#he apparently got mad at being given lettuce because he thought they were taking the lettuce instead of handing it to him lol

[weenie-wizard]

baby animal with giant kind eyes through which you can observe the emptiness of their head 💖

[wildshub]

WHO: The Twilight of Adam Boys WHAT: The boys come across Warren’s dead body and bury him. WHEN: Day 3 NOTE: For future reference.

Blue blue had been replaying the entire night over in his head. he had been against leaving sawyer and warren alone on the cliff, they were all a team in this but theyd always be combative until they got that. maybe the guys saw how much carrying another guy around + a lack of good sleep had done to blue, he himself felt like his energy was cut in half. maybe that's why he relented and followed the rest back, in what felt like a half sleep daze. But there they all stood, having seen far too much of what remained of warren on earth. it was the first dead body blue had ever seen, and the image seemed to puncture through any other thought. "what um, what did you guys last say to him?" his eyes housed some extra moisture, but he would be unashamed of this. a brother died, even if he wasnt blue's favorite. and sawyer, soy dog, being given this huge task, and having this be the outcome, it was heartbreaking. "i last told him he needed to translate the message..." he wished he had said anything more comforting, personable, leas tinged with annoyance. but that was the truth

Kian Kian had never been good at dealing with death. When the great aunt he barely ever spoke to on his mother's side passed away, he hid in the coat closet at her wake and refused to come out until the body was gone. That was eight years ago. It wasn't any easier now, standing here in front of a lifeless, mangled corpse...especially not that of who, just hours earlier, was joking and laughing and lazing around like they weren't in dire need of rescue. He had to tear his eyes away from Warren, focusing his gaze on a rip in the hem of his t-shirt. "Dunno. Probably something about how much of a twat he was being," Kian mumbled, none of his usual bite to his words. "But we were all kind of being twats yesterday."

Sawyer Warren was a fuck up. And, selfishly, Sawyer felt drawn to him for that very reason—because he took comfort in knowing he wasn’t the only person on the isle whose smart mouth and poor rationale got him into trouble more often than it got him any good. When Warren chose to stay with the fire, Sawyer hung back with him. He could read people like he read books, knew there wasn’t something right with the guy after he’d been choked out, beaten up, and hung off the ledge of a cliff within an inch of his life. If he indulged in a little alcohol he’d been keeping from the rest of the boys—and if Sawyer shared some with him—nobody needed to know. He’d needed that liquid courage to face camp in the morning...fuck. It felt like a given, only seven hours ago, that he’d even wake up to see the next morning. “S’my fault,” he said suddenly, drawing fourteen sets of eyes away from Warren’s body and to where he stood, feet away from the group. His voice shook as he spoke. “We were drinkin’, a-and I knew he was upset about the radio and shit, and I should’ve…looked after ‘im.”

Joe Instead of properly processing the events of yesterday Joe had pushed them to the back of his mind. He shoved the memories into a filing cabinet where they became an unorganised jumble of shouting, pulling and dashed hope. He trudged back to the camp with the hope that a good night's sleep would fix everything. He prayed that a new dawn would make for a bright new start or maybe he would wake up to find out that the last forty-eight hours had been a nightmare based on some disaster movie he watched years ago. But turns out the exact opposite happened and the new dawn brought more fucking anguish. Eyes still transfixed on Warren's lifeless body he was about to tell the Adams that the last thing he probably said to Warren was be careful, Joe wished he meant be careful in general instead of specifically with the radio. Maybe things would have ended differently if his past life prioritised Warren's life instead of a stupid old radio. That train of thought was interrupted by Sawyer. "Don't you fucking dare." It was supposed to be a command but it was more of a whimper. The words blame yourself remained stuck at the back of Joe's thought. "It wasn't your fault,ok. You couldn't have seen it coming." Yeah, Sawyer stayed behind to babysit Warren but making sure somebody didn't get yelled at wasn't the same as making sure they didn't die.

Dash Dash had seen a dead body once before but Warren’s looked mad different, mangled and limp and scraped up from the rocks. He loitered away from the group huddled together in lieu of getting any closer to the body after the panicky, failed revival. Touching his cold, lifeless skin to drag him ashore had been enough macabre bullshit for one day. Dash flexed his hand as he looked at Warren’s lax face. Well, third time’s the charm, he thought wryly, then felt a little sick. Any of them could die here apparently, and it started to feel a whole lot less like Total Drama Island as the Lost vibes violently rocketed up. The neckbeards who worked at Google were gonna have to hurry up and tap into their space stations to find them before someone else met their untimely demise. His eyes cut toward Sawyer when the other guy spoke and then to Joe when he replied. Dash shrugged uncomfortably. “Yeah, I mean, I guess there’s not much you could’ve done about it if you were asleep, man. Alcohol plus dangerous heights equals...” he trailed off. He rubbed the back of his head, eyes narrowed when he noticed something missing. Warren’s belt bag was gone; it had been one of the first things Dash noticed about his fit on the place, not entirely without envy. “Looks like Mother Ocean wanted his fanny pack.” He paused. “Uh... should we let her take him too? Yunno, ol’ Viking funeral style. Those were basically his people, and we gotta figure out what to do with the body.” Dash was all for suggesting some kind of action if that meant he didn’t have to stare at a bloated corpse anymore. Besides, he was going to start stanking the beach up in the hot sun sooner or later.

Lukas Put him in front of the grossest, goriest movie or game and Lukas had a stomach of steel. The second he laid eyes on Warren, he lost the airplane nuts and seltzer that had filled his stomach the night before. Though he did have the decency to at least step away from the group to do it. Wiping his mouth as he returned taking up the spot beside Dash towards the back of the group to avoid his stomach being unsettled again. He shook his head when Sawyer spoke up, wasn’t his fault he wanted to say but he was worried he’d say it with a side of puke. Thankfully Joe had them covered on that front, even if he did say it with a wobble of his lower lip. “ Isn’t that usually with a boat and fire and shit? “ Like that even mattered right now but it was a lot easier than thinking about having to bury Warren.

Liam for the first time in his life, liam was glad he was shorter than most. surrounded by so many taller than him, liam couldn't get a good look at the body in the water, not that he wanted to. while he may have found warren annoying and after the whole ordeal with the radio, everyone was pretty pissed; but that didn't mean he wanted the boy to die. it didn't take long before liam's eyes stung with tears a the thought of one of them dying. he looked to sawyer as he explained what happened, liam reached out and placed a hand on his bicep. "yeah, it's not your fault," he repeated joe's words, but as he did, the tears started to spill. liam quickly rubbed his hands over his cheeks to try and hide the evidence before some of the meaner members of the group (cough sebastian cough) noticed. dash and lukas started talking about what to do with the body and liam had nothing to add, worried if he did have anything, his voice was shake and crack if he spoke.

Kian "He's got family, though," said Kian, shifting his weight from foot to foot. As much as he desperately wanted to go all out of sight, out of mind with Warren's corpse, the thought of lighting him up and sending him off to sea settled in his stomach like a handful of rocks. He couldn't imagine being Warren's parents in that situation, forever haunted by the fact that they'd never get to see their son laid to rest. Fuck, this was all so fucking fucked. "Maybe we should keep him buried somewhere cool. So he doesn't...get too bad before rescue comes."

Joe "Kian's right." Joe said bluntly, breaking the silence that hung over them. He buried his hands deeply into his shorts pocket. Fuck he wished he had his jacket. It didn't matter that he was already being smothered by the humidity of the island."Just throwing him into the sea would be dead disrespectful." Warren was a disrespectful twat when he was alive but that didn't mean he deserved to be dumped into the ocean. He was a person with a family that loved him. Plus, a decomposing body would probably fuck up the ocean floor's ecosystem or whatever it was called and the poor crabs didn't deserve that. Joe took Liam quickly rubbing his cheek as a sign he needed to go into full distraction mode (something he learned to do from awkward family dinners)."And there's so much shit wrong with the viking funeral idea, no offence Dash. We don't have a boat and the Vikings were from that bit of Europe that looks like a tongs grabbing a bit of lettuce. That's not where Switzerland is." He was hardly a viking expert but being forced to go on a two hour coach trip to go to some museum on the other side of the Pennines when he was in year 3 counted for something. It didn't stop him from being complicit in the death of some rich bastard but it counted for something." Not that any of that matters."

Sebastian  Sebastian looked at Warren's lifeless corpse and saw the shape of his own hands reflected in the discolored bruising around the other boy's neck. Would it ever go away or would he be buried with the reminder that his last hours had involved Sebastian trying to kill him? He swallowed hard, disturbed by the thought but the lump in his throat refused to shift in even the slightest way. He decided not to answer Blue's question, everybody knew what Sebastian's last words to the other boy had been and he didn't want to repeat them, not now. "It's not your fault," he insisted, his voice low and gravely as he responded to Sawyer, "You're not his keeper," none of them were. They were looking out for each other to an extent but they weren't obliged to one another beyond that, not really. He looked over at Kian and nodded his head, "Yeah," he concurred when Joe spoke up, assuring the group that Kian was indeed right. He cleared his throat softly and contemplated their options, "We gotta bury him," he announced, though the prospect was unbearably grim. "The animals will get him if we don't," that was worse, much worse.

Sawyer Sawyer appreciated the words of comfort—really, he did—but nice as they were, they did little to lighten the guilt sitting heavy atop his chest. He was the last person Warren ever spoke to. The last person Warren ever saw. If any of them had the ability to prevent his death, it was Sawyer, and he just…drifted off to sleep after a measly half-canteen of cognac. Did he ever ask if Warren was okay? Did he notice if he was drunk enough to make any dumb, rash choices? And if he did, did he even care? With a hard sniff, Sawyer tightened his jaw and focused his attention on an upturned shell poking out of the sand. Having a pity party for himself, he decided, wasn’t gonna bring Warren back from the dead. “Yeah. We can use that emergency blanket to wrap him up, keep the bugs an’ shit out.”

Dash Yeesh, it was just a suggestion, Dash thought, and it was easier to focus on that small smidge of annoyance than the word 'family'. Things were less complicated when Dash could look into Warren's empty eyes and imagine that he spontaneously generated on the plane like one of those meat flies. Okay, so now other cultures’ funerary rites are disrespectful? Awright, cheers, Sir Moseley, he wanted to say, half-jokey in tone and a painful mimicry of Joe's accent, but the quivery feeling that rattled his insides made him swallow the words almost immediately. Maybe it was his Catholic upbringing, and sure he just suggested they log roll Warren into the sea, but cracking jokes in front of a dead body actually seemed kinda uncouth. Kept him from pretending to snore in response to Joe’s list of Viking-related facts, too. Before he could say anything though, his mouth snapped shut when Sebastian spoke. If there was anyone he’d believe actually went on a Dr. Jekyll-Mr. Hyde midnight ride and yeeted Warren from the cliff, it was that guy. The bruises on Warren’s neck seemed evidence enough for a case of premeditated murder in his books. He pressed his tongue against the inside of his cheek and his gut twisted again at Sawyer’s next words, the prospective task nauseating. “Sure, yeah. Makes sense.” He cleared his throat and nodded, then promptly expelled the thought of bugs burrowing into Warren’s carcass from his mind or else he’d follow in Lukas’ footsteps in the retching department. He gave his buddy a commiserating pat on the back as he looked over his shoulder at the stretch of beach, totally lost as to where they’d have to put him. “When my mom’s dog died, we had to bury that thing pretty deep so the bobcats wouldn’t dig him up. So, uh... guess we should get started on that, too. Might take awhile.”

Kian If he wasn't in the presence of a decomposing corpse, Kian would've rolled his eyes. The flippant way Dash was acting about the whole "Warren is dead" situation unnerved him more than he would've liked to admit; as if this was just another fucking Saturday for him. "There's no bobcats in Hawaii," he said.

Lukas " Polar bears then, " Lukas retorted dryly. Even if he had made it to day 3 of the island before making a LOST reference, he wasn't gonna start outright joking about things this soon after Warren's death. He'd give it, like, five more minutes. " Point is, I don't wanna meet whatever the fuck lives on this island because it decided to make Warren a midnight snack. " And he also didn't want to deal with the body, clearly he did not have the stomach for it so he was definitely aiming to be part of the dig crew. " It shouldn't be near camp either. Just in case. "

Dash Dash exhaled sharply. The words ‘what did I do wrong!!!!’ broadcasted themselves in bright, obnoxious colors in his head. Did it start when he wouldn’t say some bullshit things over Warren’s dead body about him and what Dash might or might not have said to him in their final moments together? Because that felt insincere and shitty. He wasn’t going to pretend that he meant anything to Warren, or make the guy’s death about himself. The best thing they could do was save him from the indignity of lying around like a washed up CPR doll while they all stood around crying. He snapped then pointed at Lukas. “Exactly." Kian and Joe wanted Warren to get back to his family? Well, hey, Dash was sure there was a fair chance they wouldn’t wanna see him with chunks missing. But fuck him for trying to be helpful, apparently. “Hence: deep hole.” He lifted his hands in faux surrender. “Can we move on from bitching at me? Yeah? I’ll help dig.” Anything to put some distance between himself and Warren’s body. He hadn’t looked at him once since he said the Viking thing, and he was happy to put that off for awhile longer. He nudged Lukas with his elbow. "Let's find a spot. Who's gonna help?"

Sawyer So that was that. Warren was dead and he wasn’t coming back and they were going to bury his body deep in the ground so wild animals couldn’t eat away at his rot before help arrived. Sawyer felt like shouting, or hitting something, or running off into the ocean until the saltwater swallowed him whole. He felt everything at once and nothing at all. “I’m gonna...go grab the blanket.” If he had to spend any longer staring at Warren’s emotionless face and twisted limbs, he wasn’t sure he’d make it to the burial.

Callum “I’ll help.” They were the first words to leave Callum’s mouth since they found Warren’s body. Unlike most of the group, he couldn’t tear his gaze away from the boy’s mangled corpse. He fucking hated Warren when the bastard was alive and breathing, but looking at him now, unmoving and silent for the longest period of time since he’s met him, Callum actually felt something other than irritation and rage for the boy. Was it regret? Guilt perhaps? And possibly some weird variation of yearning where he just wanted the idiot to get up and start doing something stupid like he always did. Yes, he was an annoying son of bitch who fucked up drastically, but he was also the first person Callum saw on this island. The first person to make him feel less alone. Whatever was going on in Callum the longer he stared at Warren’s body wasn’t great. It was a strange mix of things he didn’t quite understand and he wanted so badly for the feelings to go away and be replaced with something familiar. Something he knew how to react appropriately for. Something like... anger. That’s what he preferred to feel when he couldn’t understand what was going on within him. He turned his head when Sawyer spoke, grinding his teeth together and squaring his jaw. “Sure you can do that? You're not gonna let your fingers get all slippery and have it be blown away by the wind? Maybe we should have someone go with you, you know, since you clearly can’t be held responsible for a simple. fucking. task.”

Blue blue froze, bewildered by callum's reaction. while he knew in their time together that callum couldnt be....intense, how could someone so clever not hear the pain in sawyers voice. dash, a guy he admired for his unabashed self and how he expressed it with ease, was ready to point fingers. "it wasn't an easy task. was it an easy task for us to keep warren away from the radio? we don't know what the hell happened up there last night, for fucks sake, if you think something shady happened, share with your brothers." his voice broke a little on the last word. and his eyes darted from callum to sebastian. he expected it from seb, but he thought cal ran cooler than that. "Ill go with sawyer...." his eyes darted more quickly than usual to each boy, wondering on their thoughts. though he always gave a helping hand, he knew it usually came with a smack from a more callous present, but he already put his faith out there, and he did it for sawyer, and the truth.

Sawyer When Callum spoke, Sawyer found himself wishing he’d just punched him across the face—would’ve hurt a whole lot less than taking some salt and throwing it to the fucking sea to pour acid on the wound, instead. He recoiled as though Callum had shot him in the chest, mouth working and gaze darting from boy to boy as he fumbled for something to say. Where were you when Warren decided to hang back? When he needed someone to help carry him down the hill? When he was hovering over the ledge of a cliff and having his windpipe crushed by someone twice his size, where were you? Where the fuck were you? His arm swung uselessly at his side. The ugly truth of it all was that Callum was at the camp, and Sawyer was sleeping right beside Warren, and neither of them were able to stop him from taking a tumble into the ocean. And nothing he could say was going to change that. So, Sawyer did what he knew to do best, and choked out something that might’ve sounded like an “I’m sorry” before he turned and started walking briskly in the other direction.

Kian "Fantastic," Kian said, all-too-ready to participate in the blame game when it suited him but not to stand up for the other members of the group when they were under fire, "you pissed off the guy with the criminal record. Great going." Maybe that meant Callum's body would be next to mysteriously wind up wedged between two rocks tomorrow morning. Maybe Kian would've preferred that to hearing him flex his macho bullshit over a group of grieving 18-year-olds. His arms found themselves wound tight around his middle as he moved away from the body—the last thing he wanted to do was go searching in the jungle with two of the most annoying people on the isle, but like fuck he was going to sit here and stare at a rotting corpse for the next hour. "Guess I'll go, too, then.”

Lukas Lukas was team dig even before Dash nudged him with his arm, starting to move when he did. But he'd barely taken a step when some other bullshit started. Callum spoke up, and was mad at Sawyer. As if he wasn't suspect number two in Lukas' mind. He'd spent all of Warren's two days on the island threatening the dude, was no homo best buds with Sebastian, and had already taken a swipe at Dash. Speaking of, as Callum was having a go at Sawyer, he cast a glance to Dash, making a quick face as if to say What the fuck, are you seeing this shit? And then just as he's trying to start moving again Blue said, share with your brothers and Lukas had to try really fucking hard not to laugh, especially because his voice cracked. These mother fuckers weren't his brothers, especially not Warren. He rubbed the back of his hand against his nose, trying to conceal the small exhale that had escaped, as he started moving again, the task of digging a fucking grave on his mind. " For auto theft– not assault and battery. " Lukas pointed out as he walked, meaning it in Sawyer's defence. The perfect proof that having a criminal charge didn't make you inherently dangerous was Liam, but since the guy was crying he wasn't gonna throw his name down the gauntlet. And he also wasn't gonna offer up his own name and felony seeing as Kian had been so quick to judge Sawyer's record. For what he was going to say next he leaned into the small group going to dig a grave, lowering his voice to avoid getting some bruises to match Warren's, " 'sides, think we all fuckin' know who's got the quick temper 'round here. " He said, raising his brows. Lukas was ready to accept that Warren was just a moron that slipped off the cliff in the middle of the night, but if they were gonna point fingers he didn't get how anyone was pointing them anywhere but Gigantor.

Blue blue rose his hands up, palms to his brothers as he listened to his peers, his fellow castaways though it was easier to think of them as as more in his nature. "seb lost his shit more than anyone." The image of his hands on Warrens neck burned hard but that's wasn't the whole story. "but his strength helped pull warren up when he hung by the ledge.." blue looked each castaway in the eye,unfazed by the personal distance. "If any of you know more than dumb guy blue....say it!"

JJ He understood the tensions raising and the unpredictability of reactions to ensue. However, he knew couple of things for certain, Warren was dead. The radio was gone. The help is not here. There was no need, in his opinion, to pass around blame or mope for too long or make a bad situation even worse. Then again, if his opinion mattered they wouldn’t have left Sawyer and Warren alone over night in the first place. He will look over at Callum then Sawyer than back on Warren and laugh. “Sorry, it’s really not funny...” he will say and nod at Luke and Blue who seemed to have been the most clear minded at the moment. Aside from palpable tension in the air that is. “Sawyer man, don’t beat yourself up. It’s was reckless as fuck leaving yall alone up there in the first place.” He said in his best attempt to provide some comfort to the other before focusing on what to do with the issue at hand. “Burying him in the woods is the best option. We wrap him, dig deep so animals can’t dig him out and mark the place so we can find him when the rescue gets here. But first...” he will kneel down and start digging through Warrens pockets. If there was anything there, they could use it more than the dead guy.

Dash Without a backwards glance, he started toward the jungle, lowering his voice like Lukas did just in case: “Did I or did I not call this shit Day One, dude? Roasted. Fuckin’. Pigs.” He shook his head. “The whole Macho Man rescue thing? Red herring moves. Zigging when we expect him to zag. Classic misdirection.” He looked at Callum out of the corner of his eye. He didn’t know if him and Sebastian had any kind of bro bonding moments so far, but Dash at least knew he was on Team Sawyer’s Fault which put them at odds once again. Perfect. His shoulders hunched and he fought back a shiver; the moment they flipped Warren over onto his back replaying in his mind like the most twisted boomerang. The word family haunted him almost as much as those few seconds. “This blows,” he said with feeling. Once they past the treeline, he picked up the first fallen stick he saw. It looked like it broke off at an angle, leaving a slanted end. “I once watched one of those 3 AM History Channel specials about how aliens helped ancient people build pyramids and shit. Alien Theory Guy goes, ‘You want me to believe these Incans could dig thousands of holes totally randomly? Nah, that’s a Martian move.’” He looked over the stick in hand. It seemed pretty sturdy, about an inch and a half in diameter. “Then some corduroy jacket-wearing Ivy Leaguer crops up and says, 'Ever heard of sticks, bitch?’” He cleared his throat again and rubbed at his jaw. Weirdly the further they got from Warren’s body, the more it preoccupied him. Like now that they weren’t looking, he’d pull a grisly Toy Story move and get to his feet. Except he’d be making daddy jokes in his Dr. Doofenshmirtz accent. Dash held up the stick for inspection. “What do you think? Could try and make it work a little bit. Just so we don’t all end up with bloody hands by the end of this.”

Kian “What in the actual fuck are you talking about,” was the only response Kian could muster when Dash started going off on a tangent about Aliens and pyramids. Warren didn’t need a tomb, he needed to be lowered into the earth and kept cool long enough to be recognizable when someone—anyone—could come and exhume him. Chopping him up and stuffing his body parts into little holes in the ground seemed like JJ’s gig, and like, they didn’t need even more of a reason to be suspected of group murder. “We’re burying him, not cutting him open and harvesting his organs. Only reason there’d be any blood is if Godzilla here and his buddy King Kong decide to swing on one of us again.”

Sebastian Sebastian was admittedly surprised by Callum's response. He'd seen flickers of the other male's disdain toward the group but at the time, it had seem warranted. Now, however, he seemed more irritable about Sawyer's failure than perturbed by the fact that the course of the evening, regardless of whether it had to do with Sawyer at all, had resulted in the death of somebody they knew. As he digested it, he considered that maybe Callum was in shock, maybe he'd never experienced death and couldn't process it. When Sebastian's grandfather had died, his Dad had been angry for no reason at all but it was a part of the grieving process, his mother had assured him. "We're not arguing about who is in the right and who is in the wrong right now, we're not arguing at all- we're getting this done," he instructed, leaving little room for protest. Then Jorts piped up, "Who the fuck are you pointing fingers at, Jorts?" Sebastian shot at the other male and he would have had more, far less civil words for the other boy if Blue hadn't chimed in.

Lukas God, Sebastian was so back and forth wasn’t he? Yesterday he was barely tolerable and now he was back to giving off future military recruitment vibes, like pick a lane already. Perhaps stupidly, Lukas rolled his eyes as Sebastian pulled his attention from what Dash was saying. “ It was just a fucking joke, “ well, sort of. It was a joke he had meant. “ Obviously, he took a drunken swan dive off the cliff, right? “ he looked around the group, confirming that was the consensus. “ But you’re not gonna go far trying to convince anyone that those are my hand prints on his neck, that’s all I’m saying. “ He held up his hands as he said it, continuing to take a couple steps backwards before he turned back around, hands returning to his sides. Back to the project of digging a grave for the less than dearly departed. He grinned along with what Dash was saying about Martians  building the pyramids. An easy chuckle leaving his lips too. Then head turns to Kian and Lukas finds himself unable to stop another stupid snort escaping him. “ Who the fuck is talking about cutting him up? “ He asked, amused Kian had even gotten to that point. “ Like maybe old grave robber over there, but not me that’s for sure, “ he said, feeling a little too bold about the distance between them and most of the group as he nodded back at JJ literally looting a corpse. Though the comment of King Kong and Godzilla was a good one and again he laughed. Reaching for a stick like Dash had he held it up, inspecting it as if he knew what would make a good grave digging stick. “ What is it about big dudes that think they gotta fucking rough everyone up to prove something? Like we get it, you’re fucking boring, quit making it our problem.”

JJ He looks over at Lukas "He's dead, he won't need any of his shit. We might."

Callum Seeing JJ drop down to his knees and not hesitate in the slightest to search Warren’s pockets for something valuable was fucked up beyond belief but Callum couldn’t argue that he did have a fair point. And if they couldn’t find anything useful, maybe they could find something to give back to his family. It was then that Callum took notice of the watch on Warren’s left wrist. Fuck, was he really about to do this? With an irritated sigh (because even in death, Warren was making him do things he didn’t want to do), he walked over to the other side of Warren and knelt down to undo his watch. He figured they could give it back to his family along with Warren’s body when they were rescued. Rising to his feet once he was done, he brushed some dirt off of Warren’s watch with the pad on his thumb. The watch face was cracked and after giving it a closer look, he noticed that the hands weren’t moving, stopped at 1:49AM. “Did everyone manage to sleep through the night last night?” He then asked, his gaze still fixated on the watch.

Kian “Something something toxic masculinity, something something animals.” Kian knew he could be a dickhead sometimes, but at least he was a dickhead to everyone. Boys like Sebastian and Callum were wolves in a pack, sniffing out other people’s weaknesses and arranging them accordingly on the ever-arbitrary pecking order. In their eyes, all you needed to be was tall and muscular to be deemed worthy of respect, and that was pretty fucking gay if you asked him. But god forbid anyone point that out to them. “They’ve never had to develop personalities beyond being human jockstraps and it shows.”

Sebastian Sebastian kept his arms folded tight to his chest, perhaps to stop himself from choking anybody else out that afternoon. Everybody knew that the bruising around Warren's throat matched Sebastian's prints perfectly but they also knew that it was as a result of the argument yesterday and not anything that had happened over night- right? His gaze shifted between a few of the other boys, trying to read their thoughts to no avail. He shrugged his shoulders, "I woke up a few times but it was too dark to tell the time," he explained, looking at his own watch briefly, "I don't think I even bothered to check," he confessed a moment later, he'd been exhausted, maybe even a little delirious the few times he'd woken up, irritated by the sand, the cold wind chill, the sound of other boys snoring and talking in their sleep.

Dash Dash distracted himself from Kian’s bonkers, nauseating interpretation of his suggestion with what Lukas had to say. “He's pretty batshit for doing that but can’t imagine they’ll find anything useful on him, unless they plan on hocking the fancy watch when we get out of here. Other than that, he’s probably just got a busted Juul, a nipple piercing, and a few kroner he planned on slipping to the flight attendant for a splash of Stoli in his OJ. None of which are super beneficial to our survival.” As the conversation continued on the topic of Chud and Chuddier, he scoffed lightly when Kian said ‘human jockstrap’. Dash used a similar phrase the other day too and he wasn’t stoked about their thoughts running parallel right about then. He wasn’t stoked about some dude hating him on sight either, but whatever. He poked at the ground with the flat edge of the stick. “My bet’s Mayor of Poutineville’s concussed to hell. Goddamned walking, talking potatohead. Dude operates on nothing but pure, scrambled egg-brain aggression. Rabid dog ass — no fuckin’ hope for the guy.” He stopped when they soon hit a relatively clear area, not too dense with trees and not so far from the beach that they couldn’t hear the sound of the ocean waves or catch the odd glimpse of sand. There was enough shade that the air felt cooler too, and he was sure that it’d be easy to find again. In a pure asinine move, Dash thought hopefully 'hey, maybe Warren'll like it here.' He leaned on his stick and surveyed the dirt like he had any real idea of what he was doing. When he dug a hole for the little rat dog back home, the soil had been pretty sandy. He hoped they had a similar experience here, because he didn’t wanna lug rocks around on top of burying a body. It had to be immoral for a day to be physically and emotionally exhausting. “How’s here?”

Lukas Lukas couldn't help but feel a little elated when Kian joined in on the trash talking, his choice of words especially tickling him. " That's fuckin' true, ay, " he agreed, more than happy to accept that Sebastian and Callum were so easily annoyed by him because they were jealous of his sparkling personality. Even if that was not what Kian had meant in the slightest. " For sure, dude, " he concord with Dash on the topic of Callum without missing a beat. " Yo, you know who they remind me of? " Enthusiasm quickly filling his tone, looking to Kian and Dash, " You ever play Outlast? " He did not stop and wait for an answer to that question, though he probably should have, " The fucking twin meatheads from that. The ones that just like walk around the map, like, " He severely hunched his shoulders, arms dangling comically at his sides as he pulled his face into an over exaggerated expression for the next few goofy steps before he straightened up again. " Dicks out and just saying weird as fuck shit to creep you out. " Lukas was misremembering a lot of details but he could not forget the fact that those characters had been naked the entire fucking game, seemingly for no reason. That image had been seared into his brain in 2013 like a curse and he had not been able to forget it. By the time he's finished his comparison, Dash had stopped in a clearing. When he asked how's here, Lukas actually looked around the place. It seemed as good a place as they could get without putting in, like, actual effort so it seemed perfect. " Yeah, here's probably good. " He dug at the ground with the heel of his shoe, noting how it moved easily out of his way. " Ground's not too hard. " he assessed before moving again. Drawing out an approximately Warren-sized rectangle with the stick he'd picked up, before kneeling to the ground, ready to dig. " How deep d'you think? Like two, three feet? "

Kian Kian could only blink at Lukas's comparison, nose wrinkling in disgust as he tried not to imagine Callum and Sebastian running around camp with their dicks out. Unlike Dash, he couldn't seem to decide who was the worst offender of the two; in his book, a cunt was a cunt was a cunt. He followed the other boys to the clearing and stomped around a bit in the dirt, testing the soil's softness with the soles of his trainers. "Yeah, I'd say a meter at the least. We want it to be deep enough for the animals to keep away, but not so deep we can't get him back out." If they'd have to dig him back out. Personally, Kian was hoping that the rescue team came armed with shovels. "Anyone have objections to using their hands?" He asked with a pointed glance at Dash.

Callum "Hm," was all Callum could think of to say in response to Sebastian. Out of all them, the other boy was clearly one of the most upset with Warren yesterday. But seeing as Sebastian was also one of the first to dive in to save Warren, Callum didn't feel the need to prod for further information. "We need to ask Sawyer what the hell the two of them were doing last night after we left when he gets back here. And what time they fell asleep. All that." He tucked Warren's watch into the pocket of his pants, looking around for sign of Sawyer. "Why the hell is he taking so long? It's a blanket, not a pile of rocks." He shook his head, irritated. Then he shifted his gaze to JJ. "Did you find anything?"

Dash Dash shook his head but still watched Lukas act out the so-called Dick Out Twins with sincere fascination. “Sheee-it. Uncanny resemblance, dude. You even got that bowlegged caveman shtick down pat.” The internet told his mom that they had to bury the dog at least three feet to keep any predators from digging him up, so Dash nodded when Lukas suggested that depth. His eyes still went skyward when Kian agreed, because wasn’t that motherfucker just giving him shit about the very same topic because ‘there are no bobcats in Hawaii’ like five minutes ago? If Dash said it, it was bullshit. But if Kian said it, it was apparently obvious fact. Good to know! he thought sarcastically. At Kian’s question, Dash hummed contemplatively. “Huh. Okay. Here’s the plan,” he started, walking closer to where Lukas drew a rectangle in the dirt. “When the Russians spot us on their satellites and decide to hit up their Navy—yunno, headed up by Nikita Khrushchev's chemically preserved ballsack—and then a rusty little battlecruiser rolls up to haul us to the Gulag, I’m gonna ask Count Admiral Baba Yaga to take out his busted Samsung and google the Ancient fuckin’ Mesoamericans for you.” Dash lifted the stick for emphasis. “Digging stick. It’s a thing, and I’m gonna use it.” He suddenly felt very sure of his expertise as a man who had dug literally one (1) hole in the woods in his lifetime, and ignored the fact that he only doubled down once Kian gave him such a hard time. He stuck the flat end of the stick into the ground and pressed downward. There was some resistance, possibly a shallow root snapping under the pressure, then he bent it to upend a large chunk of dirt. “Hooty-fuckin’-hoo, it works," he announced, voice dripping with performative surprise. "Now let's just get this shit over with. This morning sucks enough already."

Sawyer Sawyer took a few minutes to gather himself before he returned with the space blanket, eyes rimmed red and torso covered with the sweatshirt he'd been wearing on the plane. Didn't make much sense for him to hold onto a dirty wife-beater covered in another person's blood...a dead person's blood, at that. This way, he figured, he could at least be comfortable and respectful. "S'got a couple holes in it," he sniffed, unfolding the blanket as he approached, "y'know, from the fire and all, but I figure we can stuff 'em with grass if we really wanna..." His voice trailed off when he spotted JJ, knelt at Warren's side with his hands down his pockets. Even beneath the warm inner lining of his sweatshirt, Sawyer's blood ran cold. "...Seriously? We're fuckin' lootin' him, now?"

Kian Dash, Kian was convinced by now, was just inventing names and facts for the sole purpose of making himself sound smarter, although it was obvious to anyone with ears that the guy was a complete and total prat. And Kian would've pointed this out to him had he not proceeded to shove his stick in the ground and flick dirt everywhere, onto Kian's shoes, his shins, his clothes. Dickhead. "Are you taking the piss right now? You're getting shit everywhere, we'll go a lot faster if we just use our fucking hands."

Liam in all honesty, liam wasn’t paying attention, he was off to the side and trying to keep what very little control he had over his emotions. his eyes kept wandering to group of boys standing over warren but every time he glanced at the boy laying there, he could feel his chest tighten and anxiety bubble up inside him. that’s going to be all of us. we’re all going to die here, he thought to himself as he sat on the ground, hands gripping his hair against his scalp. he tried to think back to the last thing he said to his siblings, probably something dumb like don’t touch my things or don’t go in my room. now he wished he had told them he loved them one last time. just as he was getting sucked into these thoughts, he heard sawyer come back to the group. his head shot up and he wiped his eyes quickly as if it wasn’t already obvious that he had been crying. “they think he might have something useful on him,” he chimed in, as if sawyer couldn’t figure that out on his own, but liam didn’t know what else to say without breaking down completely.

Lukas " Thank you, " Lukas gave a facetious bow when at least Dash seemed impressed with his impression. Arms extended out to the side then straightening up with a grin. If it wasn't for the fact that they then very soon afterwards stopped to dig a literal grave, Lukas could have almost forgotten the body that had been found less than an hour ago. When Kian brought it up, he crinkled his nose a little at the idea of using his hands, or honestly digging the hole at all. But it seemed the suggestion was not for him, but for Dash, who was still holding onto that stick and quickly started making a case for it. A case with a lot of words that kinda just went right over Lukas' head to be honest. However, when the stick launched a collection of dirt into the air (mostly onto Kian), he couldn't help the laugh that escaped him. And it was only made funnier when Kian responded in anger with that fucking accent. Hand on his stomach as he tried to subdue it. " Okay, okay– as fuckin' funny as that was, ol' Alfred Pennyworth's got a point, hands will probably be quicker. " That's what she said. But before he gave in to covering himself in dirt completely, he took off his sweater, about to toss it behind him before he paused to offer it out to Dash. " You want it? So you don't fuck with your nice Neil Bar-whatever? " He asked, brows raised. He could not remember that fashion name for the life of him, but he assumed Dash still cared far more about his clothes than Lukas did his own. Then glance to Kian, holding up the front of the remaining two layers he'd slept in. " Got one more layer up for grabs if you want it. " Because even with two of the least threatening of the group, Lukas was still not gonna show his chest. And he'd feel like sort of a dick offering Dash something and not Kian, even if the dude was already covered in dirt.

Sawyer “Useful,” Sawyer echoed after Liam, huffing a dry laugh as he traded his sorrow for anger. As if the dead kid was hiding a secret cellphone or something from them - he barely knew how to use a radio when he was alive. “Why don’t we just strip his clothes while we’re at it? Can even use his fuckin’ sneakers as tinder for the fire. Fuck ‘im. Fuck his folks who might want somethin’ to remember him by.”

Callum Fucking finally. Callum thought it'd take ages for Sawyer to get back. "We got a keepsake to give his parents." Well, he did but Callum didn't care to get into the specifics. What he did care about was what the hell Sawyer and Warren were doing up there last night. "What the hell were you and Warren doing up there last night?" He asked, brows slanted downwards in a frown.

Sawyer His gaze flickered to Callum's shoes before they found his face, jaw working like not going off on the guy who just rubbed Sawyer's nose in shit over someone else's death caused him physical pain. "I told you, we were..." Didn't he tell them? They were drinking. Talking, about what fuck-ups they were and how they ended up at the retreat. At least, that's how he remembered it - brandy always made his memory a little hazy at the edges. "Drinkin'. Some of that fancy cognac he smuggled with him on the plane."

Callum "Drinking?" Callum repeated. "That's it? You were drinking one moment and Warren was taking a swan dive off the cliff the next?" Was that insensitive? Probably. But Callum needed Sawyer to hear how fucking vague that sounded. "I'm trying to get some context for why this fucker would off himself, and all you're gonna tell me is that you two were drinking." He scoffed and shook his head. "What else? Were you talking about anything?"

Sawyer "Nah, we drank in fuckin' silence." Callum's edge, no doubt, was starting to rub off on Sawyer, sharpening his tongue like the blade of a knife. Fuck was he supposed to say? That Warren told him he was gonna jump off a cliff and Sawyer said 'sounds good, man, I'll just leave you to it'? It wasn't that simple. Nothing in life was that fucking simple. "Y'know, I don't know if...it were an accident, or if he did it on purpose, but if I was askin' myself what might'a pushed someone to make a decision like that, I think I'd start with the ones threatenin' to off 'im the night before," he said, tapping his temple.

Liam liam's eyes went between the two boys as things started to heat up, blame being thrown around. as someone who preferred to avoid conflict all together, liam chimed in. "maybe we shouldn't be pointing fingers, yesterday was super fucking stressful but whether this was an accident or if he did it... on purpose," liam had to pause to swallow down the lump in his throat, "we can't be putting that on sawyer."

Callum Callum squared his jaw. He thought back to the last thing he'd said to Warren. You fucking idiot! That was our only chance! The last thing he could remember anyway. He walked off to cool his temper before he did something stupid, like break Warren's jaw in three places. Callum just wanted someone to blame, to direct whatever was going on inside of him at someone, and he couldn't very well do that with a dead boy. "Oh, fuck you," Callum shot back. "We may have been pissed with Warren yesterday, but we went back to camp, tired as hell. You think one of us had it in us to hike all the way back up there and throw him off in our state? And you fucking heard Sebastian, it was too dark to fucking seeing anything even if any of us did wake up so there's no way it could have been one of us, and all the more reason it could have been you." That was a little out of left field but Callum was angry and it was all he had. "You're telling me you weren't pissed off with Warren? Who's to say you didn't get drunk, start spouting horrible shit to fuck with him, and that sent him over? Or maybe you just pushed him off yourself, fuckin' criminal," he spat venomously.

Sawyer So, admittedly, the laugh that escaped Sawyer the second ol' fuckin' Dudley Do-Right accused him of second-degree murder didn't exactly help his defense, but sue him. He couldn't help it. Back in Conrad, he'd been called all sorts of nasty things to his face - from felon to fairy - so he wasn't too miffed by having his criminal record thrown back in his face like a handful of sand. What did unnerve Sawyer was the implication that he was a violent drunk, the kind of person who yelled and raged and hurt people after a few drinks. After a fucking nightcap, at that. "Pushed 'im?" He said, each word dripping with disbelief-tinged mania. "Pushed 'im? You think this is a fuckin' Tarantino movie? Is that it? Are y'all so goddamned sheltered in Moose Nut, Canada that everyone with a parkin' ticket looks like cold-blooded killer?"

Callum "Yeah, pushed him," Callum echoed derisively, stepping forward. He wanted to rile Sawyer up to see what he was capable of. A hand of his balled into a fist at his side. He couldn't tell what part of the Hick's comeback irritated him more but the dig at his home country definitely didn't sit right with him. All Callum knew was that he had to get his hands on Sawyer so that's what he did. Crossing over, he held his hands out and shoved the boy. "Yeah, pushed him. Like that."

Liam tension between callum and sawyer escalated, and liam felt like his protests were futile as they got into each other's faces. fuck, where the hell is lukas and the others? he thought to himself. he watched as callum pushed sawyer and liam shot up, trying to push his way in between the two of them but considering they both towered over him, they could easily push him aside. "guys, seriously, this isn't helping anything, just stop," he said, raising his voice at them.

Sawyer They hardly needed Liam’s intervention to put any distance between them; Callum was strong enough to send Sawyer stumbling backward with a shove. Like that, Sawyer was in the mess hall at juvie again, getting pulled into fights with the rougher guys because they were bored and he was an easy target, big bark and little bite. And when Callum pushed him, he wanted to push him back. Worse, even—he wanted to punch him in the fucking throat. “Yeah, Pretty Boy,” said Sawyer, grinning ear-to-ear over Liam’s head, “would be a shame for you break a nail fightin’ the criminal.”

Sebastian Sebastian was getting tired of people pointing fingers in his direction when he had just as much reason to suspect any of them of foul play. He'd been asleep on the beach for most of the night, he'd already said as much so why did it still keep coming back to the argument he'd had with Warren a whole day ago? "Unless you're saying you were so blacked, you wouldn't have noticed one of us coming up on the cliff, you wouldn't have heard a struggle and you wouldn't have heard him screaming as he fell- and if you're happy to go ahead with that summation, you'll also have to accept that you were too blacked to remember what the fuck you said to him or what he said to you or what happened after that. You could have been messing around, accidentally tripped him over- or you coulda been mad about the radio, pushed him," he insisted, "Alcohol changes people- I don't know what kind of drunk you are, do you? I'd make sure your name is clear before you start throwing anybody else's on the table, huh?"

Sawyer Sawyer did not have “get gaslit into thinking you might’ve committed a murder while drunk” on his vacation bingo card, but neither did he have “become stranded on a desert island,” so he supposed he still had a thing or two to learn from the local senior living home. The spark in his stomach fizzled out with the last of Sebastian’s cold analysis, a flame touched, expression falling from a manic grin to a hollow, tight-jawed stare. People could say what they wanted about him: that he was a hick, a petty criminal, a burnout with no fucking future. But Sawyer had never laid his hands on another person—not on anyone who hadn’t laid theirs on him, first—and he’d never used his buzz to put out someone else’s. “Fuck you,” he said, voice wavering. “You don’t know jack shit about me.”

Joe Joe couldn't believe they were having the most stressful game of Cludeo ever over Warren's fresh corpse. Where the fuck were Pinky and The Brain and Kian ? Maybe the others would see sense and realise that accusing an innocent guy of murder wasn't going to fix anything once their focus was on burying Warren's body. "Everybody simmer down.",Joe moved to Callum's side. Somebody had to be there in case the situation escalated beyond shoving and Thumbelina wasn't going to be much use. Bless Liam for trying but with his mild manner and short stature compared to the other boys he could easily be ignored."Baseless murder accusations aren't going to fix anything. We don't have any reason to believe Sawyer murdered Warren, there's only circumstantial evidence. Couldn't Warren have just fallen because he was hammered?"

Blue he wasnt proud of it, but blue could not see the boys without picturing their fates the same as Warren's, and he slipped out to go yell at the water, and write dirty words in the sand just to watch the water take them back, it might have been an odd grieving process but it was his, and as he returned to the group, the air was so tense he, he instinctly reaching his pocket for his phone to see 204 unread messages and feel the dread. but there wasn't anything there, the dread wasn't contained to the tiny electric box, it pumped through the mob's veins and they breathed it back into the air. he looked to each one, lingering a but before speaking it. "hey boys, the fucks all this?" his tone sounded fatherly, concerned but orderly, and he got the chilly feeling that warrens blood wasn't the only time theyd see the red stuff tonight.

Kian Alfred Whomst? Kian opened his mouth to make a quick retort, but was beat to the chase when Lukas offered him his...shirt? It read you're too close in bold, angry red letters, which just about summed up how Kian felt about the two boys he'd made the terrible decision to come grave-digging with. "Fuck's sake," he muttered, looking off into the jungle for a few silent moments as he contemplated his life choices. "Just...give it here, then."

Lukas Stupid grin spread on Lukas' features when Kian, albeit begrudgingly, accepted offer of a protective t-shirt. Pulling it off, he made sure to grab the white long sleeve underneath so it didn't lift up as he removed the top layer. Removal successful he held it out across the drawn rectangle for him. Pushing his own sleeves up to his elbows once hands were empty and announcing " Let's get to it then, " kneeling down on the ground and starting to dig. " Before the Dick Twins get over here and try and find something else to be assholes about. "

Dash The only thing that truly kept Dash from laughing aloud at the way Kian’s voice went high and warbly in his Peppa Pig accent was the fact that the hole they were all bitching about would soon occupy an actual human body. But even that just kept it at bay. When Lukas agreed with Kian, he snorted—the proffered sweater going a long way in quickly smoothing down any ruffled feathers. Dash pressed his lips together, but felt the fight slowly leave him when he suddenly just felt tired. He couldn’t sworn he slept the whole night, but he definitely didn’t feel it. He sighed heavily, stretching his arms out and letting the stick fall by his side. Dash had every intention of bringing it back to camp, regardless of whether or not it had any other use than as a makeshift shovel. “This is not a concession,” he started, and gently pulled his own sweater over his head and folded it neatly to place on the ground. He only had a white t-shirt on underneath but even that was Tom Ford, so he didn’t hesitate to take Lukas’ offer a moment longer. “This? It’s an act of benevolence.” His voice went slightly muffled for a moment as Lukas’ Thrasher sweatshirt went over his head. “We’ve spent more time arguing than getting this shit done, so I’ll throw you a bone here.” With a grimace, and a silent miserable thought about his pants, he got down next to Lukas and dug.

Kian Lukas's shirt was smaller and tighter than the baggy one Kian had on underneath, causing the sleeves to pillow out at his elbows like some kind of weird pirate tunic. He exhaled sharply through his nose. Fuck. This. Properly incensed, Kian knelt across from the Americans and began to claw his way through the dirt. Unlike Dash, however, he at least made sure not to kick it up everywhere. "Would you stop calling them that?" He huffed. "The last thing I want to think about is Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dipshit stomping around camp with their pricks out."

Lukas Lukas wondered if Kian saw the irony in him grumbling out some complaint about his hilarious joke the second after Dash had said they'd spent too much time arguing already. " You knew exactly who I was talkin' about though, and it only took two seconds to say, " he defended as he dug. Defending the phrase for no reason other than he didn't want to talk about the fact that a dead body would be heading towards them any minute now. And god forbid they fall into silence and he just had to think about the dead body again. He's stomach churned just a fraction, so he quickly continued. " Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dipshit is good, but could be anyone, " for example, it could have very easily been used to identify Lukas and Dash.

Kian "Bert and Ernie, then. Literally anyone else." Kian had hardly even made a dent in the ground before his nails were caked with dirt, and if he hadn't spent the better half of his childhood digging through the mud for bugs to show Clarke, he would have been disgusted at the state of them. God, let there be a freshwater lake in the wilderness for him to wash off in. "Besides," he said, wiping hair out of his face with the back of his sleeve, "I think they're the sort to be flattered that you think about them naked so often."

Dash Dash let a low whistle as he tossed a pebble over his shoulder. He didn’t think flattered would actually be the appropriate word for how those two would feel if they knew Lukas had mentioned their names in relation to dicks. “I think the word you’re looking for is disgusted, actually. Or, uh. Vein-throbbingly violent? Like, on the edge of going full-on berserk.” He scooped out another handful of dirt and already felt exhausted by the whole endeavor. Dash reminded himself that they were doing this for what was a good cause and it’d be fucked up if he sat back now. “Gay bash-y, definitely, but whatever.” He gritted his teeth as he came across another root. Fuckin’ weak ass trees and their weak ass roots. Some of the ones back home were similar, always getting blown to shit by every passing hurricane. He stood enough just to bring his heel down hard enough to snap it. “Wait, just to confirm, we’re in agreement that Lord Humungus took the kill shot, right?” he asked Lukas.

Lukas Lukas didn't know where the fuck Kian had got the idea that Gigantor and his Mini Me would be flattered that Lukas was talking about them in such a fashion, but he definitely disagreed. Thankfully, Dash quickly put his thoughts into words. " Yeah, that's more the vibe I'm getting, for sure. " Lukas agreed, eyes staying down on his hands as he dug for a moment. Just get this fucking over with, get Warren in the ground and then they could move on. Eyes lifted when Dash spoke again, meeting his and for the second time today having to disagree with him. " I think he totally could have. You know, definitely had motive and means down, " Start with agreement, wasn't that a debate thing? He didn't fucking know, he wasn't a debate weeb. " But opportunity? " He sucked his teeth, eyes back to the ground as he continued making work on the grave. " Unless he turns into a fucking werewolf at night, there's no way he would've been able to make his way up there in the middle of the night. It was dark as fuck. " Okay maybe there were a couple of ways, but Lukas wasn't sold. " So, like, maybe he did it, I dunno. But what are we supposed to do about it? "

Kian Lord Humungus? Did he mean Sebastian? "Think he's just upset he didn't push him off himself when he had the chance," said Kian. Because Lukas had a point (as much as it pained him to admit), it was way too fucking dark for Sebastian to be able to get up, hike all the way up that cliff to murder Warren, and slink back before sunrise without anyone noticing. All signs pointed to Warren's death being an accident - a shit, unfortunate fucking accident. Kian picked a worm out of the shallow hole he'd created and flung it into the grass. "I'm not taking my chances with him, though. You saw the way he choked Switzerland out - he's definitely out for blood."

Dash "Involuntary manslaughter, then." If that's what it even was called. "Lack of oxygen gave him a big brain booboo which lead to the guy seizing like a motherfucker. Bumble balled it right over the ledge.” Dash raised his eyebrows like, huh? How about that? But what could they even do about that? He didn’t know fuck-all about like, obtaining quote-unquote justice. The whole system was wanky back home, so pulling from real life examples didn't really vibe with him. Plus, there was the whole... they were stuck on an island thing. The best he could come up with was: "Uh. Banish him to the other side of this tropical limbo to go think about what he's done?" He kept digging, and digging, and digging. It couldn't have been a more boring activity, and he wished the other guys would hurry with the body if only so they'd have more hands on deck. Dash tilted his head to the side in lackluster agreement with Kian. Lackluster because he kinda hated to agree with him right then. "For suuuure. I can really respect Warren's kinky side, but that shit's not in my wheelhouse."

Liam clearly, no one was paying attention to anything liam was saying since the giants of the group wanted to keep going back and forth at each other, blue and joe chiming in with a more level headed approach, but liam was already over it. he understood that everything was stressful and the past few days have been a roller coaster, but he couldn't deal with the fact that the others would rather fight with each other than take care of warren's body. he pushed his way out from in between the other boys, "fuck this," he muttered to himself as he walked away from the group. if they weren't going to be helpful, the least he could do was go find the others and see where they are at with digging. he took one last glance at warren, which was probably a mistake because the second he did, he felt the familiar tightening in his chest again. looking away quickly, liam started the walk to the others and hoped he wouldn't get lost in the process. though, being lost in the jungle was starting to seem like a better option than being stuck with all the toxic masculinity of the other group. alone and walking, he finally let himself feel everything and didn't stop his tears until he started to hear the three boys talking. he ran his hands over his face and took a deep breath to compos himself before stepping out to make himself known. "uh, how's it going here? do you guys need help?"

Lukas Lukas made a small chyeah sound with an accompanying chuckle when Dash suggested involuntary manslaughter. Even though it appeared he had more experience with the justice system than these two, specifically in a case of involuntary manslaughter, he didn't think they could prove such a thing. Even with the, what? 14 witnesses? 13 now he supposed. They couldn't even convince one another, how could they convince a court of people who hadn't even been there. He kept digging. " What, like Survivor? " He asked when Dash suggested banishing Sebastian. " Even if he didn't kill Warren I wouldn't be against sending him the fuck away just so I didn't have to see him stand around and brood all fucking day. " Though part of him wanted Sebastian to stay close, so they could see when the eventual murderous rampage was coming on. He's about to tack on some crude joke about Warren getting choked out to what Kian and Dash were saying but that's when he hears a voice behind him. Head turning to look and stupid smile widening on his features. " Yo! " Same shirt! Lukas thought again, even though Dash was currently wearing his Thrasher sweater. " Yeah, for sure, get in here. " He tilted his head back to the grave, resuming his digging while Liam pulled up a spot. " So, the fuck were the others up to that you decided digging a grave was the better option? " He asked, chuckle falling from his lips at the very circumstances. Even if this was definitely the better group of people, by Lukas' definition, Liam had stayed with the others a while before joining them, Lukas figured something must have been happening.

Liam liam tried to muster up as much of genuine smile as he could despite the fact that his had just spent a better part of his walk over crying. he looked between the three boys, noting the progress they achieved in the amount of time it took the other group to do literally nothing but fight and point fingers. with a nod, he walked over to them, getting on his knees at the edge of where they were digging and started to help. he let out a broken laugh when lukas asked what was going on, he couldn't even hold it in because the whole situation seemed ridiculous. "they're fucking not doing shit. jj's, like, looting his shit because he's not going to need it. which fair, but he just went straight to it. everyone's pointing fingers. and sawyer got the emergency blanket but as soon he came back, him and the one tall roid head started going at each other because apparently sawyer and warren were drinking last night and they think it's his fault. then fucking gigantor came in and amped everything up." liam realized he was probably talking pretty fast and agitated and he rambled, so he paused and took a second to catch his breath. "i just- i needed to get out of there. none of them would listen to me."

Kian "Fuck's sake," Kian said for the second time in the span of ten minutes, pushing his momentary annoyance at yet another member joining their group aside to express his utter exasperation at the sheer dickheadness of the dickheads on this island. JJ being a weirdo didn't shock him; nor did Thing 1 and Thing 2 using someone's death to be complete pricks to everyone around them. "What did I tell you? Out for blood."

Dash Dash looked over his shoulder when he heard a new voice, and his brow furrowed. Liam looked a helluva lot like a guy who had just been crying, and Dash could vaguely recall him getting a little choked up when he had still been loitering around Warren’s body. Clearly he was taking this hard. The threat of a big-d Death was annoying and years-long over the course of his life, so he could forget that someone's shit could get really rocked by the whole thing if they had never lived like that. “You good, dude?” he asked, only a little awkward in execution. Being on the receiving end of a barrage of friendly check-ins didn't really make him any better at extending them. As Liam recounted what was up on the beach, Dash rolled his eyes. Day Three of hanging around these reprobates and he already wasn't shocked by some of their behaviors. JJ looting a body? Bit fucked, but not totally out of left field. He was sure the guy still had multitudes of weirdness to expose though. "Okay, cringe. But, uh, did they find anything?" he had to ask, still a little curious if he was right about the nipple piercing thing. Kian’s out for blood comment spurred him to continue: “And is anyone bleeding yet? Someone should probably them it’s kinda tacky to duke it out in front of a dead body.” Warren’s body. Dash grimaced, and went back to digging.

Callum Callum huffed grumpily when Joe came by his side and diffused the situation. "All the stories Warren tells about taking champagne up his ass and having to swim in whiskey before he feels anything, you think a fucking flask got him hammered? That's a joke." He stayed glaring at Sawyer. Then Blue came into the picture. "Something is up and this criminal's just too good at hiding it." Callum couldn't help but take another dig at Sawyer.

Sawyer Sawyer should’ve taken comfort in the fact that the other boys, some of whom he’d barely even spoken to, were willing to stick their necks out for him. He should’ve heeded Liam’s advice, walked away when he had the opportunity to do so with his hands clean. There were a lot of things in life he should’ve, could’ve, would’ve done if he were a better man. But there was something in Callum’s tone—an undercurrent, heat simmering beneath the surface of his icy demeanor—that made him see red. Who gave him the right to speak about somebody like that? He didn’t know Sawyer. None of these assholes knew any more about him than he did of them. His limbs moved of their own accord before his head even had time to process what was happening, tackling Callum to the floor of the impacted sand, arm reeling back and fist connecting with his smug fucking face—once, twice, until his knuckles began to split. “Fuck you,” he spat. “Fuck you—”

Sebastian Sebastian couldn't deny that Callum had made a good point about Warren's alcohol tolerance. The kid seemed to actually be more efficient with a little booze in his system than he was without- so how were they supposed to believed he'd managed to get so plastered the night before that he'd toppled off of a cliff all by himself? Something wasn't adding up and Sawyer's increasing irritation was only adding to fuel to the conspiracy fire. "Whoa- hey!" Sebastian called out impulsively as Sawyer leapt at Callum, tackling him into the ground and taking one manic swipe at him after the other. On instinct, he crashed into Sawyer's back, throwing his arms under Sawyer's and pinning them back as he dragged the other boy, rather clumsily, to a standing (ish) position, away from Callum. "Come on, come on, come on," he insisted, for a lack of anything more profound or meaningful to say to either boy. "Bro, somebody fuckin' check on him," he instructed anybody that was listening to aid Callum after the spontaneous beating. "You gonna cool off man?" he asked sawyer, using all his strength to keep his arms in a submissive position with his arms locked between Sebastian's. "-Or we can go for a walk, you gotta choice here," he insisted, giving Sawyer at least some sense of control in an otherwise out of control situation.

Callum "Umpf—!" One second, Callum was throwing Sawyer a dirty look that could piss off a pacifist monk and the next, he was on the ground getting his face rearranged. He should have probably seen this coming with the way he was running his mouth. For a moment, the embarrassment of being put down was worse than the pain of actually getting his face pummeled. Callum was just barely catching up, getting his hands on Sawyer's arms when he felt the boy's weight be pulled off of him entirely. Then he heard Sebastian's voice. Thank fuck, he thought. Relief washing over him for only a moment before the pain set in. "Fucking prison rat..." He muttered, turning his head and spitting out some of the blood in his mouth. "I'm fine," he insisted, swatting a hand before any of the other boys could do something like rush to his aid. He wasn't some pussy, he could get up just fine. Or so he thought when he attempted to sit up and a sharp pain shooting up his back reminded him he was still very much recovering from an unfair bar fight. "Fuck," he grunted, sucking in a sharp breath in an attempt to contain his reaction to the pain.

Sawyer Sawyer could do little more than let out a pained yelp as his arms were wrenched behind his back—Sebastian had all the strength of a corrections officer and less than half of the patience, pulling Sawyer to his feet before he could get a final blow in. “Don’t—fuckin’—touch me!” He tried, in vain, to weasel his way out of the other boy’s firm grip. Fuck him. Fuck Callum. Fuck Warren for dying, fuck the pilot for crashing, fuck his parole officer for sending him on this retreat and fuck him, fuck Sawyer for thinking he could better himself, that you could add bells and whistles to a broken-down car and expect it to get anywhere good. “You wanna talk about me?!” He yelled, eyes stinging hot with tears again. But this time, he wasn’t crying out of guilt or sorrow—rather, the frustration at his inability to control his situation, or anything, had nowhere left to go but out of him. “Huh?! You wanna talk about what kinda drunk I am?! You’re not even good fuckin’ people sober!”

Callum "And what makes you think you are?!" Callum shot back from where he was twisted uncomfortably on his side. "Fuckin', Mr. Criminal Record!" With his back fucked, Callum was all bark and no bite right now. "Take a fucking hike, convict," he spat from where he was on the ground. "We'll carry Warren ourselves. Don't you need you hijacking his ring and that stupid fucking chain around his neck for some spare change and a place to live."

Sawyer The next thing Sawyer did, he wasn’t too proud of (he wasn’t very proud of pummeling Callum to the ground, either, but in the heat of the moment it felt more than deserved). If these guys wanted to assume the worst of him, though, he’d give ‘em a better fucking reason to. He mustered up the last of his resolution to spit at Callum’s immobile form, hoping, childishly, that he felt the touch of cold saliva on his skin, that he felt every bit as tainted by Sawyer’s indecency as Sawyer did. What little dredges of fuck he had left to give died on his fists the moment they made impact with Callum’s face. With a full-bodily jerk, he managed to free himself from Sebastian’s grasp at last, holding his middle fingers up at Callum as he took a few steps backward before he turned his back to the group. He wasn’t hiking back to the camp or the jungle, but to the furthest corners of the beach, where he could melt into the shoreline and imagine himself turning into sea-foam—swept away, all at once, by the tide.

Callum Spitting on him? Really? Callum scoffed and shook his head. Then he watched Sawyer's retreating figure. "Yeah, walk away, convict. We don't need you," he called out. A final nail in the coffin if Sawyer didn't hate him enough already. He brushed his hand against his pants where Sawyer's spit landed, making a face at the wetness that now covered his palm. Gross, he thought. When he figured the boy was far enough, Callum decided it was high time for him to get up and move too. "Can someone give me a hand?" He asked grumpily, after having attempted to get up himself; though he couldn't quite do it without assistance. "And let's get Warren out of here already."

Lukas Lukas couldn't help but grimace as Liam told the three of them what had happened in their absence. Yeah, no, definitely the superior group right here, he thought. Looting, yelling, and pointing fingers at each other. He was only a tiny bit upset to be missing it all. He nodded in agreement at Kian's point. " Dude, they're so fucked, " he commented, pulling more dirt out of the hole. However, he did also kinda want the answers to Dash's questions so he looked to Liam expectantly, waiting an answer. Then Lukas thinks he hears something. Not sure what he looked over his shoulder again with furrowed brow. " Y'all hear that? " he asked the group, his gaze remaining behind him for a second longer. Sounded like yelling, but it was just too far away for Lukas to put any more effort into finding out what it was. As he looked back to the hole, soon to be grave, he was pretty fucking impressed with their efforts. Someone had to be. " That's probably deep enough, right? Looks about two foot, bit over. "

Joe This had to be some kind of divine punishment. There was no way he would be stuck on a desert island with wankers that couldn't go a full day without getting into a punch up if he wasn't tainted in some way. As tempting as it was to leave Callum on the floor Joe knew had to be a bigger person and make some kind of contribution ,he didn't get Sawyer off of Callum and he did a shit job at including Liam. He would have to apologise to Liam later but in that moment his main focus was grabbing Callum's hand and dragging him off the ground. "Oh yeah, yous are going to have to stop being pricks for a second because we need to move Warren. Is there a technique to moving bodies?"

Callum Callum let himself be pulled up by Joe, offering a short grunt of 'thanks' in appreciation once he was back on his feet. He dusted himself off, scoffed a little at being referred to as a prick, and answered Joe's query. "Not that I know of. But we got the blanket–" Thanks to Sawyer, who he did not care to credit or mention even if there was a gun to his head. "–we'll lay Warren on there, and there's..." He counted whoever remained. Him, Sebastian, Joe, and Blue. Perfect. "Four of us. So each take a corner and just carry him like that I guess." He shrugged. Heavy lifting wasn't a great idea with his back all knotted up and achy like it was right now but Callum figured with three other guys helping carry the load, it shouldn't be too bad. He walked over to the lower half of Warren's body and grabbed his ankles. "Someone get the top half of this kid please. And the rest just like, hold the blanket down flat, hands on the corners."

Blue blue told himself that it was like carrying an injured teammate,  you'll pull your brother up, move him off the ice, the nurses patch him up, or that one time when he had to visit beau at the hospital...but he needed that visualization to make it through this strange night. as he placed the blanket down with the others, and then took a step back, all of that went away and the darkness all around enveloped him. "does anyone know the song from sound of music? the sad one?"

Kian It was easy to block out the events of that morning when you had nothing to do but dig and dig until your arms ached. Moving meant you had less time to think, and the less time you had to think, the less time you had to feel. Mostly, Kian just felt numb...and like, he couldn't figure out whether that made him a shit person or not. That he could look at a dead body and feel nothing but a sense of disgust and dread, like if he stared for too long, the clutches of death would reach out and grab him by the wrist. Scary shit. He scoffed at Lukas's remarks, blowing a piece of hair out of his eyes. "Two feet's not deep enough. It has to be a meter, so, like...three." God. Fuck the Yanks and their stupid measurement system. "You can go tell the others to hurry the fuck up if you want, though."

Lukas Personally, if Lukas was wearing someone else's shirt to prevent dirt getting on him, he probably wouldn't be such a dick to them. Well– he probably would but that didn't stop him from being offended when Kian had a go at him. " I said two and a bit, didn't I? " he rebutted, begrudgingly returning to digging. " And you've gotta give the metres thing up, you're clearly fuckin' outnumbered here. " He cast a glance to Dash and Liam as if to say, right guys? As for going back to the others, however, he shook his head adamantly " No fucking way, I'll fuckin' puke, " again. You would fucking puke again, Lukas. " You can go tell them if you want though, " he offered back to Kian, being completely facetious. He didn't think there was any way any of them were volunteering to go back and tell the others what to do. " Tell them all about how we've got a metre " he poorly mimicked the other's accent for that word and that word alone, " deep hole here and they need to hurry up, you and Warren would look good with matching hickeys. "

Liam liam looked to dash when he asked if he was okay, and again he tried to put on a brave face and pretend like everything was okay. "yeah, i'm good," he said despite being the opposite. liam has never experienced death before, not even a pet. even if they hadn't known warren long and he was pretty annoying, it still made reality hit him hard. "i don't know if they found anything good, i wasn't really paying attention," i was trying to not cry in front of everyone he finished in his head. but then kian seemed annoyed by how deep they should go and lukas teasing him about meters. liam just looked up at the others and shrugged. he didn't see what the big deal was. "they probably wont even listen to you," he mumbled. "they didn't listen to me. they're too busy seeing who's dick is bigger by ganging up on sawyer." he just hoped they were done being dicks long enough to actually get to moving warren over here.

Kian If Lukas's hastiness didn't tick him off, that piss-poor imitation of his accent certainly did. He did not sound like that - Kian could pronounce his r's just fine, thank you very much. With a saccharine-sweet smile, he took the next fistful of damp soil from the ground and flicked it in Lukas's direction. "There. Now it's two and some more." Prick. Liam was much more tolerable than the other two prats, if only for the fact that he seldom talked and always looked like he was on the verge of tears. No wonder he couldn't stick it out with the meatheads, Kian thought. "The one from jail? Why're they ganging up on him?"

Liam he grimaced at the comment. the one from jail. everyone was so focused on the fact that sawyer had been to jail, he wondered what all of the others would think if they knew he had a record too. sure, his was probably much less than sawyers, but they really didn't know anything about each other. "yeah, him. because he was the last to see warren alive and i guess they were drinking last night. they think he got drunk and killed him or something." saying it out loud sounded so ridiculous. even if they didn't know each other well, he couldn't see sawyer doing it. after all, sebastian was the one who choked the dude out.

Lukas He's late to see the handful of dirt flying at him but still he tries to bat it away, leaning back as he did. As if that would help. Looking down at the mess, he couldn't help but snort another chuckle again. How fucking stupid was this whole situation. He thought as he returned to digging. He glanced to Liam as he spoke, but then he laughed again when he revealed the others had been pointing at Sawyer as the cause of Warren's death. " You're joking, Sawyer? Seriously? " He chuckled, giving it a moment to gage that Liam was in fact serious. While Kian was pretty keen to keep bringing up Sawyer's record, Lukas wondered if he was the only one who remembered the cowboy had admitted it was for auto theft. Plus, if a criminal record was all you needed to be a murderer then well shit, guess him and Liam were on their way to the janky island electric chair too. " That's fucked. " He shook his head, still amused but at least a fraction more somber about it now. " There's no way they actually think that, they're just tryna shift the blame 'cause they know they're the most fucking suspect. "

Kian For the first time, Kian and Lukas were on the same wavelength; he couldn't help but let out an ugly guffaw when Liam revealed that some of them were now accusing others of murder. Yeah, no. Sawyer was way too friendly to kill someone - and not in a, like, American Psycho way, but in a weird uncle who drinks too much and mistakes you for your sister way. Believe him, Kian sat across from the guy on the plane. He knew a person who spiked their drinks in secret when he saw one. "And besides, Warren was dumb enough to nearly fall off a cliff without alcohol. What makes them think he didn't just take a long walk off a short ledge when he was trying to piss or something?"

Liam "that's what i thought too," liam chimed in. warren didn't seem like the brightest person sober, nearly walking off the cliff just hours before. "i think they're all so focused on making sure they don't look guilty that they're trying to put the blame on someone else. but i think we all know that if anyone did anything, there are far more convincing people than sawyer."

Kian "Like that JJ fucker," said Kian, eyes going wide. "Swear, I haven't seen him so much as smile since we got here. I think he's a proper psychopath."

Dash Dash didn’t really believe Liam’s ‘I’m good’ and made a mental note to check in on the little dude later. He might not be a total help to him, of course, but it made Dash at least feel like he had something to fill his day after this hellish morning instead of staring vacantly at the ocean. Drops of sweat gathered on his brow from exertion as he listened the other guys contemplate who to point fingers at. "You know where I stand on this whole thing, man,” he said. “Chokey time, brain damage, mouth frothing and a one-way ticket cliffside — ipso facto: Gigantor’s fault.” Dash wiped the moisture away with the back of his hand, and tiredly thought that maybe he should’ve taken his aunt up on the repeated offer to join her at her godforsaken, soul-sucking cycling class. He stood to inspect their work—the boundary of the hole came up to his thigh-ish, edging toward his hip—and stamped down a boot to flatten the earth beneath his foot. “Jesus...” he spoke under his breath, then continued aloud, “Is this finally a fuckin' meter or what?"

Kian Kian sat back on his haunches, heaving a sigh. Grave-digging was no easy task on its own, but having a sweaty mop on your head and a boa constrictor wrapped around your chest put it on equal footing with, like, running laps. Or building pyramids with tree branches. "Proper fuckin' meter," he said, ricocheting right off of Pink Floyd, "where the fuck are the pallbearers?"

Callum Callum made a face at Blue. "The fuck. No?" He shook his head. "Can we just focus on getting Warren out of here?" He asked, his patience thinning quickly with his back pain. Once everyone was in position and Warren was safely wrapped in the emergency blanket, the boys hauled him off, proceeding across the beach until they came across the boys responsible for digging Warren's grave. "Yo, you guys done?" Callum asked when he was close enough to be heard by the other boys. They looked like they've been busy digging so Callum hoped they were, and didn't just spend all this time fucking around.

Dash It was like Kian’s pure pissiness summoned the ‘pallbearers’. Dash looked up from where he watched a shiny beetle scuttle around his boot and was met with a real one-two of shitty and honestly fairly gratifying images. One being Warren’s body, wrapped up like a shoddy mummy—that was horseshit—and the second the pretty black eye developing on Callum’s face. Dash was a pacifist by nature but it was still a refreshing look, if you asked him. He let out a low whistle and leaned back against the edge of the hole, letting his hands rest palms down against the grass. “Wow. Sweet shiner.” He shook his head as he turned to hoist himself out of the grave. “Gotta say, babe. You’ve never looked better,” he wisecracked, a grin started to itch at the corner of his mouth until he looked back from where he came. An empty hole. For Warren. What a way to spend a vacation. He cleared his throat and shrugged both shoulders. “So, uh. Guess you guys just lower him in then,” he continued, gesturing toward their work.

Kian Yo yOu gUys DoNe? As if Moose Knuckle and the park rangers hadn't just taken ages to wrap a body in a blanket and carry it not half a kilometre into the jungle. Kian had a quip ready to go, a right hearty fuck off, but the second he turned around to open his mouth, he lost his shit. Seeing one of the Winklevoss Twins with a bruised eye nearly made up for the corpse within arm's length of his face. "Has he risen from the dead to punch you in the face?" He asked, scuttling out of the way so they could lower Warren's body into the hole. "I miss the fucker, already."

Liam liam’s whole body tensed up when he heard the unmistakable sound of callum’s voice. but at least that meant they were finally done and they could put this whole awful day behind them. getting up from his spot by the hole, liam turned around just as the other boys started commenting on his black eye. clearly the arguing turned physical after liam left, which really didn’t surprise him. but rather than bring attention to himself, he just moved out of the way so the others could move warren’s body into the hole.

Callum Callum swore if he wasn't helping carry a dead body right now, these fuckers — Dash and Kian — would be in the grave along with Warren too. Ignoring the heat he felt in his cheeks when he was cheekily referred to as 'babe', Callum merely scoffed and shot a measly "fuck off" at the two boys with comments. "Let's go," he urged the boys helping him with Warren's body, shuffling forward to position the corpse directly above the hole so it could be a smooth descent. "Ready? Bring him down slowly." It was easier to pretend this was his summer job doing construction work, and not burying some guy they survived a plane crash with. Nice and steady, Warren was lowered and just like that, the boy was laid down in his temporary resting place. Callum blew out a breath once he was standing at full height again. "Fuck..." He didn't expect it to be difficult to look at the grave with the blanket-wrapped body in there. "Guess we just... cover him up?" It felt strange to discuss. He wondered then how Dash, Kian and Lukas felt digging up this hole knowing what it was for.

Dash Dash watched the way Callum’s face heated with fascination, as his tongue poked at the inside of his cheek—one part confused to two parts jazzed about the power he must’ve had to elicit a reaction like that. He badly wanted to say something, to make a joke about how there must’ve been a heart beating there in his chest all long ‘cause his pink cheeks proved it. But he swallowed it down, the words like bile at the back of his throat. It seemed his body would only allow one joke in the presence of an actual burial, which kind of sucked really because without that there was nothing much to do but look at the lump that was once Warren get lowered into the ground. Dash thought about the last time he was at a funeral—and the shower of roses that were placed on the casket before it too was buried beneath pounds of dirt—and glanced around until he saw a flower. “Wait a sec.” It had five large pink petals, and looked like it’d work well enough. He plucked it, then looked over at the other guys. “I dunno, like a fuckin’ — show of respect or something,” he defended himself. “To make up for that Viking burial thing.” He tossed the flower down the hatch. It fluttered, then fell near Warren’s feet. Close enough. “Alright, dirt time,” he said, but still waited for someone else to make the first move.

Kian Kian watched the flower fall to Warren’s feet with little fanfare. That was shit, he wanted to say, but for once, he held his tongue. This was an actual, real thing they were doing; no going back now. Dash’s words hung in silence for eons before Kian began to shove dirt into the hole with his foot, covering up what he assumed—and hoped—was Warren’s face, first. “Where’s Sawyer gone? Thought he’d wanna...pay his respects or whatever.”

Callum "He's off being a pissy little bitch," Callum muttered as he pushed some sand into Warren's grave with the side of his foot. He knew it would be far more useful to go on his knees and shovel dirt in with his hands but he couldn't be fucked to hurt his back even more.

Dash Dash bent to pick up his abandoned stick. He used the flat end to knock dirt onto Warren’s body — it gave him something to do and saved his boots from more damage: two birds, one stone. “Lemme guess,” he started, angling the stick only enough to point in Callum’s general direction. He placed a fingertip under his right eye and tugged down for emphasis. “He responsible for that?”

Callum "Oh fuck off, Troll Doll." Though with his tiredness (and slight guilt), the insult didn't quite have the bite Callum wanted it to have. "It's not my fault the Prison Rat can't take the heat. If he wasn't guilty of anything in the first place, he wouldn't have had trouble sticking around." Callum moved some more sand over the grave with his foot and brought his hands up in a 'it wasn't me' gesture. "S'all I'm saying."

[trashcanband4]

The Loser

Imagine Daryl getting mad when Negan takes a liking to you.

Title: The loser. Warnings: None. Pairing: Darylxreader. Word count: 2,844. Setting: Alexandria a few months after Negan get’s put into the cell.

You had been the one caring for Negan for a few months now and while you still hated the guy with everything in you for the most part the exchanges between you had been pleasant. Yes he was a horrible, heinous human being and he didn’t have a heart, but you did. And it made it hard to see a human being locked behind bars for forever. He wasn’t even allowed to walk around outside in the fresh air. Even the most evil of animals didn’t deserve to be locked up for forever. If a dog bit a human it was most commonly understood that the dog was just be shot. Wasn’t Negan just a human version of a rabid dog with rabies? Why didn’t the council just kill him like they would a rabid dog?

So you hated going down to that dim dirty basement and seeing the down-in-the-dumps man three times a day. You hated that you pitied him. “Hi.” You chimed as you walked in with a paper plate containing a sandwich and a bottle of water.

“Ah, y/n, my favorite person. What’s for lunch today? Please tell me it’s not another grilled eggplant. That shit sucked ass.” He said with a slight lean back where he had moved to stand at the bars next to the tray slot.

“Egg, avocado and lettuce sandwich.” You said as you handed him the plate through the slot.

You could tell he was about to complain, but when his eyes caught yours he smiled and took the plate out of your hand. “Thanks.”

“You’re allowed to complain you know. Lord knows I would be if I were in there.” You said as you sat down in the chair that sat against the stone wall in the room.

“If you were in here with me? Na I don’t think you’d be doin’ much complainin’.” When you looked up from the sketch pad in your hands he winked at you. You felt a blush warm your cheeks as you moved your eyes back down to the sketch pad. It was also your job to sketch views of the towns for documentation and proof that there were settlements in this crazy world. You planned on scattering them out over the settlements just incase something happened they all wouldn’t get ruined if a building or two ended up getting set on fire. You wanted your art to be left behind for future generations to see when you were long gone.

Negan laughed, apparently able to see the pink tint that his comment brought to your face. “What are you doin’ over there?” he asked with a nod to the pad as he chewed on a bite of his sandwich.

“Michonne has given me the task of sketching different parts of Alexandria.” you said as you sketched one of the bars of the cell, not yet working on Negan himself.

“And I’m part of Alexandria?” he asked with a hint of surprise in his voice.

“Well right now it’s just your cell, but be nice to me and maybe I’ll put you in the drawing.”

“Oh, I’ll be nice.” Once again his tone made you blush, but you bit your lips closed and focused on your work. He chuckled quietly to himself. It was quiet for a while, the whole time his eyes were on you, but you only looked up to take in the details of the room and not the man in it. “Tell me, you got a guy up there on the surface?” he motioned to the window where you could see peoples feet as they walked around outside.

“No.” you answered not looking at him.

“So you and Daryl…?” he asked waiting for you to finish his sentence.

“You know it’s really hard to concentrate with you talking.” You said looking up from the paper to finally look at him.

“You said be nice.” He pointed out making you scowl.

“Fine then be quiet and I’ll consider drawing you in.” You snapped and he just smiled.

“So you do like Daryl?” he said through his smile and you bit your lip as you got back to work. It was once again quiet for a few minutes as you finished up the outline of the cell behind the bars that you had drawn. It was time to decide if you were going to sketch Negan into the cell. “Daryl’s an idiot you know. If we were back at the sanctuary I would’ve already asked you to marry me.”

You had been looking down at your pad, but when he said that you couldn’t help glaring up at him through your lashes. “What?” you had no clue why this was the word that you chose to let past your lips but it made Negan flash a big smile and in that moment you found yourself understanding why the women who agreed to be his wife had done so.

“Come on, you’re hot and you know it.” You had never thought of yourself as hot even once in your life. “If we were back at the sanctuary and you were alone, no Daryl, none of your people there to take care of you, no knowledge of the events that landed me here, what would you say to my proposal?”

You closed the book and hugged it to your chest as you glared at him and thought about your answer. If the circumstances were what he just described to you…? You started actually considering it. He wasn’t unattractive. Actually he was pretty damn hot. From what you had heard none of his brides went without and he wasn’t mean to them. The only down side was that you would have to share him. That in and of it’s self was a deal breaker.

“No.” you answered.

“Seriously?” he asked with his signature lean back. You didn’t answer and just watched as he grabbed the paper plate and held it out for you through the slot.

You set the pad on the floor and got up to take the plate from him. “Yeah, seriously.” You answered as you grabbed the plate.

“Why not?” he asked as he grabbed your hand through the slot and flipped it over in his. You dropped the plate on the outside of his cell. You could have taken your hand back. It was just sitting in his, but his sudden action had stunned you. Your eyes moved to his hazels stunning you even more. You saw his body move as he lifted his other hand and started drawing on the palm of your hand with the tip of his pointer finger. “You know I would take care of you.”

Little did you know that Daryl had walked by and heard Negan talking to someone in a flirtatious tone. So he leaned down and peered through the window.

You inhaled a deep breath and let it out, hating how good Negan’s touch felt. “I don’t share.” You said as you took your hand from his. As soon as the warmth was gone you felt yourself sobering up from the daze hisintimacy had put you in.

“Well, good news, I’m single.” He said and you shook your head and turned your back on him to bend down and pick up your drawing pad. “Damn.” He sighed shaking his head as he took in your ass that you had pointed right at him without thinking about it. You stood up and spun around quickly. “You have the keys, why don’t you come inside and let me show you how much I appreciate that fine ass of yours?”

After he asked that you heard the basement door open and Daryl came charging in. “Daryl?” you asked in confusion as he came rushing in looking pissed. “I thought you were out on a run, what are you doin’ here?” you asked in confusion as he stomped over and grabbed you by your upper arm.

“Yeah, Daryl, what are you doin’ here?” Negan echoed your question sarcastically.

“Come on, you’re done here.” Daryl started pulling you from the cell and you willingly followed. He didn’t let go of you until you were outside and then it was like he practically threw you away from him.

“What the hell is your problem Daryl?” you asked looking up at him with creased brows.

“What’s my problem?” he asked back at you. “What the hell is wrong with you, letting him touch you like that?” he growled, practically yelling at you.

You felt yourself deflate and crossed your arms over your chest, covering it with your drawing pad. You felt a tear run down your face from how he treated you and you turned away from him and started toward your house. You weren’t going to argue with him about this in the middle of the street. As you passed one of the windows of the cell you saw Negan looking up at you. You rolled your eyes and kept walking.

You weren’t aware that Daryl was following you untill you went inside and tried to shut the door behind you only for it to hit him. You turned around, stunned that he was there. “Are you gonna answer me?” he asked slamming the door behind him.

“No.” your quick answer only seemed to make him madder. “I don’t think I have to explain myself to you.”

“You seriously think he likes you? He’s playing head games with you.” Daryl glared down at you and tapped your temple with his middle finger.

You slapped him away. “You don’t think I know that?!” you yelled up at him “Regardless of what you think I’m not stupid.” You walked into the kitchen to get yourself a drink.

“I know you’re not.” Daryl almost yelled as he followed you to the kitchen. “You’re the smartest fuckin’ woman I know! That’s why I’m pissed that you let ‘im lay his grubby hand on ya! It looked like you were enjoying it!” you just pored yourself a glassed of water and took a sip as he yelled at you. “He’s a fuckin’ monster and you looked like you were ready to fuck ‘im. I’d expect it from another woman, but you?” his yelling was starting to get under your skin and make your blood boil. “Why-”

Finally you couldn’t take it anymore and placed your palms on the bar as you leaned across it at him “Because it felt good to be wanted!” your yelled words finally shut him up. He just stared at you and the tears that had started slipping down your cheeks. “No man has even given me a second look since the world fell, so excuse the fuck out of me for having a moment of weakness.” You grabbed your cup of water and walked out of the kitchen and to your room where you slammed the door behind you.

You sat down at your desk and took a few deep breaths to calm yourself. After you calmed down you decided that the future generations needed to know that even after the era of civilization fell putting people in prison was still something that worked. So you started sketching Negan by memory. You had just finished what you could when you heard a knock on your bedroom door.

As soon as you opened the door Daryl took a step toward you, grabbed your face in his hands and pressed his lips to yours. You stumbled back from the force but your lips remained together and he kicked the door shut behind him. Daryl didn’t know how to say that he had not only given you a second look, but about a thousand since he’d first met you at hilltop. So he decided to show you.

The two of you walked backwards stumbling around the room like a couple of idiots until you felt Daryl hit something and he fell down to sit on your bed breaking the kiss. He placed his hands on your hips and looked at you. It was weird that all he had to do was squint up at you for you to see that it hurt him when he saw you letting Negan touch you. Even if it was just your hand. You reached out and ran your hand through his soft hair, pushing it out of his face. He let his head fall forward to rest on your stomach. You just rested your hands on the back of his neck and played with his long hair. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know that you…” What, liked you? Wanted you? What exactly was it that was going on right now?

He picked his head up and looked up at you. “I didn’t either. Not until I saw…” he didn’t finish his sentence and when his eyes grew dark he didn’t have to.

“Negan made you jealous?” you asked. He nodded and pulled your hips toward him, silently asking you to come closer. So you moved to straddle his lap. He slid his hands up your back making you sigh before your lips met again. The two of you made out like a couple of teenagers for ten minutes before you broke apart for a breather. “This is nice.” You said from where you lay with your head on Daryl’s shoulder while your hands traced the lines of his abs. He picked your hand up and placed his palm against yours, comparing the sizes of your hands. “I don’t want to ruin the moment or anything, but I have to know…what does this mean for us?” you felt his head turn to look at you so you looked up at him.

“What do ya mean?” he asked and you shrugged.

“I mean, are we still just friends, friends with benefits or…are we something more?” you asked sliding your hand that was still pressed against his to the side to lace your fingers together. “I guess I’m asking you to put a label on us.”

Daryl hummed and turned his eyes back to your hands. You did to and you watched as he grabbed your right hand and pulled a ring off that you always wore on your right ring finger. You wanted to ask what he was doing, but you just watched. He picked up your left hand and placed it on your left ring finger. Butterflies started soaring in your stomach and flew up to your chest. “Not askin’ ya to marry me. It’s just there to hold the place if we ever decide to tie the knot one day.” He said and you turned your eyes to his and smiled broadly. He smiled back before another makeout session ensued.

“Wow, I’m surprised Daryl let you come back down here after the way he pulled you out of here yesterday.” Negan said when you walked in with his breakfast of fresh cow’s milk and stale cereal. You ignored him and handed him the styrofoam bowl and plastic spoon. “You are aware that you put your ring on the wrong hand this morning aren’t you?”

“It’s not on the wrong hand.” You humored him with a reply as you sat down and started putting the finishing touches on the drawing of Neagan that you couldn’t get from memory.

“Whoa, wait a minute, did you and crossbow get engaged?” he asked around his bite of food and you could hear the smile in his voice without even looking up.

But you had to look up to make sure you had his eye shape right. “It’s a promise ring.” You looked back down and started drawing his eyebrows.

“He gave you your ring as a promise ring?” he asked in confusion.

“It’s not like Alexandria has a jewelry store.” You said flatly not looking up from your work.

He was quiet while he finished eating and you finished drawing. When you were done you flipped the pad over and walked over to the bars to show Negan. “Nice. Looks just like me.”

“Yep, you’ll forever be known as the guy who managed to get life in prison in the middle of an apocalypse.” You popped off and he looked a little hurt. “Sorry, that was a little bitchy.” You said as you flipped the pad closed and moved to the food slot and held out your hand for his empty bowl and spoon. He handed it to you, but didn’t let it go. You looked up at him a little annoyed. “You don’t like sharing, does Daryl?”

“You wish.” You scoffed and jerked the stuff out of his hand.

“You like me and you know it.” He said with a smile.

“You’re full of yourself and you know it.” You said back to him as you left him behind and locked the door to the basement on your way out.

Daryl stood talking to Michonne and a few other people across from the cell that Negan was in and you were aware of Negan’s eyes on you as you walked over to the group. Negan gritted his teeth when he saw Daryl’s arm slide around your waist. He lost again.

Daryl Tags: @jodiereedus22 @mtngirlforever @zzeacat @winchester-angel@moodygrip @beegnc @hells-mistress @lighthope08 @sapphire1727@luisadontcurr @chloebabyboo @ilkaeliseb @twdeadfanfic @ravengalaxia@1lluminaticonfirmed @my-current-fandom-is @nikkiloves-bailey @coffeebooksandfandom @lonewolf471 @gruffle1 @mblaqgi @calumstuffs@beltzboys2015-blog @neontiger007  @lonewolf471 @sourwolf-sterek32 @dixonluvv @dotslabyrinth @kayln97 @art-flirt @beltzboys2015-blog @cbarter

[californiadreaminghq]

Oh good, you made it!

Did you guys know Ky was coming? They brought Anthony Doyle, The Stranded! And just on time! Grab a drink, find a spot, and make sure you finish everything on the checklist. The band is just getting started – you have 24 hours to send in your account! We’re so glad you’re here!

 I. OUT OF THE STUDIO

NAME/ALIAS: Ky

AGE: 28

PRONOUNS: they

                                                 II. ON STAGE

DESIRED SKELETON: The Stranded

NAME: Anthony Doyle (Antonino Azzara)

FACE CLAIM: Luke Pasqualino

AGE: 27

OCCUPATION: Bassist with Violent Vale

                                               III. INTERVIEW

Answer the following questions in your character’s voice:

If you could do anything in the world for a living, what would it be?

“What, if I didn’t have the band to look after?” That made him pause, it did. Shit. What would he do? Go back and help mum and dad with the shop? Even they didn’t want that. If they were being honest about it. “Fucked if I know,” Anthony flapped a hand, cigarette smoke curling after. He’d get on with it. Somehow. “Maybe a zoo?” He threw that out there, for the hell of it. “That’s what I went on about, when I was a kid. Working at the petting zoo, with the cockatoos and goats.” Not very rock and roll. But, then again - he’d got plenty of practice with wild animals, hadn’t he?

If you could travel anywhere, where would you go?

“New York was mint. Wouldn’t mind another stop off around there, sometime.” So long as he didn’t have to be running about keeping those muppets out of trouble. Those beloved muppets of his. Anthony took a thoughtful drag, considering his options. World was his oyster, innit? “Other than that, oh…those Galapagos Islands might do. See the big, fuck off tortoises. Darwin’s finches. And your cousins, mate,” he smirked at the iguana lazing down the chesterfield from him, dozy in the California heat. “Seems a relaxing sort of place.”

What is one thing that makes you different than anyone else?

“Out of this lot? I can cook. Properly, mind, like, real food. Vitamins, minerals. And I can press clothes. Do up a tie. Fix a button, change a tire…” he counted off on his fingers, knowing he’d run out. Violent Vale had a lot going for it, but. When it came to just being able to get shit done, the little things that kept life rolling along in some semblance of order, Anthony was the one who had to step up, often as not. “Tell time.” He rapped his watch, snuffing his cigarette. Not the first interview where he’d been the only bastard of the bunch to show up when the calendar said so. Wouldn’t be the last. “Don’t you worry, they’ll be along.” He wouldn’t promise shortly. Knew better.

                                               IV. BACKSTAGE

Anthony - as his teachers at school quickly got to calling him, because Antonino was just too much of a mouthful, apparently - didn’t remember Italy, but his neighbors around Bristol never let him, or his hard-working parents, forget it. The Azzaras had left their mother country, and generations of family history, behind when Anthony was just shy of his second birthday; the future had looked too grim, in wartorn, bombed out Naples. Better to try their chances elsewhere. They got as far as England, and set about becoming as Bristolian as they could. Which, according to the locals, was never really enough. Still, they got on with it - it being a little chippy down in Temple Meads. Nothing special, but cod and potatoes paid the bills. Mostly. When the shop didn’t cover rent and such, or needed new windows and paint after the odd smash-up, Ant found ways to make ends meet. His mum and dad might frown on it, and fret, but he’d learned plenty of tricks from hanging about on the fringes. Met all sorts of interesting people, there. Fences, for one. With his clever fingers and fast feet, Anthony could make himself some good money when he needed it, pawning things he snuck off drunk tourists.

But only when he needed it. When his family needed it, more rightly. Picking pockets and sneaking unattended handbags wasn’t fun. It was risky, and he knew that. Anthony played smart, and took honest work over a quick buck, when he could find it. Was a band, a rock band, honest work? He wasn’t too sure about that, but Violent Vale wasn’t just a rock band. They were family too, childhood friends. The type who’d start your fights for you. Loyal to a fault, because they’d earned it, Anthony let himself get drawn into the dream and put those troublesome hands to better use on the bass.

They weren’t bad, neither. Not bad at all. A few gigs around town became more, became daytripping to Bath, became playing at this little festival over in Glastonbury, became a weekend over in London. Became fame. Soon, he didn’t have time to bus tables for his parents - and he didn’t even need to feel guilty about it, because the money was good. Stupid good. It only got better as Violent Vale got big, and bigger. They were riding a trend, all the way to the top. All the way to America. Mad, wasn’t it? New York City was a good time, a breath of fresh air. Well, fresh-ish. Unfortunately, it was too good of a time for some members of the band. As in England, Ant found himself acting the collie dog, shepherding his little lunatic gang around the city, trying to keep them in line and on schedule. It was a hell of a job. And, frankly, he needed to cut loose himself now and then. Now and then became too often, quickly. Predictable, wasn’t it? Those ties that bound were tight, after all. Anthony found himself dragged off course more than he should’ve been, through the clubs and rooftops and streets of the Big Apple. The bills piled up. The tabloids loved it. Their managers didn’t. Soon, it was decided - forcefully - that they’d be packing up, shipping out west. To California. Beaches, bikinis, big record labels. Sounded wicked.

So long as they got their shit in line. Ant pulled the band together for their own meeting, after management left to arrange the details. Los Angeles had to be different. More music, less party. Please? He was, well. Worried about them. The Vale were more than a headline, more than letters in lights. They were his mates, the best he had. He wasn’t trying to be a killjoy, here. Just wanted to see them survive stardom. They seemed to be listening, but… he knows them, these people of his. Not at all mollified, he threw back his gin and tonic, reclined that big American airline seat, and hoped for the best. He’s not out to change his friends, to be clear. He just… wishes they weren’t such a bloody mess. Until that day comes, though, Ant’ll be there to scrape the Vale off the floor and into the studio, anytime, everytime.

                                                   V. ENCORE

Let’s try some HEADCANONS.

He’s not a Tony. Don’t call him Tony. At least one of his bandmates - if not the whole mangy crew - has known Anthony long enough to remember when he was a weedy little late-bloomer, last boy at school to shoot up and fill out; those days left him with the unenviable nickname of Ant. It’s stuck, but whether he finds it aggravating or endearing really depends on the moment. Don’t try it if you’re not a proper, close friend. You’ve got to earn the right, yeah?

While he couldn’t say much for the Bristol school system, Ant’s an avid self-educator. He’s particularly keen on environmental subjects and history, and his letterbox is often packed with magazines like National Geographic, Time, and The Ecologist.

Anthony’s loving the California sunshine, honestly. He’s often found on the beaches, taking a morning swim - in water that’s not too bloody cold for that, what a wonder - or an evening run.

Given his love of animals, it comes as no surprise to most that Anthony’s very vegetarian. Unless he’s at home, with mum and dad. Then he eats what he’s given, and likes it. Obviously.  

Anthony can speak Italian, but not much. His parents discouraged their first language at home; faced with the prejudices of working class Bristol, the Azzaras tried very, very hard to fit the mould of respectable, urban, English family. Mum and dad were understanding when he first took up a blandly British stage name - it could only help his chances. It was sensible, but… difficult, in a way Anthony can’t quite articulate. He doesn’t have a mother country to miss, not the way his parents do. All the same, his name, his skin, his face, have been held against him for as long as he can remember. He’s sensitive to the tensions of race and culture, and even if America’s problems with all that haven’t smashed any of his windows in, Ant can see them pretty plainly.

His first fresh-to-fame personal indulgence was buying up an iguana that caught his eye in a shop window, back in London. They weren’t taking proper care of it, right - all cramped up, with sad, fake vines, wilted lettuce. Couldn’t have that. Said iguana, now known as Dennis, as in, the Menace, now travels alongside the band - frequently creating a bit of a stir in transit. Nobody’s too fond of the idea of transporting live reptiles, as it turns out. Anthony’s turned his apartment in Los Angeles into a free-range reptile habitat for Dennis’s sake, complete with some lovely lush plants he takes diligent care of.

Anthony tries - and largely succeeds - at being the reasonable, sensible, presentable face of the Vale. But if you hit the right buttons, he’ll show you just what sort of British culture he picked up along the Bristol docks. Ant breaks up more fights than he starts, and when he does, he tends to break some faces along the way. Got a mean headbutt, in true hooligan style.

And of course, a PLAYLIST! Here’s some period-rightish tunes that brought Ant to life for me. There’s some appropriately hot-blooded fling type tracks, a lot of British rock of all stripes, some rebel yelling, and bangers to blow the roof off, in truly Violent Vale style.

Immigrant Song - Led Zeppelin

Baba O’Riley - The Who

Teenage Kicks - The Undertones

Jimmy Jazz - The Clash

Friends of Mine - Buzzcocks

Good Times Roll - The Cars

Hush - Deep Purple

Burning Down the House - Talking Heads

Demolition - The Kinks

Don’t Bring Me Down - Electric Light Orchestra

No More Heroes - The Stranglers

The Night Comes Down - Queen

God Save the Queen - Sex Pistols

Good Times Bad Times - Led Zeppelin

Don’t Mess Me Round - Buzzcocks

Under Pressure - Queen & David Bowie

I Know a Girl - The Undertones

Just What I Needed - The Cars

Money - Pink Floyd

Rebel Rebel - David Bowie

My Generation - The Who

Lola - The Kinks

I Told You So - The Undertones

Diamond Dogs - David Bowie

Wasted Life - Stiff Little Fingers

Real Cool Time - The Stooges

You’re All I’ve Got Tonight - The Cars

Ever Fallen In Love (With Someone You Shouldn’t’ve?) - Buzzcocks

Should I Stay Or Should I Go - The Clash

All Day and All of the Night - The Kinks

Keep Yourself Alive - Queen

[suzyqrara]

August 22, 2019

So today I had an awful attitude that led Mason to have an awful tantrum that could almost have ended very badly for both of us. I can’t sleep, though I’m tired, so I wanted to ease my mind by replaying what happened and then going back and figuring out what I should have done to make the outcome different. The day was fine in the beginning. Mason went to Skyzone camp, I picked him up, I prepared him for going to the store with Jessica TO PREVENT a tantrum as she pulls up at my house.  FIRST IRRITANT: I made Mason a “special” mac and cheese with Butternut Squash and other ingredients to make the cheesy sauce part.  I spent an hour preparing the squash (baking it) then dicing it, then blending it with other ingredients.  I made him a plate of my new mac and cheese.  I tried it and it was NOT GOOD.  I gave it to him because I had nothing else to give him and he sat to eat with no issues, but he did not like it.  I sighed heavily and angerly, but I understood why he didn’t want to eat it. I threw it out and I gave him pasta with spaghetti sauce and hotdogs. I was upset because I couldn’t cook my son food he liked.  He has been eating bad food all week because he doesn’t like the food that I make.  So I wasn’t mad at him not liking the mac and cheese, I was mad at him for refusing to eat the food I prepare for him.  This is when I started to feel a little moody.  Then, Mason had pasta sauce all over his clothes, I told him to change it.  I got upset about that because I thought if Jessica would have come now, we wouldn’t leave until an hour from now. I was irritated that he couldn’t eat neatly. He ended up changing his underwear too and I told him if you change your underwear then we will have to take a quick shower.  He was sweaty from Skycamp and I initially wanted to bathe him right before sleep. But if he puts on new underwear now and then puts on another pair 2 hours later because we took a bath, it would have been a waste of clean underwear. After a little repeating, he agrees to take a quick shower.  He took the shower and I finally ate my dinner.  I got upset at my dinner because it wasn’t satisfying.  I made a burger again with lettuce which was amazing and I ate cauliflower for the veggie. It was really nasty. IRRITANT 2: So I got upset again because it confirmed that I am not a good cook and I got irritated. After eating, Jessica texted me and told me she was at my house.  I put on Mason’s shoes and I let down my hair.  IRRITANT 3: I started to sweat really bad and it added to my irritability.  I went to go get the booster seat and Mason stayed home to finish putting on his shoes.  IRRITANT 4: He came out crying and that got me super irritated because I KNEW he was crying over something really stupid.  I walked up to him very annoyed and said, “what happened?”  He told me that something was pointy in his shoes. I told him lets go in the car and Ill take care of it later.  He started taking off his shoes and I KNEW we would take an hour before he went inside the car.  I got even more irritated and I literally said, “I hate you right now.” Under my breath.  I took the shoe to see if anything was inside of it and there wasn’t.  I put on the shoe and I told him to get in the car.  He kept crying but this time he was crying because I was mad at him. Jessica didn’t help, she was giving him an attitude and I started giving him an attitude because he wasn’t calming down and when we tell him to wait he would say ,”NO” so I screamed, “Shut UP” This set the tone for the rest of the night.  Once I blew some steam in our drive to the eyebrow place for Jessica I got a little energy to help him with his shoes.  Jessica went to get her eyebrows done and I went outside into the back seat and took off his shoes and socks because apparently something in his socks was pointy. I took off his socks and told him we will have to walk without socks for today.  We then went to Kohls.  As we were getting out of the car, Mason was giving me a hard time getting out the car. He was mocking me and hitting me. This annoyed me so I reminded him if he wanted “nice mommy” to stay, he needed to make sure he was a nice Mason. I told him if he was a good boy at the store, I would give him a kiss.  He was good for a good while.  He was so good I decided I would buy him a dinosaur shirt he wanted.  We were walking around the store fine with his shirt.  Then we went into the cashier line.  Mason hit me or did something that embarrassed me. I don’t really remember what it was but I did feel embarrassed. I was on alert to make sure he does not continue the embarrassing behavior.  I told him to stop doing something which he didn’t stop. Then I saw him breathing on the mirror and he looked like he didn’t have any sense.  I automatically intervened and went up to his face and told him to stop breathing on the mirror or I will not buy the shirt for him.  He tested me and he still breathed in the mirror.  I did what I said I was going to do and I told him, “ok I am not buying the shirt anymore.” He started wailing and embarrassed me even more.  I told him we are not buying the shirt.  He screamed again, “I want the shirt”  I tried taking the shirt from him and he wouldn’t give it to me.  He started running away from me with the shirt.  I decided I needed to get us out of the line, so I started walking out of the line and told him to follow me.  I walked far and he stayed there crying.  He started throwing the shirt on the floor and picking it up to throw it again.  I went up to him to get the shirt but as I came closer to him, he began walking away from me.  So, I turned around and started walking further away from him.  This worked because as I was getting farther, he started to follow me. He followed me up to the shoes and I decided I need to make him sit on my lap so, A) I can get the shirt and B) I can control him a little more because the last thing I wanted was to chase him down the store.  I held him and I told him I will let go as soon as he calms down.  He was screaming “let go of me!” IRRITANT FACTOR THAT WENT FROM 5 TO 10. This reminded me of Sive from North star.  I kept holding on to him and he would turn his body and became hard for me to keep holding him.  He finally calmed down a little bit and I told him to give me the shirt. Then he started all over again.  I yanked the shirt out of his hand and put it somewhere next to me where he couldn’t get it.  He started squirming to get the shirt.  He squirmed so much that he slid out of my arms and that's when I decided we needed to get the fuck out of this store.  I took his hand and started walking, but he kept resisting.  I stopped holding his arm because if I would have kept on holding him, it would have looked like abuse.  I started walking from him again and he started screaming “mommy”.  I turned around and stuck out my hand to show ppl that I am asking him to hold my hand. He said NO.  I walked further from him near the exit, same thing “Mommy!”  I hold out my hand…”NO”.  Walked to the exit and I took his arm and walked him to the car with ANGER…with PURPOSE and I knew I was about to lay down the law in the car. I took him to the car, I opened the door and told him to get inside. He started saying “no” so, I hovered my body to him and slightly pushed him inside the car. His legs were where I was planning on sitting so I forcefully moved his legs.  I closed the door and pulled down his pants and hit his butt with my palm three times.  I screamed so loud and I got in his face because I needed him to feel my RAGE.  I took a flip flop off and I hit his shin with my flip flop. Then some Indian lady knocks on the car door and tells me I shouldn’t hit my child.  Anyway, it was really awkward.  I told her I was giving him “pow pows” because of how he was acting in the store.  IDK why I felt the need to explain myself but I did.  Jessica tried to stand up to her.  But I wanted to keep this professional and I did not want to let my emotions take over with this bitch too because then it would have started an even bigger scene and I hate when ppl watch.  I didn’t want to seem crazy so, I said: “I appreciate your concern, but he was not behaving properly in the store I will give him ‘pow pow’ in the butt.” I seemed like such a little wimp.  I didn’t know what to say but I explained myself to her.  Anyway, that’s something for another day.  Anyway, she kept repeating it over and over, “it's against the law.” Blah blah. I responded with “thank you again for your concern but it is unnecessary” and I went into the passenger side of the car and we drove off.  I started screaming awful things.  I was embarrassed, humiliated and I felt so awful for being such a bad mom. I started telling Mason I didn’t want to be his mom anymore. I started screaming how I didn’t want to be a parent anymore.  I called mason “fucking asshole” and just verbally shitted everywhere, screaming so loud and so high pitched. I needed to let my anger out and I didn’t care what Jessica thought of me. I didn’t care how awful I sounded, I was so angry.  I was even angrier after saying mean things about Mason.  I started getting from angry at Mason, to angry at myself and I started to cry like a baby.  Mason looked so scared and I told him he was going to have a new mommy because I didn’t want to be his mommy anymore if he acts like that.  I told him to shut up a second time in the car.

So now how things could have been different.

It was all manageable up until I saw him breathing on the mirror.  What I should have done was told him to look at me and told him this, “Mason, I told you to stop breathing on the mirror.  You are still breathing on the mirror, this tells me you are trying to be “bad Mason.”  Is bad Mason trying to come out?”  He would have easily told me no.  if he would have given me attitude, I would have said, “If bad Mason is coming out that means “bad mommy” will be out soon.  Do you want “mean mommy” to come out?”  He would have cried, but he would have stopped breathing.  I would have then told him, “If you want to keep “nice mommy”, I need you to be a “good mason” and listen to me when I say stop breathing on the mirror.”  That would have gotten Mason to stop 100%.  I think I did fine while he was having his tantrum, I tried staying as calm and collected as possible.  When we got into the car, I should have sat in the passenger seat and just waited for him to stop crying.  For Mason, it is enough punishment to see me angry and not talking to him.  Then when he calmed down, I would have calmed down and I would talk to him.  This would have been better.  Mason is a good boy and he hates it when I am mad at him.  He starts defending himself and then acting even meaner because he is upset he made me upset.  I don’t want to hit him anymore because he knows “mean mommy” now and I don’t want him to remember me as always being “mean mommy.”  I'll remind him time to time about “mean mommy” when he is irritating the shit out of me, but I won’t hit him anymore because I felt humiliated when that bitch was telling me I shouldn’t hit kids.  Even though she is an ass hole for intervening and judging me.  I am thankful for people like her because they stand up for children whose parents are psycho fucks and they hit them for a living.  I don’t want someone judging me as a psycho parent.  That was humiliating.