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"HIPAA, right. because they are definitely still around to enforce those laws." he commented back with a bitter tone that masked the playfulness of his response. "tch," making the sound, pushing his tongue against his teeth with a sarcastic scoff, the veteran crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head in disbelief. "why, just 'cause i can't remember the last time a man had me on my back with my legs bent back like that?" there was no real reason for him to give it such a sexual undertone but, well, he couldn't help himself. maybe he was jealous after all.
"nah." he lied with pursed lips. "not jealous. should i be? is he getting some kind of special treatment?"
he stayed there in the doorway, lingering like a haunted vampire waiting for an invitation to cross that threshold and come inside.
--and it was obvious he was haunted; with the heavy bags under his eyes and the lines of exhaustion in his face. none of them were doing well but aj seemed to be taking things worse than the rest; at least he felt he was. he had been in a better place, he had been sleeping, but losing his arm and putting this new team of his in danger just to get him a prosthetic brought back memories-- nightmares-- he thought he had long forgotten; he thought he had moved on from.
"so," he questioned, his voice mirroring the tiredness in his face as he kicked his foot at the ground and looked at everything in the space except for ethan. "are you free or am i interrupting your long line of people waiting for you to feel them up?"
A ghost. A shadow. A haunting at the corner of his vision. A distraction, of sorts. Ethan couldn't help the little glances out the infirmary door at AJ as he lingered, a quiet smile on his face as he went through the motions with his current patient. He lifted his leg, bent it carefully and slowly, massaged the muscle to check for hernia or resistance. In the end the guy wasn't too banged up. A pulled muscle that would require some cold and heat and rest. Ethan told him as much, standing back. He wrote a note, authorizing the use of some ice for the recovery. "And if you go out on a raid like this, your life is in your own hands. Please don't make me have to say I told you so, alright?" Was it still gallows humor when they all had nooses around their necks these days? Finally he turned his attention to AJ as the patient shuffled off, Ethan noting his remaining limp as he did. He caught the words that AJ muttered and smirked, crossing his arms over his broad chest.
"Answering that would be a violation of HIPAA, and I took a very strict oath." He leaned against the frame of the door, looking at AJ. He was glad he wasn't another patient that day, though Ethan had the care for him like one. He'd worked with so many veterans before, and worked with even more now, ironically. "Why? Jealous?" Ethan raised an eyebrow.
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"that's rich coming from the asshole that went out on his own rather than taking someone with you. we have procedures for a reason leo." not that he needed to remind the other, he had managed to get himself shot and that should have been punishment enough, but aj just couldn't help himself.
maybe he did like the sound of his own voice.
taking a look at the other's wound-- taking note of the clean entry point, the blood trailing down his arm, and even the way leo tried to stifle and hide the pain he was clearly feeling-- there was not an ounce of compassion in the ex marine's features as he lifted his gaze and narrowed his eyes at the younger man in another glare.
"barely just a graze? the fucker shot you clean through and you're trying to tell me it was barely just a graze? i'm starting to think you really are an idiot."
what he meant to say was i don't care about the supplies. you could have gotten yourself killed. what the hell were you thinking. just because we don't know each other well and we're all stuck here, do you really think none of us care about you; that none of us care about what happens to you? instead he just fussed more.
"i'm not grounded to my room, asshole. next time you feel like doing something stupid at least take me with you. you clearly need the help."
"you got yourself fucking shot," he repeated, as if he needed to remind the other of the pain he was in, as he placed his hands on his hips and shook his head.
"you're lucky to be alive. what if they weren't alone? what if they were a better shot? what if they got you in the leg and the sound drew out some of those other fuckers to your location? you shouldn't have been out there alone leo."
underneath the obvious annoyance and disappointment he was glad the other made it back relatively okay.
"give me that," he finally spoke in a soft tone as he reached out for the other's med kit. "it won't be pretty, but i can get you patched up enough to get you upstairs so grant can take a proper look at you."
it was the only way he knew how to show he cared.
"Ashley, are you daft, or do you just like the sound of your own voice?" Leo snapped, his tone dripping with sarcasm.
Unbelievable.
He'd barely stumbled through the door before AJ started in on him, the man's grating voice drilling into his skull.
"Look at this." Leo cut him off, his fingers finding the hem of his shirt. He yanked the fabric up, exposing the angry wound on his bicep.
The hole was small, the edges surprisingly clean for a bullet. Blood still oozed from it, trailing in rivulets down his arm.
Leo scoffed, rolling his eyes. "No, you pillock. I got shot." He let the shirt drop, ignoring the fresh bloom of pain as the movement pulled at his wound.
"Clean through. Hardly more than a graze." A lie, but AJ didn't need to know that. The bullet had torn straight through the meat of his arm, and it hurt like a bitch. But damned if he'd let AJ see him wince.
"Some arsehole got the jump on me. Didn't stick around long enough for a chat."
He shifted his weight, the throb in his arm settling into a deep ache. Christ, he was tired. The walk back had taken twice as long as it should have, every step jarring the wound. All he wanted was to clean it, slap on a bandage, and sleep for a week.
Leo shrugged, then immediately regretted it as pain lanced through his shoulder. "I handled it. It's done. The supplies are stashed downstairs, and that's all anyone needs to know." He reached for the medkit, his fingers clumsy as he fumbled with the latch. "Probably some scavenger, just like us. Except with shittier aim."
"You're angry, they grounded you to your room; what else is new?" Leo muttered, finally getting the medkit open. He rummaged through its contents, looking for anything to stem the bleeding. "I'm still alive, aren't I? That's more than most can say these days."
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closed starter maverick x aj || @devildogwatched
it was late, or maybe it was early; aj wasn't sure. he'd lost track of time stretched out on his cot trying to sleep. rather, trying to keep the nightmares from filtering into his mind just long enough for him to pretend to rest.
clearly it wasn't working.
to add to his ever growing frustration, everyone around him seemed peaceful. there were a few still lingering around the fire but, for the most part, everyone had wandered off to their little corners, cots, and tents and were sleeping away the hours as if the world around them wasn't ending; as if their minds weren't plagued by the horrors of their past and their present.
fucking assholes. every single of them.
seeing as sleep wasn't an option for him again tonight, he got up and found himself wandering. there wasn't much for him to do, there wasn't far for him to go, and yet it seemed to be the closest he ever found to having a moment of respite.
fuck he missed bars, and drinking in general; he missed drinking himself to sleep, or finding distraction in another man's hands. god he couldn't remember how long it had been since he'd been touched.
he didn't realize how much he would miss his whole life until some damned virus took it all away from him.
in his wandering he managed to make his way down from the sixth floor to the fifth. it wasn't that uncommon for him, he practically haunted that stairwell, but as he made his way through the collection of buckets and makeshift stalls they had created to give them more outlets for relief, he pulled open the door to the fifth floors original bathroom and was not only caught off guard by the blinding fluorescent lights as the illuminated the space, but also by the sight of a man standing at one of the urinals; his stance a bit wider, taking up more space than he needed, as he used the facilities.
moving forward, without really thinking about what he was doing and without bothering to say a word aj settled into place directly beside the other. glancing over at him, he couldn't help but think that he didn't quite recognize the man-- he certainly didn't remember his name-- but rather than rectifying that aj found himself to be a bit distracted; his gaze, after all, had wandered down from the man's face to the piece he was currently gripping between his legs.
and there was nothing subtle about the way he started staring.
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SEBASTIAN STAN as BUCKY BARNES The Falcon and The Winter Soldier (2021)
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"the safety was on doc," he mumbled in stale argument with a loose, almost nonexistent shrug of his shoulders. "couldn't have pulled the trigger even if i had wanted too." when the other mentioned that they were safe for once his deadpanned expression was purposeful. "come on, i know you can't be serious. we're safe here? you're smarter than that."
"it might feel that way but don't let yourself get too comfortable. safe." he repeated the word against with a scoff. "we are in a massive commercial office building and yet instead of having the entire run of the place we are confining ourselves to only a few floors because we don't know what's hiding out on the rest of them. we have to mind our noise because even if we are safe here, even if the streets around us do seem empty, anything too loud could draw more of those fuckers our way or worse; other people. we aren't safe doc, we are barely even getting by."
now wasn't the time to fuss at the man, though, or question his sanity for really thinking they were safe. though his own annoyance was a decent source of distraction because while he prattled off his judgement on the man he didn't even realize grant was inspecting his prosthetic. he was completely oblivious, even after the man dropped his hand, to the fact that he was holding it at all.
"i don't need the drugs, i'm just--" he now realized he hadn't really told any of them much about his past. just that he was a marine, was honorably discharged, and started picking up work as a private investigator because he hated sitting around idly at home. he hadn't given any of them details. he hadn't told them about the nightmares, old and new, that plagued his sleep. "i'm fine." he offered through clenched teeth.
because that made it sound more believable.
"--and you don't need to worry, i'm not going to let that myself get sloppy and need saving again." in a weird way, he was trying to say thank you for what grant did for him originally.
"i don't need a distraction doc, i was just walking around..." he lied and argued, as stubborn as ever, only to make it clear he did as he subtly leaned closer to the other man; another one of the few he might have considered a friend, "but if you want me to keep you company while you work i can probably manage that... this time."
"Really now? Seemed like you were. Who did you think was coming for you? You're safe here." Grant stepped forward and picked up the metal hand in his own examining it, looking over it for faults or defects he could fix, he was no engineer but prosthetics were normal in his life before this. He could do minor repairs.
"I was trying to inventory what I have left of supplies. You know medical procedures don't just happen. A lot of preparedness and time go into making sure I don't screw up and kill someone by accident." Grant ran his fingers over AJ's metal fingers and palm studying them for a minute before letting go and looking back at the other.
Grant smiled and shrugged. "So what has you stomping extra loud? Just a bad PTSD day? We can try and get some drugs for that you know. No need for you to suffer silently you know. As unlikely of allies we have all become, we are stuck with each other. I've already saved you once." he said with a hum as he nodded toward the door he came out of. "Why don't you come keep me company huh? Get your mind off of...whatever it is you dwell on in here."
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"just curious. seems like a lot of training and a waste of ammunition just for nothing." he was joking. obviously. elijah should have known that too because-- wait, no, it wasn't obvious because instead of laughing, instead of smiling, or shaking his head with a smirk to clue the man into the fact he was just teasing... aj was sitting there, stone face, with heavy and tired eyes that bore into the other man as if he had just given him the worst news of his life.
his insecurities and worries aside, he was joking.
sitting up a bit straighter, letting out a heavy exhale of breath, the hard lines of aj's face softened a touch as he started talking again. he was, after all, here for a reason. he hadn't kept watch beside elijah while he slept just because he wanted to joke around with him.
"you actually had me thinking," he began to explain with a loose nod of his head, "that it might be good to give some of the other's a bit of experience. not that we're going to throw them out the front door and hope for the best but, you're right, they are going to need to be ready for anything. i was actually thinking that i," he paused to clear his throat, "--that we," as in the other raiders, though he did want to be running point for one of the groups so he could prove to everyone that hadn't lost his touch, "could take a small group of some of them, the one's that seemed the most comfortable holding a gun and capable of shooting them and not us, and check out some of the other floors in this building. i don't think any of them would be ready to join us on a run but getting them out, getting them to help us clear the floors and check for any left over supplies, could help them get more comfortable and it gives us a controlled environment to give them a bit more hands on training in case any of those things are stuck in here with us..."
see. he had a reason for being here. he wasn't just camping out beside elijah because he was one of the few aj considered a friend.
elijah had been up late, keeping watch outside although he didn't have to - because it wasn't his night to be up keeping watch & yet he was. always watching, always observing. but the streets had been empty of life - empty of light & so he'd curled up against the boarded window on the other side, with one eye still on the city below. he dozed off, his m4 in his lap, fingers curled around the trigger - safety was on, though, it always was when he didn't need to shoot. he was a professional.
sleep didn't come easy to him, so he let it wash over him when it came so that he could get at least some shut-eye every now & then. he'd struggled with sleep even before the world turned to shit, jolted awake with a mind still trapped in memories of the past. he still did. so when he woke, it was always with a gasp - some smaller, some ... more audible. this time, eyes snapped open & fingers tightened around the rifle in his grip, eyes darting around & assessing where he was, why he was... until they fall on the source of noise close-by.
what?
brain still fuzzy from sleep, he stifled a yawn with a fist again his mouth & let his gaze linger on aj for a short moment. was he... joking? didn't feel like he was, per se. elijah had been training the group, hopeful to teach everybody the basics at least, but that didn't mean anything for his group of raiders. he didn't expect them to worry - or aj precisely, or maybe he had reason to worry more than others. then again, nah.
"the fuck? 'course not." low rumble, brows furrowed & pulled all the way down to the bridge of his nose, it felt like. "what's goin' on?" had he waited for him to wake ...? to ask him? did it really worry him? "y'know i'm jus' tryin'a teach 'em how to fight. gonna need all hands on deck if we ever get found."
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it was moments like this that proved aj wasn't emotionless. he was almost always angry, or annoyed, and if he wasn't it was easy to make him. therefore he wasn't emotionless he just lacked nuance; or, rather, he swallowed down any semblence of compassion and positivity so he could make more room for the selfishness and negativity that already made a home for itself on the surface; in the lines of his face.
maybe that was why he hated mallory so much. the plan could play him like a violin with ease. it's as if someone gave him an instruction manual on what made aj tick, and he memorized it within minutes just for the spite of it. but even as much as the man annoyed him, even as much as he wanted to knock that smirk off his face with his fist, he wasn't going to let anyone else hurt him; or anything else.
if they lost mallory on a supply run then who was going to make his blood boil just by looking at him?
"asking you for praise would be a waste of breath. i'm pretty sure your head is stuck so far up your ass you don't even realize you have a whole team with you when we go searching for the shit you need." he grumbled.
"you know that's not what i meant you little shit." this time he almost hissed as he cut his eyes over at mallory; his glance starting at the man's groin, barely lingering there for a second, before flicking up so he could glare at the other. he hadn't been asking that but now, in the back of his mind, he was definitely wondering about it.
easy there tiger. unfortunately for aj, in that moment he was naive and thought that meant mallory was going to cave and give him the fruit cup back. again. all of this for a fruit cup. instead, that damned mouth on the other man started running again; making him groan and roll his eyes as he was taunted and teased.
"you... fucker..." the words were muffled as he spoke through clenched teeth; as he watched mallory tilt his head back and swallow every bit of fruit and every last drop of the juice it was sitting in. tightening his grip on the fork, he applied more pressure as he pressed it harder against the other's thigh. "even if you were being serious, even if letting you fuck me is something i would consider, you seem to have forgotten where the hell we are."
leaning back, he gestured around them with his right hand as he looked back at mallory as if he were crazy. "this isn't an apartment complex, this isn't some luxury resort, we are in a fucking abandoned office building. we don't have the luxury of privacy here. you are such a fucking dick." he was ready to just finish it right then and there, to just stab the fork into the other's thigh and call it even, but something kept him from following through; something had him asking more questions.
"actually, no, please, tell me what you were thinking. what? that i would just throw myself over this table and let you go to town while everyone watched? that we could, i don't know, make the most of the stairwells that if i'm walking too loudly in i get fussed at for? or, better yet, maybe we should just go down to the bathroom-- it would be our best chance at privacy-- and if we're lucky and don't get interrupted we could even pretend it's a bar bathroom and i'm just some desperate slut that needed to be dicked so badly i couldn't even wait for us to get back to my place."
"please tell me how you saw this playing out?"
"you wish i would beg for you."
he might have been questioning the other's idea but he had yet to actually turn it down.
Mallory would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy pissing Landrum off. Really, the other made it too easy. The guy was wound so tight he'd give coils a run for their money. Not to mention he was extremely reactive which made messing with him all the more enjoyable.
Truth be told, Mallory didn't give two fucks if he got credit for any of the shit he did. At the end of the day, he knew he was useful. Which was why he was so damn annoyingly arrogant about it. "Hey now," he mused, mock placing a hand over his heart. "If you wanted praise for our little group project so bad, all you had to do was ask."
Landrum wasn't lying, however. Mallory couldn't have gotten those things by himself. As much as he hated to admit it, if he was going to go outside and risk his neck, he preferred Landrum be the one watching his back. For all his sour expressions, the man knew what he what the fuck he was doing. Mallory could appreciate someone who knew his skillset and used it to his advantage.
Mallory chuckled. "Is that your sly way of asking if my dick is massive?" he asked, purposefully misreading Landrum's words to piss him off.
He cocked a brow, however, when Landrum reached out to grip his thigh -- just the right side of painful, too, getting his point across eloquently. He then proceeded to jam his dulled fork into Mallory's thigh and yeah, he'll admit it, he winced.
"Easy there, Tiger."
Did Mallory want to end up in the infirmary with a fork stuck in his thigh? No, not really. Did his mouth have a different idea? Unfortunately.
"Alright, I'll play ball," he drawled in reply. "You're wound so tight a good fucking would probably do you good." Mallory was all smiles now. "Unless you're scared of how easily I'd have you begging?" Mallory lifted the fruit cup to his lips then, knocking it back and swallowing the contents before wiping the back of his hand across his mouth, revealing a smirk.
"Oops."
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he was pissed, though he wasn't sure who he was pissed with.
by pure luck, if you could call it that, he managed to catch a glimpse of the other leaving the building through one of the windows and it immediately triggered his anger. as far as he had been told they weren't planning for any runs at the moment, and they sure as hell shouldn't have been sending someone out on their own-- but if they were, why did they choose him and not send aj? was he actually getting benched because he had gotten hurt? he was fine now, that wasn't fair-- and if they needed to do another run, why the hell did they tell him they weren't sending anyone out today?
yeah. aj was definitely pissed.
by the time the other was making his way back, aj was only angrier. instead of bothering to get answers, or ask questions, he kept jumping to his own conclusions; and that was never a good idea.
stomping down the stairs like, each slam of his heels against the ground echoing through the building around him, he swung the door open to the lower levels and let it slam against the wall as if everything was fine again; as if they didn't need to watch the noises they made because there were shambling corpses hiding in the street that might be drawn in by the sound.
"what the actual fuck were you thinking? are you an idiot? going out by yourself on an unsanctioned run?"
mind you, everything aj was accusing him of was an assumption. he wasn't in charge of runs, he wasn't even a leader. he was just a member of the raider team, like leo. he could have been sent out on his own. nobody needed aj's permission for, well, anything.
"you have some fucking nerve. did you even consider what could have happened to you, or what you could have lead back to us? i hope it was fucking worth it. did you even--"
he finally stopped his yelling as he looked at the other and saw the blood; as he saw the pain, and exhaustion, in his eyes.
"did you get bitten?" he questioned his tone quieting down, though still stern, as he took a step closer to try and get a look at the other's injury.
Open To: Anyone
Blood seeped between Leo's fingers, sticky and warm, as he gripped his shoulder. The wound throbbed a dull ache that sharpened with each cautious step through the dark hallway. Dim light flickered from a broken lamp overhead, the bulb sputtering its last breaths. Dust motes danced in the feeble glow.
Careless, Leo chastised himself, jaw clenched. The scavenging run had started smoothly—in and out of the abandoned store, grabbing essential supplies—until that final moment. He'd got cocky, assuming the area was clear. The shambling figure had lunged from the shadows without warning. Rotten teeth snapped inches from Leo's neck as he grappled with the zombie, muscles burning, pulse roaring in his ears. The creature's bony fingers clawed at his jacket until he managed to jam his knife into its skull with a sickening crunch.
But not before the other one blindsided him, a bullet tearing into his shoulder as he dove for cover. By the time Leo whirled to return fire, the mystery shooter had vanished.
Sloppy. Stupid. He'd limped back to their base, a wounded animal desperate to lick its wounds. The old Dallas Morning News building stood like a crumbling gravestone, windows shattered, edges crumbling. Remnants of the lives once lived here lingered—overturned desks, scattered papers, broken picture frames. The musty smell of decay clung to everything.
Leo navigated the maze of debris, his breath shallow, boots crunching on broken glass. Pain lanced through his arm with every jostle, but he gritted his teeth, swallowing any sounds of distress. He couldn't let the others see him like this—weak, bleeding, barely escaping by the skin of his teeth. In this world, vulnerability was a death sentence. Any hint of frailty, and hungry eyes turned your way, eager to capitalize.
No, he had to handle this himself. Patch up the damage and bury any trace of fallibility. Lock it away, just like he'd done ever since the world went to hell. Trust no one. Rely on no one. Survival was a solo game.
Except... it wasn't quite that simple any more, was it? As much as Leo clung to his lone wolf ways, he couldn't deny he'd grown attached to this ragtag band of survivors.
Leo shrugged out of his jacket, biting back a hiss of pain as the fabric peeled away from his skin. The shirt beneath was soaked crimson, the color almost black. He fumbled for the medkit on his belt, fingers slippery and clumsy. Just as he managed to unclasp it, a sound froze him in place.
Footsteps. Steady, purposeful. Growing louder with each passing second.
Leo's heart stuttered, his grip tightening on the medkit. Shit. Someone was coming. He couldn't let them find him like this.
The door creaked open, and a figure stepped into the room. Leo tensed, bracing for the inevitable fallout. For the questions, the pity, the disappointment.
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even before the world went to hell and back, there were certain types of people that he just couldn't stand. mallory was one of them. he couldn't quite put his finger on it and explain why-- maybe it was the man's smugness, the fact he was smarter on paper, or the way he talked down to aj all the time, or maybe it was because they were so similar, or maybe it's because part of him was frustratingly attracted to him -- but he knew, deep down, that if they had met before dallas-- before the virus-- he would have punched mallory in the face at least ten times by now.
"the charging station you built from shit we had to help you find? that one? okay," he shot back with a roll of his eyes. taking the fork in his hand, he wiped any remnants of food and spit off onto his jeans before he began to slowly, almost absentmindedly flip it over and over again in his grip.
"see, i was going to say you're more of a massive dick but, yeah, asshole works.
oh asshole definitely worked to define mallory as he not only made and held eye contact with aj, but as he went a step further and peeled back the protective plastic layer on the fruit cup.
it was a fucking fruit cup.
it wasn't worth fighting over, and yet...
"how about this," turning to face the other, aj reached out with his metal arm to grip at mallory's thigh; his hold on him tight and firm as he used his grip to pull the man even closer to him. "you either give me something else, we can pretend your civilized and make it a trade, or," speaking low as he pulled his hand away from mallory's thigh, aj passed the fork from his left hand to his right just so he could grip it tight around the shaft as he brought his hand back down; digging the blunt tips of the metal prongs into mallory's thigh. "i can take my fruit cup back after i send you to see sammy, or grant even, with a fork jutting out of your leg. your choice mal."
Mallory snorted, sly smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, secretly pleased he had managed to ruffle Landrum's feathers so effortlessly. Did that make him an asshole? Probably. Did he care? Nah.
He should find Landrum's words insulting, but he merely found them amusing. "Well," he drawled, smile slipping into a smirk. "I thought you had better critical thinking skills than that, dickhead." He understood what Landrum was saying. He didn't have any combat experience. He knew how to shoot a gun -- and shoot it well -- but he wasn't as fine tuned as the others in an emergency, as militantly minded.
And that was exactly why he was a good fit. Send a bunch of military jackasses out to get what they needed and they'd overlook the small, but important shit. Besides, Mallory had is own set of skills. He understood exactly what they were dealing with when it came to the power grid -- it was fucked -- and what kind of resources they could make use of. "The charging station I built from shit I knew to look for would suggest otherwise," he quipped, a touch of arrogance hemming the edge of his words.
He chuckled. "And strip you of your sense of duty by doing your job for you?" He cocked brow. "I'm an asshole, Landrum, not a monster."
He regarded Landrum with light amusement as he demanded Mallory put it back. He met his gaze, held it, and then slowly began to peel the shitty plastic sealant off the top. "I'll consider it," he drawled, leaning forward towards Landrum, shit-eating grin stretched languidly across his lips. "If you say please."
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"i'm not going to shoot you," he argued with a heavy sigh of his breath as he holstered the pistol in the clip on his hip. "i didn't know it was you, i just heard something approaching and--" cutting himself off with a huff of breath and a dismissive roll of his eyes, aj took a step back and placed his hands on his hip; his right hand clenching into a fist and opening again before settling against his hip as if it were tight; as if he were still adjusting to it. "i wasn't going to shoot you."
ammo was hard enough to find for him to be wasting it on other survivors because he was restless and a bit jumpy; that and, well, grant was one of the few that he actually considered himself to be on a team with rather than simply being here with him. he was, after all, the reason aj didn't bleed out after that failed supply run and also the one to thank for the shiny, state-of-the-art metal prosthetic right arm. he owed grant, and that wasn't something he was just going to forget.
"what, uhm," he questioned with a nod of his head towards the strangely well dressed doc. did he not know the world was ending? he didn't need to wear a three piece. "what are you trying to concentrate on doc? i thought you already knew everything." there was a bit of teasing in his tone but, really, aj was just looking for something else to distract himself with since he was allegedly heavy footed today.
There was something almost freeing about the world ending, Grant didn't have to smile at strangers in the grocery store, he was free to spend his free time studying whatever he wanted, or rather could get his hands on, though hygiene had gone down the tubes it wasn't all bad. What was something he was adjusting to however was being holed up with all these...people. Personalities he would have rather avoided in his previous life, a smile and a nod they would have passed like ships in the night, strangers on a train. Walking past but never having to know any of them. Now he had seen half of them naked having sewn them up, or determined if they had the damn zombie virus. Luckily none so far.
Too close for comfort. Even with all the space they had in the office building it wasn't enough sometimes. Like now. He heard the thumping of feet in the stairs and at first he had tried to ignore it. He had pressed on into his notes, looking over details to see if anything important jumped out at him. It kept going. Finally in exasperation he decided to ask them to stop. Nicely of course.
"Oh how nice. You're going to shoot me are you G.I. Joe? Can you try and stomp a little quieter normally nobody cares you pace the stairs but today you are being extra heavy footed it seems, and I am trying to concentrate."
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closed starter elijah x aj || @warriorstranded
he couldn't sleep. there were plenty of reasons for him to be restless, just look outside and you could see them ambling down the street every now and then looking for any lingering signs of life to snuff out, but oddly it wasn't them that were keeping him up; not technically. he kept having dreams about being bitten, and about elijah's quick thinking and quick acting that ultimately saved his life. more specifically, he kept thinking about the fact he never actually thanked the man.
sitting beside where the man slept, practically perched against the wall, aj waited. he couldn't sleep, and everyone else was, so what was he supposed to do? wander around aimlessly like a lost puppy or pace the stairs until grant came to fuss at him again? he just... waited.
"huh, so," he grunted, his voice a bit hoarse from lack of sleep and hours of silence, as he saw movement; as elijah woke up. "seen you training people, as best as you can anyway..." he mumbled as he looked up at elijah with pursed lips and a furrowed brow. "you're-- you're not replacing are ya? i thought we bonded... you're not benching me, right sir?"
no good morning, no thank you, just immediately jumping into accusations. though, in aj's defense, it was meant to be a joke. he'd seen elijah trying to teach some of the other survivors how to shoot or how to, at least, be comfortable enough holding a gun that they wouldn't go down immediately if shit went to hell, but his humor was once again lost in his monotone.
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closed starter sammy x aj || @sammy-sheridan
it was hurting again, itching too. sometimes he could still feel his left arm there, he could feel the blood coursing through his veins; he could feel the discomfort of his muscles tightening and clenching despite having lost the arm in a supply run gone wrong. as bothersome and annoying as the phantom pains could be they served as a daily reminder, really, for why he was still here. if it weren't for elijah, grant, and even josif he would have likely been one of those mindless, decaying fuckers groaning and roaming around outside. he owed them his life. he was indebted to them.
he was indebted to sammy too. adjusting to the prosthetic wasn't easy, especially with the current state of the world, but having such a handsome medic around to help him with the after care definitely helped; especially with how easy it was to fluster him.
sitting on one of the desks in the infirmary, treating it as a�� makeshift cot, aj's chest heaved with a heavy breath as sammy helped him re-attach the prosthetic.
"you're staring," he mumbled, his tone almost playful to match the smirk on his lips as he lifted his eyes to meet the other's gaze. "i'm starting to think you make me take my shirt off just because you enjoy the view and not because it's in your way. you know, doc, if you want to get me naked all you have to do is ask. you don't have to keep waiting for these little check-ups just to get your fill."
#// pretend the sheet is his pants and he's not naked. just shirtless 😗 //#closed#sammysheridan#th. sammy x aj
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closed starter ethan x aj || @lastofethan
abrasive; grumpy; antagonistic; disagreeable.
there were so many ways he could be described these days and, honestly, they all fit. he hadn't always been like this though. it might come as a shock but he was once, actually, considered a people person.
charming even; kind; personable; reliable.
funny how quickly he changed after he had to bury most of the people that knew he could be soft. he promised himself he'd never let anyone see him like that again; he buried that tenderness alongside them years ago. yet there he was, lingering outside the infirmary looking for ethan; looking for familiarity; looking for that fleeting feeling of companionship and belonging, though he would never admit that was why he always seemed to be around the other.
"you were a bit handsy with that last one. was that all strictly medical or has it just been too long?" he commented under his breath after one of their fellow survivors shuffled past him after coming to see ethan about some kind of pain they were feeling in their leg; and while his tone might have been even, and almost cold, for a brief second there was a smirk lingering on his lips that reminiscent of the man that teased his friends.
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open to: all location: stairwell between the 5th and 6th floor *tw: gun
anxious. adjective. experiencing worry, unease, or nervousness, typically about an imminent event or something with an uncertain outcome.
while it was good that everyone was doing their best to make a horrible situation as comfortable as they could, he was slowly starting to slip a bit. he was a soldier, a marine. he might have had patience and restraint drilled into him but, even then, he was never skilled with sitting around and waiting. he wanted to move. he needed to move.
he was anxious.
pacing on the sixth floor would have caused concern, everyone in their small group seemed to still have enough humanity left in them to actually care about the people around them, so he often found himself hiding out in the stairwell between the sixth and fifth floor.
walking up, walking down.
walking up, walking down.
walking up, walking down.
they needed more supplies, more food and ammunition. he tried to silence that voice in the back of his head but it kept getting louder and louder; telling him to slip out; telling him how easy it would be for him to just sneak off and make a supply run on his own, he could be back before anyone even noticed he was gone.
unfortunately he also had a shiny, state-of-the-art metal prosthetic left arm to remind him of how dangerous even the simplest looking run could be. so, clearly, that was out of the question. so he just had to stay put. stay focused. sit around and wait.
walking up, walking down.
walking up, walking down.
walking up, walking down.
it had almost become a daily ritual for him, the pacing in the stairwell. normally, if someone managed to pass him because they needed the bathrooms or were headed back to the main floor he'd just mumble about catching his breath or just ignore their presence altogether, but today he was wound tighter than usual so when he heard the scuff of a shoe on the concrete stairs, he reflexively pulled the pistol from the clip on his hip and turned to face the person approaching him; his hollow eyes looking through them, almost as if he was looking at a ghost rather than looking at them.
they weren't in any real danger. he wouldn't have shot them. he was just tense and a bit jumpy. they all were. but he wouldn't have shot them.
well.
he might have.
old habits do die hard.
"you want to tell me what you're doing here?" he questioned as he slowly lowered his weapon; ignoring the fact he was standing in a common passageway they all used to get from their main holding point to the bathrooms below.
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the world was fucking ending. all those mindless hours spent doom scrolling on social media, liking recipes and cooking hacks he was never going to try in the first place, meant absolutely nothing now-- food tasting good had become a luxury none of them could really afford. you see, the virus spreading not only filled the streets with those ambling rotting corpses but it also brought out the monster in people. everything was worth fighting over; there were no shared comraderies or unified fronts-- when shit hit the fan it became every man for himself and good fucking luck if you weren't a good shot.
food was scarce and not necessarily because people had eaten it. yes, there were other survivors out there doing what they could to get by, but sometimes it was worse than that; sometimes they had to go hungry because people were so god-damned messy and selfish that in their desperate attempts to take care of themselves and no one else, they left food open; out to mold and rot. buildings lost power, so anything refrigerated or frozen went bad and became unsafe to eat. eventually all that was left was that pre packaged shit that sat on shelves for years without ever changing in taste or quality; and the words quality was being used loosely here.
beggars couldn't be choosers, or something like that.
they needed to be grateful that at least they managed to find enough to keep everyone in their group fed. not full, but still fed. hell. he wasn't going to complain. as he pushed at the food on his tray with the metal fork in his right hand, he couldn't help but remember the horrible meals they served him during his time in the marines. the slop, as they called it. it had such a foul taste to it that it made canned peas, beans, and even twinkies taste like a five star meal prepared by gordon ramsey himself.
this time they were all lucky enough to even have fruit cups, and it wasn't even christmas yet.
"seats taken." he mumbled, almost like a reflex, as he heard the shuffling of feet behind him; as someone approached his table. normally that would have worked, most people would have just found somewhere else to sit and grumbled under their breath at him, but of course mallory wasn't most people.
"really?" he groaned, years of exasperation and annoyance hanging on his breath though he'd only known the man for a few months, as mallory took his fruit cup without even bothering to ask. "the more time i spend with you, the more i wonder what the hell they were thinking letting you be on the raiding team. can't even find your own damn food, mallory. useful as fucking ever."
"now put it back."
aj & mallory
Mallory was so God damn sick of peas. He didn't consider himself a particularly picky eater. Growing up, he ate what his Mama put on his plate and he finished it. But a man could only eat so many peas before he started to contemplate the merits of murder. Mallory wasn't ungrateful, either. He went on the raids, he understood what was out there and how important it was to stretch the food as far possible.
Sometimes, he wondered if he made a mistake, staying here. They were in the city, surrounded by walking corpses and people with dubious intentions. He'd have likely done better in the woods on his own, his father's hunting rifle all he'd ever need to keep himself fed. That and the lakes. Plenty of fish to catch and gut.
Still, as much as he kept to himself and minded his own damn business, he at least showed his face and ate with the rest of their group every now and again.
Today's dinner looked a hell of a lot more promising. There was even fruit cups (the shitty, dole kind they fed to kids), but Mallory wasn't about to pass up something sweet.
After he acquired his plate (an assortment of canned black beans, green beans, and his fruit cup), he scanned the crowd lazily for at least one vaguely familiar face.
Ah. Landrum. He'd recognized the back of that bastard's head a mile away. He didn't really think about it as he headed towards him. They weren't friends. Mallory wasn't even sure he liked the dickhead, truly. What he was... was familiar. Mallory strode towards him, easily commandeering the vacant spot beside him without a word. He glanced at Landrum's tray. More specifically, his untouched fruit cup.
Mallory snatched it off Landrum's plate without asking. "What?" he asked, quirking a single eyebrow. "Didn't look to me like you were eating it."
@raiderlandrum
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ASHLEY JAMES "AJ" LANDRUM
I like to feel my bones when they crash into my heart. I like the taste of blood when you're tearin' me apart...
DOSSIER* | VANITY | AESTHETIC | STARTERS | HEADCANONS | MEMES
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