came up with the headcanon that charles is the gang’s grave digger. he carves the crosses, digs the hole, lays the body in the grave, buries it. not just because he’s the strongest, or the most used to seeing death, but because i think he needs that formality. he needs to see a body to make sure they’re dead.
the way he stopped to stare at lenny while they were running on the roofs of saint denis. the way him and abigail snuck into the morgue to get hosea and lenny’s bodies. the way he went back, not just to camp for grimshaw, but also across the damn mountains, just to track arthur’s body to bury it.
charles needs to make sure someone is dead. needs to make sure that, yes, the world did take something else from him. yes, there is nothing he can do about it, except bury them and move on. burying them is his way of grieving, of seeing them one last time as they were, albeit whatever injury caused them to die in the first place.
i think arthur’s death hit the hardest, though.
grimshaw’s might have also hurt, mostly due to decomposition and the fact that she was just an innocent women, but arthur’s.
all of the bodies that charles buried in the game were fresher. at most, a week in a morgue, which would’ve taken some measures to prevent speedy decomposition. arthur’s body, though? it was months old. nails and teeth would be loose enough to pull off. bones would be visible. his skin was yellow, body bloated, eyes most likely pecked out by birds.
charles wasn’t given time to grieve. he was too busy helping the wapiti to grieve over the fact that arthur had left, that he wasn’t going to see him again. he wasn’t even given the satisfaction of seeing his body as it was, even if it was sickly. he couldn’t grieve arthur while he was alive, or while he was dead.
i think that’s why charles spent so much time on arthur’s grave. adding flowers, carving in a quote, forming the grave much more complexly than a simple cross, finding the most gorgeous place possible that he knew arthur would’ve liked. it was his way of saying he was sorry. he was sorry he couldn’t bury arthur in time for him to decompose properly. he was sorry that some of arthur’s nails fell off of taima’s back on the ride there, because they were so loose that they couldn’t stay in. he was so sorry, and he couldn’t fix it, and now arthur was dead, and charles was alone.
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TW: Yandere behavior, stalking, violence, abliesm, talks of decompression of a human body, toxic masculinity, sexual harassment NOT BY TIM, being burned alive
DISCLAIMER: I do not have CIPA, Schizophrenia, or Tourettes syndrome while I did research these conditions I may not be accurate. If I misrepresented these conditions, feel free to let me know. Thank you.
Best read with a GN reader in mind
Working at a gas station in the middle of nowhere is always a fun time, you see people from every neck or the woods. Tourists who got lost trying to find a city and 'american roads are too complicated.' Farmers whose children need a pick me up after work or school, and of course just random travelers who simply need a cup or gas and get some cigarettes.
Yet you still had a regular, someone who always came by and ordered the same things. A pack of cigarettes, a 6 pack of some sort of beer, and always a lighter.
"... You loose these often?" You tried to joke,
"..." Of course there was always silence with this man. A hunter most likely, the way his knuckles bruise and are covered in red crimson colour.
"... Your total is 23.76." You spoke, your feet shifting awkwardly as he pulled out cash, the cotton feeling on your hands as you sigh, two 20's. Well, at least he didn't seem to mind checking the bills. "Ah," you pause for a second.
The golden ink on the bill turning a harsh black colour on the paper, a fake 20. "I'm sorry to tell you this, but this is fake."
The man paused with a second, he let out a soft sigh of annoyance as he rubbed his nose; he pulled out another bill, "Try this one." He gruffed out, probably annoyed about some other sketchy gas station giving a fake 20.
"If you're going to that touristy ghost town, you should probably be careful." You spoke up softly, as you checked the 20. Perfect, the marked bill stayed gold. "The man that runs it has... Has history of being violent with fake bills." You warned, you handed the man the change. His hands still insanely warm. Almost like a forest stuck between rain and heat.
"... Thanks for the warning." He huffed out, he quickly went back to his truck. You let out a soft sigh and frowned. He was so quiet and rough, though you guess all hunters are like that.
🌹
The drive was silent with Tim and Toby, Brian had another mission somewhere else. Toby kept biting his lip and jerking his head towards the side of the door. "Y... Click. You shou- click click." Toby tried to speak.
Tim tightened his grip on the steering wheel, his hands bruising and turning a white colour. He stared at the endless road. The whispers of 'turn behind you', 'behind you' 'look behind you.' ringing loudly in his ear. "I should what?" He questioned.
"Should click click click," Toby huffed out as his head jerked a little too far, reopening his scared cut up cheek. The smell of iron and infection hitting Tim's nose, a stark reminder how much he found Toby to be a disgrace fuck that causes nothing but problems. "Should tal-talk with them." Toby huffed out.
"Boy you better fix that." Tim spoke causing Toby to sigh as he opened his phone, something that BEN ghost gave him. "Nth click click click." Toby hissed out as he kept jerking his head to the side.
Whatever, Tim had more important things.
🌹
Tim watched as you finally went back to the gas station, you're finally switching shifts. The way you waved to your coworker making his blood run cold. Why were you so friendly? Especially in the middle of nowhere America.
The way your hands were covered with other people's touch, the way you smiled at everyone and made conversation with the stupidest of men. The way you had to fix everything in that gas station. The manager there was a failure of a man, what kinda of man couldn't even fix a lightbulb?
It unnerved Tim, it unnerved Tim of how weak you were. You haven't even noticed him, you would get yourself killed one of these days.
No you wouldn't, not while Tim was around. Not while he's seen the way maggots crawl on dead flesh, not the way he's seen the light fade from the eyes of men and women. He couldn't risk you, your softness being tainted with black flesh and black liquid.
🌹
It was a rough shift for you today, a creepy old man decided to leave his tact at the door. His hand touching your arm as he spoke out the words 'Cmon, how much do I gotta for a kiss?'
It was disgusting and disturbing but you knew your manager wasn't going to do anything about it, why would he? He could barley clean the toilets without puking everywhere. He also couldn't even handle the register breaking.
"Is this area known for that?" The man hissed, the cigarette man. Your regular. "Ah, well." You pause, before you shook your head and smiled at the man with the side burns. Hoping maybe you could calm him down, that you could hope he won't have a negative review.
"He's just joking. Really." The man paused as he sighed and rubbed his nose, irritation clearly building up even more. "You know what, your cigarettes are on me tonight. Sorry you had to see that."
The man paused before he let out a soft huff. "Really?" You paused, shit. That probably was the wrong thing to say. "Well, yeah," You chuckled dryly.
He stared at you, before nodding. Before handing you a 20 and you giving the man the change.
🌹
Tim sighed as he lit one of the cigarettes that you've given him. The way the smoke filled up his lungs, the way it made him forget for a just a second about the voices in his head.
"click click click." Toby ticked, his hands jerking up toward the fire of the body they were burning. The red, the orange, the smell of burning flesh. The reminder of how humans scream in agony and scream from black smoke filling up his lungs. "Y-you mu- click click click, you murder for click click. For them now?" Toby asked.
Tim huffed as he flicked out the cigarette, what a dumb question.
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cw burning? rotting/decompositing (idk how it’s spelt)
taph got forsakened because when he was hiding in his house with all of his bombs, he stepped on one and it burnt him. he couldnt recieve sny help because he couldn’t walk to his door and was terrified, so he rotted away in his house. people still think he’s hiding. also he wears his hood all the time because he’s ashamed of his scars!!
-🗑️
WHAT. WHJATJKL. FUCKKK WAIT TAPH :[ awh.,/., dudee do you think he'd bond a little with jason for their shared facial scars..,., type shi.,., taph and jason being friends might be peak this hc is so auhgfkdjghlkfdhg /VVVPOS
The Goat in 2023: As the jackdaws peck at your straw flesh and expose your wooden bones, we are all reminded of the inevitability of death and rot. Thus, we create tributes not merely to a fallen animal made of straw, but the cycle of death itself. The humble jackdaw becomes a symbol of death. But unlike fire, the seeds plucked from the grain can be carried within the jackdaw- hundreds of miles away. You will be reborn. This is a year of death and reincarnation.
