heiyans:
starter : this is a pocket, not a stab wound
𝐁𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐃𝐎𝐌 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐅𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐋𝐄, 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐋𝐘 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊 𝐎𝐅 𝐀𝐑𝐓 that billows over him like satin sheets upon cotton shirts. smoke wisps around jiahao like makeshift halos under the pale moonlight, the faint smell of oil and litter wafting through the air — cause the back of a Denny’s is a PERFECT place to have a smoke and have a drug deal !
ahhh … but his dealer is late … terribly late, horrifically late ! TEN MINUTES have passed and there isn’t a single flare of headlights indicating his arrival. jiahao considers shooting him on the spot and watching him writhe when he grabs his end of the deal, not a single FLICKER OF MERCY behind his eyes as bullets pierce the other man’s kneecaps and leave him for the wolves to tear apart.
his train of thought comes to a halt when soft footsteps amid the cold night grow heavier with every step towards him. OCHRE TRACING LIGHT from the stars narrow at the figure, knuckles tightening and fingers curling around the rough handle of a knife kept under his coat.
— a quick stab between the ribs, palm against their throat and eyes bearing into their own.
jiahao blinks once — twice — a promising third time before jumping back, pulling the blade out. ❛ o - oh . . OH ! I’M SO SORRY ! ! ! ❜
his eyes widen in the face of someone who is definitely not a drug dealer as jiahao looks at the knife, then at the open wound again. he plunges it back into their chest, just to stop the bleeding. ❛ are you alright ? ❜
@endblight
it’s a cold night, and jabberwock was hungry, and what better place to go than denny’s ! it’s hunting grounds, fresh meat walking in and out, distracted by the dark and the smell of cheap food. so perhaps he’s already somewhat covered in blood. some poor bastard got jumped on, his throat ripped out, and has been left in the corner for someone to find; jabber’s sure it’ll work out! it’s someone elses problem now, afer all. he’s not hungry anymore, and life’s fine.
except - when is jabber ever not hungry? a jabber who’s content is like... well! it’s unthinkable ! and with all the easy prey around... he’s still on the hunt. so he turns the corner, mouth still bloody with viscera and gore, yawning with red teeth that gleam in the moonlight, and taps his mouth absently, and then - and then -
gets a knife in the stomach.
one moment - the pain is fleeting and absent, and he’s more shocked into silence by the surprise of what just happened. it’s not like he’s never been stabbed before. it’s more... well. usually he’s done something to deserve it. like kill someones family in front of them, or something, and he’s certain no one saw him eat that last person. he was sure. whatever. he guesses his next meal has come looking for him, when -
oh. well, that’s a first for sure. he’s never been apologised to for being stabbed. what the fuck.
“ i’m fine. ugh, i hate having pale sweaters, this is gonna stain! ” like it wasn’t already stained with red from his meal. he pulls the knife out, lets the blood flow, and it only takes a moment for the wound to close up. there’s a hole in his sweater now, but... whatever. he spins the knife absently between two fingers, watches with wary but curious eyes at the stranger, and then, absently plunges the knife back into the man’s arm. “ there. watch where you put that thing. someone might get hurt. ”
