[bulldoged]

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#BULLDOGED ; an independent au based sideblog. low - activity and iconless. follows from lwyrsghtr. a study in how far a good person will push themselves for love. what happens when you choose what is easy instead of what is right, and how revenge can twist a soul into something unrecognizable. what happens when the hunger for love is never satiated? you become a sort of cannibal. how much flesh can be devoured before you’re no longer considered human, but instead a pile of picked through bones.

triggers present are : death, violence, murder, drugs, uneven power dynamics, manipulation, and injury.

ABOUT.

[geryone]

i love you, it looks like rain, June Gehringer

[psalmlover]

loretto chapel, santa fe, new mexico

[tocookarc-deactivated20241006]

their line of work is a jam-packed, swarming slaughterhouse. a conga line of diminishing returns. a cabinet of lethal curiosities. they labor in futility:  racking up dough that’ll get dumped down the drain, playing second-fiddle to their subjugators, sniffing out rats, clawing at crates… their line of work is inescapable.  (  a serpent eating its tail. saturn devouring his son. retellings of ancient empires seldom broach the bones upon which they were built.  )  

while jade resorts to gallows humor, jesse kicks a rock. sends it skipping along the parking lot in a swift succession of plonks. momentum  —  ain’t that the reason they're given? another assignment. another competitor. another cook.  “  you mean, uh, busting my ass for a promotion, or flipping burgers or whatever?  ”  he enciphers the sarcasm with a listless shrug.  “  no, i got nothing in my résumé.  ”

not for lack of trying. there's a story jesse could've shared, shredded into bite-sized divulgences. a parable pried from the preachy mouth of his na counselor.  (  discover who you are outside of your dependency. contribute to the betterment of society. reconnect with your innermost self.  )  because his sole job interview went exactly as expected, jesse settles for a truth that won’t torch the corridor of his throat.  “  had a lemonade stand goin' when i was a kid. took forever to start selling. then i told my folks that i was gonna handle it my way, and, you know...  ”  mad volume, his mind suggests. the rest of him trails off, troubled by the association.  “  what ‘bout you?  ”

[bulldoged]

she  posed  the  question  as  a  way  to  pass  the  time,  but  upon  hearing  the  answer  sincerity  breaks  through  on  her  face.  eyes  soften,  lips  purse,  brows  knit  themselves  together.  it’s  easy  to  imagine  his  features  not  fully  grown  into  yet,  his  head  peaking  over  the  the  stand,  the  hand drawn  ‘lemonade’  sign  that  might’ve  been  next  to  him.  it’s  endearing.  annoyingly  so.  she  then  envisions  herself  at  a  younger  age.  plucky,  hopeful.  “  well,  when  i  was  a  kid  i  had  this  stupid  dream…  i  wanted  to  be  a  singer,  y’know,  like  on  broadway?  i  was  in  the  school  musicals  and  everything.  ”  this  is  information  you  normally  couldn’t  pry  out  of  her.  but  jesse’s  caught  her  in  a  sentimental  mood.  one  she’s  been  in  for  months.  “  then  i  got  older  and  i  tried  to  be  a  lawyer,  even  went  to  school  for  it.  dropped  out  though,  once  i  figured  out  how  much  money  i  could  make  slinging.  ”  she  looks  away  after  she  says  it,  telling  him  is  one  thing.  but  seeing  his  initial  reaction  is  too  unpredictable.  

as  she  peers  out  at  an  empty  lot,  she  only  thinks  of  that  young  girl  on  the  stage,  and  the  little  boy  at  the  lemonade  stand.  when  she  looks  back  at  jesse,  the  things  that  have  aged  him  are  more  apparent  than  ever.  the  bags  under  his  eyes.  the  hollowness  in  them.  he’s  seen  things.  that  she’s  sure  of.  and,  has  she,  too.  then,  she  catches  herself  in  the  reflection  of  her  car  window.  jade  thought  jesse  was  showing  signs  of  wear,  but  he’s  nothing  compared  to  her.  her  face  is  sallow,  eyes  wily,  tacky  tattoos  and  scars  on  full  display  beside  scars  and  bruises.  how  the  time  changes  things.  

“  so,  ”  she  tilts  her  head  to  the  side,  “  did  you  make  your  own  lemonade?  or  did  you  just  sell  minute-maid  out  of  a  pitcher?  ” 

[adiosnachito]

⠀⠀he eyes the cash that is now sitting upon the table,⠀it looks about right.⠀not that lalo was particularly worried about that,⠀he was sure these people knew their place.⠀though he couldn't say he'd seen many like her in the business.⠀in his head,⠀all lalo could think about was how she could ever push cocaine when she looked like she should be pushing girl scout cookies instead.⠀but,⠀to underestimate is a dangerous game,⠀and not one that lalo was often willing to play.⠀he takes the wad and brushes his index finger across the top,⠀each note slapping against the last.

DON'T YOU JUST LOVE THAT SOUND? lalo is laughing now,⠀the kind of random jovial laugh that doesn't let you know whether you are coming or going.

⠀⠀the young woman blunders her way through her sentences,⠀but lalo doesn't react unfavourably.⠀it is the⠀⠀SALAMANCA EFFECT, and only if she were to remain steady would he be concerned.⠀he stands,⠀tosses the cash back into a container & turns again to face her, ‘don't worry about it, eh?⠀you did good.⠀who am i to waltz in here from méxico and tell you how to do your job, right?’⠀lalo seems sincere here,⠀warm and welcoming.⠀UNDERSTANDING.⠀his face is nothing but smiles.⠀he then points a finger towards her,⠀eyes wide as if the best idea has struck him from the sky above,⠀‘you drink?’

[bulldoged]

she  expects  the  bosses  in  this  business  to  be  stern  enforcers.  people  you  don’t  cross.  people  you  never  look  at  sideways.  she  watches  him  laugh  uncomfortably,  unsure  of  herself.  her  youth  is  clear  in  her  body  language,  her  posture  has  fallen  and  she  picks  at  loose  the  skin  on  her  cuticles.  this  is  something  she  can’t  be  blamed  for  –  she’s  barely  cracking  twenty  years  old,  after  all.  but  that’s  what’s  helped  her  out  in  this  business  so  far.  most  people  trust  a  young  and  innocent  looking  girl.  so,  when  she  pushes  her  way  into  your  friend  group  and  then  your  college  party,  with  some  persuasion  you’ll  pay  top  dollar  for  what  she  says  is  a  top-tier  way  to  start  the  party.  and  then  the  wad  of  cash  that  lalo  is  tucking  away  accumulates  easily  enough.  

when  he  finishes  talking,  she  decides  to  follow  his  lead.  it’s  all  she  can  do.  her  eyes  become  alight  at  the  idea  of  intoxication,  which  is  becoming  a  better  and  better  friend  to  her  by  the  day.  she  prefers  drugs  to  alcohol  these  days,  but  she’d  never  deny  the  offer.  although  she  knows  it’s  anything  but  smart  to  get  drunk  in  front  of  your  employer,  he  is  offering  isn’t  he?  she  nods,  “  i’ve  been  known  to  drink,  from  time  to  time.  ”  she  replies  as  casually  as  she  can,  “  you  got  a  drink  of  choice,  mr.  salamanca?  ”

[toprayarc-deactivated20250116]

ouch— sensitive, much? the mere display of it, the flicker of offense, her flat tone of a response ... it's laughable. obvious. an open book of expectations, yearning for something more. (and had mari not been a coworker, not a locked-in ally, she may have taken advantage of it. sunk to soft smiles, sweet apologies, nothing but a slow swirl of spiraling spots. jade is blatant. an easily read opponent. someone that, had mari been on opposite sides, the response would be much more decadent. or dangerous. depends on your perspective.) unluckily for her, mari specializes in deprivation. corners curved to a crisp grin. nothing less than a sharpened edge, slicing through summer air. offer her a smoke, a smile, a white flag waved in the interims, give her incentive, a proposal, some far-off deal that digs into what most people dream of, but here's the cold hard truth, and here's it told honest: whatever jade may offer, mari can obtain herself.

and if she thinks otherwise, then she's got plenty to learn. (in this business, self-sufficiency is key. in this world, dependency is a death wish. if jade aches for some kind of friend, a stray shoulder to cry on, mari thinks she might start betting on how long she'll last. expiration dates, she knows, are inevitable. jade's, for what it's worth, seems expendable. pity.) a low whistle plays at humor, almost a tease. "relax," her tone is almost a purr, as light as a feather, painted in stark contrasts to before: can she be blamed for her own entertainment? —sometimes, mari thinks, the inner-workings of another is enough to keep her full. "i'm j — just giving you advice, jade." her smile inches a centimeter wider. "girl to girl, you know?"

arms unfold, slinking forward. eye contact remains, steady, before flickering up and down the other— a laugh catches, curdles, and refrains from releasing, just barely. a sway to her smile creases, and rounds the curve of her cheek. amused, and just a touch empty. "sure," mari's voice is mild, lifted to something akin to welcoming ... if you squint. "don't think many p — people in my line of work don't." cigarettes are looked over, and then left behind: her own flame flipped out into her palm, and flicked to life against fingers. "but i d — don't take cigs from strangers." the lighter flicks again, before a pack of her own is pulled out, teeth tugging a cigarette from the packaging. it slips back away, and eyes return to the other, unlit cigarette dangling from between lips. "so, tell me something i d — don't know, and we might not be strangers anymore."

[bulldoged]

jade  is  like  the  stray  cat  who  frequents  your  porch.  she  has  a  habit  of  returning  even  when  she’s  not  wanted.  she’ll  make  her  way  into  your  home  and  follow  you  until  you  relent  and  accept  her  presence.  then  she  becomes  a  constant  fixture.  none  of  these  are  desirable  traits  for  a  criminal,  but  worst  and  most  dangerous  of  all  –  if  you  leave  something  out  on  the  porch  she  will  nibble  at  it.  even  if  it’s  poisonous.  jade  is  a  fly,  buzzing  around  and  looking  for  her  next  piece  of  garbage  to  land  on.  mari  is  a  spider  carefully  crafting  her  web.  

she  sighs  when  mari  rejects  her  offer,  her  shoulders  falling  in  conjunction  with  the  heave  of  her  breath.  “  sorry,  i  should’ve  known.  i  wouldn’t  want  to  give  you  any  of  my  germs.  ”  she  pulls  back  the  carton  and  plucks  the  grimy  white  lighter  from  it,  lighting  up  the  cigarette  that  sprouts  from  her  lips  a  second  later.  “  girl  to  girl  advice,  huh?  ”  she  says  through  a  curl of  smoke,  the  cigarette  bobbing  up  and  down  as  she  talks.  “  boy,  that’s  really  generous  of  you,  mari.  ”  she  pulls  the  cigarette  from  her  mouth,  her  eyes  flickering  down  to  the  ground.  “  i’m  starting  to  feel  really  lucky  that  we  got  paired  up.  ”  there’s  no  cynicism  or  sarcasm  in  her  tone  to  make  her  point.  she  says  it  quietly,  distantly,  as  her  foot  begins  to  push  around  a  loose  pebble  beside  her.  she  takes  a  drag,  and  then  a  second  to  think.  

should  she  feel  lucky?  lucky  that  instead  of  sulking  around  her  apartment  like  she  has  been  for  months  she’s  actually  doing  something?  lucky  that  she’s  working  with  someone  who  probably  has  a  well  full  of  knowledge  that  jade  could  use  towards  her  ultimate  goal.  how  she’ll  get  all  of  it  out  of  her,  jade  doesn’t  know.  but  pushing  her  buttons  isn’t  the  way  to  do  it.  she  looks  up  at  mari,  a  crease  forming  in  the  space  between  her  eyebrows.  “  something  you  don’t  know?  doesn’t  seem  like  there’s  much.  ”  she  shrugs  nonchalantly.  she  might  as  well  say  something  true.  she  doubts  mari  will  ever  truly  become  her  enemy.  what  harm  could  it  do?  “  the  only  reason  i’m  out  here  –  or  working  for  gus  at  all,  is  so  that  i  might  get  a  chance  to  see  something  i  hate  burn  to  the  ground.  ”

[lolbartri]

[toprayarc-deactivated20250116]

a twitch of irritation scrapes at her insides. stays solid, around her ribcage. here's what she knows about jade: she's hungry, desperate, and trying to become hollow. she's obvious, uninteresting, and has no place beside her. she's inexperienced, unprepared, and every claw upwards looks nothing less than an animal's need. howling. provoking. outright damning. if mari wanted to, she thinks she could dissect jade piece by piece. her familial roots, her presumed daddy issues, the aches and pains that swell like seas, across sweltered smiles. she could pull out her tongue, cherry-stem twist it to oblivion, and still hear her cries in the dark. long story short, jade's predictable. naïve. the type of criminal that isn't quite a criminal at all, but just some lost, sad, little puppy— barking at a door that digs its own grave.

so, if the dead are hands out, palms up, begging for a second chance, then jade is nothing more than an echo tip-tapping towards the surface. breaking waters, to find her breath. she may as well grab a shovel, engrave a headstone, write a eulogy in her wake, because mari knows a walking corpse when she sees one. (trust her, she's made enough of them to know.) "hm." a slow sound of acknowledgement gifts itself in return— drowning sorrows, while no stranger to mari, puts none of them to rest. how many skeletons in your closet do you have, jade? ... and even better, how many can mari dig up?

"i don't n — need to bury anything." her tone stays light. a drawl, that dances along the raise of mari's brow: almost inquisitive, wholly judgmental, and nowhere near friendly. cold, and disconnecting any strings that jade's attempted to intertwine. "and a piece of advice?" mari's hands dust themselves off, as her form leans against the car— arms crossing over her chest, and eye contact never swaying an inch. "—bragging about your downfalls in this business?" her eyebrow raises a centimeter further, head tilted to the side ever so slightly. "good way to get yourself killed." a lazy smile tugs at the corner of her lip. "or blackmailed."

[bulldoged]

jade  is  hungry.  is  desperate.  so  much  so  and  for  so  long  that  she  can  no  longer  keep  track  of  what  she  craves  anymore.  starving  for  respect.  for  justice.  and  most  damningly  of  all,  for  someone,  anyone,  to  come  close  enough  to  see  the  wounds  and  not  pick  at  them.  it’s  obvious,  really,  she  thinks.  in  the  limited  time  she’s  known  mari,  she’s  seen  enough  to  understand  that  anything  akin  to  an  amicable  relationship  had  been  ripped  off  of  the  table  long  before  they  met.  but  they're  going  to  be  working  together,  for  how  long  she’s  not  sure.  that,  accompanied  with  how  dangerous  she  knows  mari  is,  is  enough  to  keep  jade  from  biting  back  too  hard.  but  their  world  is  dog  eat  dog,  and  sometimes  you  need  to  bare  your  teeth  in  order  to  secure  your  place  in  the  chaos.  she  hopes  she  won’t  have  to  do  that  with  anyone  that  works  for  gus,  but  it’s  proving  to  be  a  hard  task.  

she  snaps  open  the  door  to  the  car  and  grabs  the  carton  of  cigarettes.  it  gives  her a  second  to  decide  that  mari  is  right.  still,  when  her  head  rises  back  into  mari’s  view  her  eyes  attempt  to  convey  her  offense.  but  they  just  look  wild,  like  an  animal  cornered.  “  i’ll  keep  that  in  mind,  ”  she  says  flatly,  after  what  feels  like  too  much  silence  for  her  own  comfort.  “  forgive  me  for  thinking  that  we  were  on  the  same  side.  ”  in  her mind  this  was  a  war,  they  were  soldiers,  and  gus  was  their  leader.  maybe  revenge  simply  always  feels  like  war.  then  it  occurs  to  her  that maybe  mari  doesn’t  give  a  damn  about  any  of  it.  jade  wishes  she  could  say  the  same.

after  a  beat  she  finally leads  herself  over  to  where  mari  stands,  looking  expectant.  “  you  smoke?  ”  before  mari  can  answer,  the  carton  is  held  out  in  the  space  between  them,  paper  lid  ajar  to  reveal  a  row  of  marlboro reds  and  a  lighter  tucked  where  the  rest  of  them  used  to  be.

[notmorbid]

birnam wood.

dialogue prompts from birnam wood by eleanor catton.

i prefer enemies to rivals.

being dislikable is more terrible than being disliked.

everything is the same, and everything is different.

you're really enjoying this, aren't you?

do you want to go somewhere and get a drink?

i doubt you're an axe murderer.

why do we always say 'axe murderer'? we never say 'gun murderer' or 'knife murderer'.

we were all pretty drunk that night.

some of the stuff i say, when i remember it, it makes me sick.

come on. we've all made mistakes.

i always know i'm safe with you.

i thought you might appreciate some time to yourself.

i never stay anywhere longer than a night.

i haven't thought about ____ in years.

who do you work for?

i have no idea who you are.

anything else you want to ask?

how do i know you're not setting me up?

you little criminal.

i bet you sleep so well.

we're very snobby about our coffee here.

can you calm down just a little bit, please?

let the record show i kept my mouth shut.

just remember the first rule of pr: say nothing.

you are so unbelievably full of shit.

i said i didn't want to talk about it.

i don't know why i didn't kiss you.

i really want to kiss you.

seriously, all i want is to have a drink alone.

only something someone doesn't want to see in print is news. everything else is advertising.

at least it's not raining, right?

i want to know who you've been talking to.

i think we've got our wires crossed somewhere.

do you think the kind of person who never says 'sorry' is also the kind of person who never says 'thank you'?

thank you for assuming i was listening.

do you think there are two different types of people, or just one?

you were like a different person.

tell me everything there is to tell.

start at the beginning, and don't leave anything out.

you seem like the sort of person who'd have a secret agenda.

everyone can't be on top, or it wouldn't be the top anymore.

if i didn't know any better, i'd say you had a crush.

you can hardly even breathe without lying.

no one ever actually knows what the right thing is.

you don't like to be out of control. is that it?

i'm worried this is just a bit of fun for you. like, it doesn't really mean anything.

you're seeing me differently now.

it's like a black mirror episode.

can we do drugs now, please?

everybody has their own reasons for doing what they do. you can't police motivation.

none of this is real. it's a simulation.

we did this together. this is our fault.

i got you into this mess, and i'm going to get you out.

every weakness, seen differently, can be a strength.

just say it over and over again until you believe it.

no hard feelings. honestly.

whatever fantasy world you're living in right now, snap out of it.

call me any time. day or night.

i just feel like nothing's real.

it's one of those albums where you can't just listen to one track. you have to hear the whole thing, you know?

we're not still on acid, are we?

you didn't fuck it up. i fucked it up.

we were just young.

people don't run if they've got nothing to hide.

you're going to rot in hell.

i've thought about you all day.

don't give up. you can't give up.

i feel like a stupid child.

i want to be able to say i died fighting.

[adiosnachito]

⠀⠀back when lalo was in albuquerque,⠀and it had been years,⠀el michoacáno wasn't a thing. not for the salamancas. but there was something about the place that lalo had immediately liked,⠀so much so that he would often kick out the owner to run the place himself. lalo came a lot⠀⠀[⠀silently,⠀unannounced,⠀not to temper but to instil fear,⠀remind the troops of who they called boss⠀]⠀⠀and enjoyed a taco & a modelo. today was no different,⠀except he'd never seen ⠀HER⠀ before. domingo and nacho he saw often,⠀their ratty men in and out of here daily,⠀but not her. ⠀time to introduce himself.

ARE YOU FILLING IN, OR?⠀⠀lalo leans back into the chair,⠀his face alight with amusement. ‘eh,⠀something like that’ he responds,⠀his eyes not letting up on hers⠀—⠀not even for a second.

⠀⠀silence continues to sit between the two of them,⠀thick and visible,⠀until finally broken up by a sharp drumming of the table with his hands. ‘lalo’ he smiles,⠀outstretching a hand,⠀‘lalo salamanca.’ the surname drips from his tongue like honey,⠀his favourite word to say just for the reaction. he can thank his tio for that. ‘you got some money for me?’ lalo rubs his hands together,⠀looking expectantly at the woman.

[bulldoged]

there’s  no  hiding  it.  her  expression  and  demeanor  are  nothing  short  of  a  deer  in  headlights.  she  knows  she  has  to  learn  how  to  hide  it.  nacho  understanding  just  how  vulnerable  she  is  might  be  one  thing,  but  something  tells  her  that  information  is  nowhere  near  as  safe  with  the  man  who  takes  a  seat  across  from  her.  wide  brown  eyes  stare  back  at  him  for  what  jade  feels  is  an  eternity,  and  she  desperately  wants  to  shred  herself  away  from  his  gaze.  but  she  keeps  her  eyes  level  with  his.  when  he  finally  does  something,  the  action  is  so  abrupt  it  makes  her  jump  in  her  seat.  

she  reaches  out  and  shakes  his  hand  with  an  embarrassingly  light  grip.  ‘lalo  salamanca’.  she  thinks  maybe  she’s  heard  his  name  before,  let  out  by  nacho  in  a  conversation  she  probably  wasn’t  supposed  to  be  listening  to  so  intently.  in  any  case,  the  name  salamanca  evokes  just  the  reaction  lalo  is  looking  for.  her  brows  raise,  lips  parting  slightly.  she  may  be  fresh,  even  a  little  naive,  but  she’s  been  in  it  long  enough  to  understand  what  that  means.  this  is  no  time  to  mess  around.  so,  when  he  asks  for  his  money,  she  doesn’t  hesitate.  she  removes  her  hand  from  her  pocket,  revealing  the  wad  of  cash  and  placing  it  on  the  table  between  them.  

“  s’all  there.  ”  should  she  have  said  that?  she  shakes  her  head  lightly,  don’t  overthink  it.  “  there’s  no  reason  to  think  it’s  not  all  there  –  i’m  just  saying,  you  can  trust  me.  i’m  a  good  earner  and  everything.  and  honest,  too.  ”

[bulldoged]

she knows this routine well enough to understand that all she has to do is sit and wait. el michoacano, like the other times, is empty save for the owner in the back. her grip on the side of her chair is so tight that it turns her knuckles white, the other hand tightened around a wad of cash in the pocket of her hoodie. her leg bounces at a rapid pace, until she hears the familiar sound of the entrance cracking open behind her. jade’s head whips around, and once her eyes focus on the stranger, confusion sets in. this wasn’t nacho — though at least it’s not tuco. this was someone new, and he was alone. had leadership traded hands that fast? a swell of nerves comes on so fast and she becomes nauseous, but does her best to greet him with a blank face. this is the drug business, she tells herself, changes happen all the time, i’m sure.

@adiosnachito “do you mind if i sit?”

she shakes her head, bottom lip curling upward to form a frown. “ i’ve um… ” she clears her throat, sitting up a little straighter, “ i’ve never seen you before. are you filling in, or ? ”

[bulldoged]

thinking about how jade tends to attach herself to someone and then (consciously or unconsciously) model her choices and goals based off of what she thinks that person would want. first it was chuck, then she made bad choices just to spite him, then it was jimmy. then, overwhelmingly, it was domingo. she’s so lost post-s1 because she no longer has anyone to follow. jimmy and her have so many issues she no longer values what he thinks of her. and there’s no one else she feels close enough to. so she’s making her choices based purely off of her feelings and it’s a dumpster fire

[catmint1]

“Someone has to leave first. This is a very old story. There is no other version of this story.”

— Richard Siken, “The Worm King’s Lullaby,” War of the Foxes

[toprayarc-deactivated20250116]

beneath the dirt, below the foundations, sinking through the divots of new mexico, lies corpses. carcasses. skeleton-bones of days, past. look close, and you'll find history: feuds, bonds, crimes of passion that go half-delivered. pulled triggers, painful deaths, and a cock-and-aim to tear through trenches. in these days, mari masters herself an archeologist. digs up drowned secrets, damning evidence, and buries the rest. she's nothing less than an investigator, no more than a murderer, but she gets her job done.

"what is this place?" — @bulldoged.

and she'll get it done well— with, or without the help of some sad-sack, used-to-be, criminal sidekick. mari's got no interest in depending on anyone. has no urge to find the sudden thrill in support. she's closed off, cut down, and cradling a shovel right under her arm before throwing it in her trunk. an ending, neatly sealed. "dump site." mari's tone is short: nothing but fact, flickering at the slight twitch in her lip. (annoyance, she knows, gets her nowhere ... and seemingly, gets jade everywhere.) "people c — come out here and get rid of shit they don't want anyone to find." a glance over, eyebrow raising. the trunk slams. "got any s — secrets you want to bury while we're here?"

[bulldoged]

somewhere  between  the  nerves  she  attributes  to  being  a  newcomer  and  her  attempts  to  hide  them  beneath  the  guise  of  being  a  careless  career  criminal,  there’s  an  unsettled  curiosity.  the  world  she  came  from,  the  one  run  by  the  salamancas,  was  not  much  like  the  well-oiled  machine  that  was  gus’  empire.  one  way  it  was  apparent  was  his  staff.  you  can  tell  a  lot  about  someone  by  how  they  run  their  crew,  that  much  jade  had  gathered  during  her  years  as  a  dealer,  an  enforcer,  a  lap  dog.  there  was  no  nonsense  here.  no  flamboyancy.  no  late  card  games  or  worrying  over  whoever  you  lost  to  taking  it  too  far,  earning  you  an  unmarked  grave.  

mari  reveals  that  the  whole  site  is  just  that,  a  landfill  of  bodies.  the  idea  that  each  step  she  takes  might  count  for  a  corpse  beneath  her  feet  has  her  uneasy,  though  she  tries  not  to  imagine  it  that  way.  vaguely,  she  wonders  if  –  or  rather  when  she’ll  end  up  someplace  like  this.  based  on  the  feeling  that   information  evoked,  she  knows  she  might  be  losing  her  stomach  for  this.  how  long  will  someone  like her last?  she  looks  to  the  person  beside  her.  she’s  likely  to  stick  around  a  hell  of  a  lot  longer,  jade  muses.

she  takes  a  beat  before  responding,  eyes  washing  over  the  cold  expression  on  mari's  face.  “  oh,  i’ve  got  tons  to  bury.  but  i  like  to  drown  my  sorrows,  not  bury  them.  ”  with  a  click  of  her  tongue,  she  heads  over  to  the  passenger  side  door  to  grab  a  carton  of  cigarettes  she left  on  the  seat.  while    her  hand  rests  on  the  handle,  her  gaze  finds  mari  again,  and  she  can’t  help  but  probe.  “  i  bet  you’d  need  more  than  just  a  shovel  if  you  could  get  rid  of  everything  you  wanted  to,  ”  she  remarks,  playing  it  off  with  a  smirk  and  a  shrug,  “  but  wouldn’t  we  all?  i’d  need  a  damn  excavator.  ”  

[bulldoged]

jesus. you being murdered? @tocook

“ in our line of work, it’s probably the most common way to go out. ” she says it like it’s obvious — because it is. bad choice road always ends abruptly. she hadn’t meant to off-put him by bringing up the idea of her demise, which in her mind was unrelentingly imminent. “ that’s why I don’t have a pension. ” she jokes, and though jesse may not realize it, seeing her jest about anything these days is extremely rare. the side of her that’s easy-going enough to let a joke slip out had been long buried under a pile of grief and frustration. it’s such an exposal compared to her regular disposition. she might as well be on the operating table, organs exposed and at jesse’s disposal.

although she had a knack for clawing her way out from under a death sentence, she had begun to think of dying as a warm and fuzzy blanket she could wrap herself up in. it wasn’t so much the dying itself — that meant someone got one over on her. someone won. but the oblivion, oh, the oblivion. the end of grief, the end of sadness, the end of her need to fill the hole domingo left behind. that sounded more than good.

she could envision it again at home, she thought. for now, she’d keep things light. jade didn’t want to make a habit of bringing up her own end in front of co-workers, but it had been on her mind so often it slipped out. she turned to him, abruptly straightening up, her eyes steely and unfeeling once again. “ you ever try your hand at a legit job, y’know, like something that isn’t illegal? ”

[notmorbid]

saint maud.

dialogue prompts from saint maud (2019).

creative types tend to be rather self-involved.

what are you cooking up in there?

who's your saint?

you're prettier than the last one.

i'd be happiest to stay in my room.

may god bless you and never waste your pain.

why would someone like you end up in a town like this?

you should be around people.

why the fuck do you care so much all of a sudden?

darling, don't be petulant.

no one sees what they don't want to.

stay with me. i don't want to be alone.

have you seen a lot of death?

what made you leave?

when you pray, do you get a response?

nothing feels real anymore.

my little savior.

it's too late to be visiting now.

i'm trying to be respectful.

i didn't swear at you or anything.

do you think this is just a joke?

this is life and death. it's spiritual.

no hard feelings. i'm sure you're great in bed.

you're just a waste of time at the moment.

can you hear yourself?

don't tell ___ i told you, though.

how's it going? it's been ages.

are you taking care of yourself?

i thought you must have left town or something.

i don't see you out and about anymore.

my number. if you ever want to talk, or get a drink or anything.

it's no fun if you cheat.

i will go to bed when i damn well like.

don't run away. i'm talking to you.

what is it? am i indecent?

you know you shouldn't take anything i say seriously.

you should have some fun while you still can.

if you're trying to teach me something, i can't see what it is.

quite frankly, it all just seems like such a waste.

i remember you, you know.

you used to be out all the time.

please don't let me fall.

nothing worthwhile comes easily.

it was no small thing. it meant something.

never waste your pain.

do you mind if i sit?

that, as they say, is how the cookie crumbles.

how will i know what to do?

sorry, did i get you out of bed?

i just wanted to see how you are.

we could see you were struggling and we did nothing.

i'm so sorry. i was unkind to you.

you made me think of things i didn't want to.

you must be the loneliest girl i've ever seen.

you have no idea how dull it is to be dying.

[notmorbid]

the twisted ones.

dialogue prompts from the twisted ones by t. kingfisher. 

it’s okay. i wouldn’t believe me, either.

i know, i’m the worst.

well, there’s a good coffee shop. and a bad diner.

don’t stay where you’re not wanted.

if someone says they’re done with me, i take them at their word.

was that a laugh or a sob?

maybe everything would have happened anyway/

it’s in my head again, like a song that keeps replaying.

i don’t think you even realize you’re doing it, sometimes.

’home’ is the wrong word.

i took a nap in the woods.

it’s okay. i won’t hold you to it.

i had no idea it was this bad.

be careful. there are things in the woods around here.

i’ve been sleeping in the woods again.

i’m not scared, i just don’t like it.

life’s too short for people who throw fits over little things.

i bet it’s aliens. it’s always aliens.

i’m sorry. i should have done more.

it’s not okay, but it is what it is.

jesus. you being murdered?

families run on optimistic lies, sometimes.

i wanted so very much for it to not be real.

you want to talk about it? should i call someone for you?

you don’t seem the type to melt down for no reason.

this place is full of freaks, and i say that as one of them.

if you talk about it, you just sound crazy. so we don’t talk about it much.

i figured i’d come sit up with you, tonight.

i get sarcastic when i’m scared.

i won’t let you stay here alone.

don’t argue. i got a will all made out and notarized.

you’re doing a dumb thing for a good reason.

i’d be lying if i said i wasn’t a little bit curious.

looks like we don’t have much choice.

i should’ve known better than to let either of us get into this.

a+ coping mechanism.

look, being terrified makes me hungry.

how are you not having a complete breakdown?

what right do i have to be so broken?