it's all gonna 𝕓𝕦𝕣𝕟 !

LOCATION: idaho hunters’ hq WHEN: freshly post-grizzlies war FOR: @thcriptiide​

Oh, the second he felt it, he knew he was in trouble. The fight against the grizzlies had been rough, as it usually was; the fuckers were armed to their teeth, and always revving up the engines to those stupid cars of theirs. Pathetic, if you asked him, but he didn’t get a chance to taunt anyone before they were all in the middle of a warzone. At least they knew beforehand. That didn’t keep him from getting hurt, though.

It happened so quickly, he’d almost missed it. A sound, a slash, something that grazed his side, just above his hip. Something turned out to be a bullet, but, minor details. Only after a moment, Mercy felt the burning spreading up his entire left side, and he didn’t need to look down to know the blood was starting to stain his clothes. He distantly remembered someone telling him to sit down and get it checked. He remembered brushing them off with a growl and standing his ground, firing at those pesky little idiots until they were forced to retreat.

He didn’t have the energy to celebrate their small victory, by that point. He knew the injury wasn’t serious – because otherwise he wouldn’t even be walking. And he knew it probably didn’t bleed too much – because otherwise he would’ve passed out. So it should be fine. That was the train of thought he tried to convey as he dragged poor Aylin into their room and closed the door behind them, while the other Hunters were just starting to trickle back into the building.

“I need you to not freak out,” he spoke calmly, one hand covering the bloody injury as the other framed her face with reverent gentleness. He wouldn’t ask this of her any other time, but he didn’t want to risk revealing the bite marks on his side to any of their medics. “But I need you to patch me up, ku'u ipo. It’s nothing bad, it’s just a tiny little bullet graze, I swear, okay?”

there was a slight bounce in her leg, a mix of worry, anxiety and anticipation as she stood in the common area with the others, weapon in hand just in case, wondering when the group was going to come back from the fight with the grizzlies. it wasn’t that aylin didn’t trust mercy to come back to her, because she did, with all her heart, but she couldn’t help but let worry sink into the pit of her stomach whenever there was imminent danger ; she’d always said that he was her missing puzzle piece in life and the time when she’d gotten close to losing him almost broke her. no matter how hard she tried to tell herself that if it happens, then it would have happened for a reason, aylin knew that she could never deal with losing him.

a gasp fell from her mouth the moment that he saw him walking through, a bright grin decorating aylin’s face as soon as she saw him still standing. but the smile faltered as mercy pulled her along with him into their room, doe eyes staring at her husband’s face as he spoke to her. she swore she was so dazed from the worry that she didn’t register what he said at first, giving a gentle shake of her head to make herself focus. aylin’s eyebrows furrowed as she let her eyes trail down his body, hand shooting up to her mouth as soon as she saw the blood staining his shirt.

“mercy,” the woman seldom used her husband’s name (  well, still a nickname but not the nicknames that she held for him ) only when she was serious about something. her hands went to the hem of his shirt, pushing up gently and letting out a small cry when she saw the wound, looking up at her husband, “i can’t patch you up! what if i make it worse?” there was panic in her voice, but she tried to keep it at a low volume, not wanting to alert anyone of their fellow hunters.

aylin’s fingertips were stained with blood, but she didn’t realise as she put her hand to her forehead, huffing and pushing him back to sit on the bed, rushing to grab a towel to press to the wound to keep it from bleeding out, “hold it there,” her voice was gentle, but still stern, worry swimming in her head as she exited the room, rushing over to where they kept the medical supplies, brushing over the people who asked her if things were okay, telling them that mercy just didn’t want to be a bother, before rushing back to the room and immediately going to sit on the ground in front of him, pushing the towel away to examine the wound and see if anything was stuck in it, concentration present on her face.

 — AND THE ONLY SOLUTION WAS TO STAND AND FIGHT

“ THE BLOOD IN MY VEINS IS MADE UP OF MY MISTAKES. ” is that ALBA FLORES ? oh no, that’s RAMONA BOLIVAR, born on the 2ND of OCTOBER, 2011. i heard SHE (CIS-FEMALE) is a PATROL LEADER in JACKSON TOWN. apparently, they can be HARDWORKING and AMBITIOUS but also known to be CALCULATING and IRRITABLE. spends most of their free time DISASSEMBLING AND REASSEMBLING GUNS, probably smells like SPENT GUNPOWDER. is that a bite mark i see? no, must have been a trick of the light.

LOCATION: the pits WHEN: january 2044 FOR: @thcriptiide 

Nell hasn’t been to the pits in so long. Nothing particularly against the free displays of violence, she enjoys watching the infected rip each other – or the occasional prisoner – apart, as much as the next grizzlie. But lately, she had spent so much time fixing up their cars to thrive through the winter, she barely had any time to relax.

So when she slumps into the seat next to Jamila tonight, it’s with a grand dramatic sigh and a large gulp of whatever alcoholic beverage she managed to grab on the way. She always feels childish in comparison whenever she’s in the same room as them; like a little kid trying on her mother’s heels and wobbling around, vs. Jamila’s never-ending grace, but this doesn’t stop her from reaching out anyway. She enjoys teetering the line between an absolute nuisance and just pleasant enough. “Who are we rooting for tonight?” She asks in greeting, offering them the drink as her eyes search the pit. Is it too weird to say she missed the absolute stench of death in this place? Probably. Still true, though. “Holy shit, I’m starved. Do you have snacks? Be honest.”

The pits. Nothing like the fresh smell of blood at any given time you happened to show up. It was no wonder that it was one of Jamila’s favourite places; watching the infected rip each other apart, watching prisoners fight for their lives, it was pure chaos, and Jamila was known to thrive on chaos. 

With their knife in one hand and an empty cup in the other, their usual sadistic smirk had settled on their lips as her eyes followed the battling bodies, raising their eyebrow as they felt a presence sit next to them, the dramatic sigh making Jamila roll their eyes and sit with an even wider stance, in hopes that whoever thought it was a good idea to take a seat next to them would leave ... but hopes remained just that. “Anyone who doesn’t die,” they sneer, not even looking over at the woman. When the drink was offered, their eyebrows were still raised, but Jamila accepted it, pouring some of it into the empty cup and handing it back, “the fuck do I look like, a vending machine?”