#somone else's oc

[wouldntyou-liketoknow]

God, Being an Accessory to Murder is Exhausting

(Trigger Warnings: implied murder/death, decapitation, gore, light mentions of violence, implied mutilation, implied cannibalism, mentions of organs, descriptions of illegal business, strong language. Please let me know if I missed anything.)

(One of the characters in this story does not belong to me. That honor goes to the amazing @sammys-magical-au. I highly recommend giving them a follow, because the stories and headcanons they post are always, always worth reading. Also, this fic is actually kinda-sorta connected to one of theirs, which you can read here. It should clarify some of the plot points you’ll be seeing soon. As for the character that does belong to me, you can find more information about him here. And if you’d like to learn more about the mob he and Murdock work for, go here.  Murdock/Murderplier belongs to the Markiplier Cinematic Universe, but if you’re interested in my personal headcanons on him, go here.)

Sam considered xerself someone who was open to surprises.

When you owed a favor to a literal hitman—and, by extension, the mob that hitman just so happened to work for—not being adaptable could be very hazardous to your health.

Earlier that day, the hitman in question had contacted xer. Apparently he’d taken on a last-minute job, his other accomplices were busy with their own errands, and he was gonna make it xer problem.

(To be fair, Murdock had later explained that The Pentas Family was preparing for a particularly important, unnecessarily macabre auction. It would be taking place at midnight, and would require all hands on deck in order to be kept quiet and hidden.)

Sam never appreciated being dragged into something that didn’t directly involve xer. Regardless, Murdock loved reminding xer that xe had pushed for the alliance between xer organization and his. Not to mention how incredibly generous it’d been of him to accept xer offer, to convince his peers to work with xers, and to have vouched for xer to The Boss.

So, for the sake of personal safety and integrity, Sam had agreed to help with the job.

Xe’d accompanied Murdock to track down his target.

Xe’d assisted him in capturing, interrogating, torturing, and eventually killing his target.

And then. . .

“See?” Murdock asked. A patented smug grin was on his face as he wiped his knife clean with a silk handkerchief before returning it to one of the many pockets in his black overcoat. “I told you that wouldn’t take too long.”

Sam rolled xer eyes, quickly putting on the neutral mask xe’d learned to wear when interacting with him. “You sure did. Must’ve been hard to keep your usual commentary short.”

“Hey, you weren’t exactly just spectating back there,” Murdock retorted. “So don’t preach to me.”  

“Who said I was preaching?” Sam folded xer arms across xer chest. “You just tend to make things. . .dramatic.”

Murdock was right; Sam had partaken in mocking the target before he’d died. Sam was more sensible (read: sane) than Murdock, but xe was still human. And with the knowledge that the target was profiting off of a dog-fighting ring, Sam had been all too happy to let him know how much of a pathetic, worthless, disgusting waste of space he was while Murdock did what he did best.

Murdock shrugged. “Say what you will, but at least I appreciate theater. Not enough people do these days, y’know?”

Sam hummed nonchalantly. On one hand, Murdock did have a valid point. On the other hand, Murdock had used a pair of slip-joint pliers to pull out the target’s teeth one by one, and Sam, while definitely not being a prude, wasn’t sure if that could be compared to theater.

Murdock tapped at his cellphone’s screen. The device emitted a few beeps, and he smiled as he put it away. “The cleanup crew is on their way; they’ll take this guy to the crematorium. Once they’re here, we’re free to go.”

Sam nodded, relieved that she’d be taken back to the hotel soon. “Sounds fine to me.”

Murdock dug around in his leather “toolkit,” which was always full to bursting with an honestly comedic amount of gadgets that boasted their own unique ways of making someone wish they hadn’t pissed off the wrong person. He unfolded a clean body bag, laid it on the floor, and held it halfway open like a trick-or-treater would a pillow case.

Sam got the message. She ventured closer, loosening the ropes that attached the target to a folding chair, then maneuvered the corpse into the person-sized tote. She stepped back and watched as Murdock began zipping the bag up. It was halfway closed when he suddenly stopped.

A few seconds of total silence came and went.

Sam blinked at the hitman, immediately tense. Even with his glasses on, it was somewhat easy to read Murdock’s expression. The current expression was one of realization. . .and panic.

And when a contract-killer panicked, anyone with two brain cells to rub together knew that something had gone horribly, horribly wrong.

“Shit,” Murdock said quite eloquently. “Shitshitshitshitshitshitshit, fucking damn it—!” He stood up from his kneeling position and began pacing the floor, raising both hands to grasp at his head as though his brain was trying to crawl out of his skull.

“What?” Sam asked cautiously. “What’s the matter?”

“I must’ve mixed up some things on the agenda,” Murdock groaned. “One of my buddies is expecting a carcass this month, and I have to wait at least a week before I can take on another job.”

Sam immediately felt obligated to ask why in the fresh hell someone would want or need a dead body delivered, but then she remembered who Murdock was and the types of people his “buddies” usually were.

“You’ve. . .already got this guy,” Sam said, awkwardly gesturing to the target’s corpse. “Why not just cancel with the crematorium and give him to your friend?”

Murdock peered at Sam over his tinted glasses, the look on his face suggesting that Sam had just asked him if water was wet.

“We can’t afford to dispose of bodies in just one way! If we did, we’d risk having concentrated amounts of evidence on our hands.” He looked back at the target. “This guy was a big name in the underground. We need to erase him entirely! His cronies will come looking for him, and the sooner we can lead them astray, the easier it’ll be for us to pick them off!”

Sam held up her hands in defense. “Alright, alright! I get it! Don’t bite my head off just for asking a question!”

Murdock was about to counter, but he suddenly froze in place. His mouth hung open, as he’d been mid-rant, and his eyes grew so wide that Sam could nearly see his scleras through his glasses. His expression slowly but surely shifted from panicked to contemplative; if you listened closely enough, you would’ve been able to hear the gears turning in his head.

“There’s a cooler in my trunk,” Murdock announced. “Go get it.”

“How’s that gonna help anything?”

Murdock’s only response was to frantically wave at Sam with one arm as he dug through his toolkit. “Just go get it! Now! Hurry up!”

Sam flinched at his tone, then jogged down the corridor and up a concrete staircase. She made her way outside the old factory that, according to Murdock, the target had used to host his matches. She cursed under her breath as gravel loudly crunched under her boots; she never thought she’d be grateful for a job-site to be in the middle of nowhere, but now would’ve been the absolute worst time for a potential witness to pop up.

He rushed to the car and popped the trunk, which was filled with bags and boxes of spare weapons and the like. It was actually pretty organized—how else would Murdock be able to transport dead bodies? Even so, it took what felt like an hour before Sam managed to find a red n’ white container meant for preserving organs that had been selected for a transplant. It was heavier than it looked, but it didn’t slow him down as he hurried back into the factory. The sound of skin being torn didn’t stop him. . .well, at least not until he returned to the room. Then he was frozen in the doorway.

Until he’d started working with Murdock, Sam hadn’t known what a Gigli saw was. For one thing, it hardly looked like a saw at all. It was a pair of handles connected by a long, flexible steel wire. And unless you got too close to the wire in question, you’d never know that it was covered in hundreds of small, razor-sharp barbs.

It also typically required two people to each take a handle and pull it back and forth. But Murdock was nothing if not a tenacious bastard, so he was keeping one foot on the body’s chest to hold it still as he leaned side-to-side in a pattern, grasping both of the handles. The wire was looped around the target’s neck, forcing his head to shift as blood oozed down his shirt. This method was definitely unplanned and only semi-coordinated, but it actually seemed to be working.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Sam shouted, nearly dropping the cooler in shock.

“What’s it look like?!” Murdock fired back, not looking at them. “Don’t just stand there! Bring the cooler over!”

Sam’s stomach twisted as they approached, coming to stand beside Murdock. The metallic stench of blood practically punched them in the face, and they couldn’t help but gag.

“Oh, don’t get all squeamish on me now!” Murdock snapped.

“Are you fucking kidding?!” Sam barked. They obviously didn’t want to look at what Murdock was doing (the target’s neck almost resembled a chewed-up apple core), but staring at the floor meant staring at the spreading pool of red. “I only agreed to help with neutralizing! I never signed up to be involved with dismembermAAAAAAAHH!”

With a loud, sickening pop, the target’s neck broke, leaving his head to tear away from strands of brutalized flesh and bounce once, twice against the floor with a soft crack. It rolled dangerously close to Sam’s boots, and Sam responded in a very warranted way via kicking it across the room with another scream.

“Hey!” Murdock squawked, running after the head, stooping down to pick it up and tuck it under one arm like it was a football. He glared at Sam as he came jogging back. “What was that for?!”

“Take a wild guess, you psycho!” Sam had to force themself not to back away. They opened up the cooler, holding it aloft for Murdock to deposit the target’s noggin, then slammed it shut before the target’s glassy, unseeing eyes could stare up at them.

Murdock paused, then gave a quick nod before kneeling down to zip up the body bag. And although Sam was grateful to not have to look at a now headless corpse, they were also very confused, very disgusted, and very frustrated.

“Can you please tell me what the fuck is going on now?” Sam growled, just barely able to keep a tremble out of xer voice.

“Change of plans,” Murdock responded. “When the cleanup crew is finished, you’re gonna take this and go with them to the crematorium. You’ll be able to access the tunnels from there; Cal’s place is connected to one of our dens.”

When the subway tunnels were still operating, more than a few above-ground buildings had been connected to the platforms and used as stations. So, of course, after the tunnels were condemned, those buildings had been repurposed; most of them were now relatively small shops and the like, though a precious few had been turned into houses.

The Pentas Family had managed to purchase every single one of those former stations. Its members either lived in or worked out of them. Thanks to this, the public eye was drawn away from the tunnels, which were now a network of hidey-holes that offered discreet movement far beneath the noses of local authorities.

“Why?” Sam inquired, despite already having an idea of where this was going. “Who’s Cal—is he the one expecting a body?” (Sam had heard Murdock mention that name a few times before, but xe’d never had a chance to meet the guy in question. Until now, apparently.)

“Obviously he is!” Murdock answered, sounding incredulous. “I’ll let him know about what’s happened, so it shouldn’t be too hard for you to find him once you’re down there.”

For a short moment, Sam’s mouth opened and closed without any words coming out. Xe slowly began shaking xer head, pushing the cooler towards Murdock.

“No,” xe eventually said. “Nononononono, you’ve already dragged me into enough of your schemes for today.”

Murdock threw up his hands. “The auction is happening in two hours, and The Boss needs me to help prepare for it! I can’t be in two places at once!”

“Then maybe you should talk to The Boss about this!” Sam replied. “You’re always bragging about being her right-hand!”

Silence.

Murdock didn’t go on the defensive, didn’t get all offended that Sam had questioned his place in the rankings. He simply gaped like a fish for a couple seconds, then shook his head and stared at the floor.

Sam had only ever met The Boss once, for a very brief time after xe’d offered Torchwood’s deal to Murdock and The Pentas Family. Despite being a new ally, Sam was still an outsider, which meant that xe didn’t even know her name. Only the mob’s representatives got that privilege, and even then, they hardly ever referred to her as anything but. . .well, The Boss.

Sam’s first and only encounter with The Boss had been in a dimly-lit office, so xe could barely remember the woman’s facial features. She’d spoken softly when she explained the terms of a partnership, when she’d revealed to Sam that she’d been looking for another organization to work with and that Torchwood seemed like a good candidate.

Other than her clear Us versus Them mentality (as well as the fact that it took a very, very special type of person to earn the respect of murderers, then corral those murderers and dare their enemies to do something about it), the only thing Sam knew for sure about The Boss was that she was assertive, but not a tyrant. The way Murdock was acting right now proved it.

He always spoke highly of her, but shockingly enough, it wasn’t out of intimidation. He wasn’t panicking because he was afraid of being made into an example; he was panicking because he genuinely didn’t want to disappoint.

It was, honestly, a bit poetic. . .

However, that wasn’t exactly the point of this scenario.

“Murdock.” Sam stated through gritted teeth. “It’s been less than an hour since you had me tag along to kill somebody. And now you think you can just send me on an errand? To take a severed head to one of your pals?!”

The hitman pursed his lips, looking uncharacteristically sheepish.

“Well. . .Cal actually has some of the stuff we need for the auction, so, I was kinda hoping you’d help him move it to the base. . .”

By now, Sam’s grip around the cooler’s handle had become so tight that it was a miracle the container hadn’t fallen apart right there.

“Look,” Murdock said pointedly, trying to shake off the rare bit of vulnerability he’d just shown. “I’m not thrilled about this either. We both know that I’d rather be the one to take care of these things. And that’s for the sake of my reputation, thank you very much.”

Sam scoffed, but still couldn’t think of what else xe could say, so xe let him continue.

“I’m man enough to admit when I’ve fucked up. And trust me, you’re not the only person who’s gonna give me hell for this. Just help me out one more time today, and I swear that I’ll come through in spades the next time you need a favor.”

Sam narrowed their eyes, chewing their lip. While Murdock was the type who treated threats and promises as the same thing, there was still some odd degree of honor among killers (just ask anyone who owed a killer something). He’d fulfilled debts before—although that depended heavily on who he was working with. And he knew damn well that he had Sam to thank for The Pentas Family becoming stronger than it already was.

“You know you’ll be owing me an actual favor, right?” Sam asked. “On top of what you’ve already promised. . ?”

Murdock, who had agreed to give Sam a cut of this job’s payment for her trouble, rolled his eyes and nodded petulantly. “Yeah, yeah. I know.”

Another moment of silence dragged on, but Sam eventually sighed. “Fine. But if you try to spring something else on me at the last-minute, you will be sorry.”

“Oh, I’m sure I will,” Murdock deadpanned, offering a stressed, sardonic half-smile. His phone buzzed again, and he fished it out of his pocket, the blue glow reflecting off his glasses.

“Cleanup’s here,” he muttered. As if on cue, the muffled-yet-unmistakable sound of car doors slamming shut sounded from somewhere outside.

Sam hummed in response, slowly turning on their heel to head outside. They paused in the doorway, glancing over their shoulder.

“Is there anything I should know about Cal?” They asked. “What do I need to look out for?”

Murdock considered this for a few seconds. “He’s got some screws loose, but he’s not unreasonable. As long as you’re smart and polite, you’ll be on his good side.”

Sam raised an annoyed eyebrow. Murdock’s profession required him to be careful about who he worked with, but it still wasn’t promising for him—a serial killer who basically took commissions—to vaguely hint at someone else having issues.

“Hey, if you associate with my crowd, then you’ll end up working with Cal sooner or later,” Murdock remarked, shrugging. “Might as well have you two get to know each other.”

___

Sam trudged along an old, decaying railway. Caged lights lined the walls every ten feet or so, which distorted the shadow Sam was currently casting as she walked. The illumination was dim, but that was much, much better than the tunnels being pitch black.

“‘iT sHoUlDn’T bE tOo HaRd To FiNd HiM oNcE yOu’Re DoWn ThErE,’” she muttered to herself in a mocking tone. Murdock had said he would let whoever Cal was know to expect her, but she’d been venturing through the tunnels for what felt like thirty minutes.

And it wasn’t like she’d assumed this place to be small. She just hadn’t expected the tunnels to be so unnecessarily labyrinthine. She was sure she’d already taken a wrong turn or two by now. She didn’t bother texting Murdock; even if he wasn’t too busy with whatever preparations he was needed for, the directions he’d potentially give would be cryptic at best.

Unsurprisingly, the concrete walls weren’t clean. There wasn’t as much graffiti as one would’ve expected, but Sam had already passed a few colorful paintings here and there. Sam hadn’t been working with The Pentas Family long enough to know if it had some kind of special code, but she had a feeling that these pictures were an equivalent to street signs down here.

(She supposed they could just be the work of some random artist, but even though the mob kept its business nicely hidden, anyone with a shred of self-preservation would instinctively know to avoid this place. Sam chose to just ignore what that said about her right now.)

After yet another turn, Sam halted, having discovered an intersection. The mouths of three tunnels yawned open before her. The railway she’d been walking alongside up until now stretched down the middle as far as the eye could see. Two more branched out from it, slightly curving as they led into the shadows.

Not only that, but there was yet another work of graffiti adorning the wall of the tunnel to Sam’s right. It resembled a small animal, while all the other pictures Sam had seen so far were abstract shapes—

Wait, no. It turned its head when Sam approached, causing xer to stop once again. Now that xe was closer to it, xe could tell that it was a real creature, but it’d been standing so still a moment ago. . .

The animal’s fur was the color of a thin veil of snow on the sidewalk. It sported four thin legs, with hind paws that were longer and wider than the front ones. A pair of oval-shaped ears protruded from the top of its head. A Y-shaped nose decorated its little muzzle, twitching in a way that would’ve been quite adorable if not for its eyes. They were a deep, dark shade of amber, almost seeming to glow against pale fur.

Sam’s vast knowledge of lapins began and ended with the fact that they didn’t eat carrots nearly as much as television suggested. Even so, it didn’t take long for xer to realize that the creature xe was looking at couldn’t be a rabbit. Its ears were longer and wider than those of any bunny xe’d seen. Plus, its body was just too large and wiry; rabbits were round creatures, small and soft around the edges.

This thing had to be a hare, right?

It shuffled closer to Sam, amber eyes still wide, curious, and maybe a little cold. Sam took an experimental step forward, and it didn’t scurry away as xe’d expected. Instead, it chose to rear up on its hind legs, its front paws hovering in the air as though it wanted to T-pose but just didn’t have the shoulders to do so. Its nose fluttered in an oddly distinct manner. Like it was smug about using such a cute gesture to smell rising paranoia.

Sam blinked. The animal did not.

Yep, definitely a hare.

The impromptu staring contest lasted about ten more seconds. Then, the hare lowered itself back onto all fours and turned away. It tossed one last glance at Sam over its shoulder, then raced down the tunnel and out of sight.

Sam listened as the hare’s footsteps got more and more quiet until they disappeared altogether. Xe wasn’t the type to make something deeper than it needed to be, but xe’d already heard plenty of cautionary symbolism about following a rabbit down a hole. Following a hare down a hole would probably be even riskier, since xe was already below the surface, and hares had no business stalking a network of abandoned subway tunnels.

Lightly shaking xer head, Sam went back to looking between the three tunnels.

Eeny-meeny-miney-mo. . .

Sam had just barely heard a new, louder set of footsteps approach before an unfamiliar voice called out, “Hey!”

Sam flinched, then turned xer head to find a man trekking out of the shadows within the tunnel to xer left.

Both of his arms were adorned by patches of hastily-wrapped bandages. The adhesive was stained red around the edges, but that was nothing compared to the man’s right hand. Layers of gauze were wound about his palm, simultaneously succeeding and failing to hide the stump where his right pinkie should’ve been.

Sam had to keep herself from staring. When it came to stuff like interrogation, mutilation was pretty common in the underground. She couldn’t be sure what had happened to this guy, but she still knew for a fact that it’d been gruesome. Especially since it was probably a measured tactic in comparison to more permanent alternatives.

“The fuck do you think you’re doing?” Bandages snarled. “You got business here?” He stood on the middle railway; he might’ve wanted to get in Sam’s face, but now that he’d gotten closer, he could see just how tall and well-built she was. I.e., clearly not someone who would take much shit from him.

“Yeah, I do,” Sam answered flatly. “So why don’t you mind your own?”

Bandages rolled his eyes. “No such thing as having your own business in places like this.”

“There is, actually. But if you really think otherwise, then it’s no wonder someone got sick of you.” Sam nodded to Bandages’ arms and missing finger, the lack of pity evident in her tone.

Bandages scowled in a very unpleasant way. He seemed to be trying to make himself look bigger. His efforts were unsuccessful.

Sam’s instincts told her that Bandages wasn’t part of The Pentas Family. Though she’d only seen a couple affiliates other than Murdock, she got the impression that there was a bit of a dress code. (Specific clothing wasn’t required, but various shades of red seemed to be. Murdock always wore that currant-colored turtleneck when on the job.) Bandages was wearing a simple gray T-shirt with a pair of jeans. Both articles were grimy, which meant he either got into quite a few scrapes or just didn’t care about his appearance.

“What’s in the box?” Bandages interrogated, pointing to the cooler in Sam’s hand.

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to,” Sam replied. 

One part of her felt annoyed, since it was be pretty easy to figure out that her cargo was a transplant container and do the math from there. Another part of her felt a little proud at how Bandages ever-so-slightly faltered; she knew she’d been getting better and better at intimidation. And yet another part of her was desperately clinging to her stone-faced demeanor in order to hide the nausea creeping around her teeth.

If Murdock were here, he’d probably take the cooler from Sam’s hands, open it, and show the target’s head to Bandages. Sam wasn’t about to do that, but she couldn’t deny that it certainly would’ve gotten Bandages to back off. (Unless it somehow didn’t, in which case Sam would have a whole new problem. . .)

Sam was about to just try her luck with the middle tunnel, but she hadn’t even started walking when she felt a hand come down on one of her arms. She retaliated by shoving Bandages back with the aforementioned arm.

“Don’t touch me!” She nearly shouted, her voice just loud enough to slightly echo along the walls.

Bandages tripped over the railway, landing on his back against rusty metal. He was quick to pick himself up, though it took him a bit longer to wipe the shock off his face.

“I’ve never seen you around town before—above or below,” he spat, folding his arms across his chest. Sam snorted, as this guy was desperately pretending that he hadn’t been knocked flat by the person he’d been trying and failing to belittle.

“I can say the exact same thing about you, dumbass. What’s your point?”

“My point,” Bandages said jeeringly, “is that you’re not supposed to be snooping around unless you want trouble.”

Sam narrowed her eyes. “Just because I’m not looking for trouble doesn’t mean I won’t put someone out of commission if they try to give me any. Besides. . .” 

She trailed off, subtly gesturing to the enamel pin attached to her shirt. Not that said pin would’ve been hard to notice; it’d been designed in the shape of a poison dart frog with an appropriately neon color palette.

Murdock had given it to her at the beginning of this arrangement—according to him, The Boss mandated that pins like this one were always provided to Pentas associates. That way, if Murdock or any of his peers were somehow unaware of a new alliance, they’d still be able to tell that the allies in question were A. not intruders despite still technically being outsiders, and B. strictly off limits (to both Pentas representatives and other outsiders. Unless they did something to change that, at least. . .).

Bandages scoffed, though his eyes turned slightly wary. “Just because you’re under protection doesn’t mean you get to stick your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“Good thing I’m not sticking my nose anywhere, then,” Sam shot back tersely. “I was specifically sent here as part of a favor that I owe.” A millisecond passed before she clarified, “To Murdock.” She made sure to put emphasis on the name. He was one of the higher-ranking killers in this organization, so it was only fair.

Bandages’ face fell. He lightly shook his head, forcing his mug back into the scowling mask he’d been aiming at Sam. The movement was quick, but Sam, ever observant Sam, had already noticed sudden panic on Bandages’ expression. 

Though they only felt annoyance towards him, they also couldn’t help but emphasize a bit. Murdock was a cold-blooded maniac, after all. Even—perhaps especially—those in his good graces wouldn’t be spared from his demented two-cents. (Which, in hindsight, made the calm-cool-collected demeanor he boasted seem less arrogant and more fucking terrifying.)  

“Yeah, well,” Bandages snarked, “Murdock isn’t in charge around here. What’s more, these tunnels aren’t his turf.”

“Eh, you’re half-right,” a new voice interjected from somewhere up ahead. “This territory belongs to The Boss, but as of late, I’m one of the people in charge of it.”

Sam ever-so-slightly startled, turning xer head to discover a man walking along the tracks towards xer and Bandages. Like most people, he was shorter than Sam (xe estimated he was 5’11), sporting fair skin and a head of neatly-kempt, chocolate-colored hair that nearly matched his eyes. The crimson leather of his racer jacket complimented the black hoodie and gray jeans he was wearing it over.

A sharp gasp erupted from Bandages’ direction. Sam glanced back at him, and was surprised to see just how pale his complexion had become. Not only that, but his eyes were practically bulging from their sockets. His stoic facade might as well never have been witnessed, because if he didn’t resemble a deer in headlights right now, nothing would.

As he grew closer, Jacket-Hoodie-Combo continued. “I’m usually willing to let people pass through here. As long as they’re not wasting any time or space, of course.” He halted a couple feet away from Sam and Bandages, taking a second to peer at the former.

Sam peered right back, making sure to keep her expression neutral. Now that Jacket-Hoodie-Combo was closer, it was easier to see exactly how calculating his eyes were, regardless of his relaxed disposition. Sam knew damn well that she was being analyzed, being put into a category. Plenty of people had looked at her the way Jacket-Hoodie-Combo was right now.  

Sam raised their eyebrows, trying to send a silent message along the lines of, I’m not afraid of you.

Jacket-Hoodie-Combo responded by smiling in a way that all but screamed, Maybe not right now. . .

He then tilted his head to look at Bandages. “Care to tell me what’s going on here?”

Bandages faltered, swallowing a visible lump in his throat. He looked in the opposite direction, as though he was hoping, praying that another person would suddenly pop up and volunteer to be a meat-shield for him.

“Nothing’s going on,” he finally answered, lowering his head.

“Really?” Jacket-Hoodie-Combo asked. “Because it looks like you were trying to instigate something with this visitor.” He nodded to Sam, or rather, to the dart frog pin. (So, this guy was part of Murdock’s “family.” Sam couldn’t be sure if that was a good thing yet.) His voice was light and positive, set in a bit of a Midwestern accent with that edge you could expect to hear from some kind of announcer. Even so, his tone was mischievous, sarcastic, conniving.

“What? You think I was starting something?” Bandages’ eyes were still filled with fear, but now a tiny bit of hope had been thrown into the mix. He shook his head and pointed at Sam. “She was the one who came up to me.”

Sam snarled. “That’s bullshit!” Despite xer desire to handle this carefully, Sam’s current levels of adrenaline made it pretty easy for a nerve to be struck. Especially considering how a complete stranger was trying to lie about xer.

Jacket-Hoodie-Combo’s smile gradually faded. He raised an unimpressed eyebrow at Bandages, clicking his tongue in disappointment. “Oh, come on. I could hear you from all the way down the tunnel.”

That tiny bit of hope vanished. Bandages glowered at Sam, but his expression quickly shifted back to a pleading one at Jacket-Hoodie-Combo’s comment. He tried to say something else, but Jacket-Hoodie-Combo cut him off.

“Stirring the pot with a protected colleague is already a punishable offense, y’know. And that would only be so much to worry about if this was your very first mistake with us.” He took a step forward. “But I distinctly remember The Boss telling you to stay out of here.”

Bandages was visibly shaking as he took a few steps back. “I-I heard that you’d all be busy today! Didn’t think I’d be in the way of anything—!”

Meanwhile, Sam glanced back and forth between the two of them, quietly edging away. Bandages had been trying his damnedest to toss his weight around just a few minutes ago, but now he was clearly making an attempt to not piss himself.

And Jacket-Hoodie-Combo hadn’t even tried anything yet. If he had a muscular build or any questionable injuries, then they were well-hidden by his clothing. There was a small, jagged scar on the left side of his upper lip, but other than that, he didn’t seem too intimidating.

Don’t judge a book by its cover, a voice in Sam’s head chided. By now, she knew that phrase all too well, and for all the wrong reasons. Hell, Murdock was able to come off as pretty unassuming—charismatic, even—when he needed to. And even when the real Murdock came out, he was still so disturbingly casual about it. So, if someone fell for that act, it was already too late for them.

“Oh, we’re busy alright,” Jacket-Hoodie-Combo agreed. “And that gives you even less of an excuse to be sneaking around right now.” 

The smile was back on his face, but it was a different smile than before. It wasn’t calm. It was unnecessarily wide and crooked, revealing two rows of pearly whites. Save for a silver canine-cap directly beneath his scar, that is.

Sam chewed at the inside of her cheek. Yep, there was definitely something wrong with this guy, and he’d most certainly made a reputation out of it.

Jacket-Hoodie-Combo moved closer to Bandages; just a few more steps and he would’ve been able to pin him against the wall. As Sam watched, she realized that Jacket-Hoodie-Combo wasn’t making eye-contact with Bandages. Instead, he was staring at Bandages’ arms, at the injuries hidden beneath patches of gauze. It was then that she finally realized what really made his grin seem so wrong.

It didn’t just look unhinged.

It looked. . .hungry.

“Wanna try again? Or should I just go straight to disciplinary measures like The Boss said I could?” Jacket-Hoodie-Combo’s hand was a blur as he spoke, reaching into a pocket to produce a wicked damascus-steel cleaver. (Sam couldn’t help but wonder exactly how the hell a tool like that had fit so perfectly inside the man’s coat.)

“N-no, NO!” Bandages nearly shrieked. “I’ll leave and I won’t come back, I swear! You won’t have to deal with me again!”

Jacket-Hoodie-Combo hummed at this. “There’s more than one way to make sure I don’t have to deal with you again.”  

He paused, then side-eyed Sam, probably remembering that she was still here. He pursed his lips in thought for a few long seconds before stepping away from Bandages with a melodramatic sigh.

“Move it,” he snapped, pointing toward the opposite tunnel. “Go back to your stupid gang. I’ve got more important things to focus on.”

Bandages began turning on his heel, presumably to bolt like a greyhound. But not before Jacket-Hoodie-Combo’s free hand lashed out and cuffed him on the neck, fingernails digging into skin. Bandages let out a cry of despair, screwing his eyes shut.

“The next time you feel like trying to pull a fast one on us,” Jacket-Hoodie-Combo hissed, holding his cleaver about an inch from Bandages’ face, “just remember that you have nine more fingers. . .and two legs. . .and a whole smorgasbord of things that, should you lose them, would leave you in much worse shape than what you’ve already lost.”

With that, Jacket-Hoodie-Combo shoved the other man away. Bandages quickly regained his balance and fled down the tunnel, the sound of his terrified footsteps still bouncing off the walls even after the shadows swallowed him up.

Jacket-Hoodie-Combo stared after him before rolling his eyes. He then straightened his back as he returned his focus to Sam. “Sorry you had to wait through all that. I’m just so fed up with people; I really thought he’d gotten the hint last time.”

Sam blinked at him, then cleared xer throat. “What exactly happened last time?”

“It’s not really a story worth telling. Just a bunch of wannabes trying to be competitors. They seem to think random street violence makes them look cool.” Jacket-Hoodie-Combo shook his head dismissively. “No tact at all, but they somehow managed to jeopardize one of our more recent plans. So, a message had to be sent. And I was assigned to do the sending.”

Sam tilted their head to the side. “One less person on their roster would probably be a more effective message. Isn’t that what this family specializes in?”

“Yes to both of those things, but The Boss wants certain problems handled more delicately.” Jacket-Hoodie-Combo slipped his cleaver back into his pocket. “I’m Caliban, but most people just call me Cal for short.” He then extended his hand, offering it to Sam.

Sam hesitated, but still reached out to shake. Ja—Caliban may have put away his blade, but she’d seen how quickly he’d been able to fish it out. Even so, he was the person she’d been looking for, and being polite was typically an easy way to stay safe.

That particular sentiment promptly threw itself out the window as an unnatural shape suddenly started moving inside Caliban’s hoodie.

Warning bells rang throughout Sam’s head as she remembered all the strange yet elaborate weapons that’d nearly cost her an eye, a few teeth, or varying amounts of blood in the past. She immediately took a couple steps back, but before she could draw The Lion’s Breath, something popped up through the hoodie’s collar.

Something with white fur. . .and long ears. . .and a pair of amber eyes above a twitching nose.

“And this is Snare,” Caliban chortled with a warm, knowing smile. “Don’t worry, he’s only dangerous when he needs to protect himself. Just treat him nicely and he’ll return the favor.”

This might’ve been the part where someone let their guard down due to a small animal entering the scene in an admittedly adorable way. To Sam, however, the fact that the hare had just been curled up in his owner’s hoodie while said owner threatened someone else with a knife wasn’t reassuring. Plus, despite Caliban’s cheerful tone, something in Sam’s gut told xer that he wasn’t actually joking about Snare being more deadly than he appeared.

“Nice to meet you,” xe coughed. “Thanks for intervening back there.”

Caliban nodded. “No problem. You must be Sam, yeah?”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “That depends: how do you know?” (She decided to play along and just ignore how Murdock had obviously followed through with alerting his accomplice.)

“You’re kind of the whole reason this family’s been working with Torchwood. Besides. . .” Caliban shrugged cheekily. “Well, ‘Doc has a couple stories about you.”

“Murdock is the kind of guy to have a couple stories about everybody,” Sam pointed out. 

Excepting the typical violence and death, xer interactions with Murdock had been pretty offhand, if not ominous. So, at the sound of this, Sam was unsure whether to feel complimented, insulted, threatened, or some vague combination of the three.

“True, true. But apparently you’re the only person with green eyes he’s ever met.” Caliban then tilted his head, taking a second to seemingly regard those same eyes. “Very pretty, I’ve gotta say.”

It wasn’t the first time Sam had heard this; having such a rare eye color was a solid bragging right. And despite validation being one helluva drug, unfortunately, when you worked in underground businesses, flattery was often a display of ass-kissing at best and downright slimy at worst. Then again, Sam could tell that Caliban wasn’t trying to flirt or kowtow—

“I’ve never had green eyes before,” Caliban stated, hunger creeping back into his grin. “Wonder if they taste any different from brown or blue.”

. . .Well, then.

Sam’s throat suddenly felt very dry. Not surprising, since it would’ve been a miracle for their jaw to not have hit the ground. They could practically feel their tan skin turn a shade that was roughly on-par with Snare’s fur. They only realized they’d backed away several paces when Caliban started cackling.

“Oh my God, that was perfect!” Caliban wheezed, shoulders bouncing, barely able to speak through his laughter. “And I thought I’d never get a chance to use that one!”

Sam stared at him, trying and failing to stop shaking. She was no stranger to morbid humor, and thanks to her arrangement with Murdock, she’d thought she’d gotten used to those kinds of jokes being aimed at her.

But the way Caliban had said that. . .his voice had barely changed. He’d sounded so calm and casual about implying that he wouldn’t mind eating her fucking eyeballs.

Caliban eventually calmed down enough to form coherent sentences once again, heaving a sigh. 

“Ah, don’t worry. Eyes are an acquired taste, and I honestly don’t want to acquire it. They combine the texture of grapes with the flavor of fish.” He pursed his lips and shook his head. “Pretty damn unpleasant unless they’re cooked in a special way. And I just don’t have the time or patience for that. Not when the body has plenty of other parts that are so much better.”

Sam instantly remembered the complete and total horror that had been on Bandages’ face, as well as his missing finger and all that gauze he’d been wearing. . .

The words hung in the air for an uncomfortable moment until Sam finally found her voice again. “Let me guess: those ‘other parts’ include chunks of skin out of someone’s arms?”

It took almost everything she had to keep from stammering. She’d already shown fear when she really shouldn’t have. Even though she was taller and clearly stronger, she couldn’t let him think that she was some shrinking violet.

“More or less,” Caliban answered with a shrug. “It had to be done, so what do you care?”

“I care because nobody bothered to tell me that I’d be working with a cannibal today!” Sam exclaimed, understandably incredulous. “Near-death experiences may have become the norm for me, but that doesn’t mean I can just deal with someone who might want to chop me into butcher’s parts!”

Caliban blinked at Sam, then rolled his eyes in an exasperated manner. “I already told you that you have nothing to worry about.”

“You only said that about my eyes!”

“Do you really think I would’ve scared that guy off if I wanted you dead?”

“I didn’t need anyone to scare that guy off for me. And if I’ve learned anything from Murdock, it’s that killers tend to get pissy when they don’t get to take someone off the census. So what assurance do I have that you won’t try something?”

Caliban mulled this over, then leaned against the wall behind him, looking Sam up and down again. 

“First of all, you’re wearing that pin. If The Boss decides to protect you, then we all need to protect you, and I’m not looking to be reprimanded anytime soon. Second of all, I can’t afford to butcher anyone who the family hasn’t decided needs to disappear. And third of all. . .” 

Something distant and unreadable manifested in his eyes.

“. . .Anyone who’s a friend of ‘Doc is a friend of mine.”

Sam furrowed xer brow. On one hand, Caliban was being pretty logical about this; he also hadn’t made any moves to try and harm xer, which was already a lot more than xe would’ve expected from a cannibal. On the other hand, however, having a conversation with a man who was a body-disposal resource for a mob, whose signature method for disposing of the bodies in question was to make meals out of them. . .

It was quite difficult to process. Especially considering how he thought taunting others with this fact was FUNNY.

(Plus, Sam couldn’t help but notice how Caliban had said “friend” in a snide tone, and that he clearly knew damn well how dangerous it was to associate with him or Murdock.)

“I’m not saying you have to trust me,” Caliban continued, “and I’m not much better than Murdock. But the options are always limited. So, you might as well take what you can get.”

Sam would’ve very much liked to call BS, but she couldn’t. Despite all the voices clamoring in her head, she knew that Caliban had a legitimate point. Besides, she couldn’t exactly ignore the sole purpose of managing to get Torchwood to partner with The Pentas Family. There were some unbelievably fucked-up people in the world; people who made Murdock look like a regular saint. And since those people would never be a big loss to society. . .well. . .

If Sam had been able to convince Murdock and his peers to target those who actually deserved all the terrifying things this mob specialized in, then that meant Caliban had been cannibalizing those same targets.

So, in the grand scheme of things, Caliban really was one of the better options of people to work with in an environment like this.

Sam sighed, straightening her back. “You left out how I’d knock you into next month if you gave me a reason to.”

Caliban offered a calm smile. “Probably, but I wouldn’t make it easy for you. Plus, you’d still have to worry about this guy avenging me.” He scratched Snare’s ears, to which the hare purred in an odd-yet-cute way.

Sam felt obligated to ask what exactly Snare was capable of, but Caliban gestured to the container in her hand.

“I’m assuming that’s for me?” He asked.

“. . .Yes,” Same answered, awkwardly lifting the cooler a bit.

“What is it? That thing’s too big to be transporting just one organ.” Caliban’s expression was curious and excited, like that of a child trying to guess what was hidden beneath Christmas wrapping paper.

Sam cringed. True, xe’d had to kill before, but dismemberment was a very different story, even though Murdock had been the one to divorce the target’s head from his body. Xe drew a line in the air around xer noggin, then made the slit-throat gesture.

Caliban chewed his lip. “A head? Really? That’s odd.”

“The rest had to be disposed of quickly,” Sam replied. “And I get the impression you don’t appreciate char-grilled stuff, so it’s this or nothing.” (The target’s corpse was probably a big pile of ashes by now, and it wouldn’t have taken a genius to guess that no one, cannibal or not, would appreciate being given ashes to eat.)

“Hey, I’m not complaining,” Caliban retorted. “Decapitations are just hard to pull off, so it’s pretty rare for ‘Doc or any of the others to do it.”

For whatever reason, Sam couldn’t really respond in any way other than shrugging. Eventually, they pronounced, “Aside from this delivery, I was told you needed help taking some. . .other things to the auction.”

“It’s not something I can’t do myself, but I wouldn’t say no to some extra help.” Caliban looked briefly surprised, but understanding returned to his features quickly enough. “‘Doc really needs to start using a planner, huh?”

“No kidding.” Sam glared at him before sighing. “Might as well happen, if I’m gonna be working with you guys.”

“Thaaaaat’s the spirit!” Caliban beamed in a very unconventional way. He turned away from Sam, then beckoned for her to follow as he started strolling into the tunnel on the right. Sam glanced at the other tunnels, then padded along, though she made sure to stay on the opposite side of the railway.

The cannibal walked at a quick pace, keeping both hands in his pockets. Snare didn’t budge from his owner’s hoodie; Sam couldn’t help but wonder if said hoodie had been modified to have a special interior pocket for the hare to ride in.

“So,” Caliban pronounced. “How did ‘Doc kill this guy? If he actually managed to take the head off before he died, I’m gonna be really impressed.”

“Why do you want to know?” Sam inquired. She realized too late that there had to be more than one reason, and that she would have approved of exactly none of them.

“Because if the head hasn’t been too damaged, then I might be able to sell some of the less-than-edible parts.”

Sam bit her tongue, barely able to keep repulsion out of her face. “Stabbing. Multiple times in the stomach.”

“Yeah, that sounds like ‘Doc.” Caliban glanced around Sam to analyze the cooler. “So, that’s a brain, two eyes, one tongue, at least twenty-seven teeth or so. . .”

“Uh—no, actually,” Sam piped up, cringing. “Murdock pulled all the teeth out during the first phase.”

Caliban quirked an eyebrow. “Probably should’ve expected something like that,” he admitted, sounding vaguely disappointed. “Oh, well. There’s no way the cleanup crew didn’t pick up the teeth themselves. Maybe they’ll drop ‘em off at the base.”

“And they would do that because. . ?”

“Because of the auction,” Caliban stated in a matter-of-fact tone. “Teeth are easy to clean, and a whole mouthful can fit into the smallest jars. They’re probably the only pieces that can be sold on the same day as a job.”

Sam remembered that one time in her youth: when she’d been unable to sleep because she’d gotten so nervous about what a fairy could possibly want with the baby teeth she’d lost.

She shuddered at the thought of some suspicious character drilling tiny holes into a handful of teeth in order to line them up on a thin chain, and then wearing them as some awful necklace or bracelet. (Then again, a person would have to be pretty damn stupid to slip on a piece of evidence and show it off, but Sam supposed there wasn’t anything stopping that person from only wearing said evidence around places where they wouldn’t be questioned.)

“How do events like this work?” Sam blurted. She nearly froze in place, unsure whether to keep talking or to clamp a hand over her mouth.

Caliban tilted his head at her, smirking in a way that suggested he’d been waiting for her to say something she really didn’t mean to. 

“Why do you want to know?” He questioned, making sure to mimic the tone she’d used just a couple minutes ago.

Sam suddenly couldn’t look at anything but the ground. The cooler felt like it was holding a few bricks. “. . .Just in case I ever have to deal with one of them for a mission.”

“Are you sure that’s the reason?” Caliban pressed. “There’s nothing wrong with morbid curiosity.”

“That’s a load coming from you,” Sam snarked. It wasn’t like she was afraid of silence, and she already knew that she wouldn’t like the answers Caliban would give. “If information is important enough, then I might as well ask questions.”

This was actually true. Sam may not have been inexperienced, but the underground was constantly changing and expanding. 

(Assassinations and organ-trafficking were the pies The Pentas Family had its thumbs in. They most certainly wouldn’t guarantee anyone a spot in heaven, but Sam was still aware that, somehow, other illicit businesses managed to be much, much, much worse. . .)

Working with The Pentas Family would mean eventually having to face even more shady groups.

So, if xe had an opportunity to learn more, then xe needed to take it. For xer sake as well as the sake of xer peers at Torchwood.

“Well, for the most part, it’s pretty much just a simple market,” Caliban explained. “Plenty of customers make their offers ahead of time and come to collect, though they might browse if they have the time. Unsold items are displayed and open for bargaining. The auction itself starts near the end, and it’s only used for the most valuable stock.”  

“Is part of that value the fact that you’ve managed not to eat it?” There was a generous amount of sarcasm in Sam’s tone, which xe used to distract xerself from how Caliban called human body parts items and stock.

“I feel like you’re trying to say I couldn’t pass the Marshmallow Test,” Caliban replied. “Which kinda stings, not gonna lie.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” Sam rolled xer eyes. “Last I checked, human organs are not at all similar to marshmallows.”

“You’re right: they’re a thousand times better than marshmallows, and that’s not my fault. Besides, they turn a nice enough profit to make it worth having to wait for another delivery.”

Sam stared at him, slowly shaking xer head in shock. Another moment passed before xe glanced between him and the cooler. “What kind of profit are you talking about?”

Caliban seemed genuinely excited to inform. “Prices can always fluctuate if the product has seen any damage. For example: let’s say I’m trying to sell a human skull. If the skull is in perfect condition, then I’d be able to expect three-thousand dollars or so. But if it’s missing teeth or has any cracks, then the most reasonable price would be about eight-hundred.” 

“But why would someone even need a spare skull?” Sam interjected. “Even if it was possible to replace bones like organs, it’d still be way too late for someone who needed a skull donation!”

Caliban snickered. “‘Skull donation.’ I wouldn’t put it past some people to try making that a reality. . .” He then shrugged. “Maybe they’re running hidden experiments that require bone marrow. Maybe they’re testing out different types of weapons. Or maybe they just know something about art deco that you don’t.”

Sam, who always saw fake skulls in stores around Halloween season, couldn’t really argue with that last option. Xe wanted to, but xe couldn’t.

“I’m assuming someone would buy a femur just to give their dog an authentic chew toy?”

“Sure! Snare would know all about that. Just one phalange is enough to keep his teeth from getting too long.” Caliban raised a hand to chuck Snare under the chin. “Your bite’s already bad enough, isn’t it, buddy? Yes, it is!”

The hare responded by craning his neck to nuzzle against his owner’s cheek, his amber eyes practically sparkling. . .until he glanced over at Sam, that is. Then he contrived to look smug and a tad evil.

“A single kidney can sell for ten thousand,” Caliban continued, “and a matching pair can be worth up to two hundred-thousand.”

“‘Matching?’” Sam echoed, somehow having been caught even more off guard.

“. . .Okay, matching might not always be the right word. Especially if you’re harvesting from multiple bodies at a time.”

Sam’s stomach roiled at the thought. It was shocking that bile hadn’t started creeping into xer throat by now. Caliban kept going, and it was genuinely impossible to tell whether he was toying with Sam’s disgust or was just in Infodump Mode.

“Blood can sell from three-hundred-thirty-seven per pint to one-thousand per gallon. Livers go for five-hundred-thousand on average, but you’d be lucky to get three-hundred for intestines, large or small, since they’re naturally so contaminated. Eyes can be about thirty-thousand each, as long as they still have corneas.” Caliban paused, then grinned at Sam. “But that price can be even higher depending on how rare the color is.”  

Sam listened before taking a subtle deep breath. Then she inquired, “. . .What about hearts?”

“Oh, a heart is worth a cool million! Even one with minor damage, let alone a perfect, untouched one.” Caliban chuckled. “Ah, maybe not quite untouched, but you get the idea.”

Sam imagined organs being organized into rows on a small table, each sealed inside a glass jar full of ethanol or isopropyl (xe supposed that could be one way of keeping Caliban from snacking on them). Xe imagined bones being displayed in a similar manner, albeit polished and maybe hung on metal racks. Xe imagined any number of people—probably way more than xer mental health was prepared for—peering at all those specimens, inspecting them, commenting on them.

Xe wondered what it was like from their end; it would be impossible for them to not ask questions, but those questions would likely be about quality that they’d learned to look for via fuck-knows-what. They could certainly try to ask about how the organic wares ended up for sale, but The Pentas Family couldn’t afford to give out that information for several reasons.

“Wait, don’t tell me,” Sam declared. “Human skin is typically ten dollars per square inch?”

Caliban did a doubletake that was almost neck-snapping. “Wow. You got it right on the nose!”

Sam blinked. Then blinked again. “You’re kidding.”

“No, I’m not!” Caliban insisted. “An entire body’s worth of skin can go for up to thirty-thousand, but it’s rare for someone to buy it in bulk. Especially when you consider how difficult it is to remove it all in one piece.”

Goosebumps prickled on Sam’s arms; it almost felt like bugs were crawling all over her.

Sam knew that skin grafts could be used for perfectly kosher reasons. They were essential to a person’s recovery when severely burned, infected, or even cancerous tissues had to be removed. Plenty of dental offices used them for gum repair procedures.

But that was in normal society. 

In the criminal underground, Sam had to assume that human skin could find its place as a watch strap, or a handbag, or seat covers for cars, or even an entire fucking sofa for whatever godforsaken reason. . .

Sam became extremely worried about what that meant for Caliban’s leather jacket.

“Wait.” Caliban suddenly halted in his tracks. “Waitwaitwaitwaitwait, hold on.”

“The first couple ‘waits’ didn’t tip me off,” Sam remarked, though they stopped walking in suit.

“Since we’re on the subject of skin. . .was that guy crying before he died?” Caliban’s eyes were fixated on the cooler.

Sam raised an eyebrow. She’d literally just told him about Murdock’s  back alley-esque dental procedure. “Crying? He was bawling like a CEO who’s been told he can’t buy a tenth yacht to sink.”

Caliban’s eyes bulged from their sockets. His grin grew wider than Sam thought possible, to the point that he almost seemed to have too many teeth. His body language wasn’t violent, but the vibes he was giving off were now even more unsettling than they already had been.

Sam, who was debating on whether or not to draw The Lion’s breath, nervously asked, “Is that a prob—”

“Why didn’t you say so earlier?” Caliban interjected. “ If a target cries, then lead with that when you make the delivery!”

Sam squinted at him, silently motioning for an elaboration. The cannibal didn’t seem angry; he didn’t even seem disappointed. If anything, he was practically bouncing up and down like an excited child.

“The skin on a person’s face usually isn’t worth cooking. There’s only enough of it for one sitting, and I always have to worry about acne and other nasty stuff like that. But tears have so much more of a kick than regular table salt!”

And just like that, Caliban was walking again, faster than before, making a clear effort to not break into a sprint. “C’mon, c’mon! We’re close to my basement! If I hurry, I can take the skin off and prepare it before we leave for the auction! Then it’ll be ready for me once I get back!”

Sam reluctantly quickened her pace. Even before she’d decided to follow a vegetarian diet, Sam had been thoroughly grossed out by the concept of eating chicken skin. And now her guts were turning to water because Caliban was chattering about how human skin compared to chicken skin.

At least her assumption about his jacket had been incorrect. . .

@that-bat  @sammys-magical-au  @insane4fandoms  @ayoreneehere   @callmegkiddo  @anxious-ace  @dleep-deprivation-idk-jelp  @overemotional-cactus  @congratscat  @neons-trash-blog  @butterboyfly  @echoing-night  @sw33tst4rs  @cmaniac123  @i-dont-like-it-here-please-help  @xyzkiss  @fluidfluxsomeone

#my writing #caliban #caliban the cannibal #matpat #matthew patrick #egopats #my character #fanmade egos #my fan egos #iswm murdock #murdock/murderplier #markiplier #the pentas family #[the future mob project] #somone else's oc #not my character #sammy's magical au's oc #sam ryder #tw gore #tw implied death #tw decapitation #tw blood #tw descriptions of illegal business #tw implied mutilation #tw implied cannibalism #tw mentions of violence #tw mentions of organs #🔪 anon

[georgette-mademoiselle]

Georgette and sekido part 8

overthinking

This one is kinda a continuation to the last one i made yesterday

Even since the beginning of there first encounter she had always tried to keep away from him because he was very intimidating but after finally bieng alone to talk to him that fateful day there relationship started to slowly develop from there but would revert back when his anger got the best of him towards her accidentally.

But on this particular day she was avoiding him for a week now and soon his rage would dwell into fear he thought he was going to lose her for good and choose to be with the others instead of him permanently.

He was in his working station in his room mot even able to concentrate as he fidgets around his pen while the other massages his temple his leg making the same movement as his working hand he was nervous more so that his beloved could possibly be thinking to leave him now because he went to far in his words.

He may be the embodiment of anger but still shares the same anxiety as hantengu just not to that extreme. Soon his chest almost felt tight and suddenly hes gulping down his weakness near the edge of wanting to have a paranoid breakdown never in his life has he felt such guilt for his actions not like this hes not used to this feeling at all and it only agitates him more that hes in this vulnerable state of despair and shame.

But then the door slides open he had forgotten to lock it. it was georgette, she had come to check up on him after never leaving his room all day today sne was worried for his well-being but before she could even say anything something was already wrong by the shaking body gesture and hands clutched onto his head "sekido!" She called.

Immideatly he jolted to her way. His eyes where wide in fear and it looked as if he was fighting back tears seeing the glisten of his eyes while sweating. His panick attack was about to hit full blown but her presence and look of genuine concern blocked it from happening.

"g-gerogie..." Just before she could move towards him with open arms sekido jumped out of his seat to hold her missing her warmth her gentlness her scent everything about this woman he missed it all. Wrapping his arms around her waist before he fell to his knees the wetness of her dress as he silently sobs of relief.

"sekido! Sekido! Hey whats wrong? My thunder storm why do you weep?" She kneels down letting him rest upon her lap as he lets it all out fingers caressing his soft auborn colored hair.

His words took time to put together, pulling together to stop from hyperventilating until finally words managed to escape his mouth.

" i-i-...im sorry! Ok there! Sorry! I know im not the kindest of person in the world infact i dont even deserve to be treated with such gesture! Y-you deserve better ok! Go with ai hes more empathetic o-or urogi! He can make you smile! Even stupid karaku would be better of with you! J-just...*fighting the urge not to cry again* anyone but me ok! I dont want to hurt you like that ever again I'm sorry georgie im so sorry!...."

She sat there and listened to his woes, she had no idea that he would have been affected by her absence, she only wanted to give him room to breath no matter how long it taked but that wasnt the case sekido missed her since day one of leaving him alone and now his guilt took a toll on him that she would leave him for somone else somone better and kinder. Yet little did sekido know he was kind a very different kind of kindness that was rare to see.

" my love, why do you say such nonsense? I already have the most kindest most understanding man right her on my lap." She moves her other hand to rub his shoulder.

" your motherly nature when you look out for your comrades is something i admire, perhaps strict but nonetheless its because you care for there safety"

" and dont think ive forgotten the time when you nurtured me during the time i came home with my face disfigured you still complimented me thoughtful after i was feeling low self esteem in that moment and to top it off you even came to my care when i was sick due to my ability even though you didnt have to. i think about it often "she chuckles placing a kiss on his forhead.

" you are loved sekido, and you are wanted. Nobody is perfect and thats ok...im not eather. No matter how rocky our relationship gets i want us to be able to solve it together because at the end of the day while i love the other three i want to be with *you* more than anyone sekido.."

He listened and the more he did the more he was gaining his composure again. He needed to hear that this was something hes been needing to hear for a long time now. Hes flawed and thats ok she is aswell. As his worries finally drift away sekido finally had the courage to slowly lift himself up to her nuzzling on the crook of her neck the same she did to him during that day of her mental breakdown.

"thank you, my rose..."

"i really needed to hear that..." He deeply sighed feeling true relaxation now.

" i think if you hadnt had come here any time i would have already bashed my head againts the wall along with the other idiots."

She only laughed

" where going to have to work on a different approach for a better anger management for example"

Hands him a rubber stress ball "tada!'

"....what the fuck is that?'" he looked at it with disgust the texture feeling wrong to him

" a stress management ball you can squeeze it throw it and smash it to let your anger all out see? Im good at this!"

He just stares at it and then clutches it with his fists then snorts.

" well this sure looks fun.."

"because it is my little lightning bolt ❤️"

Dividers by @/elryisia

#i like to think sekido is self conscious about his constant state of anger especially if its somone he deeply cares about it #it makes him feel that there better of finding somone else instead #sekido x georgette #georgette mademoiselle #original demon oc #kinda but not really kny oc #sekido #kny sekido #sekido kny #upper moon 4 #hantengu clones #kny #demon slayer #kimitsu no yaiba

[thegoldenherd]

So... I love the "Spiders-man" concept, but don't have access to any of his comics, so I've basically just made a whole new OC with the same concept.

I'm still working on the character design and whatnot, but I'd like you to have this.

#what do I name him? #calling him peter parker is fine because most spidermen are peter parker #but... he's just not really ''spiders-man'' #and I don't want to clog the tag of an obscure character with somone who isn't him #but uuuh #IDK what else to call him #my art #my memes #OC memes #non gh #spidersona

[winter-jay-official]

Nobody can convince me that jane prentiss isn't a lesbian

#its a real and true fact she told me herself we were making out i swear #sorry im normal #i love her so much i need her to have somone trying to save her and still loves her even if they know what she is and keep trying to find- #-her to be with her but she stays away from them because the last small part of her doesnt want them to get hurt #but in the process she gets marked anyway by the corruption (?? may change idk) and finds out jane dies and mourns and tries to kill jon- #-in season five out of anger and grief and because shes been taken over by the powers and she just cant imagine doing anything else but then #jon kills her too the end :> #sorry for thinking about my oc again they make me unwell #nightjay blogging

[wolfstarhaven]

Hi! Could you rec some fics where at the beginning remus is in a relationship with somone else? Sorry if you've already answered something similar to this 😅

Hi anon🌸 Thank you for this lovely request! I just wanna clarify: Remus might not be in a relationship in the beginning of each of these fics — but at some point he’s dating someone else. Sirius is not happy.

Happy birthday, you.,by WrappedUp (66k)

Sirius Black is about to turn thirty. But, like, it’s not a whole thing. It’s fine. And he’s absolutely not going to have a meltdown, fall in love with his oldest friend, and sabotage his own happiness.

He’s absolutely not.

General themes: muggle!au; slow burn; oblivious!sirius; jealous sirius; pining; hurt/comfort; happy ending; Remus/OC.

lover, you should've come over, by dykesiriusblack (105k)

Sirius Black is a mess.

Remus Lupin is new.

It's all quite complicated.

or

The story of Remus and Sirius meeting at age 20, falling in love without meaning to, and not knowing how the fuck to deal with it for far too long.

General themes: muggle!au; ANGST!!!; themes of depression and anxiety (read the tags carefully!); slow burn; friends with benefits; happy ending; beautiful prose; Remus/OC.

a sawn off shotgun, by dykesiriusblack (14k)

But the stage lights blur out the crowd and Sirius gets to his knees in front of Remus with their guitar and bass between them, and he does it again in their hotel room, has been doing it since their first tour, has been wanting to do it since he first learned about wanting, the kind that ruins you.

a band, a tour, and the kind of undefined relationship that drives you insane.

General themes: band!au; friends with benefits; jealous!sirius; beautiful prose; Remus/OC (it’s a fake relationship tho)

Befriending A Ravenclaw, by kreestar (55k)

Sirius has made a point to never learn the names of anyone in other Houses. There was no need to, in his astute opinion. Everyone who was not in Gryffindor must lack some intrinsic qualities which would therefore make them utterly intolerable as companions. And the Marauders - all three of them - did not need any intolerable fourths, thank you very much.

i.e, Remus is a Ravenclaw Prefect and Sirius is finding it harder and harder to admit he isn't obsessed with him.

General themes: Hogwarts era; canon divergence; Ravenclaw!Remus; oblivious!Sirius; jealous!Sirius; Remus/OC.

A Bird At Your Door, by moongoblin (32k)

Of pub quizzes, old films, Chinese takeaways, broken arms, and impassioned discussions of literature: Remus is confusing, and Sirius is just trying to figure him out.

General themes: muggle!su; uni!au; slow burn; pining; jealous!sirius; light angst; happy ending; Remus/Gilderoy Lockhart (briefly).

Paper Walls, by Kember (66k)

Have you ever lived with a person you just can’t stand? Everything about them rubs you the wrong way, and yet, you can’t help thinking what it would be like to kiss them… Yeah, welcome to the life of Remus Lupin. He just wants to keep his head down, crack on with his studies, and maybe graduate at some point in the future. But his juvenile crush on his arrogant, impulsive, reckless housemate, Sirius Black, is going to be a major bump in that perfect road.

General themes: muggle!au; university!au; flatmates; light enemies to lovers; Remus/Mary (only temporarily ofc).

Enjoy! (Also, hi! I haven’t disappeared I promise)

xx Elliot

#wolfstar #r/s #remus lupin #sirius black #wolfstar rec #jealousy #jealous!sirius #remus lupin/OC

[dayseedrawz2]

Yall. If I make another Tadc ask blog, (assuming you guys won't let this one flop-)

If you're wondering why Caine isn't on here that because I already have one of him

@ask-the-real-cainetadc

EDIT: I know the vote still has plenty of more time, but this happened to spread pretty quickly so I decided to already make the blog!

@the-exitdoor-simp-tadc

(Unless somone else catches up to pomni in the next 12 hours then I might just make a separate one-)

#tadc #the amazing digital circus #tadc caine #caine #tadc pomni #tadc ragatha #tadc jax #tadc gangle #tadc zooble #tadc kinger #tadc oc #tadc ask blog

[shugar0cone]

“Risk”

I was one of the most influential overloards, music. I controlled all of it especially when Lilith left. I was strong but the work that came with it was lame, I hated when people used my songs without my permission.

I started to fall sleep at the Vs table. Val needed songs for his special shows, vel needed more songs on social media to bring in more, and vox just needed things for background music. “So what do you say.” Vox says and turned to me. I snored in response. I woke up. “Sure just here.” You signed the papers. You went to walk out until velvet grabbed me and took a picture with me.

I went to the hotel tired, I went to a total 6 places for copy-write and then i still had a song to be made. I took off my shoes, nifty cleaned the place enough so you could take them off but not clean enough to take off my socks. “Ugh!” I yelled and clenched my hair. “Man I wanna quit doing this.” I say. I hear static. The room felt more heavy and dark. “What’s wrong my dear.” He put a hand down on my shoulder and looked at me. “Overloard crap, I don’t have time to enjoy my power instead I’m doing meeting then I’m doing shit at this fucking hotel!” I kicked a pole and it shifted. “Shit.” I grabbed it. “Alastor it’s been so long that I can’t remeber how strong I am.” I pinched my nose confused and conflicted with my self, “I want to help myself but I also want to help Charlie. I’m doing both and it’s not working.” I sat on the couch. I felt a pair of hands grasping my shoulders and rubbing them. “Now, dear you just need to do you, besides you don’t believe in this redemption crap.” I thought for abit. “I don’t but maybe if I take the risk it could work.” I held my hands together. “Alastor, if people didn’t try we would be somewhere else these days.” I say. Alastor looked down at me. “Think about it if somone didn’t risk the idea of radio you wouldn’t be you, if god risked falling his favorite son where would we go.” I sighed. “You’re right my love but…” he paused the smile never faded. “But if those risk takers where wrong think about the humiliation oh and the pain.” He laughed. I looked down sadden. “I’m quitting…” tear plucked my eyes. I loved my job I loved music, but at the same time every tune and every rhyme was mine when it should be shared. “Music should be given to people not stolen.” I thought. This is my risk maybe if I risked being weak and risked being vulnerable then maybe others could enjoy the symphony I took. “Yep I’m done.” With that I got up and left the hotel.

A week has passed since I quit. Charlie hugged me. “THATS A REDEEMING QUALITY YOU WHERE SELFLESS AND SHARED MUSIC AGAIN.” I smiled. “Hey I kept some of it.” I said holding up some sheets of music. “Besides it’s a way to express one’s self.” I looked at Alastor who had a grin on his face. “And it’s the risk I took.” I smiled at him. Thinking ‘and you should too.’

AN: not my best but honestly go board and just wrote, I do like the idea of a music overloard and definitely did not re use this idea for y/n instead of my oc…heh… anyways hopped y’all enjoyed my loves!

P.s: droop stuff in my inbox I love hearing yall suggestions!

-Shugar

#alastor #hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #hazbin x reader #charlie morningstar #angel dust #vaggie #fanfic #hazbin hotel husk

[dragonridernoobie]

Hi. Are the requests still open? I know I asked before but you didn't answer I guess my ask was under a ton of other asks but that doesn't matter I wanna change the previous one lol.

So my OC minet (you can find out about her in my profile master post). X Idol dust. First time meeting each other. (I'm a minor sooo just platonic)

Hi, I always answer requests or questions, but if I never did yours, then my apologies! My request are always open. I've also looked up Idol dust but I apologize that I can't do him and only normal dust, because of the fact that I can't really find any 'headcannons' of him but I know he looks diffrent then normal dust. Here is you're OC x Dust

Request are still open!!!!

Dust <-

Minet <-

How Minet and dust meet for the first time.

Minet likes her own personal space and is very shy.

She is a unique skeleton, and has a liquid covering her face but it protects her from attacks!

She loves being around error Sans

When minet met dust, It was an accident.

Dust made nightmare sans mad and he thru him in a portal.

That is how he met minet.

He was confused when he saw the world he was in but he saw somone off in the distance.

He thought it was error from the books and crochet things around.

To his surprised he found minet, who was surprised to find him!

He tried to talk to her but minet didn't respond.

So dust just sat right next to her.

Dust sits right next to minet and looks at her.

"Soooo....what's you're name?"

Dust asked but minet just shyly looks away trying to focus on what ever she was doing, but clearly can see she has her guard up. Dust just sighs and looks around.

"Say, that's some interesting crocheting, I know error dose them to but never like this."

Dust says while he looks at the crochet wolf. He also noticed how minet perked up at errors name.

"Hey, listen, I don't know you and you don't know me, so why don't we interduce ourselves? Just names nothing else. Hi, my name is dust, youres?"

".......minet."

Dust noticed how she didn't take his hand and sees that she leans away.

"Ah, don't like being touched like error, ok noticed."

Dust and minet sit in silence in each other's presence, not talking or nothing. Intel minet slids him one of her many books.

"....do...do you want to read together?"

"Sure."

So minet and dust start to read together in comfortable silence. After a few hours, error comes thru a rip and sees dust and minet.

"I see I found ya. Common, nightmare wants ya back."

"By minet, hope we meet again."

All minet did was nod but was seen with a small smile. She might have made a new friend.

I've tried to go by youre OC as much as possible, I hope you enjoyed!!!!!

Minet

[instantoatmeal]

Hey can anyone help me find or at least tell me what fanfic it is that I remember? This has been driving me crazy for like over a year now. I'm looking for a Hunger Games fanfiction, it's probably deleted now, but if anybody can give me any information that would be incredible. I can't remember the title or the author unfortunately but here's the list of what I do remember:

Finnick Odair/OC fic on fanfiction.net

Incomplete, small amount of chapters, maybe 3 or 4 but could've been a bit more

Takes place in Catching Fire, when the tributes are going for the Quarter quell

District 4 victor

Character inspired by Annie Cresta in terms of her mental instability

Goes into the games instead of mags

She's dressed as siren/mermaid for the tribute parade and she had long red hair, I believe it was a shell bra and green skirt like little mermaid style outfit and the prep team/stylist calls her their siren before she goes out

Johanna calls her crazy to her face when she comes out to the chariots, she mentions Finnick doesn't like that she does that but she herself doesn't mind

Katniss comes up to her during training and offers to show her how to use a bow, she takes a deep breath and then says she knows how to fight or something along that line and then says they can do something else. I'm pretty sure it's noted that Finnick is watching their interaction protectively

The last part that I remember clearly is in the last chapter or close to it, Finnick takes her to the pool in the training center and swims with her as exposure therapy to her fear. She says she wants to leave the water and he asks her to stay in for just a little longer. Johanna shows up while theyre swimming and I believe they discusse Plutarch's/Haymitch's plan while they're there.

These last couple things are stuff that I think I remember came from the fic, but I cannot say 100% that I'm right:

I thought her name started with an A and at some point someone called her mouse as nickname because of her timidness.

I also think I remember Annie was her sister that she volunteered to replace in her games but I'm not entirely sure of that either

It was publish pre-2020 and possibly pre-2018. I wanna say I saved it somewhere around 2016/2017 but I can't say for sure, it could've been even earlier tbh.

Edit: okay I checked my Google activity history and I'm pretty sure I found it at the earliest March of 2017, possibly in the OCs of Panem community on fanfiction.net. and I know by 2020 it was gone.

It's not a lot of information and its mostly just scenes that i remember reading, but it wasn't a long fic and like I said i'm pretty sure it was deleted. I'm just hoping somone else remembers because it's just been driving me nuts. Just the author or the title would be great if anybody knows it.

#the hunger games #fanfiction #lost fanfiction #the hunger games fanfiction #catching fire #quarter quell #finnick odair fanfiction #finnick odair #district 4 #please help me #its driving me nuts #thg #thg fanfiction #thg fandom #the hunger games fandom #fanfic #deleted fanfiction #deleted fanfic #find fanfic #lost fanfiction.net

[madsgotmadagain]

FTM maze runner oc PART 2

heyyy so i posted this like a year ago at this point and didn't realize somone wanted a part 2 until like this month so I finally got around to it! Highly recommend reading that post before this one as it has been over a year at this point and you might need some context for this post to make sense.

♡................................................................................♡

So the greenie finally figured out he's in fact NOT a girl so now he's gotta explain the situation to everyone else.

Naturally he was a bit anxious to, as to his knowledge, nobody else in the glad even knew what he was talking about. Honestly, HE didn't really know what he was talking about.

All he really knew was that being a girl just felt wrong. And cutting his hair, binding his chest (again, please don't bind with bandages it's really no good for yall), looking like and being called a boy... it all just felt right. Like it should have been that way the whole time.

Thus, after thinking through all he wanted to say, how he was going to say it, and bracing himself for negative reactions, he told his fellow medjacks.

At first, Jeff and Clint were a bit confused, but after explaining everything to them, they seemed to sort of understand.

To them, it was his life. Provided he wasn't hurting himself, they didn't really have a problem with it. Plus, he was their friend and fellow medjack. They're were only the 3 of them. Boy or girl, that wasn't about to change.

And after that positive exchange, he told some other people he was close with

Word spreads quickly around the glade. Before long, everyone had a rough understanding of what had changed, and dispite some confusion, they were all to busy with their respective jobs to care all that much.

Some thought it was weird or stupid or wrong, but they didn't really have the time or engery to waste on an exchange, and if they did, they were promptly shut down by another glader.

"Hey, by the way," Jeff asked as the medjacks were all sorting in a new shipment of supplies from the box. "Do you know you remember your name yet?"

"Oh yeah," Clint followed up. "I just got used to calling you dude. Got that figured out now?"

The boy smiled at the questions. He had thought that through a lot until this point. So he nodded.

"Yeah, actually, I think I kinda always have. Just didnt know cause it was a boy name." He says, leaning on a counter top to look at them.

"It's Kelvin. I like the name Kelvin. Call me Kelvin."

♡................................................................................♡

And there you have it! The part 2 at least 1 person has been waiting for! I hope you enjoyed it if decided to read it.

As of right now, I don't think Im gonna make a part 3 because I just don't know where the story would go from here and I'm not all that into the maze runner anymore :/

Thank you all and have a good morning/afternoon/night!

#the maze runner #tmr #Tmr oc #trans #trans rights #trans lives matter #Again DONT BIND WITH BANDAGES ITS BAD FOR YOU >:( #oc #thank you for waiting #i'm sorry it took so long #over a year actually #I left #Then came back and didn't see the request until a year later 😭 #thank you for your patience

[atlasdoe]

I've been thinking a lot about the Voldemort wins/marauders separated au and i have some thoughts that i need to share

SO the main characters would be James, Sirius, Remus, Peter, Lily and Mary

Sirius, Remus and Mary would already be in a relationship when the fic begins

I'm thinking that maybe they just graduated???

So they all get captured by Death Eaters and are separated depending on their blood status. While they were on the run they made a pact that if they ever got caught then they'd do whatever it takes to survive and make it back to each other

Sirius, James and Peter become Death Eaters

Remus gets sent to Greyback and becomes a member of his pack

Mary gets sent to Azkaban for stealing magic

And Lily is forced to marry Snape (i reckoned that if Voldy was willing to spare Lily just because Snape asked him to then he'd let her avoid Azkaban to like marry him instead)

The majority of the fic is going to be them all trying to get back to each other while fighting all of the brainwashing shit that would go on

In terms of ships

I'm thinking of Peter with a Death Eater also. My mind is going for Juliette Wilkes

Idk what i'm doing with James or Lily yet

And then ofc Sirius, Mary and Remus

I'm going to make someone else a werewolf tho idk who yet. maybe not a werewolf, maybe like a different "half-breed" creature. Maybe somone like Emmeline Vance or Amelia Bones or Florence Greengrass. Maybe more then one, just to avoid me having to make ocs for the werewolves.

Mary is going to have a cell next to Dahlia Fleur Peri, Lucinda Talkalot and Alexander Stebbins and somehow them and a bunch of other muggleborns that im going to pull out of my arse are going to escape Azkaban

Lily would be living with Snape and while she's there she'll meet Pandora (who is like a prisoner kinda but being used for her power. she has something going on i just don't know what yet) and Charity (she's someone else who Snape convinced Voldemort to let go. Charity is supposed to be Snapes assistant but he just lets her do whatever she wants cause they're buddies) Lily is basically trying to escape where she is while also finding out how to help her friends

As for Sirius, James and Peter i don't really know much about what they could be doing other than just Death Eater shit. Maybe Voldemort would use Sirius in particular as like this leader/spokesperson since he was so rebellious beforehand and could be seen as some kind of hope?? All i know is that whatever they're told to do they would all do because of their pact

The first part of the fic would end with them all together again and then the second part im thinking they're all corrupt and lowkey just take over the wizarding world themselves??

I dont read a lot of dark Voldemort wins aus mostly because none of them include ships that I like so please if anyone has any ideas as to what could be happening or what any of them would have to do please dont hesitate to share because i have a lot of ideas but idk which ones would be best.

also i've come up with a name. I'm calling it Blood Stained Flags

#fic: blood stained flags #someone please get me a friend who i can bounce ideas off of and spam with all of my fic ideas PLEASE #the marauders #harry potter #the marauders era #wolfstar #jegulus #james potter #remus lupin #regulus black #sirius black #mary macdonald #peter pettigrew #lily evans #remary #pandalily #pandora lovegood #marauders fic

[genderfluidarchive]

I know that clothes ≠ gender but sometimes I feel like I'm faking and I'm not a "true" genderfluid person, because I really do like dresses and frilly clothes and girl-ish stuff in general… But sometimes I like to wear them even in my masc days, and I feel like I don't have the right to ask people to refer to me with he/him pronouns because of it…

Idk if somone else feels like this, but I'd appreciate if someone had a solution to it!!

i definitely understand feeling like your gender somehow isn't valid because of your traits or hobbies or likes or presentation.

so how to deal with it?

disclaimer that often it takes some time to get over internalized transphobia, just keep working at it and reminding yourself that you are valid and can be whoever you want to be. forever.

ok first of all: everything gendered is totally arbitrary. there is nothing that is inherently masculine or feminine, technically. humans just like to make categories and put labels on things even when there's no true meaning or reason behind it. if you lived in a different country or a different time period, different things would be considered masculine. different things would be considered feminine. it truly doesn't matter in the scheme of who you are. whether you're a girl who likes tech or a guy who collects american girl dolls, you're still your gender.

second of all: do a little thought exercise for me and think of it in terms of other people. flip the genders - for instance, if a girl was really into weightlifting and other "masculine" hobbies, she'd just be a tomboy or butch girl. you would still respect her as a girl, right? and if you knew a guy who likes frills and pretty things, wouldn't you still respect him as a guy? why should it be any different for you? i mean this in a completely positive way - you are not the specialest person in the world, and that's a good thing. and i have to tell myself this too lmao. there is nothing that makes you so fundamentally different from other people that you don't deserve your gender and identity respected regardless of how you present.

third of all: look for cis men who are really feminine. look for cis men who are just kinda feminine. look for feminine men. find media with gender-non-conforming characters. there are plenty of them. number one: it will make you feel more normal. number two: would you question their identity because of how they present or what they like? no. at least i hope not lol.

fourth, maybe: create OCs that are like you. create art about your experience. find other people who are genderfluid and like feminine things. find friends who you know will accept and respect your identity. remind yourself that you deserve to be respected.

p.s. my younger brother has a bed full of plushies, wears makeup sometimes, and owns a corset that im lowkey jealous of but i can't steal bcos we don't wear the same size *pouts grumpily*. my ex-boyfriend liked skirts and split dyed his hair white and red. boys are all different. you're as valid as a boy/masc person (when you are one) as everyone else.

i hope something in this helped! go listen to your favorite song n be kind to yourself. you rock!

#genderfluid #genderfluid things #genderfluidity #genderfluid experiences #genderfluid positivity #kiley talks #genderfluid tips #kiley answers

[panic-and-procrastinate-writing]

new outlaw team!

this is the idea i had for jasons all girl/gay squad that i think he deserves, so! my oc outlaws team for jason i as follows: (it gets really long from here sorry)

a bue/green lantern (afab enby gothamite artist that doesn’t bind) that was inspired by red hood at the moment before their (almost) death and thus got both a green and blue power ring bc red hood gave them hope in their last moments and they found the will to survive. surprised the fuck out of everyone and when the green lanterns of earth told them they had to head to Oa and Odym to get their space sector they said nope! not being a space cop bc no.1 acab! and no.2 theres no pay? and no healthcare?! not in this economy! so they’ve been putting off going to Oa and talking to the gaurdians, instead hanging around red hood bc what else are they supposed to fucking do? does actually agree with jasons philosphy on how gotham doesn’t change and they should do something about that fucking clown, also happens to be half british and thats why their really creative in their rude insults, humongous balls, big enought to call batman a cunt to his face, and doesn’t tolerate conditional love (transphobic family probs) and! happens to have jasons dog from before, when asked why they said they found her on the streets and doesn’t know what happened to the previous owner. (jason knows, isabella got possessed by essence and then was never heard of again oops)

a speedster from the future (where else?) and is trying to stop the apocolypse. she’s kind of like her own red hood in terms of the speedster family, in which no one will take responsibility for the hurt they caused her and instead blame her for something that literally wasn’t her fault. (someone they love probably died and they couldn’t stop it, so blamed it on her for the shittiest of reasons), bc of this they exiled her from the city where the apocolypse begun (ground zero) and thus she could see the death cloud coming and managed to out run it into the past to try and stop it. i figured she would be massive adhd representation as well that goes undiagnosed for a long time bc they think its just how speedsters are (except her brain runs so much faster than the average speedster and therefore everyone thinks shes stupid bc she can’t catch her thoughts in time.) hella emotional bc of the adhd, a fucked up perception of time bc adhd and speedster, jesus its just the worst combination known to man. also imagine her with Lil Nas’ hair in that one pic (those cute ass fucking twists)

an atlantean that is basically female jason momoa, and really reminds jason of artemis to the point where the squad end up talking about how jason misses his amazon. Shes the tallest with tattoos all over her body, especially her giant beefy arms. she has atlantean magic and hydrokinesis, and even hydromancy (seing the future through water). shes a prodigy when it comes to atlantean magic, but in the middle of her 3rd year in magic school she had a traumatic exprience that fucked her up a lot. (person in authority abused their power i think you know where im going with this) bc of this she changed and her grades fell and she dropped out to escape her abusers watchful gaze and touch. when confronted about it she eventually broke down and told her mother, but that was the wrong thing to do. at first her mother told her that shes lying to escape trouble bc who would want her? shes too masculine to ever have someone want her. then she was told that she should be happy, somone finally wanted her. then she was told that it was her fault, she must have done something to lead on such a respected man, and that she was lying and she secretly wanted it. Bc of her masculine nature she faced a lot of misogyny and transphobia (from her mother) despite not being trans, bc terfs don’t care about masculine women, and reinforce the patriarchy throught their bullshit of thinking if women don’t fit in a perfect model of feminity then you are “as bad as men”. eventually she left atlantis and headed to the surface, bc mans world cant be worse than mothers world. She would understand what it’s like to be betrayed and failed by your parent same as jason, and i feel like those two are a “kill everyone if you die on me” kind of duo. is also a lightweight when it comes to human alcohol. very funny when she thinks she can drink everyone under the table bc she could jellyshot pretty heavy in atlantis and then procedes to get shit faced from a 5% wheat beer. on the floor crying after one drink lol.

the fourth and final member (excluding dog) would be a white martian that all four of them rescue. the speedster tracked the energy source of the apocolypse and discovered it was underwater, deep underwater. so redhood, lantern and speedster track down someone who can go that deep, our beloved atlantean. deciding to take the job (bc why not this shits interesting) the four of them head under, and going in blind, make an absolute mess. they have no blue print of the place, no clue what they are looking for or what to do with it if they find it. its possibly the end of the fucking world and they’re just bashing heads left and right, fighting goons all the way to the middle of this underwater base. and there, in the middle of a glass contanment cell, is a fucked up looking martian. Martian manhunter said all the white martians were gone, but clearly fucking not. none of them know about (white) martians or what they did, so they gladly rescue this fucker. not knowing what else to do, they bring the base down before fleeing with their prescious alien. (jason did do some hacking before they left and stole the data, but has yet to decode it) When the martian wakes up, it remembers literally nothing, and it becomes an entire plot point to figuring out how this sweet and confused creature could possibly end the world. and they are sweet! white martians have been written as villains for manhunter since the beginning (and there has only been one! white martian that has befriended manhunter, mad discrimination against an entire race), but this lil dude is just scared, and loves korean dramas. When manhunter discovers them, i think it would be justice league vs outlaws bc of the prejudice against our poor lil alien. they would probably be extremely genderfluid in the coolest way bc of shapeshifting, and also bc martian genders and sexes are a completely different binary to a humans gender binary, therefore wouldn’t fit on it all. would probably have a very feminine presentation though bc they are mostly surrounded by women and afabs, and are trying to fit in.

christ this got away from me. anyway, jason deserves women who understand him and can be his actual family. these girls and gays 100% convinced him to steal the batmobile and they wrecked his “memorial” in the batcave. ready to dunk on(fist fight and kill on a tuesday) Bman at a moments notice. jason’s polycule that call batman a bitchless furry to his face in front of the justice league. He is the only man and it makes him feel safe.

AND he has his dog!!! and she wont be named dog. she will be called michael bc its really funny to me. jason just turns to his dog in the car next to him and says “michael you seein this shit?” and its batman making out with catwoman. they boo at them.

#dc hire me im better than lobdell. #give him his dog back. #dogs with human names are funny #especialy when its female animals with male names #like jeremy #or dave #jason todd #red hood #red hod and the outlaws #rhato #i have so much more to say about this lol #jaspers outlaws

[coralbouquetcupcake]

Phar/Phan

A phar/phan is a character/oc/imaginary friend that is automated in your mind from having a well developed personality.

2: a phar can talk to you and hold good conversations with you as if they where somone else (a phar/Phan is still you)

3:They are mostly unintentionally developed by writers, artists and many more but you can create one by just making a character/oc/imaginary with a really good developed personality

Ex: (clay is the phar) *me who has been working on this oc and there personality traits for days called clay and now working on his appearance*

clay: hey! Don't make me like that give me better hair. Me:Why?

Clay:Because.. the conversation continues it's like talking to somone else to *ME*

(There's studies on this I just coined this lol)

Studies: https://writersinnervoices.com/publications/

https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/abs/10.1080/09515089.2022.2043265?journalCode=cphp20

#coined by me #coined term #coined by us

[piffany666]

Random but specific headcanons about my redacted listener oc's part: 5 freelancer

DISCLAIMER: these are headcanons for MY ocs it's totally ok for you to disagree with any of them and have your own opinion these are just my ocs

• their real name is Casper but honestly they're so used to "freelancer" or "deviant" that they sometimes forget their own name XD

• they are non bionary

• they're pansexual with no particular preference

• whenever they hang out with members of the damn gang 1 on 1 they try to make sure their outfits match ( like if their hanging out with Huxley they'll wear green and if their hanging out with Damian they'll wear red you get the idea)

• the backstory I came up with for them is pretty long so I'll make it separately some other time

• they die their hair avidly but when they first started dating Gavin they died (some of) their hair hot pink

• both them and Gavin have breast removal surgery/scars

• Gavin really wants to get a cat with them but there's "not enough room in the apartment"

• they can play the electric guitar and Gavin loves watching them play

• they DO NOT have a good realationship with their parents

• they are the ✨ disappointment of the family✨ who loves to p*ss them off

• when Gavin first started flirting with lasko, lasko would apologize A LOT for getting flustered to Casper but they were always just like "lol why?"

• they are very ok with Gavin just openly flirting with other people just cos they find it funny

• when asked about this (by either lasko or Damian) how their so comfortable with it they basically said that they just don't ever get jealous like EVER and they only consider something "cheating" when someone f*s somone else without telling them first

• this baffles Damian so freelancer took this to mean that he'd get jealous if someone ever flirted with Huxley XD

• they new about Damian and Huxley from the MOMENT they met and was just waiting for something to happen

• they try SO hard to not let other water elementals bother them but sometimes they just cant be in the room with them (and they feel awful because of it)

• they are really good at singing and when they have time they film themselves making covers of songs they like

• Gavin and Casper both watch hellova boss and hazbin hotel together

• they have both cosplayed as ALL the power couples from both shows eg. Moxie and mille, blitzo and stolas, angle dust and Alistor that sort of thing

IM PROBABLY GONNA ADD TO THIS ONE LATER AS WELL

#redacted asmr #redacted audio #redactedverse #redacted freelancer

[pessimisticmusicbox]

I think I've realised I'm bad luck. Everyone I meet every person I interact with as soon as I come into their lives. It all seems to turn to shit. Every second everyday I'm tourmented with paranoia that gets worse with people and I've found that that it manifests itself and fucks up other people's life. I feel like everyone would be better off without me, and I honestly wish they'd see that too, I think I have attachment issues because as soon as I befriend or come close with someone, I instantly desire to leave them, somtimes for selfish intent and somtimes for altruism but none the less I always do. I wish I had the guts to cut people of cold because as soon as I enter somones life as nice as I try to be I fuck up everyone around me without trying. I don't think I want to do that again. I dont think anyone deserves that, and I dont think I deserve anyone else. No one seems to be able to see that eventually, I'll just end up dragging people down. I'm a very avid reality thinker I often think of every conceivable reality where maybe things could be different but I know everyones life would be better if I wasnt in it, I'd rather they pain staklingly get support then wallow in their sadness while I coddle them, I've given up on myself and so should they. Im the losing dog that people bet on, and unbeknownst to them, they shouldn't.[Not my art] [Oc writing read desc for context]

#attachment issues #writing #oc writing #mitski #i bet on losing dogs #mentally tired #Spotify