#and so then they had to surgically cut into the skin to remove the mandibles left behind

[creaturefeaster]

guy who's 5 minutes away from finding they've been bitten by a tick

[fearwasalwaysanoption]

Mouthwashing Fix-it

supplement to these posts

very long explanation under cut (content warning: mentions of surgical procedures, stillbirth, and suicide attempts)

Curly- Skin grafts, rehab, right eye removed due to extensive damage. Has to take immunosuppressants for the rest of his life so his body doesn't reject the massive amounts of synthetic tissue. Eyelids were restored but have to be manually opened and closed, uses eye lubricant drops for any additional dryness.

Took the brunt of the blame for the crash, now a permanent stain on his reputation. The publicity of the incident died down in less than a week, but still makes it hard to find work (especially with his disabilities). Massive survivor's guilt and internalized ableism. Now that he can do most things himself, he hates asking for help. He doesn't want to seem weak, he wants to seem in control.

Hops around from job-to-job, typically in a management position but leaves once it becomes too familiar.

Anya- Treated with acetylcysteine, but liver damage was too extensive and had to be replaced robotically with a synthetic one. Embryo died in utero from paracemetol poisoning and was removed. Also has to take immunosuppressants so her body does not reject the new liver.

Somehow acquired a job at a clinic despite not at all having the credentials and is dreading the day they figure that out. In the meantime living paycheck-to-paycheck and swimming in debt.

Went through one painful and traumatic suicide attempt and would not want to take the chances of having to go through that again. Still incredibly anxious and not in a good place but clings to that hope she can get herself out of this rut. One of the only things keeping her going is the knowledge that she is helping people and in some little way making life better.

Daisuke- Skin grafts and extensive biodegradable stitching, especially in his face. Minimal reconstructive surgery to fix his nasal passage. Right eye is completely opaque from traumatic injury.

Not as joyful as he used to be, a lot more dark humoured but retains his optimism. Cautious, has matured quite a bit and is just trying to live his life. The collective trauma from the Tulpar makes it hard to connect with his peers and he only really wants to hang out with his former crew. Trying to make a name for himself and do something with his life, co-founded his and Swansea's independent mechanic business.

Does more manual labour on the side to help keep the business running.

Jimmy- Bullet and bone fragments removed, entered zygomatic bone barely avoiding the eye and exiting through the left mandible. Damaged tissue and teeth removed, in a coma for several months with reconstructive internal surgery to his skull.

Charged with attempted murder, reckless endangerment, and sexual assault. However the court deemed him unable to stand trial and committed him to a psychiatric institution for high risk individuals. Has been sent to solitary more times than he can count or cares to and is on suicide watch.

He's forced to take antipsychotics and has no control over anything in his life besides doing what he is told so he can get the hell out of this place. In the meantime he can reevaluate and be alone with his thoughts (a punishment i would not bestow upon my worst enemy).

Curly and Daisuke visit him sometimes because they still genuinely care about him and want him to get better. But their visits get less and less frequent every time. When they finally stop coming... who will he have left to blame for his circumstances?

Swansea- Bullets and fragments removed, right eye was too badly damaged to save and was removed. Clavicle plating applied to help solidify the shattered bone.

Similar case to Daisuke. Owns the independent mechanic business as well as doing random jobs to get more money. Family life is in pieces and is on the brink of a divorce with his wife but too drunk to really care. Preoccupies himself with work and alcohol to forget his miserable situation and money troubles. The only thing keeping him from drinking himself to death lying in a gutter is that he'd leave such a burden on Daisuke that the kid does not need any more of.

[pcrfide]

                                                 SOLDIER  76

Name: John “Jack” Morrison Nickname: Miles / Jack / Jackie / Morrison / You Fuck Age: 55 Height: 6’1” Weight: 275 lbs (125 Kg) Hair: [Formerly Blond ] - Currently Grey/White Race: Caucasian

Identifying Marks:

One bisecting scar across the upper plain of the face from left temple over bridge of nose to right zygomatic arch to end nearly at hollow of cheek. Second scar begins just underneath left zygomatic arch and bisects philtrum, upper lip and lower lip. Ends just above the lateral surgical scar for mandible prosthesis. Further notable scarring can be seen in the notes below. 

[cut for length]

History

Jack Morrison was born on the outskirts of Bloomington Indiana in a rural farming township that had no real name. The first child and son of Melissa and John Sr, his early life wasn’t much to write home about. He worked on the farm, went to school and was considered by all counts an unremarkable- if cheerfully natured child. It wasn’t until the birth of Abigail and the subsequent diagnosis of Melissa’s cancer that his home life deteriorated. 

At the age of 12, Jack took on the care of his sister after his mother’s death from aggressive cancer that metastasized into various organs before it could be removed. At the age of fourteen he dropped out of school entirely to help his father on the farm and take over the house duties. An at-home school program allowed him to continue his education at night while his sister slept. At seventeen he graduated a year early with his GED.

At seventeen he also managed to convince a recruiter at the Army / National Guard service center that he was a year older than he really was in order to join up. He had just spent two nights at a local hospital recovering from a beating brought on from calling CPS on his father for his sister. Abigail wound up being placed with his uncle and his husband, and once the court had finalized the proceeding- Jack was officially free to join.

Jack spent his 21st birthday meeting Vincent, and the two would begin a whirlwind romance that would last up until the formation of the Overwatch Peacekeeping Directive. The break-up was amicable, with Jack serving as Vincent’s best man at his former partner’s wedding. He’s not ashamed to admit he cried, wishing both of them the happiness he couldn’t give the other man. 

Jack’s time in SEP is full of half-remembered details due to the amount of stress put on his body from both training, drugs and the missions they were sent to test out in the field.There are mental tripwires set in place that he simply does not remember that can be found at any point in time with the most random triggers. Even he doesn’t know what they all are- and they happen at the oddest times.

Jack turned down the promotion for Strike Commander three times, but only took it because Gabriel expressed interest in taking up another position in the directive due to the nature of the work. It put him out in the field more often, where his war-time command structure made sense as opposed to Jack’s peace-time administrative style. He didn’t want to be stuck behind a desk. It also allowed him more time off to visit his family, and let Jack finagle his schedule so that he could do so. It separated him from his best friend, but the blonde considered it a fair trade off. It’s not like he had a family to worry about, after all.

Jack’s twenty year odd tenure was fraught with both perils from the press as well as odd assassination attempts.  He survived no less than twelve per year- at least one a month. The most common was attempted shooting, but the most creative included attempting to poison him through his food. His metabolism let him digest most anything that would kill normal soldiers, and it wasn’t uncommon to merely get indigestion when finding out he’d eaten something laced with rat poison. The worst attempt, however- is the .50 caliber bullet that put a hole through his chest, and out into his back during a speech in Tasmania. He survived, but he lost a good amount of blood.

The last ten years of Overwatch were the worst. Between the Uprising with Null Sector, the fiasco of Blackwatch at Rialto, the loss of Gerard and Amelie, and the knowledge that moles had corrupted the interior of both Overwatch and Black Watch- Jack’s once sun and wheat hair had slowly gone to winter. What was leaked to the press is that a fissure had slowly opened between the division heads of the covert operations team and the Strike Commander. That one agent had suddenly disappeared under mysterious circumstances. And that not a week later, the entire Switzerland HQ went up in flames, smoke and death.

Jack Morrison was buried with full military honors. This was not his final wish. His final wish was to be buried simply, and in Arlington with a plaque stating his name, his crisis rank and the date. That was it.

 Recall

Soldier 76 arrived on the scene not two years after the fall of Zurich.  A vigilante and troublemaker by rote [sic.[1]] Soldier had been seen making waves in a few cities before his debut in Dorado.

His nickname stems from the rather large callsign on his back, as well as the trained, military fighting style that helps him bring down the individuals that try to take him down despite their overwhelming numbers. Some are calling him a hero, and others yet- a new trouble on their already overloaded system.

Soldier, AKA Jack- sports a heavily modified Helix Heavy Duty Pulse Rifle with helix rocket modifications and a lessened kickback with dampeners in the stock. It has a 20 round clip with a rechargeable base that allows the pulse packs to recharge with the energy released by the gun for the next clip. It allows him to keep firing pulse rounds into the fray nearly constantly.

A bandoleer of biotic canisters can be seen around his right arm, his hips and across his chest for ease of reach. They’re easy to manufacture- considering they’re of his own design- but it’s the containment process that’s a son of a bitch. They’re solar-powered, allowing him to recharge them in the sun after a fight.

The lower half of his jaw is a prosthetic, allowing the jaw-piece of his mask to adhere to the ports set on the lower half of the hinge. One port on each temple allows the visor to patch in without analog, and an entire relay down his spine allows a healer to monitor his biometrics remotely as well as help assess nerve relays. Extensive nerve damage from Zurich means sometimes they do not fire right and may need help with reflexive action.

Extensive scarring can be found from underneath his right armpit- over his chest to mid-point on his thorax, down his torso, over his groin and down to just above his right knee from where a burning piece of the building fell over him. His right hand has fine motor control issue and his hip causes him to limp if he has to run for an extended period.

His mask contains a rebreather for oxygenation. Sometimes his lungs don’t want to work right and he has to get more oxygen into his lungs faster. It helps.

Despite all of this, he’s still one lethal son of a bitch. His processing speed hasn’t stopped at all, and he can still metabolize poisons. This goes for sedatives and medicines. It makes for issues when he’s under the knife or recovering. 

                     Weapons

Heavy Helix modified  duty pulse rifle w/rocket launcher modifications & aim assistance to tactical visor. 

Tactical knife [ black carbon steel]

Sig Saur handgun .9mil

Neo-Remington handgun .45mil

Biotic canister bandoleer | arms/chest [ 10-15 ea]

 Armor

Kevlar-modified high density ballistics chest armor with integrated flex-weave. 

Flex weave compression shirt to wick away excess moisture against skin to reduce sweat

High density ballistics dual polymer leather jacket with ballistics armor able to withstand up to a .45 caliber round @ 15 ft. 

Steel shin/knee and calf guard attachments to reinforced steel toe combat boots. 

Heavy duty reinforced leather motorcycle gloves with dual-layer padding on palms and knuckles. 

Four bandoleers (two used, two replacements) for biotic canisters (one set shoulder, one set waist) - a fifth prototype in works for thigh. High density flex leather for wear-and-tear.

[crassussativum]

The Lord’s Mate 2

((With all my free time, I was compelled to do a follow-up. Under the cut for length and adult stuff.

@turianspeedjunkie

After that initial understanding, Paeter had found ways to communicate with Zero. Hand signals, nods, the boy’s half busted omnitool. His own was hidden in a secret pocket of his duffle. The poor boy couldn’t make any vocalizations, not even in the subtonal range, he was fully mute. He spent little more than a week at the horrible compound, watching and learning routines so he could sneak them out. Had managed to talk the boy into smiling at his... mate just once so the man would let them stay together. As the Lord had run his hands over Zero’s fringe and kissed him, Paeter had seen how once, the man had probably genuinely cared for the boy. Until... Whatever happened had happened. Zero plain refused to give him any information about it, head shaking no and tears streaming down his face until the only thing Paeter could do to calm him was to hold him and he had, as gently as possible.

Now, he held the boy’s hand, guiding him through twisting trees and thorned overgrowth through the jungle surrounding the compound. There was no moon in the sky, the celestial orb in some dark phase but it provided the cover he needed. It took hours to make their way to the hidden evac shuttle that had been sent down via autopilot and just a scant hour before sunrise, Paeter helped Zero up the ramp. The boy was exhausted, sweating, his clothes dirty and his eyes vacant, steps shuffling but he’d made the trek with minimal help. Paeter was proud of him.

Zero practically collapsed to the floor of the shuttle once the airlock had sealed though, his head low and mandibles hanging. The agent was sure he was close to passing out. “Go on,” He said, walking past him to the controls. “I need to get us in the air and on our way, then I’ll fix up a pallet for you but if you’ve got to lie down, go ahead, it’s okay.”

The boy, obviously, didn’t answer, but when Paeter looked back over his shoulder, he was asleep, head on the over-packed duffle. The agent set the course and sent a communication to the Blackwatch ship two days away just outside the planet’s orbit. He had the boy, he was bringing him home, medical would need to meet him and by the Spirits, keep the Primarch busy until they had the kid looking less like road kill. Message received, he sat back to wait for a reply.

Paeter got up from the pilot’s chair, walking over to the boy and reaching overhead into a closed compartment of the shuttle. He pulled out two regular blankets and one emergency heat one since he could already see the boy shivering in his sleep. He spread the two regular blankets out on the floor, trying to puff them up to give the boy some cushion before he carefully pulled Zero on top of the pallet, somehow managing not to wake him. Paeter covered him with the heat blanket and fit the duffle under his head again for a pillow. The boy hadn’t woken once, not even a sleepy blink or flutter of his mandibles. 

The com on the console beeped and Paeter went back to the pilot’s chair. “I’m here,” He said softly to not wake the boy. “I’ve got Ze- Cato with me. He’s sleeping.”

There was a pause, then a staticy, professional voice replied. “What’s his condition?”

Paeter glanced over his shoulder. “It’s not good, Sir. He’s malnourished, severely under weight and size for his age. Signs of abuse are clear. He’s.... He’s been muted, Sir.”

“Muted?”

He had to swallow to get the words to come out. “His vocal cords and tongue have been surgically removed. Judging by the scar tissue, I’d say probably in the last few months. Subvocal communication is impossible but he can read and write so we��ve been able to...talk, but it’s.... Hm, slow going.”

“How is he mentally?” The question came after a while.

Paeter hummed. “He’s depressed. Lonely. Angry.” The agent listed off. “Intelligent, as far as I can tell. He seems to understand what’s been done to him is wrong and he seems to understand that I’m helping him but there’s a lot I can’t get him to... talk about.”

“Such as?”

“Such as the abuse or why he was muted or why the Lord was keeping him in a locked room, Sir. Based on my observations, I think the room he was confined to was a new development.” Paeter ran a hand back over his fringe. “The base is in shambles. The children that agent Virim reported in his final message were gone. I don’t know if they’d been moved somewhere or.... When I asked Cato about it, he cried, Sir. I think... I think the Lord disposed of the children shortly after agent Virim.”

There was a long silence. Paeter remembered that his commander and the murdered agent had been friends. It couldn’t be easy to hear all this. “Once you’ve returned with Cato we’ll begin phase two.” The voice said. “No reason to hold back..... You’re two days out?”

“Yes Sir.”

“I’ll have medical meet you as soon as you dock and I’ll do what I can to keep the Primarch occupied until the boy’s been properly seen to. Sativum out.” 

The com went silent with a click and Paeter leaned back in his chair. He breathed in and held it, let it out slow and even. Then again. Spirits, what a mess. He glanced over his shoulder again. Cato hadn’t moved at all, he still slept peacefully. Paeter thought he might as well take the opportunity too as well and settled back in his seat, closing his eyes. 

Paeter didn’t know how long he’d slept before he heard movement and opened his eyes to Cato squirming up into his lap, tucking in all close to his chest with his face in his throat. He put his arms around the boy. “You okay?” He rasped sleepily, getting a nod in answer. “Nightmare?” The boy had a lot of them, he’d found out. 

Another soft nod rubbed under his mandible and Paeter spread his hands on the boy’s back and sides, trying to comfort him. The blanket around his shoulders slipped and the agent felt skin. A lot of skin. He stopped breathing.

“Cato,” He said at length, suddenly very much awake. “Why are you naked?”

The boy made no sound but for his breathing. At least one of them was. Paeter couldn’t seem to get any air in his lungs and they were starting to burn. Then the air was forced out of him as Cato nipped his throat and then kissed it. It shouldn’t have felt as good as it did, that little tongueless mouth sliding over his throat, teeth trailing. But it did, fucking Spirits, it did. Paeter could admit he was probably a little close to his heat and awfully susceptible to a warm body touching his but that was no real excuse.

“Cato-” He started, hands moving to shift him off his lap, to put him back on the pallet where he belonged and make him put his clothes back on, and that was when the boy bit him. When Cato’s chest rumbled with an disformed growl and Paeter instinctively answered with one of his own. He was way too close to his heat. Way too close.

The boy did shift in his lap but it was to straddle him, to press his ass over his clothed plates and grind on him until breathing wasn’t the only problem Paeter was having. The agent grabbed his hips to stop him and the boy left biting his throat to kiss his mouth. Hard, expertly, somehow even without his tongue. Paeter couldn’t help but make up the difference for him, holding under his fringe, sweeping his tongue into the boy’s mouth to taste him. How long that went on, he didn’t know, long enough to scramble thoughts and morals that told him he was taking advantage of the poor boy. Even if it felt like the other way around with how Cato ground his ass against him over and over and over.

Finally, Paeter managed to pull back from the kiss, panting as his head rushed and his blood pooled low. He tried to get words on his tongue but the boy was perched on his knees over his hips and his hands were working between them and Paeter had no words at all when cool little fingers wrapped around his cock and pulled it from his pants. Then he only had a long drawn out moan as the boy pumped him and guided him, as Paeter felt the tip of his erection slide between his cheeks to touch-

He scrambled, hands on the boy’s shoulders to push him off. “Cato-” The boy sank down his length in one go, quick and smooth, tight little hole spreading around him, enveloping him and making his hips buck until plating met ass. “-Fuck.” He hissed, staring at him, mandibles hanging.

The boy held his eyes and nodded, rose up his length just to take him deep again. Paeter shook his head, starting to say that this was bad, he was taking advantage, he shouldn’t, he shouldn’t, by the Spirits. Cato kissed him again and the agent felt the erection trapped between their stomachs as the boy rode him. Paeter wasn’t sure how long they stayed in the cramped pilot’s chair with the boy slowly taking him deeper just to lift off and do it again faster the next time, but soon, he wasn’t getting the kind of experience he wanted. Paeter grasped him under the thighs and rocked to his feet, the boy looking up at him in surprise as he was slowly drawn off his cock again. Paeter set him on his feet.

“P-” He cleared his throat. He should stop this now. He didn’t want to. Cato, clearly didn’t want him to either. “Pallet. Get on the pallet.”

The boy grinned slightly and went over to the pallet on the floor of the shuttle, laid down on his back and spread his legs wide. Paeter was between them in a heartbeat and plates deep inside the boy in another, another drawn out moan leaving his mouth as he pulled back just to thrust in again. Then again. Cato bucked to meet him every time, his legs wrapping around him soon, hands clinging to his arm, eyes staring up at him. Paeter kissed him again, trying to stay gentle and sweet for the boy after everything he’d been through, but the squirming body and wonderfully tight hole stretched around him just made him.... He hammered into the boy, chasing the high, his release, those cool hands that ran all over him, until finally-

The agent tried to pull back, to pull out, this was a bad idea but cumming in him too before he dropped the boy off with medical? He tried to pull away as his release started to crest, and Cato’s legs behind his back locked him in place. Paeter moaned and broke with a gasp, slamming into the boy a final time and filled Cato full, thrusting reflexively a few more times until he stilled, panting down into the Cato’s face. Staring at him, waiting to see anger or regret or something negative. Not that slow spread of mandibles that was a playful smile. For an instant, Paeter saw the boy he’d been before all the bad things happened.

And then he smelled eezo, the boy’s biotics flipping them around until he was the one on his back and Zero was making his legs spread. That was when Paeter realized Cato hadn’t cum but that he was going to. The boy gave him that grin again, the same one he’d given him at the start and the agent felt his erection touching him, pushing in.... He should definitely stop this...

Cato kissed him again, leaning over his chest, gentle and sweet and snapped his hips forward hard. Taking him much the same way he’d taken him and Paeter gasped as he was filled, grateful at least that Cato wasn’t all that big. The boy pounded into him like he knew what he was doing, hard and fast and constant on that clutch of nerves inside that had Paeter moaning and mewling in pleasure before he could even think to smother any of his noises. The boy’s teeth locked in his throat as his hips kept up a punishing rhythm. He didn’t last long, the first time, and Paeter felt the rush of his release deep inside. His hands were clutched around Cato’s upper arms and he’d swear his knuckles creaked when he finally let go, drawing the boy to him. The boy with tears in his eyes as he kissed him again.

It turned out, Cato was insatiable and hours later, when it was done, Paeter lay there on his back next to the boy, holding the side of his throat and noting that his hips were genuinely sore. Among other things. He glanced to the boy again, found him sleeping so peacefully and knew he'd have to put all this in his report, knew he'd have to write down how he'd...he'd had Cato and then how the boy had fucked him. The Primarch would know, his commander would, the med staff would. Paeter rubbed his eyes with his free hand. He should've pushed the boy off him, not dragged him closer.