#icarianbroil

[dxsole]

@icarianbroil | Cont. from X

Lochlan did everything by the book. Everything. In all the years he worked with Joe and now Raymundo, Lochlan was always there as backup, because you never stray too far from your partner, even when you're just questioning a suspect.

Perhaps he had put his guard down, a mistake he made rarely and would surely never make again. She was the victim, someone he felt he needed to comfort rather than treat with suspicion. Although some things hadn't felt right on the case, Lochlan was confident they would figure out these loose ends.

He didn't think she'd be armed. Or that she'd shoot on sight.

There are lapses in memory, but he knows he shot back. There's a door open a few blocks away with a dead suspect crumpled in the doorway— all Lochlan could do was find the nearest safe haven.

Even now, he's disoriented. Protocol would have been to call it in. All he could think about now was finding his partner in the haze. "I'm sorry—" It's wheezed out as he lays down in a familiar couch, in a familiar place. Blood is pooling in his stomach, red-stained hands still clutching at the wound.

"Joe, I—" It's a searing sort of pain. The kind that fans out and seems to send a jolt through all your nerve-endings. He's always heard it described as a dull pain and he hopes he gets to that point, because this initial sharpness took his breath away. "I don't—" He groans, eyes fluttering shut and brows furrowing tightly together as they usually did. "I don't—" Wheeze. "I don't want to die."

[bruisedconscience]

@icarianbroil

Booker smirked toward Joe and batted playfully at his arm. “Man, I’m kidding. This is change for the parking meter.” He walked over to the meter and set the coins into it, shaking his head with a smile.

“With how many carrying and intent to sell charges I’ve taken in this year, you think I’m dumb enough to fool around with it all?” He knew a few cops who’d done it and got caught—and a few who’d been transferred with no further explanation. “They all probably hang around on the Dark Web or something… Looking for shoes hanging off fences…” He shuddered.

continued - joe & booker

[serenitystored-a]

@icarianbroil​ asked: 🚢 all of them. i ship all of our muses. no backing out of this one

if i must

[brxisedblossom]

❝ no one’s ever done that to me before. ❞ - teah to jazzy

touch-starved starters!!

“No one’s ever kissed your eyelids before? I don’t know why. Your eyes are like the brightest star in the sky. They deserve attention too.”

[withaconscience]

@icarianbroil​ cont. from answer! 

“ what will my worth be if they erase me? “ — Aaron

“  Just  make  your  value  increase.  I  do  that  everyday,  love.  “ 

He’s  shrugging,  as  if  that  solution  was  sooo  easy  to  pull  off.  He  could  almost  laugh,  he  felt  like  a  genius. 

“  Stop  letting  people  walk  all  over  you.  You  control  your  own  life,  feeling  sorry  for  yourself  will  get  you  nowhere.  You  should  start  controlling  your  life  by  buying  me  a  drink.  “ 

Aaron glanced over to the guy. Increase his value? How exactly did this guy figure he do that? Pray more often? 

Oh... Did he come across as a pushover even when he didn’t say much? He ought to. He did sort of just complained to a stranger out of nowhere. 

“Right,” he said with a smile when the guy wanted Aaron to buy him a drink, “well... Sor--sorry, I’m only here for--for some lemonade and that’s...about-bout it.” He laughed very lightly, just warm enough to not be awkward or off-putting. 

He knew that happy-go-lucky, fun angle. He’d played it a handful of times before the Archbishop had taken him in off the street. 

“You in control’a your...your life enough that you--ask any ol’ guy to buy you a...a drink?” 

Hm. Maybe he shouldn’t have said that. 

[vespcrtine]

( @icarianbroil​ )

It was a Friday night. The bar Drew currently sat in was pretty crowded, and while he'd usually be annoyed by this it did make for an easier exit when Joseph was around. It was a transation he had gone through with dozens of times. His uncle's boys got their hnds on more weapons than any cop within a fifty mile radius. Whenever Joe and his henchmen needed a few they usually met up. Drew was skeptical the first few times, mostly thanks to his more than negative experiences with these sort of sales. He slowly started to warm up to the other, though. To  point where he even sort of looked forward to their meetings every two weeks.

Throwing his head back, he took the bottle to his lips and chugged down the last few sips of his beer. When the bartender was close enough, he made sure to let he know he wanted another. His eyes scanned the bar once more to look for the familiar face before he took his phone out. 'You take any longer and you might have to carry me out of here.' He typed out in a text message, sending it to Joseph before setting his phone down on the counter. He thanked the bartender as she handed him his drink and took a sip.

[xnecromantia]

            The necromancer heard them speak of capturing a great beast, their boastful behaviour making his hands curl into tight fists; hunters were an arrogant lot, but most importantly, cruel and unforgiving. They had no shame. How tempted he was to frighten them, reminding them that there was more than one predator in these woods -- but he relaxed his shoulders, forcing his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. Despite the storm building up inside him, it was important to listen. They were huddled close around a bonfire, whispering about the location of the beast’s body, ensnared in one of their traps; it was heart-breaking to hear another creature being killed by such hateful hands. Mylo had enough. He was going to ruin their hunting trip.

            Sure enough, they spoke the truth. There, fur matted with blood from where the trap had snapped against its leg, lay a werewolf. As a Wytchling, Mylo and his siblings often played with pups from neighbouring woodlands; his coven had no qualms with werewolves, and they were often the first people to provide help whenever his kind needed it. They, too, returned their generosity. It was why, as he approached the body, Mylo decided that the best thing to do was to try and return them to their pack for a proper burial. The hunters weren’t going to take home a trophy tonight. However, placing a hand upon the body, he was amazed to find that they were still breathing -- faint, but there. 

            “You’re okay!” Mylo whispered, a relieved smile gracing his features. “I’m going to help you, okay?” Removing the metal teeth from their leg, he bent the trap until it was deemed useless. The wound was deep, but he was able to heal it. “Can you hear me, amicus? I’m here-” as he picked up the werewolf’s paw in a bid to gain their attention, he noticed a mark hidden amongst fur. It would have been more pronounced had they been in their human form, but Mylo recognised it straight away. It was his Mark -- only unique to him. And there was only one werewolf he ever gave it to. 

             “Josiah? Josiah.” It had been over a decade since he’d spoken that name, because he believed that the other male had died that night in the forest. Hunted down and slaughtered, like his family. Assessing his surroundings, Mylo watched for any signs that the hunters were returning. “You need to change back. Please. It's me...it's Mortis! The hunters will be back soon, and I am not losing you again.” But he was here now. And they would have to deal with him first.

@icarianbroil​

[dxsole]

Wendi rolls her eyes. He truly couldn’t lie and she appreciates his honesty at least. “Alright, alright...just as long as she’s happy, I guess I can’t really be too hard on you.”

dxspereaux·:

Wendi smiles; he’s just too cute. “I don’t think I’ve had a vacation since I started all this…” Plus Dandan deserved to have a nice time instead of being cooped up in the tea house all summer. “Alright, alright…but you have to promise me you all won’t spoil her too much.”

“ Wendi, you know I cannot lie to you. No promises from me. I love Dandan, so she may come back expecting all my mama’s secret recipes every time she eats. “

[deadboid]

i’m on my multimuse! you can plot w me there!

@icarianbroil

[waywardcollective]

“Watch the door for me? I’ll be out in five minutes.” from Pip!

              “What are you-” Too late. Pip was already slipping through the “Staff Only” door, leaving the man alone with his thoughts. With a huff of annoyance, he stood to the side and produced a pack of cigarettes from his overcoat. It took a few tries of trying to find the dratted things, considering the copious amount of alcohol they had already consumed over the evening. His vision was blurred, the inside pocket was dark, and there was hardly any light in this speakeasy as it was. Nicotine was one of many addictions that transferred to this new body from the deceased Eli, and it became worse when he was drunk. He was less likely to become ill, however -- designed to withstand whatever was thrown at him. It was one of many advantages with being half-synthetic. “C’mere...ah, bollocks.” He watched as his lighter fell to the floor, bouncing twice before settling. Glancing at the door, he wondered how long Pip was going to be. Five minutes, he recalled, but it already felt like ten. 

               Scooping up the lighter, Eli pressed himself back against the wall. A laughing couple stumbled around the corner, navigating the hallway with barely any grace. At least they were too involved with one another to notice the tall stranger lurking in the darkness, trying his best to light a cigarette. Nothing suspicious happening here, certainly. He wished that he had an accomplice back when he was prone to theft; he would have avoided prison altogether. But his grief led to destructive behaviour back then, and he was convinced that the world was out to get him. He felt alone. And now here he was, covering for somebody who was doing the same. How funny. The cigarette was lit by the time Pip reappeared, holding a couple of bootlegged liquor bottles. They must have an emergency stash in there, but somebody had foolishly forgotten to lock the door. Their loss.  

               “That was more than five minutes,” he breathed out a laugh, the best he could with the cigarette between his lips. “Well--” taking the bottles, Eli shoved them inside his overcoat, quickly glancing down the hallway for any prying eyes. Not that he could see them. Everything was a little more than blurred right now. Thankfully, nobody was around to witness their activity. “--it was time to move on anyway. Onward and upwards, Pip,” taking a brief drag of his cigarette, he started towards a general direction of the exit. To the best of his ability, that was. 

[dxsole]

@icarianbroil | Cont. from X

Didi was even more of a lightweight than Pip, so she was also suffering from a splitting headache and needed to find some relief. And the best relief for a hangover, as far as she knew, was spicy food. Something with enough kick to make you sweat it out.

So here she was, commandeering Pip's kitchen and sprinkling scallions over a bubbling red concoction. "Morning sleepyhead." She coos, mindfully keeping her voice low as to not aggravate either of their heads.

"Try this." There's a bit of poached egg and the red, simmering sauce it was doused in. "It's shakshuka," Didi explains as he gushes. "It's from North Africa. Best hangover cure I know of, hm." And she's surely tried many.

"You can have a whole plate, mon cher." She pats at his cheek. "I always take care of my friends, hm— although, we do have to talk. I have photos on my phone that suggest we went insane last night. I think you kissed a construction worker."

[dxsole]

@icarianbroil // Didi & Josiah :’3

[bruisedconscience]

DING DING DING, TOP OF MORNING! 

here’s the post I said I’d make where I @ people and tell them I’m at my new url (and then tumblr only tells about 30% of the people the first time...........) 

(i’m the mun from these urls btw: ficjhtclub / withaconscience / mrf34r ) 

buddies i know & love 

@1llu510n @afoxholeofmuses​ @behindaccents​ @brighterrors​ / @cybervigilant​  @clawedbear / @snowbrn​ @chrmatiica​ @commiehacker​ @crimedriven​ @detective-asshole​ @devillain​ / @mcnsieur​ @dxspereaux @engineeringlieutenantlowaine​​ / @whydotheykeeptakingmine @enigmatii​ @errorware​ @findablog​ @fsocietyarcade​ @ghostinhumanshape​  @hotelmuse​ @initcne​ / @mostloquacious​ @interrogarre​ @isthetrth​  @jericholeader​ @letthefearin​ @loyalandroid​ @misshclly​ @np400tyler-blog​ @strangerinourmidst @tapewormking​ @telepatheia​ @theclownprnc​ @warbirdcd​ @whatanenigma​ @withblades​

people i want to know more 

@aheroslegacy @amanandgoodatit​ @astronomvical​ @betterhealing​  @chaosnglitter​ @chilledtouch​ @choosewisxly-blog​ @chysopteros @controlsanoverstatement​ @crankedout​ @diabolicaltendencies​ @dosguns​  @eidetic187​ @ericbrandonrp​ @fightknife​ @finalxproblem​ @hasarealheart​ @icarianbroil​ @itsnotsobadbeingcrazy​ @littleqxinn​ @itswenow​ @jfwashington​ @magicmonstersandmischief @missgreentelepath @mltpl​ @mzone​ @sniperwithasmoke​  @scientronid​  @svnflcwerss​  @wonwars​

[brxisedblossom]

❛ I keep you right here in my brain ❜ - teah @ jazzy <333

* (  HOW I’M FEELING ALBUM BY LAUV /  SENTENCE PROMPTS.

“I don’t know much about brain anatomy but  I don’t think that’s how it works.” Jazzy joked, gently shoving Teah with her shoulder. “I’d rather be right here..” She muttered, poking the others heart before laying a gentle kiss on Teahs cheek.

[dxsole]

@icarianbroil | Cont. from X

Slapping is just the beginning. Levi was notoriously easy to rile up and, seeing as causing general calamity was Angus' entire job description, he had a feeling it was just the right ammunition to get Levi into a dangerous mood—

There's a grunt of pain as he's punched, Angus' head swiveling violently with the impact. He staggers back, taking a moment to rub at struck cheek. Angus forces a grin through labored breaths, fiery eyes locked in on Levi.

"Ye hit like me sister." He doesn't have a sister. "C'mon," Fists are held up, Angus bouncing around like a prizefighter. "Let's see w'at yer made of, bud."

[dxsole]

@icarianbroil | Cont. from X

Didi remembers last time, when she came to him with a few cuts and scrapes— it was less severe than his current injuries, but he had fussed just the same.

She felt a bit like a hypocrite now. Her wounds meant so little to her so long as they didn't mar her face, but seeing Bruce in such a shape? It was different. In some strange way she wanted to protect him, as if he wasn't capable. She knew he was but all she wanted to do was strangle whoever got in the ring with him.

Despite his job, Bruce was so tender. So sweet. "You're doing well, hm." She praises softly, noting how still he sat as she worked, even if every stitch made her internally wince.

He speaks and there's an abrupt, "—Don't." She huffs. "I'm—" Upset? Of course she was, but not at him. "Look at what they did to you. Mon coeur." His tender face is gently cradled in her hands. He made good money and boxing was second nature to him by now, but God she wanted to take a steel chair to someone's face right now. "I love you. But I have these horrible thoughts that one day you will not come back to me."