#A Skull Full Of Maggots

[k-i-l-l-e-r-b-e-e-6-9]

#Cannibal Corpse #A Skull Full Of Maggots [Live] #A Skull Full Of Maggots #OSDM #oldschool death metal #metal #90's #90s #1993 #chris barnes era #text #my gif #gifs #my edit #gif #concert #alex webster #Death Metal #eaten back to life #butchered at birth #Tomb of the Mutilated #the bleeding

[gnomestruck63]

Cannibal Corpse "A Skull Full of Maggots"

#cannibal corpse #death metal #metal blade records #a skull full of maggots #skull full of maggots #Youtube

[fleshdyke]

I saw a deer rotting away on the side of the road, ribcage gaping open, sternum shattered, sagging leathery skin shedding coarse hair as decomposition sets in. Eyes and entrails long since pecked out by crows and vultures, the doe lay blind and empty, her cranium chewed open and cleaned out by reverent coyotes. Crawling with maggots and worms, she writhes.

Wildflowers bloomed tall around her, cushioning her corpse in a bed of milkweed and aster, wild lily and strawberry bursting through her drying skin and out through the cavernous hole in her body. Wasps and horseflies drink the nectar flavoured by her body, dripping sweet onto her ribcage.

A violent death unto peaceful sleep, bones crushed like brittle eggshell by steel alloy, whiplash and internal hemorrhaging as she stumbles forward and collapses into the cold ditch by the asphalt, gasping and twitching as her lungs filled with blood, shards of her ribcage puncturing her lungs, struggling to take a full breath as spots grew larger in her vision. Twin headlights barreled on, uninterrupted and uncaring as she lay dying in the ditch, the taillights of the departing vehicle bathing her in red light as it leaves. There are no other cars in the road.

Scavengers bowed their heads to her memory as they filled their stomachs with her body, gorging themselves on cold offal, worshipful as they licked congealed blood off the ground. A necessary sacrifice to the good of the many; her agony sustains them. They don't know anything else. She sleeps, quiet and alone, in the ditch by the road, as she decomposes. Her eyes, plucked from their sockets by hungry birds to be fed to their hungry chicks, no longer saw; she slept in peaceful darkness.

I wondered what she dreamed about. I wondered if she could still see, in her mind's eye, the life she dreamed of. I wondered if all she could see anymore was the wriggling of maggots in her skull.

I wondered if the deer on the side of the road left behind a herd, maybe a fawn, waiting patiently, nestled in tall grasses, for its mother to return. I wondered if it, too, had fallen prey to the great metal maw of a passing vehicle as it, hungry and cold, searched for its mother. I hoped not, but I know better; deer don't often practice crèches.

I felt kinship with her, in a way, a deer left for dead next to the country highway, carved out empty and left gaping. I saw myself in her in the way she died alone, ignored, rotting from the inside out as cars passed by, the way she was vulnerable, defenseless; she had no way to defend herself against her fate. The scales were tipped against her, the battle lost as soon as she took her first step onto cracked asphalt, doomed beyond her own comprehension and her killer's capacity to care. She had no antlers to defend herself. She didn't stand a chance.

A faceless figure in a nondescript truck, anonymous in the atrocity of death, with no witnesses and no guilt for what they had done. Perhaps I'd already passed them on the street. Perhaps I'd already wished them a good morning. Perhaps I'd done the same with others.

It was almost comforting, in a way, to see such a visceral and grotesque representation of myself, flayed open snd hollowed out and left to rot. It reminded me there were others like me, even if they were roadkilled deer. In the aftermath of catastrophe, I, too, lay broken and gasping, immobile as I watched the world pass me by, no one stopping to notice my agony. I supposed it wasn't quite as obvious as that of a deer, trembling and bleeding from the mouth, branded hot in the shape of a car's front grill. It was confusing, still. It certainly felt more than obvious.

I dreamed of coyote teeth tearing me apart, pulling out my organs as I watched, passive, of vultures picking at my skin, grunting in veneration as they ate me to the bone. I dreamed of crows eating the scraps left behind, pecking at my face and mouth, pulling out my eyes and tongue, rendering me blind and mute. I didn't mind; I hardly had use for them anyways. I dreamed of dandelion blooms crowding my airways, airborne seeds filling my lungs until I choked, and growing from my body again.

I dreamed of love, of prostration and black birds bowed in supplication, owing me their lives, surviving at the price of mine. I dreamed of love, of sickly sweet devotion, like the smell of decay. I dreamed of love, of poisonous butterflies drinking down the nectar of my body's wildflowers, of dangerous beauty. In my dream, I watched the jays snap up those sweet butterflies, bright wings crunching and shredding within the predator's beak, only for the eaten nymph to reappear as its bitter poison burns the jay's oesophagus, vomiting up the offensive prey. The butterfly is not saved. The butterfly is still dead, half-digested and broken in a small puddle of the bird's mucous, but the jay learns; the butterfly's death prevents others.

I dreamed of love, like the coyote and the badger that found my corpse one night, forty million years of evolution between the two, but perfect teamwork nonetheless. The two arrived together and left together after they'd had their fill of my lungs and heart. I wished them well on their journey and waited for the next scavenger to find me.

I hoped the deer on the side of the road found the same peace in death as I had. I hoped she found her closure in the scavengers who worshipped her. I hoped the faceless figure in that nondescript truck faced their retribution and I hoped the faceless figure in my hazy memories faced the Old Testament judgement I so wished.

As I accepted the deer into myself, let the shape of her rotting body brand itself on my mind (reminiscent, almost, of the brand of a car's front grill on her flank), I felt her dreams assimilate with my own. I felt, suddenly, the desire to walk along country highways in the dark, the desire to know what waits on the other side of the road, the desperation so strong that I couldn't stand to wait for the rumbling beast to pass. I felt the awe of staring into blinding light, larger than me and near incomprehensible. I understood why deer stopped in the middle of the road. I'm sure anyone else would, too. The first contact of the car's front grill to her (my) body felt something like love, like the embrace of the only one who could stand to have me.

I thought about the crows that picked off the smaller pieces of flesh missed by the larger scavengers. I thought about the sweet adoration between two black birds as they passed my eyeball to their mate, the pure devotion between them as they preened one another, beaks coated in congealed blood. Their love is a living thing, a separate entity, powerful and writhing. It occupies the crows entirely, not unlike parasitism. Their chicks will grow from my scavenged flesh, insatiable, fledging for the first time above my drying skeleton. To fly had always been a dream of mine, and now it is actualized by those young black birds, fulfilled as they hop unsteadily from branch to branch, their parents watching over them protectively. How lucky I am to witness this. How lucky I am to learn, firsthand, the depth of that love, the endlessness of life, how it begins again, and again, and again.

#this is one of my favourite things ive ever written tbh. #made it for an english assignment. sarah if youre checking for plagiarism and it matches with this. this is my account you can ask me if you #want to. love u sarah. #anyways. hi everyone #rambles #my art #ask to tag

[hvman-scvm]

NECROLUST || SIMON “GHOST” RILEY

PAIRING ;; SIMON “GHOST” RILEY / SENTIENT ! ZOMBIE ! READER (MALE, YOU/YOUR PRNS USED)

SUMMARY ;; love beyond the grave ig

CW ;; Simon is kinda sick on the head but we love him anyways, borderline romantic necrophilia ?? I guess. No actual smut included tho, usual zombie stuff like rotting n whatnot, established relationship, kind of silly ngl ?

WRITER’S NOTE ;; the title is a mayhem song bcuz I’m a total poser. There’s so much stuff 4 zombie ! Ghost which - don’t get me wrong- I like, but there’s barely any love 4 zombie ! Reader, and luckily ghost is just full of it.

Simon sighed in focus, a medical needle in hand as he sewed up your jaw for what had to be the 100th time, not that he minded; he loved taking care of you. It was hard to keep your jaw in place with how soft your rotting flesh is, how it kept ripping with the smallest movements.

He shook off a maggot that crawled into his hand, tying off the last thread and leaning in to kiss the newly sewed up, slimy skin where your jaw connects to the top of your skull.

“Better?” He spoke softly, he knew you understood him, although you never spoke back. The way your clouded eyes landed on his briefly let him knew that you not only hear him, but understand what he’s saying to you. As you moved your jaw up and down experimentally, you rapidly moved forward, trying to latch your teeth on whatever of ghost’s flesh you would reach first. But he was faster, tutting as he put a hand over your mouth, not affected by the sight of your maggots crawling over his gloves.

“Bad. No biting.” He said as if he was speaking to an untrained dog, before patting your head almost condescendingly. He reached around for the muzzle they keep on you and quickly attached it over your head, receiving a growl in response.

“You’ll be fine, love.” He said sincerely, looking at you sadly; he missed you. He missed being able to have conversations with you and feeling your warm skin on his own. He brought you to his chest, getting another growl. He sniffled, tears threatening to spill from his eyes as he kissed the top of your head. “They’ll find a cure, I promise.”

It was a daily routine; he’d patch you up, then getting overwhelmingly sad at your helpless state- at his helpless state. He wished he could find a way to bring you back. But a part of him, a part he buried deep inside himself, found enjoyment in this. He loved how reliant you were on him in your rotting state, loved the way your clouded eyes held eye contact with him and how incomprehensible growls would leave your rotting vocal cords whenever he would ask a question.

He caressed the top of your head, kissing it gently as he leaned his face on it. The smell of rot filled his nostrils, and he found himself taking it in by inhaling deeply. It was intoxicating.

#yes hello I am back #cod mw2 #cod x male reader #ghost x male reader #cod mw ghost #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x male reader #simon riley x male reader #cod mw2 x male reader #ghost mw2 #🥩.short fics #Spotify

[solara-bean]

Jut found out that the full Touchstarved game might not be out till 2025 so here's a scenario I imagined with Ais. Has the others interact with mc too, but Ais is the main love interest. Hope this doesn't feel too much like my oc. I chose the Unnamed route so that may be brought up.

Worth The Trouble ( Ais x GN Reader )

( Content Warning: Violence, Blood, cursing, Ais being Ais, Remember what he did to that guy in the demo )

MC = Y/N ( I'm too tired from finals to type the slash, sorry 😭)

It started off as a normal day in Eridia, or at least as peaceful as things could be in the hellscape of a city. MC went to the market for some light grocery shopping, their small tote bag half full, when a group of kids zoomed past them. For a flash they could see that the kids' arms were full of produce, a few stray fruits leaving a trail in their wake. It was mere seconds before an enraged yell from a man was heard.

" Get back here you little shits!!!" the a man, a local produce seller, barreled down in the kid's direction. Nearly knocking down passersby, MC included.

One of the smaller kids tripped, dropping all of their stolen goods. They called to their friends for help but it was too late. The seller had already grabbed them by the collar like a stray puppy.

" Stupid maggot! I'll show you what happens to thieves around here!!" He pulled back his meaty fist to strike them.

Without thinking, MC ran to grab his wrist before the blow landed.

" Hey! That's going way too far."

The seller looked down at them and snarled.

" Stay out of this! This is between me and this little thief here."

" I get that but look at them." MC pointed to the kid's dirty clothes that were holding on by threads. " Clearly they aren't stealing for the fun of it. Can't you let them go?"

The seller scoffed at them, foul breath fanning their face. Thankfully they held back their disgust.

" I'm not running a charity. If the kid wants to eat the kid's gotta pay."

MC thought for a moment as they stared at the child, who was still curled in a protective ball. Although their face was covered, it was clear by their trembling that they were crying. MC immediately remembered all the times they'd been hungry and in need after they fled the temple. While they survived they couldn't imagine doing so at this child's age. How long had they been suffering?

" I'll do it."

" Do what?"

" Pay." MC reached into their cloak and pulled out their coin purse. " I've got plenty to spare." which wasn't true but they'd manage. The seller gave them a long, calculated glare before sighing.

" Fine."

He put the kid down. They gave a quick glance to the seller then the MC before grabbing their haul and scurrying off to where the rest of the group went. MC wasn't expecting a thank you, but the last look the kid gave to them over their shoulder was enough.

" Ok," MC counted the coins in their palm, leaving the purse nearly empty. " Will this be enough?"

The seller took the coins. Counting each while scratching his stubbly chin.

" Yeah, almost..."

MC looked at him confused. They were sure that they gave him much more than his nearly, spoiled produce was worth. They almost didn't notice his arm go up. But they did feel the strike across their face. Everything went white for a moment as they stumbled. Pain flared over the entirety of the right side of MC's face. They pressed their palm to it and whipped their gaze back to the seller stunned.

" What the fuck is your problem??!!" they shrieked at him.

" Don't look so confused. You said you'd pay for everything. That includes punishment. " He let out a dark chuckle and walked pass them. " Maybe think twice next time you wanna be someone's savior."

MC gawked at his back. What kind of asshole pulls a stunt like that. He got his money fair and square. Clearly he just wanted a reason to cause someone harm. They wanted to let it go and move on but crap that hit really hurt. His hands were big enough to crush their skull and they were pretty sure that his ring cut their cheek. There was no way they were gonna let him walk away so easily.

" Hey!"

The seller turned around and was met with a fist right to the nose. He reeled back, giving MC enough time to land a kick to his kneecap. He fell to the city floor with the gracefulness of an old dying ox, MC's coins going down with him. They grabbed a handful of them before making a break for it back to the Wet Wick.

Out of breath, energy, half their coins and what little faith they had in humanity, all MC wanted to do was go to sleep in their room and maybe have some of their scraps for dinner. It could've been made into a full meal but they hadn't realized they'd dropped their tote bag until it was too late. Thankfully, the bar sounded empty from the outside, so at least they could avoid the headache of possibly socializing.

" Hey sparrow."

Shit.

There right in his usual spot at the bar sat Ais, accompanied by Vere and Leander.

" Hey Ais..." they said weakly, pulling up their hood even more to hide the blooming bruises.

" Um Excuse me. I'm here too dear. Goodness has being here already dulled your manners?" came Vere, tail playfully swaying.

" Hey Vere." they said quickly as they tried to flee to their room, but that would've been to easy.

" Oh MC how was the market did you get anything good?" Leander asked, conveniently getting in front of them and blocking their path. They didn't look up at him and did their best not to adjust their hood again.

" Yeah, yeah it was good."

" But where's your tote ba-"

" It's getting late I'll see you guys later." MC swerved around him, nearly home free.

" Sparrow."

They stopped. Ais' piercing gaze burning into their back.

" Come here, please." he instructed in a soft yet stern tone. They couldn't resist him. He'd only pry more if they did, so reluctantly they sat next to him, avoiding eye contact.

" Take off your hood."

They stayed still. The air filled with a tense silence.

" Ais come one. They've probably had a long day. I'm sure their fi-" Lenader nearly choked when MC took their hood off. " What the hell happened?! Are you ok?!"

" Obviously not." Vere scoffed. " Thought I smelled blood but that's nothing new for you. Do tell, what mess have you found yourself in this time, MC?"

MC let out a tired sigh. Leander's worrying and Vere's teasing made for a sickening combo on an already shitty afternoon.

" It's nothing. I just ran into a bad guy at the market. Nothing interesting." They were about to get up to leave when Ais' hand was placed firmly on their shoulder.

" Humor us would ya? What really happened?" While the slight smile on his face was meant to be assuring, MC knew he was up to no good.

" Really it's nothing. I just saw some kids steal some food and one of them got caught by the seller. So I thought hey why not be nice and help this clearly starving child. But nope! As usual the situation blew up in my face. Apparently coins weren't enough payment for the guy so he- " They mimicked the back-handed slap motion they'd been a victim to. " The asshole didn't even have the decency to warn me first, so I thought it was only fair to get in a few blows in myself then run like hell before things got too heated. So yeah that's it. Nothing special."

After what they hadn't meant to be a ramble there was another thick silence. Crap maybe I said too much. Then a low chuckle came from beside them. Oh good Ais found the story amusing, maybe they were worried for nothing. But that was quickly put aside when they turned to look at him.

His grin was downright dangerous. Fangs gleaming and all. His eyes were even worse, glowing with a bloodlust that would scare a soulless shitless.

" I'll be right back." he said, getting up from his seat and stretching out his tired joints with a pop.

" Ais." Leander warned. " Let's think about this, ok buddy."

" Nothing to think about. Now," He stood in front of MC and leaned down to their level. " Which seller was it?"

MC felt their pulse quicken. Not just from being at eye level with Ais, but also from the immense violent aura he began to exude.

" Really Ais it's fine. I hit him pretty hard so we're even."

" I'm sure you did. But this is purely for my own selfish vices. I can't rest easy knowing this jackass is going around threatening kids and hitting customers. So who was it?"

" Ais. It's not worth the trouble just let it g-"

Ais' hand swiftly taken ahold of their chin. With a gentleness that greatly contrasted his character, he tilted MC's face to better examine the damage. They couldn't help the heat that rose within them.

" Plenty worth the trouble to me." He tilted their head back to face forward. " Who was it, MC."

Maybe it was the softness of his tone or the way he said their name instead of Sparrow, but they confessed. Even down to what stalls the seller's had been next to. He gave them a small, genuine smile and went on the hunt.

" Well, there's no stopping him now. Let's get some ice on that bruise, hm." Leander went around the counter, paying no mind to MC's breathless expression. In no time he came back with clean rag and another with ice inside. " Alright let me see."

Before he could attend to their face, Vere cut in.

" Leander, didn't the doctor leave some magic elixir or whatever for minor injuries in the backroom?"

" Oh you're right. He did. I should go get it."

" Yes you should." Vere smiled sweetly then frowned once Leander was out of sight. " Good I couldn't tolerate him for much longer without Ais here."

" Don't get too excited, he'll be back soon." MC reminded him.

" No he won't," Vere swiped the rag that Leander left on the counter near the ice bag before turning back to them with a mischievous smirk. " I poured those nasty medicine bottles out weeks ago."

MC gawked at him.

" Why would you do that? What if someone needed those?"

" What like you? Don't be such a baby you'll be fine. Now hold still. I can only take so much of you blood smelling up the place."

With a similar gentleness as Ais, Vere took hold of their chin and began to dab the blood away from the cut that was already beginning to close. MC didn't have the energy for anymore shock today, so they relished in the care.

" You know. This pacifist act you're playing won't do you any good in this city"

MC sighed and grabbed the ice bag to put on their bruise once he was done with the cut.

" I'm not a pacifist. Trust me I've got nothing against that jerk getting what he deserves. I just don't want Ais to get in any trouble because of me."

" Hmph, now why would Ais get in trouble?"

" Because, he's a monster. What if the Senobium punishes him for being too violent?"

Vere hummed to himself. He carelessly tossed the bloody rag on the floor and leaned back against the counter, tail swishing languidly.

" Oh don't fret dear. The Senobium's too up their own asses to care about a few lowtown brutes getting torn apart. Besides I highly doubt Ais would do anything so dreadful as to get a punishment like mine. And if he did..." Vere's eyes turned a bright pink, his fangs seemed longer as well. " I'd tear this city to the ground before they laid a finger on him."

MC just stared at him for a while. The primordial fear in their gut was unmistakable, but they couldn't help but feel a bit relieved.

" Well I'm glad Ais has a friend like you to look after him."

The fox scoffed.

" I'm not his friend."

A bit confused by that response, they were sure he was joking. The duo seemed as close as Mhin and Kuras if not more.

" Ok then I'm glad you're his very close, foxy furry acquaintance."

Vere's ears went down as he scowled at them.

" I can break you like a twig. Don't forget that."

They merely chuckled at that although they weren't entirely sure if he was serious or not.

" Sorry for the wait!" Came Leander's chipper voice. He rejoined the two with a small container of bandaids and a bottle of unknown liquid. " Took me forever to find this elixir. I could've swore we had more bottles. Thankfully, I always stash a spare."

" Wow how great is that Vere." MC gave him an innocent smile that in turn got them glare. Vere definitely meant that threat now.

----

Ais arrived back at the bar late into the night. He wreaked of blood despite his best efforts to clean himself. He didn't want to make another bad impression on his new...new friend? Acquaintance? Whatever they were he wanted them around him more often. Which would be hard if they were scared of him. Did he scare them before when asking about the seller? They seemed nervous, but most people were around him, especially after knowing about his brutal tendencies.

Perhaps they didn't mind. He got a good look at the seller's broken nose, and what he could assume was an injured knee that made it all the easier to catch and corner him. The sparrow really did have a tough side after all. He was almost sad that he sullied their work with his own. No one would suspect that what was left of the asshole was the handiwork of two pissed off individuals. Maybe returning their tote bag full of goods and the coins that he'd swiped from the guy's pockets would be a good enough apology gift.

The barkeep was cleaning shot glasses when he arrived. Out of no where a wave of unease hit him. Maybe he came back too late and should just leave their stuff here.

" Got something for MC. Can you give it to them for me?"

The barkeep only spared him a quick glance.

" Do I look like a delivery boy? Drop it off at their door yourself, I'm busy." She replied with a bitterness that he always found amusing.

" Yes ma'am."

He was in front of their door when the doubt came back, sweaty palms too. What the hell was he nervous for? He doesn't get nervous. This was just a small favor for a frien-aquaintance. Just put the stuff down and go. But what if someone took it? Maybe he should see if they're awake first. Maybe not what if he wakes them up.

Annoyed by his rambling thoughts he did least smart thing and opened, which should've been locked, door. It was dark inside, aside the moonlight from a small window. His higher than average vision could make out a small bed with a lump under the covers. Next to it was a dresser. He made his way to it quietly, mentally cursing the metal on his boots for the creaks they made in the floorboards.

Finally at his destination, he set the tote bag and coins on the dresser and turned to leave. But curiosity got the best of him. He snuck a peak at MC and it was all over. The covers were up to their nose. There was a small bandage on their cheek. The bruising seemed to have healed a bit. Ais had never seen them look so peaceful. It was actually pretty cute. Then he realized how creepy this whole situation was and made his way to the door.

" Ais...?"

Shit!

He stopped mid step, looking over his shoulder at them. Their eyes were barely open and their voice was quiet and soft.

" That you?"

He sighed.

" Yeah it's me sparrow. Don't worry just wanted to return your bag. I'm leaving, go back to sleep." he kept walking.

" Are you ok?"

He stopped again, wide eyed.

" What?" he asked.

They yawned.

" I smell blood."

Oh, he thought. They were worried about him? That's actually really sweet. When was the last time anyone got worried for him? Vere and Kuras maybe. But they knew he could handle himself. It's what's he's good at. Looking out for himself when no one will. When everyone else leaves eventually.

But maybe MC wanted to stick around.

He smiled, unsure if they could see his face so he made sure they could hear it in his voice.

" I'm just fine sparrow. It's not my blood you're smelling."

They smiled back before yawning again.

" Good. Well see ya later I guess..."

They curled back into their blanket and pillow, already drifting. He took in the sight one last time before leaving and closing the door.

" Yeah see ya later."

The barkeep and every wander through the night had no idea why the feared demon renegade, Ais, had the softest smile on his face all the way back to the wastelands.

#touchstarved game #touchstarvedgame #ais touchstarved #ais #ais x reader #touchstarved ais x reader #red spring studios #vere #leander #touchstarved #breaking news local eridia demon bad boy who claims to have no friends gets giddy over having a new friend #him and vere need to stop tripping they like each other 🙄 #vere low key liking mc mostly because ais likes them #leander liking mc cuz he's a lonely big tiddy loser who gets jealous of ais and honestly I like that about him #its so funny haw vere can't stand him #also he totally knew that vere poured out the medicine 😂 #god I love it when when bad boy character types softly pine for their love interests🥺💕 #autocorrect keeps mispelling all their names except for leander😤

[saintobio]

LOST WORLD

“when the end approaches, but the apocalypse is long lived.”

pairing. satoru gojou, reader

genre. angst, post apocalypse au

warnings. unedited, gore, death, zombies infectious diseases

Do you remember what life was before Satoru Gojou?

It was sad. Miserable. Pathetic in every sense. The world had no meaning, and existing felt like a punishment rather than a privilege. The things you were doing had no purpose. They were repetitive, soulless, and depressing. Each time you’d find yourself staring outside of the window, the skies were becoming gloomier. The miasma of decay was getting thicker. There was scarcity in food and water. Yet, there was no option to go outside of your abandoned home when an eerie fog with the acrid smell of rotting flesh and blood were everywhere haunting you.

At one point, rather than trying to survive in a world that no longer welcomed you, you believed it would have been easier to just perish. Die at long last just like everyone else you knew. The people who once had a family, a lover, a pet, and a friend—they used to be people like you. Alive and breathing under your warm skin and fully-functioning set of human organs. But now, they were the opposite of what you once knew. They had become ghastly, tottering creatures looking at you with their frenzied, colorless eyes, and their putrid, saliva-filled mouths. In fact, when a couple of them managed to break into your home, staggering to chase you around the house with the rabid eagerness to masticate on your innards, you thought of finally just letting things be. After all, no one was left. You were probably the only living being in an area full of decomposing, white-blanched corpses. With their wretched appearance and fetid smell, the last bits of humor inside of you wanted to go along and mimic their series of raspy growls. You were dying, anyway. Finally.

You knew you were dying. You anticipated how their disease would soon be inching its way into your flesh.

That, with no resistance, you would let yourself be one of them.

That was your plan. That was… until every single zombie in your vicinity was sniped with a shotgun. You could barely move as bits of flesh, blood, and sinew flew all over the place. Their skulls—busted. Their entrails—falling out. You would have screamed in disgust after seeing maggots crawl out of their eyes, but then your eyes caught sight of the hero who saved the poor damsel in distress. His arctic white hair, electric blue eyes, and porcelain skin. There was no sign of a single disease in his body.

Damn. How could one person shoot a shotgun with such precision and accuracy? But more importantly, how much of a cliche was it for him to show up and be your savior at the brink of your death?

“Satoru Gojou,” he’d easily introduced himself, pulling his makeshift mask down while standing tall behind the army of foul-smelling beasts that he just massacred. What a cool man. What a dream. What a… what a… hold on, wasn’t he too good to be true?

“I must be dead,” you even joked at the time despite your struggle to catch your breath, “There’s no way a random guy would just come up here and save me like this.”

One smirk from him was all it took to completely win you over. “You don’t look dead to me.” And then a hand to help you up. “Come on, we gotta leave this place.”

And so you did. You were brought to a safe haven that you never thought existed. You were acquainted with people who had a beating heart and an uninfected brain. You were given the golden ticket to cohabit with them in a secured camp and an acceptable living condition. Everything was rationed, but you had no right to ask for much in a situation like that. All you could offer was your gratefulness, and every time you saw your godly, angel-faced hero, you could not help but think of how much you owe your living life to him.

So much so that you would think about ways to approach him without becoming a bother. He was your typical popular guy, expected by the others to rescue their lives. You were just one of the many. He had the virtue of a soldier, ready for war just to make sure that his people were safe and sound. Maybe he actually was in the army before, which could explain the reason for his expertise in guns and survival. There was no way for you to know when you barely had the chance to talk to him, and sincerely thank him at the very least, for saving your life when you almost lost it.

But then, he must have heard the same thing from the countless women who followed his tail each time he arrived back in the camp. The ladies would scramble on their feet just to make sure that they were tending to his needs; feeding him warm meals, treating his wounds, making him laugh.

You see, crushing on a stranger was a ridiculous idea, especially in the middle of an apocalyptic world. You kept that thought in your head as you stepped through a pile of mud, cursing under your breath while continuing towards the pathway to the bonfire. No, you didn’t make it there. Because someone had smoothly pulled you by the belt loop, dragging you behind the tree before he revealed his most admiring self.

“S-Satoru,” you stammered without a reason. Or maybe you did have a reason. He was good-looking enough that your thoughts were becoming jumbled. A hot mess, truly, with his mop of white hair and his piercing blue eyes. Not to mention his parted, pink lips and his slightly exposed toned chest.

“You’re really out here pretending I don’t exist, huh?” There was that playful tone and that goddamned attractive smirk. With his hand moving to your lower back and his forearm resting on the trunk of the tree, you almost let out a swoon. “I was waiting for you to approach me.”

You turned your face away a little, only to a certain degree so he wouldn’t notice the heat on your cheeks. “That’s funny ‘cause… since that day, I’ve actually been waiting, too.”

“Hmm?” he tilted his head and deepened his gaze.

“I mean, waiting for an opportunity,” you clarified, releasing an awkward chuckle, “to talk to you and thank you. You’re just always surrounded by people, so…”

He straightened his posture as he pulled away and began nodding his head, as if he was connecting the dots in his head. “You can always walk up to me. Anytime,” he assured, “I’d actually love to know you more.”

You knew what everyone else might be thinking; ‘Seriously? You’re having a love affair in this situation?’

Well, if you were going to meet death, anyway, why should you settle being a miserable, lonely woman?

“You’re a miserable, lonely woman,” spoke one of the survivors in your cabin, Meredith, glaring at you with her arms crossed across your bunker. “That, or you just truly lost it.”

While she was laughing and moving her index finger in circles beside her head, the other survivor was decent enough to shush her, telling her to stop throwing insults towards you. “Quit doing that. She needs time to adjust,” said Shoko Ieiri, “It’s traumatizing out there, you know?”

“Yeah, but she still needs to help us with some errands here! We’re not living here for free. We have duties. Ugh… I’m so sick of cleaning the nasty toilets.”

“She’ll come around. Be patient with her.”

“She’s been here for two months! She can’t just stay in her bunker all day and do nothing!”

“Meredith—”

“Hey, lunatic!” her amber eyes bore into you. “Wake the fuck up and get your ass workin’. If you really wanna survive, you need to do your job.”

You took a deep breath and sighed. “Can I… Can I see Satoru first?”

Meredith let out a groan. “Here we go again.”

“Wh-Why?” you asked, frantically. “I just… I wanna talk to him. I wanna thank him for saving me.”

This time, it was Ieiri who sat at the corner of your bed, patting your back in a soothing motion. “Satoru is…” she hesitated. “He’s not here, Y/N. He never was.”

As if lightning struck your entire body. “What do you mean? What do you—? He was here. He was just talking to me last night!”

“I know, I know.” Ieiri sent you a look of sympathy. Sympathy that you didn’t really ask for. “I understand it’s been a difficult time. It’s been a really traumatizing experience, but trust me, everything’s going to be okay.”

You held onto her arms as tears pooled your eyes. All those voices in your head, the pain in your heart… “S-Stop. What are you saying, Ieiri? He was… He was with me.”

“He’s dead,” she said the very words you refused to hear. “He didn’t survive the first wave of zombies that infested our town.”

“But…” You shook your head in hard refusal. “But he was there, he rescued me.”

“It was Suguru who did,” Ieiri confirmed, reaching what appears to be a bottle of Fanapt pills under your pillow. “Satoru’s not with us anymore. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for your loss.”

#hello i’m not really back #i’m just dumping a wip that was rotting in my drafts for a long time #hope everyone’s been doing well #also i think i wrote sumn like this before but for another character #idk if this even makes sense #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojou x reader #satoru gojou x you

[solisaureus]

Okay So

- Hazel and Nico will each give the other the bigger half when splitting food

- Hazel and Nico often shared a bed on the argo ii

- Bianca was goth first

- All of them have freaky good vision in the dark

-Hazel forgets to blink or breathe sometimes, and often creeps people out. Either her body is used to being dead or she got a new one on being resurrected but her mind hasn't caught up yet. Both creepy options. Scary Hazel Rights.

- she also needs a heavy weight on top of her her be able to sleep. She doesn't like this about herself.

- Nico has ringbinders full of mythomagic cards which he reorganises by a new theme every morning. He also has metaphorical binders full of autism.

- I was gonna put a Maria one here but I could go on about Maria di Angelo for a decade and not be done

- Hazel like my little pony and strawberry shortcake

- Hazel draws a lot of fanart

- Nico has his own special set of black scrubs for helping in the infirmary

- Nico knits (mostly socks), Will crochets (mostly blankets). They both learnt from their mothers.

- Will and Nico go vintage shopping together. Nico likes collecting vintage toys.

- Nico refers to himself as "a homosexual" exclusively I don't care that canon says otherwise canon lied

- Will breeds maggots and leeches for uuuhhh.... medical purposes....

- Nico styles his hair deliberately in a bats nest. Hazel doesn't know that this is deliberate and thinks he is just scruffy.

- Hazel plucks Nico's monobrow realtrue canon feature as an experiment. Will cried seeing his boyfriend with 2 (two!!) Eyebrows.

- the only person will has acted jealous around is pranjal. Nico isn't sure if it's the boyfriend kind of jealousy or some weird healer envy (it's both)

There's probably more knocking about in between my skull and my one brain cell but I am a sleepy boy \(°○°)/

THESE ARE AMAZING i'm so here for scary hazel. i always hated the whole "nico is creepy and deathly while hazel is warm and soft" thing like....hazel is literally an undead child of pluto let her be creepy too?!?! i love the hc that she forgets to breathe and blink. sooo good

also yessss i also hc that children of hades/pluto can see in the dark

will would absolutely 100% acquire goth black scrubs for nico. hed give them to nico as a gift and nico would hold back tears cus he loves them so much

also the idea that nico deliberately styles his hair to look Like That is so accurate and such a 15 year old emo kid thing to do. i feel so seen rn. skjdhfkj will seeing nico with two eyebrows and like gently touching the plucked part like "who hurt you"

#i like that nico calls himself gay though personally. when i read him calling himself gay for the first time i did scream for joy #ask #heresronnie21

[anya-anya002]

ℭ𝔬𝔫𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔦𝔬𝔫

ꜰᴜɴᴇʀᴀʟ ᴅɪʀᴇᴄᴛᴏʀ! ᴀʟᴇx ᴛᴜʀɴᴇʀ x ꜰᴇᴍ ᴀᴘᴘʀᴇɴᴛɪᴄᴇ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ˢᵘᵐᵐᵃʳʸ: the block party that set everything off-

𝑰𝒏𝒄𝒍𝒖𝒅𝒆𝒔: age gap relationship, your best friend’s dad, discussions of being a mortician, discussions of death…

𝙹𝚞𝚕𝚢 𝟷𝟻

𝟸𝟶:𝟺𝟻

𝙼𝚊𝚛𝚊’𝚜 𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚎 *𝟸 𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚢*

The scent of ‘Pink’ perfume filled your nose as you entered Mara’s bedroom. Her constant spraying of the citrusy scent was headache-inducing, yet she clearly didn’t mind. Mara sat on the bench in her window with a brush and cranberry white claw in one hand. Her dirt-colored eyes were much like her father’s, they glittered in warm, soft, pink light much like how gold tells you it’s in soil.

Your eyes cast down to your beat up converse where your toes wiggled awkwardly. Mara hummed along to the bubbly, feel-good pop song that played.

“Y/N,” Mara said. A small crescent-shaped grin formed on her lips as she took a sip of her seltzer. You narrowed your eyes before taking a seat right next to her.

“What?” You asked but she just cheesed even wider, a ghoulish grin. Unfortunately, her skin gained a few more wrinkles which made you cringe. Mara then rested a hand on your lap before speaking,

“I heard Anderson would come,” she smiled as your eyebrow then raised. You scoff,

“Yea? And you’re happy about it for…” you said. You had no clue as to where this was going, but nonetheless, you entertained it.

“I’m happy because Emerson told me that Anderson likes you,” you felt all the blood in your body drain like slicing open a bottle and watching its contents crash onto the floor. You looked at Mara like she was from fucking Mars:

Anderson, meaning Anderson Durr, the guy who ate a fucking maggot senior year of high school.

“Oh really?” You asked. Your eyes nearly rolled out your skull; why the fuck did you entertain this shit? You sighed and crossed your arms and legs.

“I’m serious Y/N/N! He likes you.” Mara said, sitting her brush down in her lap and can only the sill.

“He ate a maggot Mar, and not in a cool way,” you said, apparently it was now her turn to give you a look.

“Oh, so there’s a cool way to eat maggots?”

“Duh, you lie and say you ate maggots in like a semi-acceptable place like a cemetery or something, not the trashcan of your buddy John’s house.”

She blinked, then looked at you; this time it was you who was the “martian.”

“Ew Y/N,” Mara grimaced before turning back to the glowing vanity mirror that sat across her on an ottoman. Picking up the flat iron instead and running through her long, chestnut hair that couldn’t be any straighter if she tried. The soft lavender sheets brush against your hands as you wait.

“That’s how I feel about Anderson,” you quipped, digging in your purse and pulling out your vape. Mara’s eyes rolled and before she could respond, the door opened. You hastily shove your nicotine back in your pocket upon getting a glimpse of Mr. Turner. He wasn’t too dressed up, ironically, you didn’t think he even owned a pair of shorts let alone shorts and a baggy tee.

“You girls ready to go?” He asked.

Your eyes were glued to his bicep, following this one vein that ran from the middle of his brachia to his wrist. You were speechless, your gaze full of amazement while Mara groaned loudly, throwing her head back dramatically as Alex shook his head.

“Daaaad, why couldn’t we have gotten dressed at Y/N’s house?” Mara whined, now powdering her face with foundation as her father rolled his eyes, shifting his gaze towards you.

“Because Mrs. Y/L/N said they wanted no one there until 10, anymore questions princess?” He asked, leaning against the doorframe and trying to stop himself from rolling his eyes. You turn to the window to see the sun beginning to make its slow descent while the two joked behind you.

“It still would’ve been more convenient,” she pointed out, to which you turned to shrug at her. Your eyes trying to return to Alex as you join in.

“So you wanna be setting up the party?” You asked again, rhetorically. You got an abrupt snigger out of Mr. Turner before Mara leaned back and groaned, sticking her bottom lip out as you giggle along.

𝙹𝚞𝚕𝚢 𝟷𝟻𝚝𝚑

𝟸𝟸:𝟷𝟶

𝚈/𝙽’𝚜 𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚎

Unsurprisingly, your parents did a damn good job for a pair of overworked lawyers, they out did themselves once again with games that had prizes like a mini Keurig or a really popular face cream that the neighborhood moms have been raving about for days. All while the chocolate fountain your mom must’ve dug up from the garage oozed with cheese fondue. You could smell the white wine she put in the sauce. At least they both seemed happy.

You leaned against the back of the house, completely enthralled with with a “tense game of cornhole” between your father and Mr.Turner as Mr. Durr, Mr. Camden, Ms. Erickson watched the two men become sore losers for 20 minutes.

Mara was busy playing wing lady…when you didn’t necessarily want or need one.

And by the looks of it, Mara was becoming more interested in him. She tugged on the straps of her bikini bottoms, leaning on the snowcone table while the blonde scratched the back of his head awkwardly. The maggot-eater’s eyes constantly tried to meet yours, yet you avoided him, turning your sights back to the riveting cornhole.

“You’re cheating’ Turner! There’s no overhand throws!”

“Christ Y/L/N, this isn’t beerpong,”

A laugh couldn’t help but come out of you as the two men turn to you, Mr. Turner’s gaze was more quizzical. You froze, clearing your throat, and then weakly waving. A tooth smile crept on your face as everyone chuckled and achingly reverted back to the game.

A grin began to grave Mr. Turner’s face as he tossed a bean bag into the ‘50’ point hole all while holding a bottle of ‘Blue Moon’ and hooting out hollering when it went all the way in. His smile big as he pumped a fist high into the air.

Never in your life had you seen someone, let alone Mr.Turner, this pumped for a literal block party game of cornhole.

To your father’s dismay, the two of them were tied. And for some reason, they both decided that to break said tie is to see who can throw the farthest. Your mother stood at the grill, scoffing and tutting at the two men bickering over who, what when, and where they’d even throw the bean bag.

Mrs. Parks-Turner shook her head as well while watching everything go down with Mr. Hannigan and Mrs. Jones. The three were throughly amused by the fools before them. The two men’s argument became a match of who should’ve won in the first place.

𝙹𝚞𝚕𝚢 𝟷𝟼

𝚈/𝙽’𝚜 𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚎

𝟶𝟸:𝟹𝟻

The party had long since died down as you kicked your feet in the pool as you hum tired and slightly tipsy as your heels sloshed against the surface of the water. In the backyard, everyone and almost everything from the party was gone— save for your father, Mr. Turner, and the cornhole set up your mother had told him to put away three hours ago. But the two still tossed their bags. The soft thuds of the bean bags fill your ears, followed by a whispered curse from one of the men, usually your father.

You couldn’t help but crack a smile as the thunks continued for 20 more minutes. The two of softly quarreling as you kick at the water more.

“You didn't make that,” your father pointed out, only for Mr. Turner to grumble in response. The ‘thwuaps’ against the wood followed as you watched a floating leaf glide atop your submerged feet.

“And you still have 50 points,” Alex teased before another, much louder ‘thonk’ filled the backyard.

After a few more minutes of them two tossing, sipping beers, and shit-talking, your father decided to call it a night.

“Fuck, you won this game, Turner,” your dad said, sucking his teeth at the score and sighing loudly.

“Y/N,” you turned your head to the two standing before the cornhole board. Your eyes crept to Mr.Turner, the beer had made his cheeks and nose all red. The swim trunks he wore were slightly damp, making the print in his shorts more noticeable.

"Sweetheart, make sure to show Mr. Turner out please," your dad finishes before strolling into the house through the house through the sliding glass door.

Your head then whipped to Mr. Turner who's now strolling towards you, still cradling his beer as he plopped down right next to you. The lukewarm pool water that hugged your ankles was quite pleasant as Alex looked at you with a soft grin.

"I heard you're talking up the same field as mine," he said. He was beaming with excitement as you nod in agreement.

"Yea, I wanna be like a coroner or like, the person that mainly works 'behind the scenes', y'know, you said, your fingers idly plucking at the blades of grass. Mortuary Science, it wasn't your first choice for a degree but it was Alex who made you run to it. You weren't too used to death, hell you've never even been to a funeral until last year.

He laughed his chest bobbing up and down as yours became icy. Your eyes shut tight before he breathed.

"That's truly a dream, Y/N," he said, the guards of his beer bottle fill your ears while you sigh.

"What we do is, we bring solace to those in mourning. Yea, we look at dead bodies and yea, it's pretty cool. But, we bring people back to life in a way-"

"You're Dr. West?"

He laughed loudly, the glass bottle still clutched tightly to his chest as a crooked smile appeared on your face. That laugh alone defrosted any cold you felt inside.

“No. Say, for example we get someone who was in a car accident, and their face has a large gash. Our job, is to give them their humanity— their personhood back. To reconstruct them back to what their family remembers them by,” he said, his gaze at the glimmering pool lights deepened as you gawked at him in utter adoration.

“Our job isn’t always ‘weirdos’ or ‘death obsessed freaks,’ it’s for the families of the deceased,” he finished. Your eyes big and glossy as your heart sped up.

“Yea? Is it a hard job?” You asked, your curiosity peaked as Alex took a swing of his beer.

“No job is truly easy, as much as I could and would love to write about the intricacies of human anatomy, there are days in which I can’t say is mature or natural,” he paused, his stare now blank as his eyes grew glossy as he gazes at the starry night sky. His legs slowly kick within the water as you breathe.

“It’s not a big city or anything so, yea, you see people you know every now and then and you try and put your feelings aside and do anything for them, but then you have to stop or you’ll become a perfectionist,” he said, his eyes reddened as he took one more swig of his drink.

“So, what— how do you— what do you do during that time?” You asked him, utterly dumbfounded by his words as he takes a breath.

“I can’t not embalm them, their family needs to view them before they fully go,” Alex said, looking at the big, golden moon as you could continued idly kick at the still water.

“Is it, is it possible to be a mortician if you’ve never experienced grief?” You asked shyly. You felt your heart crackle as he set the bottle of beer down.

“Of course you can, it’s not about death itself, it’s about empathy,” Alex said, his voice soft as you nod slowly.

“Y/N?”

“Yea?”

“Do want to know who I had to embalm on my 27th birthday?”

You looked at him, both your giggles had stopped and Alex’s glossy eyes were becoming pink.

“Who?” You asked, the silence was thick, tense, and palpable as he shook his head mournfully. A small, silly smile cracked on his face as if he heard a joke. However, there’s no joke to be told.

“My favorite uncle, he died of sepsis,” he whispered. Your eyes widened as he covered his eyes with his palm. His breathing now heavy as you gawked at him in disbelief.

“He was an old man, lived a good life, but…seeing him, all bloated and stinkin’, it did something to me. He was partially decomposed from the summer and being in his apartment for two weeks.” Your eyes were bigger than the pool lights as he continued. His voice laden with sorrow as you press your lips together tightly.

“But, his face—I can’t ever forget how…pained his face was. And to imagine that—that was his last moments on this earth; pain.” He said, looking at the crisp, blue water as a tear trickled down his cheek.

“And, I embalmed him, did his hair real nice and put on his favourite mustard crushed velvet suit, but I just…couldn’t, I couldn’t bring myself to touch him up or even set his features,” he said. Somehow, his voice stayed still while he lamented.

“Vivienne had to finish the rest— I couldn’t take it anymore I had to hide in the bathroom,” Alex whimpered towards the end, his tears damn near tricked down his chin. His breathing ragged, you’d never seen anyone cry like this. Your heart wrenched as he attempted to shield himself from your sight.

Trembling, you scoot closer, your eyes locke on the reddened tip of his nose that had a fat tear hanging of it. Your fingers twitched as Alex tried to calm himself, your mind screamed to do something. But, how does one comfort anyone on something they’ve never experienced?

You decided to wrap your arms around him.Pullling him in by the shoulders and breathing just as raggedly as him, like the embrace stole your breath.

“You made him look the best before his send-off,” you whispered, caressing his shoulder blades as he continued to weep. His face buried deep in your chest as muffled sniffles filled your ear.

“Yeah, I did,” he croaked. You smiled at him as your fingers idly brushed against his back more.

“And knowing you, you probably picked the best floral arrangement for him,” you whispered, your eyes big in confusion while you continued your shot at comforting Mr. Turner. His sobs finally died down.

“Yea, his girlfriend told me everything I needed to know for the memorial,” he said, his eyes red andand stinging from all the crying as you pluck a napkin from your paper plate and dabbed away at the remain tears.

“I'd say that's all that matters,” you coo. Mr. Turner pulled away to look at you. His eyes were still glossy and bright red as he gazed into yours. The look you gave him was one of pity, face soft as the soft splashes of the pool and shrill chirps of crickets fill the quiet yard.

“I mean,” you stammer. Ripping your eyes from his while your stomach twists in knots.

“If I were to die…it’d be nice to know that my remains is truly in good hands,” you praised, then cringing internally at the statement while awkwardly rubbing the backs of his shoulders as he cracked a grin.

“Dare I say it, it seems quite intimate,” you said. To which Alex’s head shot up, his big brown eyes looked into yours as the knots in your stomach twisted tighter.

“Intimate you say?” you nodded, your face scorched at the way your hands were firmly wrapped around his shoulders as you stared deep into his eyes again.

The crickets, splashes, and gusts of a rare breeze fill the yard once more before you spoke,

“To know that I'm putting my image or memory in the hands of someone who knows me, it means a lot,” you said. Alex blinked, his arms still snaked around your lower waist as you shuddered.

“It is isn't it?” he said, his eyes softened as both of you grew lost in each other.

“Yea,” you breathed, watching him look down at your lips for a moment before returning back to your eyes.

“So,” he coughed, trying to ease your apparent tension. You turn back to the sliding glass door only to see the lights were then off.

“So, being a mortician is…not always just organs and cool tools?” you said. Not necessarily asking him, yet Alex nodded in agreement.

“Yea, its not very glamorous honestly,” he joked, his arms still around your waist like their only job was to hold you.

“But, I think you'd make a wonderful addition to the Parks’ home? If that's what you want,” he finished, his voice hushed.

“What do you mean?” you asked, raising an eyebrow and perplexing at him.

“I mean…maybe you become, my student— of sorts,”

As soon as he finished his words, you felt like doing backflips or exploding into batches of sugar. You gasped in surprise as Mr. Turner leaned in close. Your heart boomed in your chest while he came closer. Cool breath brushed against your face and lips as he pulled your hips in close.

“You'd really do all that for me?” your voice airy as your grip on his shoulders tighten in anticipation. Your face burned as the yellow moonlight glittered against the bright, blue pool water,

“Of course, I would,” he finished. A grin formed on your face as your lips inch ever so close. His plush pink lips ghosted over your lip gloss-covered ones as you sighed. And then, during the quiet excitement that buzzed between you, he kissed you.

Your eyes fluttered shut as you lapped up the taste of beer on his tongue. Your hands crept up his spine as you melted within his arms, shuddering beneath him while he reached a hand towards your cheek.

Both your lips moved in sync as your bodies pressed together tightly. The air was dense as you tangled your legs with his.

You both were completely entangled in the little world you created for each other. His hair brushed against the side of your cheeks while his thumbs stroked your cheek.

Everything was…fine, even great dare you say.

(🧎🏿 work is ass)

𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒈𝒆𝒅: @yourstartreatment @himesuedi @disfordangerous4 @harrysbestiee

* 4 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒔 🫧~

#anya—anya #my fics #alex turner #arctic monkeys #alex turner x you #alex turner x y/n #alex turner x reader #practicum #mentor x mentee #best friends dad #funeral director! alex #mortuary au #tw.death #weird death talks #angst to fluff #fluff to angst to fluff? #the last shadow puppets

[melonba11s]

Dependent (Lawrence/MC Fic)

Several months ago I uploaded an incomplete version of this fic. Now the full version is here, and I hope you all enjoy it!

Minors and Ageless blogs do not interact, you will be blocked.

Contains: Description of rot, amputation, mutilation. Gender Neutral MC who has a vagina, Lawrence.

Morning was coming. You had been up all night. Not that you had much of a choice anymore. He controlled most of your life now, from what you ate, what you did… How you looked. You laid on your side, staring at the remains of what had once been working limbs. 

Skin twisted and fused over exposed bone and muscle, not unlike the gnarled roots of an old tree. Pushed and forced to bend to the will to the rest of the forest around it, or in this case, to the will of Lawrence’s crude stitches and strange salves. You couldn’t remember much from when he took them, only that smile on his face as he looked down at you. You thought for sure you would die. Visit the river and allow yourself to float away as he described. 

For a while you had found yourself wishing that you had died that day, blood pooling out of your severed limbs and flooding the floor around you. Warm but cold, you could still feel it lapping at your bare skin if you did not keep your mind occupied enough. You had moved past those feelings of wishing you were gone though. You had spent so long mourning the things you would never do again, from the mundane things such as holding a pen or snapping your fingers, to the joys of life such as petting a friendly cat or cooking delicious food. 

You had been depressed, and it had annoyed Lawrence. At first he had tried to help you feel better, you remembered the flower crowns he’d clumsily made from poppies, his favorite flower, the chains of clover he’d make out in the woods and bring in to dress you in. Gentle kisses on your eyelids, assuring you that you looked beautiful. 

You hadn’t felt beautiful though. You’d felt broken, a waste of space. And soon enough he grew sick of trying to comfort you. 

“Forget it.” he had said one day, showing you the delicate bird skull he had found in the woods, covered in moss. You had barely lifted your head in acknowledgment of his waxing poetics over the beauty of the thin bones. And his bitter tone had sent a shiver up your spine, and instantly, dread had filled your stomach. 

You had upset him. So you had struggled to sit up. 

“N-No! Go on!” Desperate, you whimpered in pain as you attempted to move towards him. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry-” the apologies kept falling from your lips, like the petals from a cherry tree blossoming in spring. And with each apology, your world closed in around you until his apartment was all that was left of it. Upsetting him felt far worse than anything else in the world now. 

 Lawrence would bring you bits of the outside world that was now alien to you home. Food, Flowers, Plants, Bones, sometimes little gifts. On his days off, he would go to the forest to work on his art. 

His art… You had not been spared from becoming part of his artwork. Or at least, what had once been you. Lawrence hadn’t put those delicate fingers and lovely red strings of muscle to waste. You remember cringing and letting out a strangled sob when he first showed you the photos. What had once been your arms and legs had been broken and manipulated into crude poses, sticking up from the dirt and reaching for the sun and stars, a macabre flower. 

Eventually though you began paying attention to his words as he showed you the pictures he took. His art was different from anything you’d ever seen in a museum. Unlike a Van Gogh painting, which remained the same no matter how much time passed, every minute, every day, every month contributed to his pieces. 

You now asked to see the photos when he would return from the woods. Greens and grays adding themselves without being asked too, creeping across the skin like spilled paint. Maggots and beetles, forever moving, ensuring that the piece would never remain the same from one second to the next. Skin falling slipping and falling from now purple toned muscle, exposing pale bone that glowed in comparison to the dark colors surrounding it. 

    And how happy he looked when he’d bring out his phone to show you the photos, the shine in his eyes as he explained what had happened, what had been added by the earth to the art now. So you asked to see more, to see other pieces. If you could be so bold though, none of his other pieces compared to what he had made with you. Animal bones and flesh could only do so much, after all. 

But Lawrence wasn’t here right now. Your only source of human contact was gone more often than not. He worked a night job, and slept during the day. Thus you had grown used to sleeping during the day and staying awake all night, waiting only for him to return. And as content as you became to sit and wait for him, you still became restless. You could still remember the day, a few months ago perhaps? You’d had enough, no matter how much it hurt, you needed it. You needed to move, you needed agency. 

You had rolled yourself off the bed with a sharp whine of pain as you hit the floor. You laid there for what felt like hours, preparing yourself. Then you moved your left arm, resting part of your weight on it. It hurt, and you let out a sob. The pain would have to come second though. Tears flowed freely, though you kept yourself as quiet as possible, so as not to disturb Lawrences neighbors. Eventually you had managed to balance yourself on all fours, shaking, panting, choking on your own breath. 

You crawled around in circles slowly, leaving a trail of tears and spit as you kept going, telling yourself that it would hurt for a while. And that’s how Lawrence had found you, about to collapse, still moving, your stumps mottled with bruises, eyes puffy and red, mouth dry.  You were so immersed in your own mind that you didn’t notice him until he spoke, his voice louder than usual.

“What are you doing?” he had been angry, lifting you up easily and setting you on the same chair you had sat in when he first brought you home. You couldn’t explain yourself sufficiently to him, he couldn’t seem to understand how much you needed to move. 

“You’re never getting out of here. You’re mine.” he growled, his face close to yours. 

“I don’t want to leave, I don’t.” You kept repeating yourself, still in tears, but now those tears were from the knowledge you had hurt him, made him angry.  No matter how many times you said those words, you had not convinced him that you were not trying to leave. So for a time he had forced you to drink some strange tea before he left, leaving you there unable to move, unable to speak, barely able to breath. 

When did he begin to trust you? You thought hard back through the past. When he had first stopped making you swallow his bitter mixes, stopped tying you to the bed so you couldn’t roll off, stopped attempting to control your movements. Your thoughts were interrupted by the jiggle of a key. He was home. 

You slid yourself off the bed with practiced ease now, making your way across the floor, but also making sure you were out of view of the doorway in case someone was passing by. They wouldn’t understand either of you. They’d try to separate you both. You’d never see Lawrence again, a thought too painful to dwell on for long. Only when you heard Lawrence close the door behind him, and the harmony of clicks as he locked the door back up, did you make yourself seen. 

Moving as fast as you could across the floor, you lifted yourself onto your hind legs, pawing at his leg and whining, looking up into those stormy blue eyes as he smiled down at you. 

“There you are…” he mumbled, setting down his bags as he got to his knees, running a hand along your back, as if you were a cat he had taken in off the streets. He nuzzled his cheek against yours, pulling you close, his hug more like a vice grip. He buried his face into your hair, which had grown long over the months, running his fingers through it like a wind blowing through overgrown grass. He was inhaling your scent, the familiar musk of his apartment, the spiciness of the homemade medicine he would apply to your stumps, the ever so faint smell of fake lavender from the cheap shampoo he used on you. 

“I got you a gift…” his voice was soft, as he dug through one of the bags he had with him. “Don’t laugh… It’s stupid but, when I saw it in the machine, I thought of you. I figured maybe you’d like it.” 

He had stuffed it into the bag, crushed and folded to hide it from others view. But you could tell it was soft, fluffy even. He dug his hand into the soft fabric, pulling out a large, floppy rabbit. It was anything but natural, a bright blue, an expression more human than animal on its flat face. Unlike anything Lawrence would ever like, something he would never usually bring into his home. But he did, entirely for you.

“I love it!” you instantly dove into it, almost kneading it with your forearms as you nuzzled it with your cheek. Something to hold onto as best you could as you waited for Lawrence to return. “Thank you so much, I love it so much.” you repeated those words yet again. A practiced repetition. One that ensured Lawrence and comforted him, letting him know he made the right decision. You stopped your cuddling of your new toy though and fell still as your stomach growled, loudly. 

Lawrence fumbled around suddenly. Whenever you gave signs of needing something, like food or water, he would always rush to find the thing you needed. Scared of watching you wither away like one of his plants would if he were not attentive enough. 

“Dinner, that’s right. Uh.” He rustled through his bags. Lawrence didn’t keep much food in the house, he once told you that it all seemed to rot way too quickly. Much of the food you consumed thus, was either convenience store fare or fast food. Though you remembered fondly the time he had splurged a little, and gotten take-away from a family restaurant down the road. 

“I uh, got us some hamburgers today.” He held up the familiar brown bag, grease starting to soak the bottom of it. “Let me just, get us some plates and cut yours up for you.” 

He stood, hurrying off to prepare the food. At first, Lawrence had insisted on hand feeding you, something he still enjoyed doing now and then. But eventually, he allowed you to feed yourself when able too. You didn’t find it humiliating at all, crouched on the floor, eating off a plate like a dog, unable to wipe your mouth or pick things out of your teeth. Entirely dependent on him when you ran into something as mundane as that. 

Just the way he liked it. You watched patiently, from your spot on the floor as he prepared the food, carefully cutting your hamburger up into bite size chunks. As he set it down, the sloppily stacked ingredients fell apart and toppled onto the plate. It was becoming less like a sandwich and more like some housewives weird casserole. 

You didn’t mind though, there wasn’t much you could do about it, and in the end, it would taste pretty much the same. Unceremoniously, Lawrence dumped the fries next to them, before covering them liberally in ketchup. 

“Here you go.” he said, his expression soft and welcoming, the same he had when he watered one of his plants. You closed your eyes and leaned into his touch as he patted your head, relishing in the affectionate touch as he set the plate on the floor with a soft clink. 

Lawrence wouldn’t mind if you just began eating right away, but you still liked to wait for him to settle down next to you. Lawrence didn’t really eat to enjoy things, rather, he ate to sustain his physical body. 

“Starving is a really painful way to die. So is thirst.” he had said once over a package of cup noodles. He did like spicy stuff though, and he was almost abusive with hot sauce and peppers. You glanced over at him as he sat next to you, holding his own food in his hand. You didn’t need to look though, just sitting near him you could smell the “Extra hot sauce, add Jalapeno”, ordered in a quiet, monotone voice. 

As it always was, eating was a messy affair. At first, you had felt gross, feeling sauce, grease and crumbs stick to your face. The embarrassment of sticking your tongue out, trying to lick it off. Bright red as Lawrence held your face and gently dabbed at it with a napkin. 

You no longer cared, you reasoned with yourself that there was no shame in having help if you couldn’t do something. You could feel Lawrence’s eyes on you as you ate, messily using your tongue to help pull food into your mouth as your lips pushed it away. 

Mealtime wasn’t really a period for bonding with Lawrence, as it might be for families or couples, so you finished eating as quickly as you could. You never finished before Lawrence though, having hands made eating so easy after all. 

You sat patiently as Lawrence began wiping off your face, using a familiar napkin that he had this time, gotten a little damp under the faucet. It was relaxing, like a little massage, and you found yourself getting a little drowsy from it, despite the chill of the water. 

“All done.” You gave a small squeak as Lawrence lifted you. No matter how many times he did it, it was always a shock. You had nothing to grip him with, no fingers to curl into his clothes, no limbs to wrap around him. You were completely at his mercy, he could so easily drop you. 

You evened your breathing though as he held you snugly against his chest, rubbing his cheek against yours, taking in your scent again. You could tell he was in a mood, one of his moods that would always end in the same thing. 

You wriggled in place as he sat down on the bed, the mattress sinking under your combined weight. You obediently moved your head as Lawrence moved down to nuzzle his face into the crook of your neck and shoulder. His lips brushed against your pulse like a petal lost in the breeze, in contrast to his fingers, curled like the gnarled roots of an old tree gripping to the cliff it was perched on. Though in this case, that “cliff” was your hips. 

One of those hands eventually moved though, choosing to dance over the scarring of what was left of your legs. 

“Have you ever noticed…” He breathed quietly, tracing over the jagged uneven skin, “how when you’re injured… the surrounding area becomes so much more sensitive?” His tracing turned into slow strokes, and you found he was right. 

Each slight force of pressure sent tingles up your spine, and you bit down a moan as his hand warmed the area. 

“You’re hyper aware of any kind of sensation in the area…” He cupped the end of your thigh, circling his palm over it as if he were polishing it. You were so focused on his ministrations, how they sent hot flashes across your body, that you didn’t notice his spare hand sneaking down between your thighs. 

You let out a helpless mewl as he slid his hand over your underwear, pressing against your clit. 

“It feels similar, doesn’t it? The intensity of it.” He pressed, stroking over your folds at the same pace he did over the remainder of your leg. 

“Y-Yeah, it does…” You whispered, nodding. You could feel his erection, pressing through his sweats, against your back. Lawrence’s touch always got you aching for more so fast, you twisted around as best you could. 

“H-Hey, calm down, I’m sorry-” his apologies were cut off as you clumsily smashed your lips against his, writhing against him. You could feel yourself slipping off him, so your kissing became more fervent. Lawrence eventually came to his senses, shaking off the shock of your boldness, to grip your hips, pull you up his lap again, return your kisses. 

He wasn’t a very good kisser. He was nervous, never quite getting as into it as you would. He preferred his lips to be touching other parts of your body, such as your shoulders or stomach, rather than your lips. But he continued, and played along, because he knew you liked it. 

Distracted by kissing him, you barely noticed him grab your underwear, sliding them down with ease. You really wished you had hands, fingers, too curl into the waistband of his sweatpants, to pull his throbbing erection out with. To show him just how eager you were for him as well with your body language. 

Instead you were forced to let him lay you down on his bed, licking your lips as you stared up at him. Your arms instinctively moved to hug yourself as he pulled his sweatpants down, but the only thing that happened was the useless waving of your stumps. 

Stumps that before had the ability to hug someone, hold onto them, stroke their hair. Tears pricked at your eyes as you recalled again everything that you would never do again, what you would never be able to do for Lawrence. 

“Don’t cry…” Lawrence whispered, a hand reaching forward to stroke your face. He steadied your jerking movements with a hand on your thigh, spreading you open easily. 

Your eyes darted down to his cock, watching it twitch a little under your gaze. You figured what they said about tall men having bigger dicks had to be true, and even now, his size intimidated you. If you still had a forearm to use you’d insist on comparing the two. 

While his movements before were slow, meticulous, Lawrence always got impatient once he was finally out of his pants. He always felt more comfortable in less clothing, and him being more comfortable tended to lead to him being more frenzied. 

You bit your lip as he lined himself up, finding the right angle. He was panting softly, eyes squinted in concentration as he slid himself in. You were again reduced to small mewls, not wanting to startle him with a loud noise. Your eyebrows were furrowed as he pushed his way in, your walls flexing and pulsing around him. 

Getting used to his length always meant there was the first confusing, conflicting feelings of uncomfortable stretch, and how he’d rub against all your right spots. No matter how wet you were, it would always take a bit of time. 

Lawrence was fully hilted in you now, you could feel his pubic bone grind against your clit. He adored sinking himself all the way inside you and holding you in place, feeling your muscles twitch, the vibrations of your breathing and heart beating against his most intimate flesh. 

It always allowed you that precious time to get used to his length, shifting under him and moaning until- 

“L-Lawrence… p-please…” you began to beg for him to move. You never had to beg for long though, as much as you knew he enjoyed having power over you, you being dependent on him… You knew he’d always give in and give you what you wanted.

“Yes, of course.” he groaned, pulling himself out of your comfortable warm insides. He could never stay out for long though, snapping his hips forwards again to embed himself in again. 

You were at his mercy, no way to grab onto anything, as he quickly settled on his usual, fervent pace, pulling himself out nearly all the way before filling you up to the brim again. How his dick hit all the right places coming both in and out. 

Lawrence leaned against you, pinning your already mostly immobile body under him, moaning in your ear. 

“You’re so warm…” he groaned. “I can feel everything… the way your blood rushes through your veins and causes your flesh to swell, how soaking wet you are, all for me…” his words fell off into a groan as he gave a few harsher thrusts.

“You’re my own flower, I can unpeel your petals at anytime and make you bloom…” A hand dug into the back of your head and hair, pulling it up from the bed as you moaned. You were getting so close, wound up. 

“You’re such a tease, really… The way you coil up and contract… hiding yourself from me…” He was rambling now, something he usually did. And you were hooked onto his every word. 

“But I know you’re secrets… if I just… hit… the right… Spot…” You were shaking, panting, gasping for more. He was focused now, hitting your G-spot over and over again. Your stomach was tightening, a wave of emotions passing through you, thighs shaking, until-

“You’ll unfurl and show me your beauty…” he grunted, listening to you let out a cry of bliss, back arching to press against him while your head fell back against his grip, spreading yourself out for him. Lawrence managed a grin, his face soaked in sweat, before he hunched over, letting out a low moan. You felt his release spill inside you. 

You both stayed still for a moment, Lawrence liked staying inside as long as he could, feeling your walls contract around him as he grew soft. How he liked the feeling of pulling his limp cock out of your sensitive folds, how you always gave a small gasp as he came out with a small “pop”. 

“... I love you…” You mumbled softly, staring up at the ceiling as he buried his face back into your neck, planting those light kisses again. 

In your half awake state, you caught yourself thinking deeply again… Lawrence’s language equated you to a flower… You remember what he said once. 

Flowers are liars… They put on a colorful display to trick insects into helping them, either to reproduce or to eat. 

You were quickling nodding off, still feeling his lips on you, as they moved down to your collarbone. 

Was Lawrence letting himself be tricked by you? Or… was it more like a deer grazing in an open meadow. Your colorful display which helped you live, now letting the buck pick you out from the grass, devour you…

#Lawrence oleander #Lawrence btd #lawrence boyfriend to death #boyfriend to death #btd fanfic #lawrence btd fanfic #lawrence oleander fanfic #Boyfriend to Death Fanfic #Boyfriend to Death 2

[rammtwo]

☕ Wholesome OC Fav C Ask Meme 🍂

Wrap up your OC blorbo in a blanket burrito and let’s answer some questions!

What is their go-to comfort food? EDIBLE AUTOPSY

Give them a warm drink of your choice, what would it be? Would their choice differ from yours? FROM SKIN TO LIQUID

What is something they really like about themselves and what is something you really like about them? DEATH WALKING TERROR

What is the thing they like the most about their friends and what is the thing their friends like the most about them? THEY DESERVE TO DIE

What is the song you most associate to them? DEMENTED AGGRESSION

What is their favorite music genre? If they don’t have one, what’s their favorite song? RELENTLESS BEATING

What is their favorite movie, or a movie they would really enjoy? UNNATURAL

What is a smell that makes them feel at home? THE CRYPTIC STENCH

How would they react if a person they love (friends and family included) gave them a flower bouquet unexpectedly? HEADS SHOVELLED OFF

What is their favorite thing in the world? RITUAL ANNIHILATION

What is an item of clothing/an accessory that completes them/makes them feel safe? A SKULL FULL OF MAGGOTS

What is their safe place? And what does “safe place” mean to them? FESTERING IN THE CRYPT

Quickly, let them give us some life advice!  SHATTER THEIR BONES

Now you give them some life advice. EVIDENCE IN THE FURNACE

What was the happiest moment of their life? ORGASM THROUGH TORTURE

What positives did they extrapolate from the worst moment(s) of their life? PURIFICATION THROUGH FIRE

What is their favorite hobby? FRANTIC DISEMBOWELMENT

What is something they excel at? MAKE THEM SUFFER

What is their hidden talent? MEAT HOOK SODOMY

Which new skills they would really like to learn? ICEPICK LOBOTOMY

If they had to pick up an instrument, what would they choose?  PITCHFORK IMPALEMENT

How do they relax? THE STRANGULATION CHAIR

If they had to prepare a conference, what would be the topic of discussion? KILL OR BECOME

What would be their ideal romance? STRIPPED, RAPED AND STRANGLED

What is their romance’s theme song? FUCKED WITH A KNIFE

What would they do if their favourite pet suddenly fell asleep on their lap? BARBARIC BLUGEONINGS

They have a chance to get a tattoo: what would it be?  GROTESQUE

What is their love language? BLUNT FORCE CASTRATION

What is their favourite color? And which colors do they like to wear the most? RED BEFORE BLACK

Do they have any guilty pleasures? ADDICTED TO VAGINAL SKIN

What is something they’re ashamed of but others find extremely cute?  POST MORTAL EJACULATION

What would they gift to their partner or their best friends to show their affection? ENTRAILS RIPPED FROM A VIRGIN’S CUNT

Give them your credit card for five minutes; what would they buy? A CAULDRON OF HATE

If they could go back in time, how would they reassure their child-self about the future? THE UNDEAD WILL FEAST

What is their celebrity crush? How would they react if noticed by said crush? FOLLOWED HOME THEN KILLED

If they were a bath bomb, what scents and colors would you use to describe their personality? HIGH VELOCITY IMPACT SPLATTER

Let them vent for a second, without the fear of being judged. What would they like to say? I CUM BLOOD

And what would you say to comfort them? DIVIDE, CONQUER, BURN AND DESTROY*

(*Okay, that last one was a Serpentine Dominion song but it's all Corpsegrinder)

I feel that this was a valuable and productive use of my time!!!

#I WARNED YOU I WOULD DO THIS #cannibal corpse #metal masked assassin #metalocalypse #one of mine

[k-i-l-l-e-r-b-e-e-6-9]

#Cannibal Corpse #A Skull Full Of Maggots [Live] #A Skull Full Of Maggots #chris barnes era #my gif #gifs #my edit #text #gif #chris barnes #90's #1993 #90s #death metal #classic death metal #osdm #oldschool death metal #USA

[credince--writes]

Payphone

JITTERSVERSE

AO3

"And the maggots that eat my flesh will eat yours too! But they won't eat until I'm good and fucking ready- because I can't even say I'm good anymore!"

Things can go to shit a lot easier than they can get better.

John knew that.

He also knew that women were an angry type of creatures.

He remembered being a boy, his Dad angering his Ma, and than the groveling that would take place for the next week just for him to be able to sleep in the same bed as her again.

“Remember Johnny. The worst thing you can ever do.” She said, tugging his Dad’s head down by his ear. “Is to make a woman mad.”

Seem’s like it would pale in comparison to some of the things he’d done in his life- shit, some of the things he’d been doing now.

He’d split from the group, leading a small team of men toward a building to clear it out.

It’s why they called him Soap, after all.

They’d cleared the building, the eerie quiet drifting through the air save for the sounds of their boots creaking against the floors of buildings they weren’t welcome in.

“Building three clear.” He spoke into his radio.

“Copy.”

Ghost.

They’d have their ups and downs. This was just one of them. At least, that is how he would defend it in his mind, they just weren’t getting along as smoothly as they normally would-

Was that why he sent them off in a separate group?

No, 

This was tactical Johnny.

No need to be getting stupid out in the field.

The entirety of this shit show had them all on edge, ready to fall off the counter on edge. Maybe it was because they were back in Mexico, or maybe it was other things.

“Who else could it be? This is going to be Graves all over again.”

“Just thought you wouldn’t want to talk to ‘Graves all over again’.”

He was conflicted.

He saw the hurt that flashed in her eyes.

The look of fear as she sat at that table with the laptop propped up, all eyes on her. 

He knew how that felt.

He could remember sitting in the disciplinary office of the school, the looming figures of adults hoving over him. Disappointed glances boring into his skull to the point it felt like his lungs were full of glass- that the back of his throat was on fire and he couldn’t breathe through his nose anymore.

What had it even been about, all of those years ago?

A broken window, he thinks.

The kid next to him- what was his name again?

Samuel Trablet.

Little bastard.

He’d broken the window with a rock- the sound of the shattering glass had caused all of the kids to scramble. Maybe it was the initial shock- a lack of understanding of the severity of what had happened. But a teacher zeroed in on him, grabbing hold of his arm and dragging him straight to that dreadful office.

He hadn’t done anything, he’d claim.

Their looks didn’t change.

The evidence was stacked against him- even if it was obvious he hadn’t done it with the children running away behind him.

It was the lack of trust.

His Ma didn’t believe him, and oh did he pay for it when he got home.

His Ma didn’t believe him.

That distinct look of disappointment graced her features during the car ride home. “I’m very angry with you Johnny. Just wait until your Father hears about this.”

His body moved through the building, lifting the rifle up and clearing each part of the room, piece by piece. Second nature to him now, it was easy. His brain didn’t have to work while he did this, it was therapeutic, in a way. The potential action sending adrenaline flowing through his veins.

Is that why he was still in the service?

The promise of adrenaline?

It’s an intoxicating high.

Seemed like he was always chasing after something of the sort in that respect.

But why?

Why did he stop?

"Get the fuck up, Johnny." Ghost yells, setting Jitters down on her bed and checking her pulse.

He groaned, lifted his head, and looked at Ghost, a dazed look in his eyes. His hair was disheveled, pushed off to the side. "The hell are you doing here?" He slurred.

"Get up MacTavish. That's an order."

As he stood, Ghost grabbed boxers off the floor and threw them at him.

"The fuck are you doing in my room Simon- can't you see I'm busy?" He yells back, the woman below him sturring.

"You need to sober up, and fast. You're running my patience."

Soap stumbled out of bed, pulling his boxers back onto his legs before he grumbled, rubbing his eyes and reaching out for the bottle of whiskey on the nightstand.

Ghost lunged forward, slapping the bottle sending it clattering to the floor, and spilling all over the carpet.

"What the fuck, Simon?" He asks loudly, slurr appearing in his speech.

"What's going on?" The woman opened her eyes now, looking up at the commotion.

"Get the fuck out." Ghost hissed.

"What?" She stared, mouth agape.

"You heard him." Soap hissed. "Get outta my room."

She made a sound of distress, before rolling out of the bed, finding her outfit, and pulling her shirt on over her head. "I thought you'd be different John. But I guess I was wrong- all you do is make promises and lie." The woman hissed.

"I don't even know ya' fuckin name you slag." He threw back, tossing her shoe at her.

"Fuck you!" She yelled, giving him the finger and storming out the door.

He turned, looking up at Ghost, "God, they are so annoying. Can't get the fucking hint-"

Ghosts hand reached up, grabbing him by the hair and dragging him into the bathroom, throwing his body forward and pushing him into the shower.

Soap fought back, of course, but in his drunken state, he was quickly pushed down into the bathtub where Ghost turned the shower on, on cold to blast down on his face.

"What the fuck!" He yelled.

"You need to sober, up, and real quick Johnny." Ghost hissed.

"For what? We're off!" He wails back, bringing his hands up to fight off the spray of cold water assaulting his face.

"And we'd still be off if you hadn't of gone and brought in another one of your cheap fucks." He dully replies.

Soap was spinning, the shock of water brought him out of a few levels of the pool of drunken confusion he'd been swimming in. The cold water set his senses ablaze, finally fighting Ghost off and turning the water and standing in his boxers.

"What the fuck is going on?" Soap asks.

"You broke your promise." Ghost replies, his voice normally void of emotion cracked with anger.

Betrayal.

The sound of his voice was enough to sober him up immediately.

It was the sound of hurt, and he'd only heard it a few times before.

"What's happening?" He asks again.

"You." Ghost snaps, stepping forward and getting in his face.

Soap pushed back, raising his voice. "Where do you get off blaming random shit on me, eh? Don't stand there all high and fuckin' mighty with that mask on your face. If you're mad and ya' wanna talk, take it off and talk to me like a man!"

Ghost stopped, staring him down. His gaze was colder than ice, but it burned on his skin just the same as a red-hot iron.

He reached his hand up, grabbed the bottom of his mask, and pulled it off his face. Throwing the mask at him and pushing him up against the wall.

"Tell me then." He spat. "Tell me why I had to pull Jitters out of a fuckin' Russian operatives room, bash his skull in and make her puke the spike he gave her out in the toilet, huh? You got an answer to that?" He waits a moment, not letting him respond. "You don't. Cause you were too busy being the selfish bastard you've become since your mother fuckin died. I was fine with it when you could keep your self-depreciation to yourself. But now?" He stops, pushing his hands and his chest and walking away.

"You've put your team at risk Johnny."

"Simon-"

"No. No more empty apologies and promises. Get your shit together, we're leaving."

A Promise.

He remembers.

He can still feel the same bubbling up in his chest at that moment. The fog of alcohol clogged up his senses as he racked his mind, trying as hard as he could to understand what the fuck was happening.

It was like when he saw her, out in that field.

"God damn it." Soap comments, "Hey, look at me. Keep your eyes open."

"I thought I was gonna die." She whispered.

Soap looked at her, eyes tracing over her features. She looked like hell. Blood, dirt, scratches, the works- but the one thing that didn't match the hardened look of a soldier was the look in her eyes.

Fear.

It was the look of inexperience.

"You did what you had to do." He responded, keeping his voice law and calm.

"You know how there's fight or flight?" She asked.

"yea."

"That's the first time I ever fought." She whispered again, words catching in her throat.

Soap knew what that meant.

God, why was he thinking about this now?

Was it some kind of guilt?

He wasn’t guilty, was he? Oh, but he was guilty.

And it made him angry.

He hated feeling guilty.

The last time he’d felt so guilty, well, that was when…

He didn’t want to think about it.

Now wasn’t the time to be thinking, or worrying about these things.

"Ok so-" Jitters turned around moving her hands to scoop something off of the floor.

"What?" Gaz asked.

"I have a cricket in my hands." She cupper her hands together.

"No you don't." Soap replied.

"Yea, look he's going to jump three times see." She nodded her head up.

"One, two, three." She glanced at Soap and grinned, moving one hand to pinch the hair and she held out her hand to him.

"So Soap, you need to take his hat."

Soap reached his hand out, and she placed the hat in his hand. He held his hand out, and she continued.

"And he's gonna jump again." She explained, nodding along as she counted. "One, two, three." She moved her hand again. "And Gaz, you gotta take his jacket too."

"Why's a cricket have a jacket?" Soap asked.

"Shhh." Gaz whispered at him.

Gaz held his hand out and she places his jacket in his hand.

"Ok, and it's gonna do three more." She grinned. "One, two three..."

"So guys, you agree that there is a cricket in my hand?" She asked, dropping her hands and turning around to face them.

"No, there's no cricket-" Soap started.

"Then why are you holdin' his fuckin' clothes?"

How could there be any type of intent? It’s not like she inserted herself into their team, how in God’s name could she- in reality- be a rat? It made no sense. 

It was at that moment things came to a head, two and two clicking together and the feeling of dread settled into his gut.

"You'll stay with Price."

The look of relief washed over her features when Laswell spoke. He should’ve recognized it then, fuck, why was he ever worried about it at all? 

Because he was angry.

And when he is angry he does stupid things.

And when he does stupid things he is to prideful to back down.

So he continues to hold the shovel, and keep digging.

He should apologize, really.

Would she accept it?

 “We’re leaving you with Gaz again tonight, seems like you two can get along.”

She hesitated for a moment as he grabbed the bag he was holding and tugged it over his shoulder, starting to make his way toward the door.

“What do you mean? Where are you going?” She starts, standing up and trying to follow him out of the door.

“It doesn’t concern you.”

“Remember Johnny. The worst thing you can ever do.” She said, tugging his Dad’s head down by his ear. “Is to make a woman mad.”

“Soap.”

“Soap!” A hand on his shoulder shook him from his thoughts as he sat in the passenger seat of the humvee driving back to the base.

“Sorry Cap, having a proper space.” He replied, glancing over at him.

“I could tell.” He replied.

Ghosts team was staying out, continuing on the watch to see if there were any movements. 

Soap wasn’t going to press when he saw that look in his eyes when he said he’d volunteer to stay out.

He wanted to be alone.

Ghost did that a lot, self-isolate. It took Soap quite a while to understand- and it led to a lot of hurt feelings, confusion, and anger between the two. 

He found out later why, 

Simple really.

He was afraid to get too close.

And when he got too close he’d need a while, to just take a step back and assess everything. Feeling like everything around you is moving too fast is overwhelming- but trying to keep control of the situation by forcing everything to a stop so you can collect your thoughts and convince yourself you have no attachments?

Well, that’s Ghost’s standard operations.

“Friends aren’t in the field manual.”

“It’s confusing, now I know.” Price said, not glancing over at him and keeping his hand on the wheel.

“Thinking I’ve made a proper arse of myself.” Soap replied.

“Little bit.”

“Can you blame me? Really?”

“No, I can’t. It’s hard to think of something like that of someone we trust. But as you know just as well as I do.” He said.

It was as if Price didn’t want to say it.

The possibility of him saying it could potentially will it into being.

He’d showered, enjoying the quiet in a way. Jitters must’ve dragged Gaz out to that old man’s room, at least that’s what Price summed it up to. He was walking back to the sleeping quarters, spying Price laid out on the cot with his arm covering his eyes.

“Catching some beauty sleep, aye?” He asked, setting down and grabbing his bag, searching for his pocket knife. While yea, he wanted to apologize, he was glad she was gone, it gave him more time to think. Also, she’d screech every time one of them would pull out a pocket knife and clean the grime out from under their fingernails. 

Apparently, that got under her skin more than his ‘loud chewing’.

“Have to look pretty for the girls.” Price grumbled.

“You seen my pocket knife?” “You lose another knife, Sargeant?” Amusement danced in his voice.

“Don’t know how the hell-”

“Must’ve walked off like the last one.”

Soap got down onto his knees, peering under the bed and scanning his eyes across the floor.

There it was, 

On the floor.

Across the room?

“Huh. Why’s it over there?” He half thought half asked out loud, standing and making his way over to Jitter’s cot. He knelt down, picked the knife up, and scanned his eyes over the more disheveled than normal assortment of her things.

Something didn’t feel right. 

“You get ahold of Gaz?” Soap asked.

“No.” Price removed his arm, sitting up feeling the worry in his voice. “What’s wrong?” He started making his way over to Soap.

“Call me paranoid. But I don’t think that’s normal.” He glanced down, staring at the pillow.

The cut-open stitches and a small bit of the lackluster stuffing puffed out of one of the corners.

Price picked up the pillow, inspecting the cut and the hole in the case.

She was hiding something? “Go find Gaz. Now.” Price said.

That’s when he broke off into a sprint.

The first room he checked was the small kitchen- then into their little makeshift armory.

“Price!” He yelled, looking at the rifled bags and various pieces of clothing tossed to the ground. He stuck his hand into Gaz’s back reaching for where he kept his gun to find nothing. Price rounded the corner, meeting him. His chest was exhaling roughly, the look on his face unreadable.

“His gun’s missing.” Soap said, dropping the bag.

Price nodded, turning and the two continued to search around the base. Closets, offices, radioing out to hear that Momia was asleep, in his private quarters. No one was in the cardroom.

Where had they gone?

It was when Soap stumbled out into the garage area, calling out Gaz’s name did he hear the sound of someone pounding on the metal walls of the container.

 “Price!” Soap yelled, running up to the contained and swinging the door open. 

Gaz stumbled out, grabbing hold of Soap’s collar ready to send him to the ground when Price caught hold of him and held him up.

“What happened? Why’re you in a stinkin box?”

“She locked me in there.” He heaved out, glancing around frantically. “Looked at me, said ‘Sorry Gaz’, locked me in- don’t know where she went. Didn’t have my radio on me-”

“Fuck!” Soap yelled, kicking over a little metal stand that had various tools set on it. By the time he had turned around Price was already radioing Alejandro, pushing the base into lockdown. 

It felt like the world was turning itself inside out.

Was he right? Was she a rat?

What was happening? Was everything fake?

Twenty minutes later, Alejandro had called them out to a bit a fence towards the outskirt of the base. 

A pair of red-handled bolt cutters leaned up against the cut chain link.

It’s where she escaped.

And they followed the tracks of the bike, through the rain until the found the clearing, guns were drawn as they crept forward seeing the headlights of that little dinky truck piercing through the darkness with its hot halogen lights. Only to find a corpse in the mud, shot twice.

They followed the tracks, losing them on a road that led into the nearby town.

Everyone was on high alert.

They didn’t get a wink of sleep that night.

Or really, the next either.

They’d all been sitting on edge, Jitters was missing, Laswell was nowhere to be heard of.

Their air was thick hanging with an air of betrayal, hurt. 

Anger.

It was two days of silence when the next bad news came. Crackling in through the radio, the last thing they were able to hear from Ghost was.

“Loc---- Compromised. Rep--- Locatio---- ----mised. Mass Casua----” The sound of heavy gunfire, static, and then silence.

Along with that, the need for an emergency tech to be sent in to fill the void Jitters had left was brought in. Who he wasn’t expecting to step out of that helicopter that fateful day was Miles, in the flesh. Walking up to him, and slapping him on the shoulder as if they were friends. 

As if he liked him.

Yea, it had not been the best welcoming party to a new ‘member’ of the team, not that they’d ever consider him to be a true member. It was glum, to see him taking her place. As if it solidified the fact that she was gone, that she had betrayed him, and that she had betrayed them.

John Mactavish was angry.

He felt betrayed.

Dare he say, scared? That wasn’t something he would see himself admitting.

A soldier wasn’t supposed to be scared.

A Man wasn’t supposed to be scared.

But he was scared.

Scare of what was coming next.

They say bad things come in threes.

Ghost had gone radio silent before, he knew that. He needed to trust the abilities of his Luitenant. He knew from first hand experience how he could deal with a mission going tits up, this was nothing new to their line of work. It was just a game of waiting until he broke radio silence, saying yea, he was fine, maybe a new hole or two in him, but he’d be back soon.

Soap needed to find Ghost, to make sure he was ok.

And with a blessing from Price, he headed out that night, comm in ear connected to Miles, rifle hanging from his side.

John didn’t know if he wanted him to come back yet.

Out of all of them? Ghost had the closest relationship with Jitters.

They definitely spent the most time together, at first he could’ve even said he was a little jealous.

But, he had a home to go back to. Family to go back to.

They didn’t.

And suppose they bonded over it.

"You can't go in there." Soap reaffirmed.

"Does Price know you're here?" She asked, crossing her arms.

"Oh, you're gonna pull the Price card?" He sneers, laughing a little bit. "Firey today aren't ya'."

She sighs. "Sorry."

"Tis fine. Didn't know you had it in ya."

Soap cracked the door open, calling for Ghost.

It took a moment, but he popped out of the door, made eye contact with Jitters, and spoke nearly immediately. "No."

"I didn't even ask-"

"No."

Jitters looked to Soap for some kind of backup, to which is shrugged.

"Sorry. I agree with him on this one."

"So I help capture the dude, and you guys still treat me like a baby?" She asks tone slightly turning to one of anger and annoyance.

"Yea." Soap nods, agreeing.

Ghost doesn't say anything.

"Of course." She mutters, laughing slightly.

Ghost had that look. That look of restraint, the one where he was battling his conscious. Ghost- maybe not Ghost, but maybe Simon didn’t want Jitters to see what he’d done. Soap knew that they’d come across some things, pushed through, and survived.

But this wasn’t for survival.

That was inflicting hurt, just to inflict hurt.

"You're being cocky." Ghost says. His voice was smooth, and even. It was the tone he used when he was getting ready to bite off someone's head.

Soap knew that tone.

She was getting on his nerves.

"No. I'm not being cocky. You, yourself told me to do something about it and this is me doing something about it." She throws her hands up in the air. "You drag me out to bumfuck, act like I'm your Soap surrogate but when we get back you act like none of it happened." She seethes out.

"You were a liability." Ghost says again, the words leaving his mouth drawled out slowly.

"Yea?" Jitters voice cracks a little bit.

"This isn't some fun game you just get to run around with now." Ghost started.

"This isn't a fucking game, and I earned my spot here. I've earned it multiple times and I've proven that-."

"You haven't proved anything. You are not a soldier. You are a fake. We are not your community service project or your parole officers. I don't need your falsified pity, or courage for that matter." He spits.

Jitters visibly falters for a moment.

Soap finds himself trapped captive in an engagement he doesn't think he should be there for.

"You. Are a scared, weak little girl."

Her eyes narrow. "Yea, scared and weak like Beth?" She spits it out.

Soap has never seen Ghost ever react in a way to words. He kept his composure calm, and collected. A scary coldness was his forte.

Ghost's hands snapped out, grabbing Jitters by the cheeks and pushing her up against the wall.

"Choose your next words carefully." Ghost replies.

Someone could call it funny, in a way.

He’d just seen the man inflicting hurt to cause hurt.

She’d done just the same.

It wasn’t physical though, it was with words.

And even if Ghost would act as if it were water off a ducks back, he knew deep down whoever that was cut deep.

Who the hell was Beth? 

How did she know?

And where, where had Jitters gone?

…

Jitters pushed herself up against a dirty stucco wall in an alleyway, hand cautiously rubbing against her bruised ribs.

It hadn’t been a good night, in reality.

Gringo in the city when they no habla isn’t a good combination.

“I want to talk to Laswell.”

“You do that, and they’ll have your location and send a team out to execute you by morning.”

How could she of been so stupid?

But who was she supposed to trust in this situation?

Surely, they would believe the General, the high-ranking official before they trusted her words.

Fuck, she was hyperventilating again.

She was hurt.

She was cold.

She was hungry.

The safe house provided a dank little couch she was horrified to sit on at first, and not much stocked up in the sense of food.

She’d found an old can of what she thought was beans? Without a can opener, she had used Ghost’s knife to pry it open and eat out the contents of expired, cold refried beans on the floor of a safehouse in the dark. Terrified that if she turned the light on, a fleet of Mexican special forces would burst through the door and gun her down.

What else was there truly to do other than to see what exactly was on that drone?

She’d spent a good while securing her connection, making sure there was no way for the General to back door his way into the data she was uploading and reviewing.

Above my clearance, my ass.

The data was more garbled than anything, out of order, and dates mixed together. Everything from order logs to delivery announcements, receipts, and contact lists.

Oh.

Oh….

They say blackmail is a very useful tool of warfare.

She’d agree.

It was the General, sitting in what she assumed to be a backyard.

Children, little toe-headed blondes running around him.

The sour bastard actually looked happy, arms outstretched picking the children up, lifting and spinning them around.

A woman behind him- young, maybe his daughter?

They had photos of his children, and information too. Grandchildren, addresses, names, schools, fuck, even banking information. All teetering it over his head like bait tied to a fishing line.

It made a little bit more sense then.

The secrecy.

It was out of the protection of his family.

But why not tell Laswell?

A photo of his daughter, holding his granddaughter.

A photo of them sitting at a table eating dinner through a window.

A photo of Ghost, skull mask adorned as Lopez was pushed into a transfer vehicle.

A photo of her, out on a jog.

A photo of a landing site, marked out with details she couldn’t make out.

A photo of her, tied to a chair, tape wrapped around her mouth, and blood seeping from her nose.

A photo of an overturned truck, the bodies of two guards stretched out on the sandy dirt.

The terror in her eyes.

A photo, of her, lifeless.

This is what he was trying to stop.

He wanted to stop it before it got to all of them.

But along with it, there was information.

The General had been sending them bits of information- she could tell because a lot of them were low enough level clearance that the data would be considered expendable- maybe not to a cartel.

But then it got to the passport information.

Why would a cartel be bartering with a General to have mass amounts of Russian passports cleared?

She exited out of the folder, clicking onto a screen. Tapping away feverishly, she was met with something she couldn’t fucking believe.

Miles had logged onto her gear. Her computer- his codes were running active from the Vaqueros base.

Miles.

They had already replaced her?

She was expendable, she realized then.

She couldn’t go back, could she?

Why did she have to go out like that? 

Why couldn’t she of just listened to the orders?

She was angry, she was confused, she was conflicted were all reasonings that popped up in her mind at that moment.

“When am I meeting back up with my team?” She asked.

“You aren’t.” He replied. “You’ve abandoned your team, at this point, you’re a traitor and if you go back you will be detained and arrested.”

“You’ll have to wait a while for the situation to be explained to them, so until then- enjoy yourself. Lay low.” He replied.

“I’m not a traitor.”

"Then do something about it."

Ghost’s words rattled around in her head as she pushed herself off of the wall, and headed forwards- in the safehouse there was a drawer filled with assorted amounts of small currencies, coins, bills, some of them not even pesos. She’d gathered the coins and made her way out.

That’s right about the same time she got mugged, or at least sort of mugged.

Someone had snuck up behind her, shoving her to the ground and kicking her in the ribs while she was down. Her eyes flashed open, looking up at the man reaching for her pockets to pull the only money she had off of her. His hands stretched up to grab for her pockets, her hand reaching toward her waistband.

He didn’t seem as interested in the prospect of money when he was greeted with the site of the barrel of Gaz’s handgun pushed up to his forehead.

He’d scrambled, back and ran off.

Which left her here, trudging back on down the street looking for a pay phone.

All she would have to do, is get to a phone, get ahold of Laswell, Price, anyone, and explain everything, it would make it all better.

Wouldn’t it?

It was like being a kid again, after memorizing your mother’s phone number- maybe even writing it down on your forearm before you go out on your own the first time. Your first day at school, so that you aren't standing there dumbfounded when the woman at the desk asks, ‘what’s your mother’s phone number?’

Opening the door to the dingy little shack that housed the payphone, she hesitantly slid coins into the slot, lifting the phone and typing in the number.

The phone rung.

And rung.

“Hello?”

Laswell.

She wanted to cry, and she did, sobbing directly into the phone.

“Jitters?” She asked.

“I don’t have a lot of time.” She replied quietly.

“Jitters where are you?” Laswell questioned.

She wasn’t stupid, she knew that the second she heard her voice she was having the call tracked directly to where she stood. They’d find connections to the safehouse- assuming that she’d dug the information up on her own and they’d dispatch looking for her.

“The General is being blackmailed. Whoever broke Lopez out is affiliated with Russians and he is compromising mission data.”

“Jitters- are you alright? Why don’t you come back?”

“He’s put a shoot-on-sight order on me Laswell-” She choked. “I didn’t give him what he wanted- they think im a traitor- a rat- I can’t go back they’ll kill me.”

There was silence.

“You need to come back.”

There it was, that negotiator's voice.

She thought she was a rat too.

“He sent me to a drone, in a tree. A data drop- it has all of the data, he’s gonna burn me. I’m a loose end-”

“You’re not a loose end, you need to come back so we can sort this out.”

“Why so they can kill me?” She seethed. “I’m not a traitor, Laswell. And I’m sick of being treated like one.”

She slammed the phone back down on the receiver. Then lifted it, bashing it into the machine again and again until her arms hurt.

Until the receiver was bent.

Until the hot angry tears stopped flowing from her face.

She stopped, taking a shudder inhale into her lungs.

They’d betrayed her.

Left her.

Isolated her.

But they were going to die.

They were going to be sent on a suicide mission if she didn’t do something.

They were her family.

“Only the good die young.”

"Give it the juice!" Jitters yelled, they had swapped spots a while ago, and Soap revved the bike, charging forward and letting out a cackle.

Well, he did give it the juice.

And he also gave it the brakes, way to hard.

Throwing the bike up onto its front wheel, and throwing Soap clear off of his seat and onto the pavement.

The road rash bloomed on his skin while the bike flopped over, sputtering.

"Sargeant!" Jitters called out, running up to him.

"The bike- put it upright" He wheezed out.

She turned quickly, struggling to force the bike upwards, pulling out the kickstand and turning it off. Then rushing over to Soap who was rolling to his side and inspecting his raw forearms.

"This is why you wear protective gear." He jokes, wincing at the feeling of blood weep through his skin.

"Sergeant-"

"Soap."

"Huh?"

"Call me Soap, kid. You're making me feel old." He groaned, laying flat on his back.

"Ghost." She asked.

He stopped, and turned to look at her.

"Could you..." She grasped at the sleeve of her shirt. "Could you eat with me?" She asks him, shooting him a near-desperate glance.

He didn't respond at first. Almost mulling it over.

"I... I don't wanna eat alone." She explains.

"Do you ever miss it?" She asks.

He looks at her and nods a bit before flicking the ash off of the end of his cigarette.

"Sometimes." He finally responds.

"Would you ever go back to it?"

"There's nothing left to go back to." He says.

Home.

"I guess that's something we have in common." She mumbles.

"Can you hear me?" He asks, his voice lighter than his usual interactions.

"Yea." Jitters responded.

"Are you hurt?"

"Push the needle through with the pliers- or needle driver. Don't let the medics catch you saying, pliers. Chaps their ass it does."

"My hands are shaking. I don't think I can do this." She sighs, holding her hands out afraid to push the needle through his skin.

"Then tell em' to stop shaking."

"I wish it was that simple."

"Normally is. Just say stop shaking."

"That's not how that works, Price."

"I don't hear you sayin' it."

"That's so dumb."

"You're the one that's shaking, not me."

She groans, slumping her shoulder forward before mumbling. "Stop Shaking."

She waits a moment, staring at her hands.

"It didn't help, Price."

"Of course it did, just keep talking while you do it."

"I don't want to hurt him."

"He's in la la land. And I'm sure you can't do any worse than Soap."

"Bringing a PMC into the team in this proximity makes some of them cautious from past bad experiences."

"But why?"

"Betrayal always hurts more when it's from someone you trust." He replies.

Her eyes look up, a strand of hope dangled in front of her, looking back and forth from Price to Gulch.

"You tell me exactly how you ended up here, and you promise you'll keep my teams back like you did for us last time."

She stared at him in a dumbfounded awe.

"And I'll watch you back." Price concluded.

"What is so funny?" He asks, flabbergasted at the display. His foot- boot, sock, and all stomped into the water, soaking his skin with the cold water.

"You're such a shitty liar." She cackles out.

"What?"

"I'm not your friend," She mocks, trying to mimic his accent and deep voice. "If you didn't like me, you would've left me in the fuckin' water and not rushed to fish me out."

He stares at her, eyes narrowing. Dropping her by her shirt and letting her fall back into the water.

She surfaces, cackling just as hard as the second he ripped her from the water.

"I got my damn boot wet, are you happy?" He growls, looking down at his boot- water soaked up to his calf on his pant leg.

"You're just pissed cause you got caught." She teases, climbing out of the fountain.

"And the maggots that eat my flesh will eat yours too! But they won't eat until I'm good and fucking ready- because I can't even say I'm good anymore!"

"You're the primary suspect."

"Apologies don't count when you make a habit of it." He simply said to her.

"Sorry." She sighed, looking at her shoes. "So, do you always work out. Every day?" She asks.

"When I am not injured or on a mission, yes." He said bluntly, continuing to do pullups on a bar.

"You ever get bored?"

"No."

"I'd get bored."

"Hm."

"It ever get hard to breathe in that thing?" She asked.

"No."

"Am I testing your patience?"

"How'd you know?" He sighed out, dropping from the bar and turning to her. "Are you bored?" He asked.

"Incredibly." Jittered sighed, shrugging her shoulders. "Nothing interesting is coming through the comms."

"I am not your babysitter." He said plainly.

"Never said you were." She shot back.

"Bit defensive are we?" He questions, moving across the room to put away a weight he had been using earlier.

She grumbled a little, crossing her arms. "I didn't mean to. I just am starting to dislike being regarded as a baby."

He turned, looking at her. "Then do something about it."

#Jitters Au #john price #cod mwii #gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #simon riley x oc #john mactavish #cod

[poryphoria]

who wants to hear some fucked up crackpot headcanons. TOO LATE IM SHARING THEM NOW BOY!

some of these ive definitely already said before but they're going on here for the sake of categorization anyways. cw for uhhh body horror, parasites, emeto, cannibalism and necrosis, all the fun stuff you'd imagine go along with this

•after a certain point in dissonance overexposure his face literally just Melted Off. Gone. it's mostly just bandages, exposed muscle & scar tissue under there now which is why he kept the helmet on fulltime & wears a mask. he also used to have bleach blonde hair which he lost pretty much completely along with the face WHOOPS!

•speaking of that plague mask DOES NOT COME OFF! like, it's literally part of him at this point. it fused to his skin after a while of him constantly wearing it & then his skull grew out underneath it to fit it so that is quite literally just his face now. it's made of metal but he still has sensation in it like it's skin! it'll still bleed if you lash him across it hard enough. (if you decked him good enough in the center of the beak you would PROBABLY hear the disconcerting crunch of bone.) THIS IS ALSO THANKS TO DISSONANCE! HURRAY DISSONANCE!!!!

•his old anti-dissonance helmet also had some dull feeling in it, mostly towards the end of his career, though it was never able to get to the level of attachment that his current mask now has <3

•post-nexus he is constantly losing teeth and growing new ones in like a shark and it hurts like fuck and he basically has to teathe on shit like a dog sometimes to alleviate it. also in this vein his bite is INFECTIOUS like that's a given for any person but i think his especially would quite literally BURN from the very get. he has a super nasty bite bc his lips are just jagged metal so it can rip and tear like shit. coincidentally he is definitely not above biting people in combat and probably might even if he's already armed. Just for fun!

•actually in general i think he fights like a wild goddamn animal. he doesn't like guns (re: sucks dick at using them) and only likes melee bc it's *honorable" and Blades Pretty but he is QUICK o resort to biting, kicking, clawing, etc etc and he's damn good at it too. he's probably impaled someone through the head on that beak of his before. i would LOVE to animate how i imagine him to fight in the good ol fashioned style of Madness Combat: The Series About Animated Violence bc it's SUPER vivid to me

•his mouth will seal over & will have to rip itself open if he goes a while without using it. he's pretty much completely numb to it by now after so many times but it definitely catches other people off guard when he smiles or something of that nature i think

•hes super drooly. weird mouth situation and it's honestly probably a good mix of blood from his tooth situation/mouth constantly tearing itself apart

•i honestly dont think i even need to say this but he smells. Bad. like. as bad as youd anticipate a sewer zombie to smell, yk. it kind of sucks bc he USED to be like hyperaware of his own hygiene but after the facemelter incident that kinda gradually declined until he was. just okay enough with it to Live In The Sewers. sometimes he will have moments of self awareness where he can feel every inch of grime on his body and it makes him SICK TO HIS STOMACH so he tries his absolute best not to pay any mind to it

•after being enmeshed he is so full of maggots and flies and mold... and other such detritivores YUM!!! he lost a lot of feeling in his extremities bc a lot of nerves died off so he barely notices but sometimes he will catch one crawling up his shirt or something & hold it and maybe talk to it a little bit and admire it.....he likes bugs idt he minds to be frank <3 (well. he does and doesn't. similar deal to the general hygiene yk? really not much to be done about it anymore and if he thinks about it too hard he WILL freak out so it's best not to!)

•the fact that i color his saliva/internals that bright ass green is not just stylization for fun I do legit think this boy has glowstick blood. something to do with constantly handling other people's S-3LFs during enmeshment. i think he quite literally has fragments of countless people's souls stuck in his system & they often manifest as hallucinating random voices/people

•hes so stupid proud of himself for managing to come back as a zed and also. Inwardly a little horrified by it. his body definitely isn't up to full function like it used to be (it was already kinda deteriorating due to dissonance poisoning so ERM!) & if he isn't careful about when he eats he WILL just dull back into blind hunger and attack & eat the nearest person he can get his paws on! it's kinda scary to black out and lose control of yourself like that over something you almost never think about being a huge issue.... OF COURSE. not that he'd ever TELL anyone it scares him. GOD FORBID HE ADMIT HIS LINE OF SCIENCE IS KIND OF FUCKED UP!!!!

•he was also a cannibal before becoming a zed so the whole fact that he eats people now isn't really an issue and didn't . really change lol. NOT WHEN HE WAS A SCIENTIST but like. post nexus he Absolutely resorted to cannibalism almost concerningly quickly. HMM!

•he definitely makes stuff out of people bones too. you can't look at him and tell me he doesn't

•he's specifically become a swamp zed and sometimes he WILL have to physically hold himself back from throwing up as a stress/defensive response

•however, BECAUSE he's a swamp zed he's adapted to be semi-aquatic by now so he can hold his breath for a pretty good while & he's a REAL good swimmer! he has webbed paws and a strong ass salamander tail for this purpose

•he has very vivid nightmares almost every night and tries to avoid sleeping as much as possible due to this. this was something that started while he was still working for nexus due to dissonance exposure but it just got worse and worse and became ESPECIALLY bad following phobos's death. he'll push himself days and even weeks on end without sleeping until he quite literally passes out...

uhmmm probably forgot some i intended to add here but OH WELL! this post is already gigantic i can just make another one. I HAVE THOUGHTS!

#pory turgles #madcom #madness combat #madness project nexus #project nexus #dr crackpot #dr. crackpot #pory writes a wall about this guy again: the thrilling sequel

[dolly-macabre]

𝕬 𝕾𝖐𝖚𝖑𝖑 𝕱𝖚𝖑𝖑 𝖔𝖋 𝕸𝖆𝖌𝖌𝖔𝖙𝖘 - 𝕮𝖆𝖓𝖓𝖎𝖇𝖆𝖑 𝕮𝖔𝖗𝖕𝖘𝖊

#cannibal corpse #music #tonight's jams #Youtube

[amirsirwrites]

Confessing to an oblivious Soldier ❤️

Phew, managed to get this done by today. My posting rate will probably slow down over the next few days due to other work piling up. Anyways, a little something for Soldier since I love the man. :) Not requested Soldier x GN!reader ------

You love Soldier with all your heart and it’s time to tell him.. AGAIN!

Oh my god, you love him but hate him at the same time. How is he so oblivious to your confessions? You swear you’ve done every single confession in the book at this point - flirting, constant compliments.. but no response. 

A few weeks ago, when you brought him a big bouquet full of roses that screamed ‘I love you’, he grabbed them, hugged you and shouted, “Thank you, y/n! These are very beautiful!” Soldier then walked off to the training area, leaving you to die inside. Spy saw the whole thing and laughed at you from the side while you just crouched down and drowned in your embarrassment and disappointment. 

You thought, ‘Okay, fine. Maybe it was too subtle.’ And so next, you decided to invite him to a romantic dinner complete with candles, delicious food and flower petals. You made sure everything was perfect and that the dishes you cooked tasted phenomenal. That was sure to be the moment Soldier realised you loved him, right? Wrong! So very wrong! He arrived and was in awe of how gorgeous everything looked. It seemed hopeful… 

Until you brought out the food. Soldier gobbled down everything, not saying a single word. After he finished, he did thank you, of course. But he didn’t even stop to think that you set up that amazing dinner because you loved him. It was already bad that your dinner plan didn’t work but one final comment from Soldier was what made it even more terrible. Just before leaving, he grabbed you by the shoulders and declared loudly, “You are an amazing friend, y/n! We should do this more often!” Sucker punch to the gut.

All that happened a few days before today. Now, you’re sitting at the dining table, head down on it with your arms limp at your side. Spy, Scout and Demoman were in the living room with you, helping you find a way to confess to Soldier successfully. 

“Oh oh! How about during our next battle, you act all cool and say to him ‘Soldier, baby, this is for you’ and then.. Boom! Pow! You beat up a buncha’ guys in front of him. Fool-proof plan, I tell ya!” Scout punched the air while talking. 

Demoman laughed, “NooOooO! C’mere laddie, now this is what you do,” he sat beside you and pulled your head right next to his, “You gotta play some uhh.. romance song on the piano and sing yer heart out! That’s how ya do it!”

Spy sighed and pushed Demoman away from you, “Don’t listen to these idiots. None of that is going to work. Soldier’s skull is so thick that even Medic can’t drill into it. Mon ami, just tell him, right to his face. It’s the only way-”

Scout and Demo butted back in, trying to add their own suggestions again. All of their voices were overlapping each other and it was pure chaos.

Just then, Soldier walked in and everyone in the room went silent. 

Soldier looked around.

“Why did you maggots stop talking?!”

Spy nudged you on the shoulder and eyed you expectantly. 

You stared at Spy, wide-eyed, and shook your head slowly. 

Spy groaned into his hands before getting up and moving to Soldier. 

“Listen up, you simpleton, because I’m only going to say this once. Our poor y/n over here is madly in love with you and has been trying to tell you for the past month. Please put me out of this idiotic misery and talk to them. Goodbye!” 

With that, Spy pulled out a cigarette, lit it and exited the room. 

Scout and Demo laughed nervously and quickly ran after Spy. It was just you and Soldier left.

You hid your face in your hands, too scared to meet his eyes. You heard Soldier’s heavy footsteps approaching and the sound of him sitting on the chair beside you.

You bit your lip, expecting the worst. 

Instead, you felt his hand on your back and heard his voice, not his usual loud commanding one but a soft and gentle one, “Y/n, you don’t have to hide from me. It’s alright.”

Slowly removing your hands, you turn to the man at your side. He had removed his helmet and you could see every part of his face clearly. Ok, maybe it was a bit overwhelming. His blue eyes are normally covered by his helmet so now that you could see them, it was a tad bit intimidating. You had to admit though - he was handsome. 

“Is it true? What Spy said, I mean,” he asked while rubbing his hand on your back. Soldier’s cheeks were tinted red.

“Well.. I uh. Y-yeah. It is.”

He laughed sweetly, “So that’s why you’ve been doing all that stuff for me. Why didn’t you just tell me, cupcake?”

You smiled sheepishly at the petname he gave you. 

“Haha… was it really that simple?” you winced, remembering all your failed confessions. 

Soldier cackled heartily. 

“You can take a break now, cupcake. Let me ask you instead.”

He cleared his throat, switching back to his loud voice, “Y/n! I am in love with you! Please go on a date with me!”

You laughed into your hands, your face turning completely red. 

“Yes! I’d love to, Jane.” ------ I got just as frustrated as Spy while thinking about this plot haha...

#soldier x reader #gender neutral reader #tf2 x reader #tf2 soldier #one shot

[absolutelybatty]

Wasn't tagged by @spiked-mall-goth but he can't stop me from doing it anyway.

A song for each letter of your username.

Aneuryism-Nirvana Bombtrack-RATM Singular-Sanity's Fall Once In A Life Time-Talking Heads Love You To Death-Type O Negative Undertow-TOOL The Blue-Acid Bath Eyeless-Slipknot Lonley Day-SOAD You Spin Me Round-Dead Or Alive (but also the Dope cover) Burn In Hell-Twisted Sister A Skull Full Of Maggot-Cannibal Corpse Twisted Transistor-Korn Trash-Korn You're Going Down-Sick Puppies

This was harder than it should have been. Anyway, I pass the curse on to @prozac-the-placid (no pressure for you) @cynicizee @sir-butts-a-lot @lilythefag @milloboi (pressure for the rest of you)

#tag game #adorableannonymousbutterfly I almost tagged you but thats SO MANY LETTERS #sir-butts-a-lot I just wanna see if you can do it #batty speaks