insainted

[insainted]

Damo is awkward, sure, but he's never frantic. Certainly not like this anyway—and not usually late either. More commonly, the roles are reversed, with Briar the disorganised mess that comes in like a whirlwind, with Damo standing where she is now, eyebrows raised and arms folded.

When the flush catches his cheeks, anything that Briar had in mind to scold him with flies away from their mind, replaced with a sly smirk. Sliding around the front counter slowly, Briar moves up to Damo like a panther prowling, eyes full of mischief.

"No, no, no, Damo, come on. Situation? What's the situation? Tell me the situation, Damo, come on, come on." Grabbing his hand, they start pulling him into the back.

where: remedy roots with: @insainted (briar)

he comes shooting into the place like a rocket, hands already held aloft like he's going to be arrested for being late, eyes wide, a little frantic, and most definitely looking more disheveled than he's ever shown up to work before. he isn't even sure if he remembered to brush his hair this morning, he knows he's wearing the same shirt that he wore yesterday, and he's pretty sure the shoes on his feet don't match. he'd gotten ready in a rush, he'd had other things to worry about.

"i know! i know i'm late. i woke up to--" abruptly, he cuts himself off, face blooming so pink that he knows it would be impossible to hide it, eyes widening slightly before they quickly look away from briar, hoping they don't catch it, but knowing better. they always catch it, they always see shit that dam doesn't want them to see, because they're a better friend than anyone on the planet and it's starting to really bite him in the ass.

"i woke up to a situation this morning and it kind of threw off my whole day. and i.. uh... i needed to... handle that... situation... ANYWAY."

he winces as his voice shoots up, a little to loud and a little too high pitched. awkward. he clears his throat, blinks and looks at briar again, tries a smile that he knows looks awkward and guilty. "anyway. whats up, boss? how's the morning been?"

[insainted]

While Briar could always be considered a workaholic—it happens when you turn what you love into your job. It's a little different now, though—although she hadn't been particularly close to her cousin, Joey, but his disappearance is... troubling. They've been churning out more work the past week or so than they have in a month, and it's been helping keep their mind off of the whole situation.

Perhaps they sound ask Tadhg if he's seen anything.

Stepping out of the store to close it up finally, Briar nearly jumps out of her skin at Scarlett's voice behind her, spinning around to see her step out of the shadows into the light. "Auntie!" Briar roars, tone scolding as they hold their hand over their pounding heart. Taking a deep breath in through their nose and a long breath out through their mouth, Briar calms themself down slowly.

"I'm fine, I almost died, but I'm fine." She opens her mouth to continue when her eyes widen. "Food?" When's the last time she's eaten? This morning, most likely. "Food! Yes, okay, okay, let's go, let's go." Reaching out, Briar grabs hold of Scarlett's wrist and starts pulling her along.

@insainted

LOCATION: outside remedy roots FOR: briar hart

FRANKLY, SCARLETT WOULD BE astounded if anyone put her name and maternal in the same sentence. she didn't have the luxury to be outwardly nurturing in her position ( she still found her own way, in some cases ), knowing better than to give their members the room to step out of line. but briar was different. they had endeared themselves to scarlett extraordinarily quickly -- something that had startled her at first. why was caring for people, especially when you were supposed to be known for being toucher than nails, so fucking terrifying? she continued to keep her cards close to her chest -- demand the same from each under her command.

but with briar, she's far softer.

it's why she stands outside of remedy roots waiting for her shift to be over. with all the people missing, including her own, she couldn't take any chances. even if her blossoming relationship with rio made her visits to hells gate more infrequent as it was, they were more to keep her eye on angel. and now, today, she had the opportunity to check in on briar.

" hey, kid. "

the voice comes with her usual gruff nature, but with an unfamiliar characteristic that most do not see. arms crossed over her chest, she steps forward -- into the light. while she knows that only a little bit more than a decade separates the two of them, this hasn't stopped her from feeling noticeably paternal. " i just wanted to check in. make sure you're doin' okay. " with some of their own people missing, her defenses were even higher than usual. she wouldn't sleep until they were safe again. alive. " can i buy ya dinner at the diner or somethin'? "

[insainted]

❝ But understand, I am a child of war. To truly love and be loved, I don’t know if I’m capable of either. The very idea of love, of family was beaten out of me. I was taught that love is weakness. And I don’t know how that will ever change. ❞

Sofia Boutella as Kora REBEL MOON - PART ONE: A CHILD OF FIRE (2023)

[insainted]

It had happened so fast, it takes him a good while to even understand what had happened exactly. He'd gone out for a walk early that morning, while the city's still relatively quiet and he can take in fresh air without the overabundance of other stimuli, before he has to go to the office for his first client.

Of course, he never manages to get there.

It takes him a long moment to realise the tickling trickle down his temple is blood, feeling a bit dazed as he sits among the carnage of the morning; gun shots sound far away even as the muzzle flashes shine brightly just metres away from him, instead overtaken by a ringing in his ears, screeching above all else.

Everything, except her voice.

It takes Monty a moment to realise his name is spoken before hands are on his face, head being tilted and turned this way and that, and with a blink, recognition slides over his face. Delphie. His girlfriend—maybe any other time, that word still has him pause, but now, in this moment, it seems a given, like she couldn't be anything else. He recognises her, but worse, he recognises her tears.

Even with his head pounding, dizziness and nausea swirling throughout his body like the ghost of a threat, Monty sucks himself back into his skin where he'd been floating and so far away. Delphie needs him to be here, right now. Cupping her face, he gives her a long kiss before taking her hand, getting up while he tries very much to hide any sort of pain and discomfort the movement makes.

Taking in a sharp, nauseating breath as his upright position destabilises his equilibrioception, and for a moment, Monty thinks that he might just find himself parallel with the ground once more. One step back helps him keep his balance.

"Come on, move quick, we'll be okay." Will we, though?

who: monty ( @insainted ) where: where that shit be happenin'

delphie doesn't crack under pressure. she's a diamond, pressure is supposed to form her. this entire situation is pressure. it's all just one big nightmare of pressure, a cavalcade of insanity that showers down over her and she should be fine as she pushes through crowds, as the butt of her handgun slams into anyone or anything that tries to stop her progression.

where is tully? where is monty? where's that cute little joni girl or the sweet farmer ted or zappy? where are the people she's worried about? they've got to be around here somewhere, they've got to be safe, she needs to find them and get them safe. her car was overturned in the ruckus, so she can't even use it as an escape, but if she can find them and get them crowded somewhere, huddled somewhere...

"monty???"

she spots him but he doesn't look perfectly okay like he's supposed to. somethings wrong. an elbow comes out and slams into a face, and she isn't even really sure if the face is an infected or not. it's in her way, so it's a problem. she reaches him out of breath, the hand not holding onto that gun with a death grip reaching up to cup his face, to twist it and turn it, to look for injury. confirmation. something.

she's crying. when did she start crying? quickly she swipes angrily at her face. "can we go home? i want to go home, i don't like it here."

[insainted]

located : burnington ・ @strainedinnocence ( emery )

The screams had howled and echoed through the mountains, easily reaching the Shamrocks' weapons warehouse that Gray has made a nest of, together with Odd.

It isn't a wish to help anyone that ultimately draws Gray out, rather than a simple fact of curiosity. Screams means danger of some sort, at least something happening, and since Neve had shown him the pride of her work over the years, Gray has been eager to try out a few of her prototypes in action, but without a target to inflict them upon. Well, plenty of targets, surely, but none of them allowed, apparently.

With a prototype in one hand and a simple baseball bat wrapped in barbed wire and decorated with embedded glitter and all sorts of sparklies courtesy of his creature, Gray walks through the street, glancing as people run screaming past him, but shows little concern for their fear. At the first sign of snarling irradiated skin, Gray raises the prototype in his hand and pulls the trigger, a shrapnel grenade volleying out of one end of it and exploding as it connects with the ground, the momentum ripped the shrapnel forward towards it target.

Shrapnel embeds itself into flesh, but seems to do nothing to stop his attacker, so with a grunt, Gray hooks the prototype back onto his belt loop and, putting all his weight behind it, swing the bat towards the rabid infected in a wide arch, aiming for the head. There's a resounding crack that echoes through the street as skull splits partially open—instead of waiting to see the resulting damage, Gray swings the bat around again and connects it to the other side of the creature's head, flinging it off its feet where it remains still.

Round the corner, Gray observes the carnage of the streets with an eerie passivity—gun fire bounces loudly off walls, screams, growls, and shouts all blend together into a cacophony of sound. Above it all, nearby, the roaring of an infected catches Gray's attention, seemingly trying to tearing into an unfortunate victim.

Moving up behind it slowly, Gray raises the bat above his head and brings it down, repeatedly, until there's very little left of the skull upon its neck. Scrunching his nose slightly as he wipes gore off his face with a hand drenched in it, it takes a moment for him to notice the man underneath the mess.

There's a long pause. "You look like shit," Gray finally points out, pushing the infected body off of the guy.

[insainted]

"Not mad at all," Clay says evenly, shaking her head. A residence is not equipped for medical care, certainly not the type the population was facing when the cicadas and the hornets descended upon them. It had been Clay's last instinct to take Beau to a residence, let alone her commanders'—what could they have realistically done for him that she couldn't have done in Remedy Roots? Even her efforts at the herbalist shop had been a thin sheet trying to hold back a tsunami. "I understand why they would've gone to you over the clinic, but it still isn't right."

Clay would be the first to shout her hatred and mistrust of Afterglow for anyone to hear, but her point still stands.

Taking in a deep breath at Lindsay's question, Clay thinks for a long moment. "I'm... Handy isn't what I'd call it. Resourceful, maybe," she replies, furrowing her brows a bit. "I can see what might be necessary, but my... house... has to be constantly maintained, I'm afraid it might fall to pieces if I don't." Could she have asked for help from someone much handier? Perhaps, but when it's not someone else's life on the line, it doesn't even occur to Clay to ask for help.

"I can take a look, make a priority list, how's that? We've got enough capable people to get it into shape and I can get a maintenance roster going once we get to that point." Standing up straight, Clay gives him a little salute, more teasing than anything else. "By your leave, Commander."

❝ thank ye. ❞

there is an almost imperceptible relaxing of shoulders as lindsay watches clay make her way around the bar to pour a drink and set it in front of him ; he has no idea where frank has disappeared off to and he is certainly not bold enough to grant himself permission to access her bar, so he's grateful for the initiative taken by his lieutenant to keep him from losing his feckin' mind right here at the counter. a hand finds the glass the moment it's within reach and lindsay takes a long, slow pull of whiskey before replacing it, half-empty, on the bar top.

❝ it's me, ❞ lindsay replies, ❝ i'd be that one. it shouldna haftae be said that my home's nae a clinic, should it, clay? am i mad fer thinkin' sae? ❞ not that he wants to offer them any at all, but to the credit of everyone who has taken advantage of their space as of late, it isn't as if his husband hasn't encouraged an open door policy. but there's a difference, isn't there, between helping an individual in a moment of need versus half a population in the midst of a crisis?

if any more protest of the situation threatens to spill from his lips, it falls short when her hand finds his chin. it stirs something strange and disorienting within lindsay, the kindness of her touch paired with the gentle reassurance of her words. he clings to it a little tighter than he'd care to admit. on the surface, though, his expression remains level save for the faint softening of his gaze. a glimmer of appreciation in steely blues, one that goes unspoken but evident in the slight nod of acknowledgment.

he doesn't feel like he's doing particularly well at all.

❝ yer handy, aye? livin' out on yer own, like? ❞ the question comes in response to her offer as lindsay returns his attention to his glass, ready to shake off the sentimentality of the moment. ❝ found a location. ❞ in another world, he would have wanted to build it from the ground up, but the militia did not have the time nor the resources in this moment for such a monumental task. with the next catastrophe surely lingering on the horizon, lindsay wants a safehouse established as soon as possible. ❝ but it's been abandoned a feckwhile and i'm lookin' tae get it intae shape before we go lettin' everyone else ken it's ready. ❞

[insainted]

5.13 - Emergency Response

[insainted]

date a boy who explores old, abandoned castles and strange places with you

[insainted]

Giancarlo Esposito as Gustavo Fring Better Call Saul

[insainted]

His question has her hesitate for a moment, and it's not a feeling Nezi likes. She does things with purpose, knowing exactly what she wants to do. The idea of discussing her family business in a place where potentially anyone could overhear is one she's not comfortable with, but she also needs Finn to believe that it's not such a big deal as to warrant privacy. Taking a deep breath, she gives him a smile before sitting down, arms folded on the table and leaning into it to give him a good idea of the asset she is to his establishment.

"I'll not disrespect you by pretending you're anything but well informed," Nezi starts, watching him, that same small smile locked into her facial muscles. "My father had business with the Shamrocks, long ago, before his... untimely demise. I don't know if that was directly with you, Mr. O'Brien, but I hope you'll understand if I don't care right at this moment."

She watches Finn again, reaching out to grab the glass sitting in front of him and taking a sip of it before setting it down in front of him again. One could easily see it as overstepping, but overstepping is much more preferred over showing any manner of nerves—what she knows about the O'Briens is that, if anything, they don't easily raise their hand against a women, if at all. In her time here, she's not even heard so much as a rumour about it, and things like that don't stay hidden for long.

"I have made enemies of my family. What's left of them, certainly," she adds, raising her eyebrows slightly. "If my brother has business with you, I can offer you much more."

at any given time, if finn is in burnington, he could be found anywhere in hell's gate. there were no fights that night, even though finn almost pulled an opponent for shits and giggles, which meant he was upstairs in the corner of the room. listening close to the liars, the proud and the wares being sold mostly just keeping keen ears open for anything he needed to pay closer attention to. he likes to say the shamrocks have family everywhere, and they do, but it's also to point out that you won't get away with much if you cross them.

meanwhile, his glass rarely got empty, not from lack of drinking either. he was, expectedly, well taken care of most places he went but especially his own. his eyes noticed nezi walk onto the floor. it was kind of hard not to. while finn wasn't interested in making anyone his wife, he could and did appreciate a good looking person. wasn't afraid to make that known anywhere, either. in his opinion, it's advertising his establishment as much as it compliments whoever it is. he doubted nezi would mind either, she could hit him not that she would but she could, he wouldn't retaliate unless it wasn't warranted.

"ms. bera," finn checked his watch and nodded. "i suppose i got a moment to spare, do we need to go upstairs or ye fit to do it 'ere?" he kicked out the chair in front of him and waved the hovering 'company' away.

[insainted]

Thess watches her sibling for a long moment, actually taking in his words, his suggestion—not that she doesn't always, but in their time in Lost Angeles, it was different; she had a job to do, had to take care of them, keep a roof over their heads, food in their stomachs, clothes on their backs. Back then, even the absolutely degrading job she did was worth doing, simply because it made her the most money. There hadn't been options then, no wants or needs Thess could get into.

That's different now, isn't it? And they're right, it's not like she doesn't know, has worked with Frankie long enough, and even before Burnington, she's always worked in clubs, always been part of that scene. Thess lets out a sigh. "I'll talk to her about it, how's that? There's no guarantee that she'll even want me there, or think I'm good enough." There's only the hope her boss would see something in her. It's terrifying.

The topic turns back to Neve, however, and Thess can't keep the grin off her face, making an attempt at hiding it by burying her face in their shoulder. "Shut the fuck up," she murmurs, though the fact that she's not denying it at all would tell her twin more than enough. With a huff, Thess shifts onto her back and looks up at the ceiling, staring at it as though if she looks hard enough, maybe the girl in question might faze through the plaster and fall right into her arms.

"I... well, I've seen her around a bunch, but I never talked to her," Thess confesses, putting an arm behind her head. "But then I did. And we talked... a bit. She seemed a bit distracted. And I... kissed her. And we went to where she's apparently staying at the motel. And we kissed more... a lot more." Twisting one of her curls around an index finger as she recollects that night, Thess rubs her lips together slowly, before glancing at her sibling again.

"That was... I don't know, weeks ago. I think a few days after the whole... mass hallucination shit." There's a pause as she thinks, chewing on the inside of her cheek. "Look, I didn't keep it from you on purpose, Sock, I just... You know, I have a shitty track record with relationships. After Fallen and Adonis, I didn't want to tell you about shit that was inevitably gonna explode somehow."

She takes her phone from them again, looking at the picture, a grin spreading across her face again. "We're just hanging out right now, but... Well. Not just hanging out." Thess gives him a mischievous smirk. "I've sent her plenty of material to give her an idea of what's waiting for her." Wiggling her eyebrows, Thess snatches the joint from them and takes a long drag. "She's getting her brother situated right now. She's a twin too."

there comes a familiar comfort in the closeness of their twin ; skylar thinks at times that they could crawl into each others' skin and there might still be too much space between them. thessaly is their other half, the other piece of a puzzle without which skylar is confident they would feel irrevocably incomplete. shifting to accommodate the way she snuggles into his side is second nature, and skylar rolls onto their back, scooting until they're propped a bit more upright against the pillows, their arm slung around her shoulder.

a hum of acknowledgment escapes them. the answer does not come as a surprise, honestly. skylar has spent enough time at the mad scientist to know what sort of clientele the establishment brings, and the unfortunate truth is that the place is peddling a product that will only make their unsavory behavior worse.

❝ have you given any thought to like, i dunno, trying to get out of a customer-facing position? ❞ it's a genuine question, one that has skylar arching a brow in curiosity as they look over at thessaly. ❝ i mean, it's not like you don't know your spirits, tee. you could definitely be doing some distilling if you wanted to get away from the assholes. there's no way frankie's doing all of it herself. thoughts? ❞

there's something she's not telling him though, skylar can tell in the subtle way she hesitates, like she's not quite finished speaking, like there's something more to say. and if it's not about the bar... ❝ oh, you better spill right now, ❞ skylar says, and their demand is instantly met with a phone that they take from their twin's hands in an eager snatch. there's a low whistle as skylar zooms in on the photo and they glance back and forth between thessaly and the screen. ❝ for real? ❞

and to their credit, it isn't that skylar doesn't think their sister couldn't pull a woman like that. they've got good genes, that much is undeniable. they go back to looking at the photo as thessaly describes neve, but their eyes shoot straight back as a question suddenly strikes them. ❝ you been going to hell's gate for dances? ❞ shaking their head, skylar pushes the thought from their mind. ❝ no, nevermind. don't answer that. instead, ❞ they reach over and swipe the joint from her, ❝ tell me how you met this insanely hot and intelligent neve. and also, like, when. because you sound down bad, tee, and that makes me feel like i've been out of the loop for a minute.❞

[insainted]

Feary watches her as she goes through her deduction, her reasoning, and there's a small smirk on his face, humming quietly. There's a lot she's thought about him, a lot of assumptions about who he is, how he thinks, and Feary doesn't care to correct her. That's the thing about people; they'll create an idea of who you are in their heads and they'll expect you to behave based on that idea of you. Anyone with anything to prove would try to correct the image others have of them, tell them where they're wrong until the idea is more true to who they really are.

That's also where so many people fuck up. Feary has never defined himself to anyone. Whatever people define he is, whomever people decide he is, that's where his power lies. He knows who he is and what he's not, and in this moment, it doesn't matter whether Diana is wrong or right—it matters that she believes she's right. Let her think she has him all figured out.

Instead, he hums in amusement. "I suppose I amn't a very complicated man, am I, love?" he chuckles, leaning back as he watches her, tilting his head slightly. "Or maybe you're just that smart, hm?"

The idea that his brothers would be jealous of anyone else being taken under his wing is... hilarious, to say the least. Dara, Feary doubts the man has any sort of interest in doing what he does; knowing his younger brother, he'd much sooner shove a knife into Feary's throat than follow in his footsteps. Caelan, well... if the kid has want to work under him directly—and again, Feary honestly doubts that—all his siblings know that having his attention is both a privilege and a threat at the same time, certainly not an innate right.

"Darlin', why the fuck would I care if me brothers're jealous or not?" He lets out a short laugh, shaking his head slightly before taking another sip of his drink.

It's true, of course, that family means everything to Feary O'Brien, but not for the reason most people assume. It's not that he particularly loves them, or even specifically cares about them; the closest that might come to that fabled station is Finn, and even then, close as the two eldest O'Briens are, they certainly don't love each other.

It's the simple fact that they're an unfortunate extension of him, and any violence perpetrated against his brothers is violence perpetrated against him. And Feary O'Brien certainly cares about Feary O'Brien. "They can an' frequently do make 'emselves look bad, they certainly don't need your help with that, Ms. Du Pont."

"well, half the town certainly knows that you like to fuck, it shouldn't be surprising that one might consider it a possibility when they find out they've been traded in a faustian bargain that that is where your mind might go." not diana's though. she has a feeling that she knows a bit more about feary o'brien than he thinks she does. nothing she would call noteworthy, not in any real sense. she knows rumors and how to pick kernels of truth out of them, she understands power and dynamics to a certain extent.

"but i don't think so. no. you may have a monstrous reputation, but you certainly wouldn't be as pedestrian as to just fuck a prize and be done with it. besides, you'd want me either willing or scared, and since i'm currently neither, i doubt that little feary is ready to stand at attention."

it's not completely true, of course. there is fear. it lingers at the edges, but her voice doesn't waiver and she doesn't break a sweat. because she's going to find a way, a perfect way, to use this to her advantage. she's going to wrap it up in a neat little bow and hand deliver it back to her father, and find a way to make this unexpected castle an integral piece on her chess board.

his offer is interesting. of course, she has no interest in being the heir apparent to whatever the fuck feary o'brien's deal is, but she does have a feeling that he can teach her something. and diana, airheaded as she might appear to the likes of the rabble of devil's elbow, loves to learn. she'll never be in bed with the shamrocks, but learning from one of their heads could certainly put silver linings in a better position. "a protege, how strange. won't your baby brothers be jealous? after all, i never do anything half way, i'm sure i'll make them look bad by comparison."

[insainted]

dante 😶‍🌫️⚔️

😶‍🌫️ FACE IN CLOUDS — is there something you're hiding from the people you love? if so, how urgent is it for them to hear it? what's holding you back from sharing it?

"I'm hidin' a lotta things from the people I love. Specifically Santiago. He's like a dog with a bone, he's not gonna let go if I tell him."

⚔️ CROSSED SWORDS — do you have any skills that you are absolutely grateful you have and that mean a lot to you? how do you usually use these skills? would they come in handy if someone you cared about was in trouble?

"Readin' people. Helps me figure out who to trust and who to not. It allows me to eliminate threats even before they become threats."

[insainted]

briar 🪄👻

🪄 MAGIC WAND — would you describe yourself as a superstitious person (someone who believes in superstitions)? do you believe in luck?

"Oh, oh, sure, I believe in luck, I don't know about superstitious, though, but I guess River would disagree. They're really smart, so maybe I shouldn't write it off, they know a lot more about a lot of stuff than I do. Did you know Darcy's psychic? He tells me about all these visions he has. Maybe there's more than I can see, I really love River and Darcy a lot, and Polka Dottie too, she sees a lot of stuff, I met her big cat scratch, he says she's an entity beyond comprehension... You know what, maybe I am superstitious. Maybe science is just one angle, I have no third eye, and I'm not psychic, and I'm not an entity beyond comprehension, who am I to say what's really real and what's fake real? That would be very, very, very, very presumptuous, wouldn't it?"

👻 GHOST — is there someone or something that you feel is missing from your life? do you know if there's any way to find it/them?

"Noooooooooo. I have everyone I need to have in my life and if I don't have them in my life, I probably don't know to miss them if I don't know them yet. I bet I miss so many people right now that I just haven't met yet, and I can't wait to meet them all so I don't have to miss them anymore even though I don't feel like I miss them right now, but I won't know until I meet them, right? All the people I'm supposed to meet I will meet and the people I'm not supposed to meet, I won't meet!"

[insainted]

✍️ - for Feary

✍️ WRITING HAND — what is one thing you wish you were better at? this can be a tactical skill, social skill, hobby, etc.

"Nothin'. Ain't nothin' I need t' be better at. Everythin' I wanna be capable a, I am. Ask me again an' ye gonna find out exactly all the things I pride myself on."

[insainted]

🍂 - dio

🍂 FALLEN LEAVES — how would you metaphorically describe your life and the journey(s) you've been on?

"Journey would imply I've been a passenger in a vehicle beyond my control. My life has never been beyond my control, and everything that has happened has been a calculated goal or risk. I'm exactly where I should be, and that's not metaphor."

[insainted]

🔮 - nezi

🔮 CRYSTAL BALL — what is a core memory from your childhood that you think defines you today?

"I would argue it's much of my childhood. The look of pride on my brother's face when our father first introduced him as his heir. I swore I'd wipe that expression off his face if it were the last did I'd do. And I did."