

"Get out of the way then"

And then a hand was grabbing his arm and throwing it over someone's neck, another arm coming to sneak around his waist as he was pulled up.

Jonah didn't dare open his eyes, he clamped his mouth shut and buried his face on the person's shoulder, as he was guided past the seats and down the steps, to the cool night air.

He sucked in the clean air greedily and opened his eyes, looking anywhere but his soiled shirt and pants. It was Lucas holding him up. Fuck, Jonah thought vaguely, but what he said was "gonna hurl on your shoes."

"I'll live" Lucas all but shrugged, the insufferable prick, "I'm sorry for being a dick earlier-"

"Ugh definitely gonna vomit now," Jonah scoffed. The last thing he wanted was a pity apology.

He heard as the other guys also left the bus, just in time to witness as he burped up another weak stream of vomit, covering the humid grass on the side of the road and splashing on the toes of Lucas' sneakers.

"He's gonna be dehydrated at this pace," Leo worried and Jonah blinked, blearily, at him.

"He is right here" he scoffed, throat hoarse, "I'll be fine. I'm fine."

Lucas snorted, "yeah, you're fine" he snickered, still holding him up, "where's the coach?"

"Talking with the driver" Vince answered, still sounding extremely guilty and holding a water bottle for Jon, as well as his bag in the other hand, "you need to change out of this mess."

He belched as he opened his mouth to agree, something wet and disgusting that had Vince and Leo jumping back, Lucas holding him a little tighter.

"Jonah?" Vince called, practically whined, causing him to groan.

"I'm fine-" his stomach gurgled angrily in response, but he ignored it, tugging at the collar of his shirt. Leo jumped to action, helping him strip it down, carefully avoiding getting the puke in his hands or Jonah's hair. Vince had fished out a shirt out of his bag, along with sweatpants.

Leo glared at Jonah's jeans, the zipper, the hem and the button were all covered in vomit. Just glancing at the mess made Jonah gag, which caused Lucas to scoff.

"I'll do it" he said, passing Jon's weight to Vince, the only other one who could hold him up with such ease, and then crouching down, going for the jeans.

Jonah's stomach of course chose this exact moment to gurgle, causing Lucas to pause as he opened the jeans, "are you gonna hurl? Because not on my hair, Jon, c'mon."

"Not-" he gulped the urge to gag, "jusst rush"

Lucas sighed as he finished pushing the ruined jeans down, rolling them up and using the dry parts to wipe the vomit from Jon's lower belly and the top of his boxers. The rough texture and the pressure, even if Luke was being extra delicate, pushed out a burp and dislodged a cramp.

"Fuck" Jonah whimpered, giving up on all dignity and cradling his puffy stomach, "hurts."

"Shit" he heard Vince whisper, sounding panicked, clearly triggered by Jonah curling up with the pain.

"I wanna lay down" he all but whined, so sick and tired of this night, "I'm done."

It seemed like it took forever. Cleaning the bus (hardly helped and he spent the next twenty minutes coughing up bile in a plastic bag), then stopping at a side of the road motel and finally being able to lie down.

Jonah was beyond lightheaded when he managed, still burping wetly, but quietly. He took a minute to realize it was Lucas sharing with him and not Leo.

"Whaa?" He tried to question, squeezing his eyes shut against the nausea. Lucas shrugged, handing him an already opened water bottle.

"I'm the best option" he explained and Jonah knew it was because he had taken care of his mom during the final stages of cancer and witnessed way worse than some indigestion nausea, but it didn't make it any less humiliating.

"Leave me alone"

"If you're well enough to be a dick, you're well enough to drink your water" Lucas scoffed and Jonah groaned. He was in for a long night

[eldritchaccident]

Timing: Current Location: A bar in Wormrow Feat: @mortemoppetere & @eldritchaccident Warning: alcoholism tw, discussions of parental death tw, sibling death tw, and child death tw, past domestic abuse tw, past emotional abuse tw Summary: Teddy said they'd find Emilio, That's what they do.

It was only the fifth bar they checked. First was the one where he was staying with Perro, second was a long shot, but it was nearby the first and maybe Emilio thought going to a clown themed dive bar would throw off his scent, but no. Wasn’t until the fifth did the ex-demon see the surly slayer slumped over a stool. Sulking into the last sip of some kind of drink. Probably whiskey. Probably not enough of it. 

Teddy walked up behind, signaling to the bartender (someone they actually knew for once) for a drink of their own, then another round for the man. “Come here often?” The hand hovered just above the hunter’s back, until it was clear that Emilio saw who it was. That the touch wouldn’t come as a surprise. “Shame to see such a handsome guy sitting all alone.” 

— 

His mind was spinning in circles, the conversation with Lucio fresh and painful as it played back on repeat. His mother was going to kill him. His uncle wanted to save him. His family was dead. The man responsible had done what he’d done in a desperate attempt to keep Emilio alive. What did it all say? What did it all mean? It felt like he was responsible, like he deserved to shoulder even more of the blame than he already had. He hadn’t thought it was possible for this to hurt worse than it had before; he was learning that he was wrong about a lot of things.

He heard footsteps behind him, and he didn’t have to turn around to know who was approaching. Teddy’s footfalls were as familiar as his own these days, a quiet comfort even in moments like this one, when he told himself he didn’t want to hear them. He wasn’t surprised they’d found him. They’d always been good at that. “Shame for who?” He mumbled, accent thick as his words slurred around the alcohol thrumming through him. “Better, I think. Less people get hurt.” He downed the rest of his drink as the bartender brought over another glass, leaning into Teddy’s touch just a little. “Sorry,” he said quietly. “Didn’t mean to scare you. Really. Think I… got lost.” Not physically. He thought Teddy would understand that much.

—

“Well, I found you.” Teddy swallowed through the sad smile, ignoring the first part. Emilio had a way of punching down whenever it involved himself. Teddy didn’t always know how to respond, only that they didn’t believe a single fucking word of it. Felt like they wanted to put a blanket over the fire. Help him simmer, help him be grounded. One day, they thought, they might even get him to stop believing he was the root of all evil. Just maybe. If he stuck around long enough to listen. 

“Glad I did, two people, a dog, an otter, and a really spoiled demon back home were startin’ to miss you. Whole lots.” Teddy had shot Wynne a text the moment they saw him. Said they’d text again when they were leaving for home. At this rate, might take a second or two of coaxing. 

“Gonna tell me how many you’ve had? Gotta do math now, to figure out how much I need to catch up. Can’t have another New Year's Eve.” Ted’s arm slid further, wrapping around the whole of his upper back and giving a quick tight squeeze before they sat on the stool at his side. As luck would have it, the bar was packed close, the chairs didn’t have much space between, and that made a perfect excuse to keep that contact. To rest their leg against his and let him soak in whatever warmth their body had to offer. Not that much, considering the walking and the snow. Getting him to go out through that was gonna be the real challenge. 

— 

“Always do,” he agreed softly. It was hard not to think about the night Teddy found him on the roof, when that damn necklace curse was coursing through his veins and driving him out of his mind. They hadn’t even been friends then, but Teddy had still known exactly what he’d needed. They’d still coaxed him down off the roof and into their tacky yellow car, still practically carried him back to their boat just to give him a moment’s reprieve. They were good at that. And what did Emilio give them in return? Days of worry eating away at their gut because he was too drunk to return a text message? Fuck knew they deserved better than that.

He swallowed, staring down at the bar and his hands on top of it. They kept flashing between what they were and what he remembered of them, going from normal to covered in blood every time he blinked his eyes. He squeezed them shut now, trying to block out an image that seemed stamped beneath his eyelids. “Think the demon might throw a parade if I didn’t come home,” he said flatly, chest aching. Wynne was worried, too. And Xó, and Perro, if dogs could worry. 

Teddy settled into the seat next to him, and Emilio shifted a little to make room before leaning back into them, finding comfort in the way their leg brushed against his. “Don’t want you to catch up,” he admitted quietly. They’d been so out of it on New Year’s. He didn’t want a repeat. He didn’t want them to say something they might regret when he wasn’t sober enough to pretend not to hear it. He was quiet for a moment. The bartender brought their drinks over, shot Emilio a wary look before turning to tend to someone else. He was probably making a mental count of how many he’d served the hunter already. Emilio was quiet a moment, staring at the new drink in front of him. With a shake inhale, he broke the silence. “He sold us out,” he admitted quietly. “My uncle. That’s how… what happened happened. He sold us out, and I put a knife in his gut. Thought he was dead. You know? Figured I killed him. Hoped I did. And that —” He cut himself off, picking up the glass and taking a long swig, draining half of it in a single go. “My dad died before I was old enough to know him. My uncle stepped in. Brought me up. Kept me alive. And I wish I’d killed him.” What did that say about him? What did that make him? He knew the answer. He knew it was nothing good. “He’s been looking for me since it happened. Wanted to tell me why.”

—

Cautious. That was the name of the game here. Emilio was staring at his palms like they were burning, so Teddy offered a pair of icy hands. Sliding one arm underneath his and worming its way to his where they could intertwine their fingers. Keeping the man grounded. Keeping him in time. Teddy could see him slipping away, the awful gnawing memories pulling him back through the years until the present and the past were twisting together as one. “Always will.” Another squeeze acted as the punctuation to the promise. As if to mark how serious they were. No matter where he went, no matter what was wrong, Teddy would do their best to find him. Always. 

“Eh, he acts like a prissy little baby sometimes, but I think Gabs actually likes having you around. Your clients come close enough that he gets a good deal of gossip just by being nearby.” Gabagool would never admit it, not in a million years. But Teddy had known the little gremlin long enough to know how he acted when he started to open up to someone. 

“That’ll make driving home easier.” Teddy wasn’t actually planning on catching up, but if that’s what the hunter had needed, they would’ve. In a heartbeat. They couldn’t remember too much from that night, only the cool of the waves crashing around their ankles. And the way the world felt too big, and them far too small. Was it the same, they wondered? For him? Ted listened, carefully, intently. Nodding along, letting the information sink in. Not an easy thing to settle on, even from an outsider’s perspective. 

“Was it–” Their first instinct was to finish the thought for him, but the idea of getting it wrong and having him correct them somehow seemed worse. “Why did he do it?” 

— 

Teddy’s hands slid into his, and the world seemed to slot into place just a little bit more. Not quite enough to click, but enough to make things feel less unsteady. Emilio didn’t pull back, didn’t tense up. He let those fingers intertwine with his own, let his eyes settle on their hands and then slide up their arm. The jacket they wore was a familiar one, he realized; Emilio hadn’t realized he’d left the house without it. It was the one he wore most often, all worn leather and heavy pockets. He thought it looked good on them. His eyes lingered for a moment before darting up to their face. “Maybe you shouldn’t make that promise,” he said quietly, thinking of what Rhett had said. You’d be better off not caring. And Teddy would be, too.

But they’d been right, what they’d said to him. They got to choose who they cared about, and they’d chosen him. For better or worse, they wanted this, and Emilio was too selfish to pull away. “I’ll tell him you said that,” he said, trying to make a joke that his tone couldn’t quite sell. “I’m sure he’ll have things to say.” 

He looked away again, focusing back on the half-empty glass of whiskey on the bar. “You don’t have to take me home, you know.” He probably deserved to make the trek himself, to go out in the snow and walk. It’d sober him up, at least, even if he’d hate it all the while. It would be karmic, wouldn’t it? He’d made them walk around in the harsh Maine winter for quite a while, based on how cold their hands were. And… he probably deserved it for more than that, too.

He swallowed, picking up his glass again with the hand not gripping Teddy’s. He tilted it, let the liquid inside swirl. “I was going to leave,” he said quietly, barely a whisper. “With my — With Flora. I didn’t want… She wasn’t built for it. Hunting. I didn’t want to bring her up like that. So I — I was going to take her, and I was going to go. I never told anyone, but… My sister found out. And she told my mom, and…” He trailed off, squeezing his eyes shut again. He thought of the messages he’d sent Teddy just after reconnecting. How did you learn to be okay with what your parents wanted for you? How could anyone?

—

“Maybe I should, especially because you don’t want me to.” Stubborn ass. Teddy smiled fondly, in spite of everything. A warmth in their chest was spreading farther and faster than the sip of alcohol would’ve done on its own. No, it was him. It was always him. “Eh, Gabagool probably already knows. You wouldn’t think it talking to him, but he knows everyone’s business. It’s part of what he is. Still sticks around us though.” That one came with a little elbow jab, an obvious nod to the current conversation. 

Dark eyes found his fingers, looked at the scars, at the callouses. The marks the world left, and the evidence of the marks he left on the world. If Emilio wanted something he worked and worked and worked until it was done, or he collapsed. Emilio gave and gave himself until there was nothing left. He felt more deeply every day than most people would in their entire lives. And he always, always, always took the blame. 

Teddy’s thumb traced along the lines of his hand, noting how soft they were. Despite everything. These hands held life. Purpose. Resolve. The hands that held his daughter, carried her, even now. Even when a body, far too small, lay resting somewhere far away. Teddy couldn’t imagine how that must have felt. Worse, they couldn’t possibly conceive of how Elena Cortez thought that taking those hands away would do the kid any good. But that was just it, wasn’t it? She didn’t want a kid. Didn’t want a small ray of sunshine, with Emilio’s nose and a too bright smile. 

Their spit soured, their free hand pushed away the remains of their glass along with enough cash for any open tab on the bar. Teddy swiveled in their chair and forced Emilio to do the same. Until they were facing him, until they could stand and throw their arms around him. There were no words for the desperate selfishness that broke Emilio’s world. The weight it put on his shoulders was immense.  It wasn’t his, it was never supposed to be his to carry. But her choice to make a weapon from a child, then expect that weapon to do the same to another… That was the stone that caused the avalanche. 

“I’m sorry, Em. I’m so sorry.” 

—

“You always going to do the opposite of what I say?” Despite the heaviness that clung to him, there was an undeniable fondness to his tone. In the privacy of his own mind, he couldn’t deny what he felt here. He couldn’t turn it into something smaller, couldn’t force it to sit in the palm of his hand. Teddy would always do the opposite of what Emilio told them to do, and Emilio would always feel warm at the sight of them, anyway. He would always feel these too-big feelings, always have this heart that was too big for his chest. He wondered if they knew. Then, he wondered how they couldn’t. Was it even possible to miss the way it was beating for them? “I think it’s you he’s sticking around.” Because who wouldn’t? The idea that anyone had ever looked at Teddy and decided to leave felt laughable. How could anyone be so stupid?

Their thumb rubbed absently at his hands, and he felt more here than he had since Lucio’s voice first rang through that empty apartment. Like there was an anchor holding him firmly in place, keeping him from drifting out to sea the way he always seemed to do. 

They turned, and Emilio would have turned with them even without prompting, would have followed them like a dog, would have revolved around them like a moon pulled in by their gravity. He’d revolve around them for as long as he was allowed to, until some errant asteroid came and knocked him from orbit, broke him into a billion little pieces. They threw their arms around him, and Emilio melted into an embrace he knew he didn’t deserve, let it swallow him up despite knowing that there were better people for them to wrap their arms around. His throat felt dry, stung in a way he knew and hated. That was the problem with drinking to solve your problems, he thought; it only made things numb until it didn’t. 

His face felt hot; he knew if he could see it, it would be red. He knew his eyes were wetter than he wanted them to be, tried to discreetly hide it without outing himself to Teddy, without letting them know. “I should have been faster,” he mumbled, muffled where he was pressed against them. “If I’d gotten her out sooner, it wouldn’t — It’s my fault. All of it. It happened because of me.”

—

“Nah, then you’d get used to it.” Teddy had smirked, without realizing they were already starting to feel like they were back home. Didn’t matter that it was miles away. They found it right there. On the bar stool, waiting for them to show up. They had been around the world, seen sunsets on every beach from Alaska to Australia, the long way. They’d seen the way the Earth’s crust splits at the very depths of her seas, seen the way mountains bended to magic at the whims of being far more powerful than themself. But nothing carried the weight, the comfort, or the contentment that sitting next to him did. There was a reason they had pulled that old leather jacket on, the moment they noticed it still sitting in Emilio’s room. 

It had everything to do with the face before them. With the heart and mind that sat inside. With the fact that they knew the words were going to come out of his mouth long before the silence broke. 

Teddy pulled themself in tighter, hooked their chin around his shoulder and tried to chase the awful undeserved guilt away by squeezing harder. They wanted to push out the shame, the weary woes, the certainty that if he had just done things better that they would have been different. They didn’t know how to do it. Didn’t know the right words to get him to see from their perspective. 

“Shit happens, Emilio. Awful, terrible, wretched things. It– Even if you were a damn olympian, it wouldn’t have changed anything. Your mom–” A touchy subject. One Teddy knew Emilio didn’t like to talk about on the best of days and here they were bringing her up at about the worst time possible. “She trained them all, didn’t she? She did the same shit that she did to you, to every one of them, and they still didn’t make it out. It’s not about who's better or who is worse.” Their voice was low, they were still in public after all. But they did their best to pull him away from the few other patrons. Walk their hug closer to a corner. Closer to privacy. They shifted to Spanish too, not that it was uncommon for folks in Maine to be fluent, but it felt more personal all the same.  

“Everyone– She did what she thought was best and, let me be clear, she was wrong. Dead fucking wrong. You were right to try and leave. I think– some part of you understands that it’s not right. Turning kids into soldiers. Your uncle too. Sounds like– Everyone had their best intentions. And sometimes that works out, and sometimes it’s a fucking disaster. But that doesn’t change that the only blame belongs to the people who did the killing. The ones who chose to enact that violence.” Teddy swallowed hard, unsure how much of this would sink in, if any. Or if it was just gonna start another fight. They didn’t want to fight anything but the demons plaguing Emilio’s past. And now they had a name. They couldn’t quell the fire that stoked at the mention of his mother, couldn’t stop the rage at Elena Cortez for ever thinking Emilio was anything but a good man, a good son, and a good father. 

“You aren’t the problem here, you were a victim.” 

— 

“I don’t think there is any getting used to this,” he admitted quietly. The flutter in his chest, the way the world shifted on its axis the moment Teddy walked into a goddamn room… There was no growing accustomed to it. It wasn’t the kind of thing that would ever grow mundane, ever become commonplace. Teddy Jones took a breath, and the universe adjusted to their presence. What could Emilio do but shift to adjust along with it? What other choice did he have? The earth revolved around the sun, the moon revolved around the earth, and he revolved around them. It was basic, unavoidable, expected. To take any one thing out of that equation was to bring on an apocalypse no one was prepared to deal with.

He wondered what it looked like from the outside, the two of them clinging to one another in that seedy bar. It was funny, the things people failed to notice. Emilio had seen the world end a thousand times over, and he always seemed to be the only person aware of the carnage. This time, though… This time, Teddy was here in the thick of it. Watching the sea boil, watching the sun burn out. He didn’t know if it was better or worse. Somehow, both answers felt selfish.

“I ran,” he admitted quietly, two words like ash in his mouth. Drying it out, strangling him. He repeated them in hopes of chasing the taste away, but the feeling stayed. “I ran. That’s why I’m alive. They died because they fought, and I lived because I ran. I was the worst of them, Teddy. The worst.” His mother had said so herself, hadn’t she? A thousand times before. Rosa was faster, Victor was stronger, Edgar was smarter. And what was Emilio? The only thing he’d ever brought to the table had been a little girl with small hands he couldn’t bear to carve into weapons. Was it any wonder that Elena would have sacrificed him to keep her?

Teddy shifted into Spanish, and Emilio didn’t realize how much it meant to him until the relief nearly knocked him off his feet. He listened and understood, tired mind grateful not to have to translate every word into something that made more sense. “I should have done more,” he said quietly, choking on the words like they were a tangible thing. “How do I make up for not doing more? How do I make it matter? He — They died because someone wanted me safe. They’re gone because he wanted me alive. I don’t know how to carry that weight. I don’t know how to make it mean something.” He wished, with a bitter vengeance, that Lucio hadn’t done what he’d done. It would have been better to let the chips fall where they were meant to fall, to let things play out as they were supposed to. If Lucio had known how things would turn out, would he have done it differently? Would he have sacrificed Emilio to save Rosa and Edgar? To save Flora? Emilio couldn’t imagine the answer to be anything other than a resounding yes. He’d never been worth as much as his siblings, couldn’t begin to compare to something as precious as his daughter.

But Teddy thought differently.

Teddy spoke as if it were a matter of fact, as if things were simple. They sounded so sure, that part of Emilio wanted to believe them. Could it be true, he wondered? Could something be both violence and victim at once? No one mourned a broken blade, but Teddy spoke to him like he mattered. Like his grief meant something, even if it was born of cowardice. If he was a victim, what of Flora? What of Jaime? What of Rosa, of Edgar, of Victor and Juliana? The dead were there to be mourned and buried, but what could you do for the living? What was left? 

He swallowed, clinging to them tighter than he would have admitted. “We can go home,” he said quietly. “If you want to, we can go home now.”

—

“It’s alright, agapitós, it’s gonna be alright.” Barely above a whisper, if they hadn’t been pressed so close, there’s no way he would have heard it. But Teddy held fast. Unwilling, or maybe unable to let him go. Could have held him like that all night. Closing time be damned. Wasn’t quite that late yet. But the sentiment rang clearer than a bell. There wasn’t much, if anything, that was going to change Teddy’s mind. That was going to make them see him any differently. 

“You ran. It had to have been chaos. It’s not– that’s not a shame, Emilio. You survived. Your fear kept you alive. Maybe the reason every hunter seems to die before they hit forty is because they have fear beaten out of them. Because they’re told that they’re gonna die, that they have to die for some noble cause, so they go out and do that.” Teddy still wasn’t talking much above a whisper, and they were thankful for that because any louder and their voice might have cracked. Any more distant and he might have seen how their eyes welled up with tears, how their heart broke for everyone who died that day. “Fear is the part of you that wants to keep you safe, and that’s not a bad thing.” 

A ragged breath bounced off of Emilio’s back. Their hand cradled the back of his head while their own pressed against his temple. “They died because someone told them it was better to face an impossible enemy than to retreat, to fight another day. To wait until it was safe. They died because of what your mother turned them into. If– If anyone is at fault, that’s who. I– I know it’s not an easy thing to hear, I know you don’t think it’s the same, but Emilio. It is. My parents tried to use me to get what they wanted. Tried to kill me so they could have something they saw as valuable without question. She may have dressed it up as a noble cause, but your mother did the same thing with you. Your siblings. Tried to do the same with Flora. She could have easily told everyone to run. She should have told people to run when her first son died. Should’ve– Before then even, fuck. Em, I–” Another breath. This one, long and low. Rising up from some deep pit and easing away like a bad dream. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Words don’t make this better. I know. I’m sorry.” 

Their stomach was in knots, they could only imagine how his wormed and rooted itself inside the empty cavern of his chest. Both too full, and too empty all the same. 

“Yeah, we should go home. Let’s go home okay?” 

—

Was it alright? Could it be? Everything seemed so goddamn heavy that the very notion of ‘alright’ seemed like a foreign thing, like a word he wasn’t equipped to understand. But Teddy was holding him, and the world was shifting, and it was a little better than it had been before they’d stepped into this bar. He felt closer to okay than he had before, even knowing it would only be a temporary thing. There was still Lucio to deal with. There was still some decision to be made. But he didn't have to make it tonight.

“Sometimes I think I didn’t,” he admitted quietly. It wasn’t a new confession. He felt more dead than he did alive, some days. He’d said as much to Lucio that day in his apartment, spat it like venom in his uncle’s face. He hadn’t been saved that day in Mexico, hadn’t been spared. Rhett peeled him off the forest floor, kept him from bleeding out in that small clearing, but it hadn’t been a rescue. It had been more of an embalming — the preservation of a thing already dead. “It feels like a bad thing. It feels — Sometimes, I think it’s the worst thing I’ve ever done. Surviving.” Was it a sin? His family had spent generations ridding the world of things that hadn’t died correctly. Wasn’t that what Emilio was now, too? 

He leaned in to Teddy a little more, selfish as he ever was. There was an ache in him, a great divide. He wanted to believe what they were saying, to absolve himself of some great sin, but how could he if doing so meant questioning a truth he’d been raised to accept all his life? His mother had been a monument. Who was he to tear it down? Protests lived and died behind his eyes, insistences that it wasn’t the same rising up in his throat and getting caught behind his teeth. Teddy’s parents had been willing to sacrifice a child, a toddler who’d done nothing wrong. Emilio’s mother had only wanted to rid herself of a persistent problem. Teddy’s parents were wrong and bad and it was easy to think so. It was so much harder to accuse Elena Cortez of such things. Even now, even with her body decaying a country away, it seemed blasphemous to think it.

More blasphemous still, he didn’t correct Teddy for saying it. He didn’t tell them they were wrong, even if he still thought they were. He told himself it was just because he was tired, because he knew it would spark an argument, because Teddy was stubborn when they thought they were right and they certainly thought they were now. He didn’t know if he believed it. He didn’t know what he believed at all anymore.

He let his head drop against their shoulder, nodding once. “Yeah,” he mumbled. “Yeah. Home sounds good. I wanna go home.” 

[mlobsters]

supernatural s12e16 ladies drink free (w. meredith glynn)

s12e16 / hannibal s2e9 shiizakana

okay so it's kind of generic dead boy and girl in snow but the fur on her jacket and the positions and the grunty growling presumably werewolf just made me think hey it's a way less gory version of the hannibal scene

MICK My report to the home office ran long. We've had our hands full since... (Dean and Mick look down at a blood stain on the floor) Well, best not to dwell on that. DEAN Wow. That is some world-class repression. You are British. MICK We prefer to call it a stiff upper lip.

you're one to talk there, dean

SAM Wait a second. You killed them all? Even the ones that weren't hurting anyone? MICK Sorry? SAM I mean, werewolves aren't like most monsters. Some can control it. I mean, we – we have a buddy got bit. Nothing but beef hearts ever since. MICK And you trust him? Well, killing is a fundamental need for werewolves. And monsters don't just stop being monsters. DEAN Well, Garth did.

was wondering when this would come up

poor sammy. but dean's too excited for free and fancy shit. thanks for throwing us a bone, meredith

so old mick here lied about the girl being bitten, actual crisis of conscience or setup for having to kill her later to prove his point or...

(yay it's claire/kathryn keeper of my favorite hair on the show)

CLAIRE So, your foreign exchange student is totally lame. DEAN Yeah. He's Sam's best friend. (Sam sighs deeply) They're like nerd soul mates.

you jealous, dean-o

why is the moon literally being erased by cg, forgot to make the cloud?

secret third option, return to the hospital to kill her quietly before she's even turned. but he's sorry! oh how convenient she turned right as he was about to kill her so he had to fend off her attack

CLAIRE Sam, no offense, but who do you think the kids are gonna wanna talk to? Me, or some old skeezer?

skeezer lol

DEAN Yeah? I used to think the same thing. Well, here's a little tip. Things aren't just black and white out here.

took a minute but he came around

should have seen her getting bitten coming but i 100% didn't

SAM Mick, you killed a kid. We're not angry. We're done!

he gonna stick to that?

there's something about the way she said "unless i break out" that really worked. and the music was appropriate and far enough behind the dialogue it wasn't obtrusive

MICK The subject died in agony. Sorry. CLAIRE Yeah. Maybe second time's a charm. DEAN Hey, no, no. You don't get a vote in this. CLAIRE It's my life. I get all the votes. DEAN Sam, you wanna back me up here? SAM It's her life.

of all people, sam's gonna back her up on this topic 24/7

dean really in full-on protective dad mode this episode. i must have learned this little werewolf lore tidbit in fic and didn't realize because i honestly thought we already knew this sire business, or made some inference from the vampires 🥴

kathryn newton is so good as claire

they remembered to put the moon in a spot that vaguely looked like it was obscured by clouds, good job team

very special episode where mick learns things aren't black and white, after all

CLAIRE Right. Eat me, Teen Wolf.

lol tell him, claire!

BARTENDER It's not like I want to do this. My pack, we were happy. We didn't hurt anyone. And then hunters with weapons that I've never seen before, they show up and... take out 20 of us, just like that.

ha ha so bmol is to blame for it all because they went after the veggie wolves, i snorted. hammering us over the head with their point again

and the very special episode where claire learns again she's loved by her family and not in fact better off alone

always laugh this show makes blood draws happen in any old place, just slam a needle in, bing bang boom done

wish they'd leave her hair what i assume is her natural texture (wavy), whenever it's overly Done like this it doesn't really vibe with what she's usually got going on. was gonna bitch if dean didn't get a hug goodbye from her :p

really glad they didn't kill her off. feel like if this was in the early seasons, she would have died for the manpain of it all

[befuddled-calico-whump]

T$$ Dystopia AU: Part Two

previous ///// T$$ Masterlist

cw: aftermath of whipping/beating, referenced public torture, institutionalized violence, adult language

× × ×

Joy didn't often bother with the floggings or the stocks or the other punishments inflicted by the police state. As shitty as it was, they happened too frequently for her to expend the resources to help every victim. Better to focus her efforts elsewhere and try to stop it altogether.

This was different though.

One of her scouts reported a whipping, and whatever, it was practically a daily occurrence at this point, but then they'd added that the kid on the post had already looked beaten half to death before the first crack even came down. That was just a little too cruel for her to ignore. She figured she'd at least check up on him, make sure he knew where the unsanctioned medic huts were and that he had the means to reach one. The rest of her guys were busy with other taskings, so Joy decided she'd pay him a visit herself.

Only when she arrived at the square, what must've been an hour at least since the flogging had ended, the poor guy was still on the post.

Security was posted around the perimeter, watching their prisoner with a body language like they'd shoot down anyone who tried to help.

If they were going to all these lengths… who was this guy? Just a victim they'd decided to be especially cruel to? Or was he something more?

Knowing the police corp as well as Joy did, she knew either option was equally as viable. Either way, she was gonna rescue the kid, and either way, she'd need some backup.

And fast. Fuck knew how long the poor guy would be able to hold out for.

It took less than a sentence of explanation to get Jericho on board, along with enough guys to distract the cops and give them an opening for the rescue.

It took longer than she would've liked to get everyone in place, but they wouldn't be any help to the beaten kid if they got arrested en route to him. It was another hour before the group was at the square’s edge, poised to act.

The rear guard gave the signal, and Joy darted forward, Jericho and a pair bolt cutters at her side. 

Up close, the sight of the kid’s back was far more gruesome; layered blacks and reds gouging every inch of it. Torn to shreds. How many had they fucking given him? What had he even done to deserve this in the force's eyes?

The whipping alone should've been enough to kill him, let alone the dark bruises covering his ribcage, let alone being left like this for hours. But this kid was a fighter. Though shallow and wheezing, he was still breathing.

“I got him, Jer. Cut him down.”

Her friend cut through the chains linking the guy’s handcuffs together, and he collapsed onto Joy. She winced when she saw his face, half of it basically one big bruise. It would be hell on his wounds to carry him out of here, but they needed to get back underground fast, or there would be no saving him.

Jericho slid the cutters into his belt, reaching to take the unconscious man from her, but as the bigger man started to lift him, his hand closed around Joy’s arm.

“Stars…” he murmured, his voice hoarse. “Th-they lead to you.”

Fuck, he was delirious too. Not that she was surprised by that. Joy nodded, not knowing how else to respond.

“Yeah. Yeah, they do.”

Behind her came the shout of her men, and she knew they needed to get moving now. Joy gently removed his fingers, allowing Jericho to sling the leaner man over his shoulder. She kept a few paces behind her friend to watch his back, her pistol drawn in case any of the cops saw them and moved to close in from the rear.

Somehow, the whole group made it back to the clear zone without pursuit. Joy sent a few guys on to fetch a medic, and accompanied Jericho to one of the safe havens. The havens were usually occupied by those who'd been wrongly accused of criminal intent, and needed somewhere to hide for a while, as well as people who had nowhere else to go. As far as she knew, their rescue checked both of those boxes, but she wouldn't know for sure until he regained consciousness.

…if he regained consciousness.

Jericho carried him to one of the empty rooms downstairs, carefully depositing him stomach-down on a bed.

“Thanks, Jer,” she said, cutting away the tattered remains of his shirt and gently removing them.

“Happy to help.” He sighed. “Never thought they would take things this far. Not in public. I mean, an execution is one thing, but this…”

“I know.”

“Do you think they would've let him down at all?”

Joy shook her head, letting her gaze fall to the unconscious man on the bed. “Cops've been doubling down lately. Wouldn't be surprised if they just wanted to make an example of him.” Her medical knowledge was limited, but she figured she should try her hand at cleaning him up. Who knew how long the medic would be?

“There's a silver lining then. They know the resistance is a threat,” Jericho said.

“How is that a silver lining? It'll only make them strike harder, do shit like this.”

“It means we stand a chance against them, and they know it," Jericho said. "Why else would they be lashing out?”

Joy pressed her lips together. “You're right.” She tore herself away from the bedside, checking one of the room’s cabinets for supplies, and coming away with a small stack of gauze and a bottle of water. “But fuck, man, we need to get the upper hand before there's a death on the whipping post.”

“We will,” Jericho said. “We have to.”

Joy sure fucking hoped so.

She wet one of the thicker gauze pads and started dabbing at the wounds on the man's back, trying not to let it get to her when the muscles there spasmed in pain and the guy let out a weak whimper.

“Easy does it.”

She hadn't covered much ground before the real medic arrived, patching up his ragged torso and giving him a morphine injection. Their stock of drugs and antibiotics was getting scarily low, but if anyone needed it, this kid did. 

They'd have to set up another raid on the upper-ring hospital soon. Dangerous for sure, but necessary to keep people alive.

“Will he live?” she asked as the medic started to leave. They answered with an apologetic shrug.

“He's made it this far. Keep a close eye on him, but… I wouldn't set my hopes too high.”

Joy nodded, clenching her jaw. “Thank you.”

As the medic left, she turned back to the bed. The man there looked marginally better, his thin form wrapped in heavy bandages that masked the worst of his injuries. He'd live. He had to. The cops couldn't win this one.

“I'll take the first watch,” she said.

“Are you sure?” Jericho asked. “How long have you been awake?”

“Few more hours won't kill me. I'll send for someone else soon, I promise.” She dragged a chair to the foot of the bed, and planted herself there, fidgeting with a paperclip she’d found in her pocket, bending it into different shapes until piece by piece it broke into nothing.

Sometime around midnight, the kid began to stir; little shifts and twitches and groans. Joy grabbed another water bottle. They didn't have the supplies for an IV line right now. As much as she hated to drag him out of his rest, if he was gonna live, he'd have to take liquids by mouth.

“Hey,” she said, giving him a light shake on his shoulder. “Can you hear me?”

“Ffff-fuck off,” came the shaky reply, and Joy nearly cracked a smile.

“You need to try and drink something,” she said, unscrewing the cap and sliding a plastic straw inside. “Can you turn your face towards me?”

After a moment he did, bruised eye and cheek pointing in her direction. She set the straw against his lips, careful to avoid the spots that were cut up, and waited.

It seemed to take a lot of effort, but he managed to swallow down some of the liquid.

“Cool,” she murmured, then hastily added, “good, I meant, that's good.” One step forward.

“You can drink more if you want,” she said. “If not, I'll let you sleep.”

He spat out the straw. It was enough of an answer for Joy.

“Got a name?”

“Hu-Hunter,” he muttered.

Behind the bruises and blood and swollen lips, she swore she saw him grin.

“Joy,” she replied. “Welcome to the resistance.”

× × ×

tag list:

@theonewithallthefixations

[tinalbion]

Oh! Could I also get Corey when his s/o is being bullied like he was in the movie? I need to know, for my soul!

Omg so, I’ve been working on this on and off in between breaks and lunches at work. I have wanted to work on nothing but Corey stuff and it’s honestly SUCH a problem, but I finally got this done for you, and I just also want to know how I did! Please, if you like it, let me know, if I should continue more Corey writing, let me know! I love this man and I have no issue using more breaks at work dedicated to this man. 

Please, let me know your thoughts! 

Hope you enjoy, the fluff hon! Then if I did well enough, we’re gonna get into the fun stuff  😏

“Need You Here” ||

Corey Cunningham x Gender Neutral Reader

Rating: Mature; physical bullying, mentions of death, angst, fluff, comfort, Corey being a sad boy because he deserves to cry

Length: 2.2k

Your head slammed against the brick wall and you let out a pathetic yelp of pain, you knew there would be blood after that hit. You were right. 

Two of your high school bullies still tormented you well after you graduated, all you wanted was to grab a drink and a snack or two from the gas station, nothing too crazy. Of course, they spotted you from across the street as they walked down the road, on their way to who knows what, but of course, they made time to mess with you. 

Thankfully, you didn't go inside to buy your treats yet, knowing them, they would have destroyed your things or taken your stuff for themselves, so you stepped inside quickly and hoped that the clerk being present would bid you enough time to get away from them.

That was a bust. Instead of actually buying anything, you slipped out when they were distracted, but they weren't occupied enough to not notice you slip out the door. They followed you and immediately began to taunt you before you could even take a step onto the asphalt.

"Where you going, Y/N? Not gonna stay to hang out with us?" Called one of them, a girl named Trixie. She was the main issue you had throughout school, and for some reason, she despised your presence. 

You'd done nothing to really grab her attention, you did what you had always done: keep to yourself. You had friends that you spoke to, but no matter how much you tried to fly under the radar, you'd always end up battered and bruised because of Trixie and her friend Laura. 

You'd stayed put on the ground as the two girls surrounded you, you found it best to keep down because you'd end up right back on your ass again, what was the point. 

Your eyes fluttered closed and you figured they'd beat you just as bad as the last time, so you brace yourself, but you felt confused when nothing came and all you heard was shouting. 

"I said leave them alone!" A voice rang out, this time clearer than the first. 

"Why don't you mind your business, kiddy killer?" Trixie spat as she took her attention from you. 

You looked up and squinted to see Corey Cunningham of all people standing there, his brown curly hair whipped around in the autumn wind, and his face seemed hard and unforgiving behind his glasses. You were thankful to see him again despite the circumstances. He parked his bike off to the side and made his way closer to you. 

This wouldn't be the first time Corey had saved you from situations like this, nor was it uncommon for you to find him in similar affairs. You had each other's backs when you found the courage to step up, and you breathed a sigh of relief when the girls took another uneasy step back. 

No matter how much they wanted to stay and fight, they were more uneasy being in the presence of Corey Cunningham. He had a reputation, though it was undesired, it helped him sometimes through certain situations. He had been known to have killed a young kid named Jeremy on Halloween night several years prior. He claimed it was an accident, he was panicked and was trying to escape the attic he was locked in, accidentally kicking it down with such force that it knocked Jeremy over the railing, the fall killing him. 

He lived in agony every day for years, you saw it in his eyes when you'd pass by him on the street, the permanent face of shame and regret. Everyone needed a new boogeyman to seek out when their tempers flared and their anger consumed them. Why not point the blame at Corey? 

You got to your feet as the girls took several more steps back, and finally, Corey had enough and waved his arms up in a quick motion, shouting at them to leave you alone. They took off running down the street, leaving you and him alone in the parking lot off to the side of the gas station. 

"Hey, you okay?" He asked as he reached out for your hand. 

You took it and grunted as you got to your feet. "Yeah, I'll manage. Nothing I haven't gotten before. Thanks for scaring them off. Assholes…" You dusted off your clothes and let out a sigh, wondering just how you'd explain the bruises to your family once again. 

"It's no problem, hope they didn't get you too badly…" He looked down at you and checked your face, craning his neck slightly to make sure there weren't any other scars or open wounds. "Doesn't look awful, but I'd get some ice on your cheek."

"You know," you began with a smirk as you wiped your eyes, "you really saved my ass today. I appreciate it a lot, Corey… thank you." 

He seemed to blush and look away from you, too embarrassed to hold eye contact. "Ah, it's nothing really, you always do the same for me… it's nothing."

"No, it IS something, I really do appreciate it. I wish I was better at sticking up for myself, I hate being so useless." 

He sighed and scratched at the back of his head, his curls ruffled beneath his touch. "I know what you mean, I hate dealing with those assholes I run into all the time. We just gotta stick together, right?"

You smiled wider and nodded. "Absolutely. So uh, what are you doing right now? I was gonna go back to my place and watch a movie, but now I kinda don't want to walk alone…"

"I could walk you if you want…?" 

"Did you maybe want to…come over and hang out? It's been a while."

The feelings that welled up inside of him were confusing, his heart raced when he looked into your eyes, so he looked down and adjusted his glasses. "Oh uh, yeah sure, that could be fun."

You smirked. "I'm gonna get some snacks, come on." You pulled at his arm and you both went inside to peruse the selection. 

When you both ended up at your place, your parents left a note stating that they went out to visit some friends for the evening, they left you money for some pizza and they'd be back in a few hours. They trusted you and you thanked them for this wonderful opportunity. 

After he offered to help clean up your wounds, you and Corey sat in your room with blankets and pillows piled everywhere, watching some cheesy horror movie that was much too tame for either of you to really pay attention to. Instead, you both talked about your jobs and how life had been lately in Haddonfield, and Corey had been very quiet when certain topics came up. He shifted away every once in a while and refused to look in your direction, you took notice of how flustered and uneasy he sat there. 

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked about it," you blurted as you looked away. "It's just… I wish I could show everyone you're not the monster they make you out to be. It's bullshit, it's not fair."

Corey sat there beside you feeling more comfortable than he ever did in a long time, he sighed and gave a half-hearted shrug. "Hey, it's fine, nothing I can really do about that now, I'm just… I'm dealing with it. But thanks, means a lot."

“Well, it’s not like you’re a bad guy, it was an accident.”

“You don’t even know the whole story, Y/N… and what about you? What have you done to be targeted by those girls?" His head lifted up and watched you carefully, his large brown eyes peeking over the rim of his glasses. 

"Well, that's not as… in-depth as your story, it’s honestly nothing. I existed and they knew something in me wasn’t able to face conflict, so they exploited that. I was never good at fighting, never wanted to learn if I could, you know?”

He sat there and shifted on the floor as he leaned back against the mattress, unable to give the right words to comfort you. “It sucks that we can’t have a break between the both of us, huh." 

You scoffed and nodded in response as your eyes stared at the television, but your hand patted the blanket a couple of times to feel the softness of the material, but your hand accidentally touched his as you both sat there. You retracted your hand and apologized, not wanting to upset him, but he stopped you. He liked the feeling of your skin against his as you both shared the comfortable silence. 

His eyes fell onto your hand as he slipped his fingers through yours, his stare slowly made its way up to your face and you saw that he was okay with this. A small smirk played at the corner of his lips and he allowed the tips of his fingers to float across your skin, slowly skating up to your arm until his hand wrapped around your wrist and sat there. 

"You don't mind-"

"No," you interrupted him, "I don't mind." 

That gave him the courage to progress further, so he tempted fate by allowing his hand to explore further up your arm, which sent chills down your flesh. 

To be honest with yourself, you wanted this for as long as you could remember, you enjoyed Corey's company and you cherished the comfort you felt with him. He wasn't like much anyone else in Haddonfield, and the times you both shared with each other only solidified the feeling you felt welling in the depth of your gut.

You made the first move, slow and gentle, unsure if he'd push you away at your attempt. Instead, you were greeted with a silent pleading, the look in his eyes looked at you with a knowing glance. The smile on your face only grew as you pushed yourself closer to him, you could almost feel his breath on your cheek. 

"Are you sure you wanna do this?" The shaking in his voice was too strong to ignore, he was nervous. "With me?"

You nuzzled your face up to him and let out a sigh, you smiled and placed your lips on his. At first, he sat there completely stiff and unresponsive, but the moment you smiled against his lips, he warmed up to the affection and kissed you in return. Only moments later, his breathing picked up and he was already trying to hold back the best he could, the emotions within him were bubbling to the surface, and he groaned at the sudden touch of your tongue along his bottom lip. 

Corey wanted nothing more than to take you right here right now, but as much as it screamed within him to do so, he pushed himself back and panted heavily as he stared at you through half-lidded eyes. 

"I want to, I really do…"

"But..?" You asked, just as breathless as he was. 

"But I don't want you to think that's all I want."

You scoffed and shook your head. "You think this is all I want? No, I LIKE you, Corey, a lot. I've been wondering just how nice it was to kiss you."

His face turned so red that you giggled, he lowered his face from your gaze and tried to think straight, but he didn't have much time since you had placed your hand on his chin, which forced him to look up at you. 

"I can stop if you want me to."

"Why me? I'm a mon-"

"Don't," you warned sharply, "you're not a monster, and I don't see you that way. I never did. You're Corey, just a guy who got caught up in some shit that he didn't mean to do. And I don't care about all of that, it happened, and you regret it, so why let that stop you from doing anything in your life and enjoying what time you have?"

You had a point, he sat and wallowed in pity and self-loathing since the accident, he felt that he should never feel joy again, but how long was it appropriate to grieve for a life you've taken? He didn't know, you didn't know, all you both knew was that he wanted to live and he should be allowed to do so. 

Corey sat cross-legged and began to wipe away at the tears that threatened to fall, but before he could, you placed both hands on either side of his face and kissed his cheeks gently. 

"It's okay to cry, you know," you cooed. 

His face dropped as he stared at you wordlessly. Suddenly, he lurched forward and flung his arms around you tightly, holding onto you as if you were the only thing that could anchor himself here, and he began to sob against your chest. 

You stroked his curly brown hair and wrapped your other arm around him, leaning your head against his. You both sat there for what seemed like hours, and he couldn't explain just how much he appreciated your kindness. 

After stuffing yourselves with pizza, breadsticks, and emotions, you both sat there as the credits of the movie rolled. His head leaned on your shoulder as his eyes drooped closed, he was falling asleep against your shoulder as your cheek rested against his soft curls. 

With a small huff and a large smile, you drifted off beside him and made sure he had a restful night of peace.

[phoneguyfanclub]

You Go, I'll Stay

Summary: Trapped in the office with all the animatronics surrounding him, Phone Guy realizes there are some things more important than his own life. (AU, Movie-verse: Phone Guy x Vanessa)

…

It was dark.

Vanessa hadn't realized what they were up against, and he didn't know how much longer they could hold out. They were in the office, Vanessa watching the cams while he pressed the buttons on the doors, making them close. It was exhilarating.

They were probably gonna die.

He would not allow that.

If you could use any number of words to describe Phone Guy, it would be: pathetic, cowardly, lying, scumbag, stupid, annoying, and selfish… That's what he thought anyway. He'd seen too much and been a witness to too much. He still wanted to live, but he hated the person he'd become.

Slamming his fist on the desk, he cursed himself for bringing her with him.

She'd only wanted to investigate, and this is what happened. Five animatronics wanting to kill them, and acting in patterns he'd never seen before. He'd worked hard to get his breathing under control, not wanting to panic when he knew someone else needed him to be calm.

Looking to the cams with a calm expression, he muttered.

"I have an idea."

Vanessa, freaked out, nodded with an encouraging grin.

"Great! H-how do we s-stop these bucket of bolts?!"

He continued speaking in a calm tone, all while rolling his chair over to the right and pressing the other door button. It closed with a clank.

"Oh, it's not that kind of idea…"

Her mouth fell agape, wondering what he could mean. She watched him curiously as he grabbed a child's coat from the lost and found and tossed it over to her.

"Huh?!" She flinched and hesitantly caught it.

"Vanessa…" He looked her in the eyes seriously. "I-I'm going to need you to put t-that coat on. Uh… Try and make yourself as small as possible. That way, you know, the animatronics think you're a kid. W-while they're busy with me, they won't notice you!"

As she realized what he was asking of her, she shook her head. "W-what about you…?"

Phone Guy used the keypad to flip through the monitors in a hurry. Making sure they were keeping up with everything to appease the animatronics. He stared straight ahead, not wanting to answer her. Knowing she wouldn't like the answer.

"Come on!" she said desperately. "I-I can't leave you here!"

He sighed softly, and closed his eyes in resignation. "Vanessa. S-sometimes a man's gotta know where his priorities lie. And mine are protecting you…"

She checked the doors and opened them, making sure they weren't using too much power.

Tears came to her eyes as she realized what he was asking her to do.

"No…!"

"Go on, Vanessa…" He said softly. "Run."

She looked into his eyes one more time, and hugged him tightly. He hugged back softly, patting her back. For the first time, Vanessa realized just how much the man who worked at Freddy's meant to her. They'd always been friends, and she'd always thought he was handsome - he was once the company spokesman too, able to ease people's worries with just a flash of his smile. But over all that time they'd spent together, making sure the pizzeria was a safe place, she never realized she loved him. And now she felt it in him too. He'd loved her this whole time and she never noticed it.

"You'll be fine…" He promised. Pulling away, he gazed at her softly and longingly. "Now go."

She chuckled sadly. "I love you too…" And she gave him a soft kiss on the cheek.

As he watched her put on the coat and run, he knew he'd made the right choice. It was funny, he thought. Well-intentioned people always told him he was lucky, not knowing of the tragedies he'd lived through. And now, in his last moments, he'd finally felt as lucky as they'd told him he was.

…

She'd done what he said. She'd put the coat on and made herself as small as possible. Then she crawled on her knees until she got to the pizzeria doors. She couldn't help feel an ocean of emotions going through her as she unlocked them.

If there was a word to describe Phone Guy, it would be brave, selfless, charming, mysterious, funny, strong, helpful… and handsome. So much more so because of his beautiful heart.

Looking back one more time, Vanessa silently wished him luck. She got in her car and drove back to the station, ready to report on what she'd seen. He was a hero in more ways than one. She pondered the nights' events more, and shivered. She'd wait for him outside the restaurant at morning to make sure he's alright.

She parked the car at the station. Reaching into her bag, she took out the photos she'd taken of the animatronics, their eyes blood red. Sifting through the Polaroids, Vanessa smiled. Now they finally had evidence to get the restaurant shut down for good.

[callofdooty]

Damn, I missed the Walruss bingo. Did you do Ajax/Keegan yet? Or am I gonna have to send another ask with ANOTHER ship lmao

Luckily Ajax/Keegan as not been done yet!!

These two... entirely snuck up on me. One minute it was "they'd be a cute pair" and the next it was "I am fucking OBSESSED"

I really do see these two as being quite a sweet pairing. Just two people who find each other at the right time. I headcanon that Ajax was the first one to properly get close to Keegan, and helped him warm up to the others. In "A Place To Get Away From All The Cold" (A.K.A "The Hypothermia Fic") Keegan describes Ajax as being one of the few people that has ever accomodated for him, likely the first person to truly know him as he is.

It's about the tenderness that you can apply to these two. The fucking. Softness. It kills me. It really kills me. And maybe none of this rings true to anyone else, maybs this is only the way I write them, but either way, I adore it.

SPOILERS FOR COD: GHOSTS BELOW THE CUT!!!

++ Also just a long-ass fucking ramble abt these two

!!!TW FOR DEATH, VIOLENCE AND OTHER CANON-TYPICAL SHIT!!!

SO Let's talk abt the not so sweet stuff.

The angst potential is through the fucking roof with these two, especially when it comes to Ajax's death. Not only do we see Keegan losing his shit a little while trying to find him (Like I'd say Struck Down has some of Keegan's most genuinely aggressive moments, compared to other missions where he's just doing things for the sake of the mission), but we see all of that aggressiveness completely disappear when they finally find him, and it just melts into quiet despair.

"It's bad." Is all he says.

They were too late. And I could only imagine the fucking chill that must've ran through Keegan's blood the second Ajax uses his final breaths to tell them that it was Rorke who did all of this.

Also the fact that Keegan is the one to shout for Ajax when they find him? You'd kind of expect it to be Merrick as the more talkative one. But it's fucking Keegan that yells for him. The guy that doesn't really talk unless he needs to.

And I did already go through Ajax's situation in his bingo but FUCK IT WE'RE SAYING IT AGAIN. Keegan and Merrick finally showing up was probably bittersweet for Ajax. On one hand, he knew he wasn't going to make it. He knew that this was where he'd die, in a darkened room where a kill list of his entire team - found family - taunts him from the far wall. And not only is he unable to tell them, he's actively added to those plans to endanger them because he broke and told Rorke about the safehouse.

But then he hears Keegan. And then Keegan is there, holding him as he chokes on his own fading life. He won't be alone in his final moments, the ones he loves are there with him (well, two of them are at least) but he can't let go peacefully. Not when he knows so much. So he fights against his own dying body to try and warn them. He can't get much out, he resorts to just pointing out the wall. He can't apologise for the danger he's put them in - unbeknownst to them - and he can't apologise to Keegan.

Keegan. Who probably looks anguished. Maybe even scared. And maybe Ajax thinks back to Sand Viper, where he first saw those pained eyes, and it dawns on him that this is it. 22 years of survival and it ends like this.

Are they already together by this point? Is Keegan forced to sit there and watch his love die, all while being told it was his former captain that did it? Forced to watch knowing he wasn't quick enough to save him?

Or had they not even been able to confess yet? Leaving both of them with so many unspoken regrets.

Either way, Ajax doesn't pass with peace of mind. Ajax dies feeling guilty, feeling like a culprit of a crime he'd never even dream of ever comitting. He feels like he's failed them. He feels like he's betrayed them, abandoning them in a mess he helped in making, despite how hard he fought against it.

He probably worries about what's going to happen to Keegan. Because he won't be there to make sure he doesn't spiral over Rorke turning on them. He won't be there to comfort him, just like how Keegan is silently trying to comfort him now.

Keegan's world shatters the moment Ajax takes his final breath. When Merrick checks out the wall with Hesh, Keegan just sits there for a few moments before closing Ajax's eyes. You can just fucking tell from the way he acts for that entire scene how much Ajax meant to him and the Ghosts.

And then he has to carry Ajax's body out of there. At least they actually get to recover his body.

Also for added heartbreak: When Rorke taunts them about Ajax being dead, you can see how Keegan reacts to it.

If you check out this video at 1:15 you can see it fully.

Reminds me of when people tilt their head to try and stop themselves from crying (smth I have done before) but it also could be him resisting the urge to put a bullet through Rorke's skull right then and there. And then he just kinda slips away off-screen.

So. Yeah. This shit is. I love them. I really love them. My heart hurts for them so much.

[a-writer-on-elm-street]

Apocalypse

PART 12

Summary: You finally carry out your plan to kill Negan.

Warnings: Strong language, threats of violence, mild acts of violence.

A/N: So after this, there's going to be one more part and then I'll be ending this series. I hope you've enjoyed it so far!

You suddenly felt short of breath as watched The Sanctuary from behind a bush.

After you made it to Alexandria, both Rick and Dean had given you hell for going ahead with your plan to kill Negan. But you weren't going to listen to them because Negan was dying today no matter what.

Sam didn't put up much of a fight, but you could see he was struggling to let you go. You were thankful that he had though, because you'd lose your mind if they'd tried to keep you there.

You took a deep breath before standing up and approaching the gates.

And some people would've probably thought that that was the last thing you should've done, but there was absolutely no way you'd get to Negan if you tried to sneak in there. The place was too heavily guarded. So what better way to get to Negan than to go in through the front door.

The guards quickly seized you and dragged you into the building, knocking you hard in the back so you fell to your knees.

As you knelt there with a gun pressed against your back, it didn't take long for Negan to finally appear.

"Well hello there!" He chimed, a smug grin on his face as he practically skipped towards you. "I've been lookin' for you."

You remained silent as you glared up at him, almost flinching when his hand came down to roughly grip your jaw.

He smirked. "Not gonna say anything?"

You stayed quiet as he stared at you, his tongue seeping across his bottom lip as he studied your face.

"Alright then." Negan finally said, and you were forcefully dragged to your feet, his men shoving you forward.

You staggered after Negan as he led you through the hallways, eventually stopping when you reached his office. His men pushed you inside and the door was locked behind you.

Negan was standing at the head of the desk, and he was still grinning at you. "Why the hell did you come back here?"

"I came to give myself up." You lied, earning a chuckle from Negan as he approached you.

"Where's Lucille?"

"Your bat?"

"No, my goddamn handbag."

"I don't know."

"Bullshit!" He yelled, lunging towards you, his hand roughly gripping your wrist. He leaned in closer to you then, his voice a low growl as he spoke. "Where's your brothers?"

"I don't know...we...we got separated."

"Do you think I'm stupid, (y/n)?"

"No."

"Really? Cuz you gotta know I'm not gonna buy this shit, right?"

He let you go then, almost knocking you off your feet as he returned to his place at the desk.

But when you steadied yourself, you now had a chance to slip your hand behind your back, your trembling fingers finding the sharp edge of the glass shard under your waistband.

You carefully manouvered it into the palm of your hand and brought your fist to your side, waiting for your moment.

"What the fuck are you doing here (y/n)?" Negan asked you again, leaning over the desk to look at you.

"I already told you I-"

"Came to give yourself up, I know. But you know what I think? I think you're tryna kill me."

"What?" You asked, unable to keep your voice level as you stared at him.

"And that right there is all the confirmation I need." He laughed, coming back over to you.

It didn't matter. It didn't matter that he knew, because you could still carry out your plan. He couldn't know exactly what you were planning to do. So you took your shot.

You swung your fist at him, attempting to slash him with the glass shard. But before you could even touch him with the glass, he grabbed your wrist, digging his fingers into your flesh until you were forced to let go of the shard.

"Wow!" He exclaimed, his fingers still wrapped around your wrist. "You really are just some asshole! Are you really that stupid?!"

You were no longer confident now as you stared up at him with wide eyes. You were terrified.

Negan carried on talking, visibly pissed off. "So did Rick put you up to this? Or was it all just you?"

"Rick?"

"Don't insult me." He spat, your wrist stinging where his fingers were still digging in. "I know you're just a lying bitch, so don't you dare lie to me again."

"Rick didn't put me up to this. It was all me."

"You know, I liked you (y/n). And I had actually considered just...letting you and your brothers go." He paused for a moment before carrying on. "But then you just tried to kill me...and I definitely can't let that shit slide. So you're gonna tell me where you're brothers are, and then I'm gonna kill you...and then I'll kill them."

"You're a monster."

He grinned. "If you wanna call me a monster, then go ahead. See if I give a shit."

"Negan, please."

"Oh, you're begging now? I never thought you'd be so goddamn pathetic."

Before you could say anything else, you heard something outside. And it had clearly drawn Negan's attention as he turned toward the window to see what all the commotion was about.

And you saw his eyes widen before he released your wrist, shoving past you to rush out the door. You heard the door lock behind you so you simply walked toward the window to see what had spooked Negan, and then you saw them.

Your brothers were standing at the gates, Rick by their side, and they had an entire army of people behind them as they held up their guns. They came for you, to stand against Negan.

There was finally hope.

[Series Masterlist]

TAG LIST: @lostinworldofdarkness @melixson @fairy-alix @faithm120601 @namelesslosers @historymemes2001 @flannellover67 @misguidedasgardian