Think Of The Bombs They Built

Fun Ghoul RP account (this is a side blog, and I'm still getting the hang of things, your patience is appreciated🙏)

[xx-party-poison-xx]

Midnight Drive, RP @funghoulsayboom

“Did you see that?” It was a small zip through a calm starry desert night. The reds hair ruffling as slight breeze swept past, carrying with it the smell of distant camp fire…but the sands retain heat after the blistering day and release it slowly, so it’s warm out, no need for anything warmer than their usual outfits.

But it’s a night Party is glad for, because he’s sitting on a blanket up on the diner roof, a few pillows strewn around and Fun Ghoul laying on his back with his head in the reds lap. Party’s fingers working their way through his dark locks of hair. Jet had set this up, arranged soft things up there in such a way that it gave the two some private time outside and not inside, where they’d mostly stayed away from the world while healing and recovering. Hell, if you asked him Party might even as gone as far as calling it a date. Soft muffled music playing in the diner below because Kobra and Jet are still home, although they’ve been playing a board-game, something old and rare that Dr D had loaned them- with Grace, and probably still are, as another shooting star zipps over head.

“…Starshine.”

Party Poison starts, as he looks down with a gentle smile, at the face of the man who’s head rests in his lap. “..If you keep looking at me, you’ll miss everything cool.”

[funghoulsayboom]

"You and I have different definitions of the word 'cool', angel. If you ask me, I'm getting the better end of the deal here." The words come out fairly smooth, a lot smoother than he would think he has the ability to be. Ghoul is a flirt, and he's good at it, especially when it comes to Party, but he's still surprised with himself at times.

Though it's not like he really has to try, anyway. He and Party are an established couple at this point. Flirting as a means to get this man's attention is a moot point by now. He always has it, in one way or the other. Amazing, considering that he's fairly certain that half the time, his boyfriend isn't even really looking at him. It's like he just knows what the smaller man is up to.

The red-head isn't wrong about missing cool things, by the way. They're having a satellite shower, tonight. Third one this week, which says something about the state of things up in the atmosphere, but Ghoul isn't sure what it's saying necessarily. Just that it's not looking good. At least that's what he would assume, were he a man of science. Which he is not. Unless you count explosives. He's definitely a man of explosives.

The night air is just warm enough that Ghoul hasn't snatched the blanket from beneath them to roll up in like an oversized caterpillar, and the breeze itself is warm as well. It's indecently comfortable, all of it. The way the music is wafting up from inside, the muffled chatter of Kobra, and Jet, and the Girl. The way he's got his head laid in Party's lap, and he's able to gaze up into that face he loves so much. Or look at the sky, he's got his pick, really, but no matter what he decides on, the view is breathtaking. Always is.

[xx-party-poison-xx]

Well at least Fun Ghoul finds him cool, Party couldn’t really ask for a better outcome than that. Because what kind of person pulls you through hell several times in the last three months. A cool one, apparently.

Party leans over, down to Ghoul’s face where he can place an upside down kiss to his boyfriends lips, shit even thinking of Ghoul now with that word makes the red all kinds of giddy. But his eyes linger when he rises again, there on where he knows that brand sit, still red and angry under the fabric. They’ve been doing all they can but it’s still likely to scar, and Party had smashed the shit out of the taken white ray gun that the others had wanted to keep as a spare but the red refused to have anywhere inside the diner.

“You having a good time though?” Party felt the need to ask, star gazing, wondering what’s out there, wondering if the people on the space station were still a live after all these years, it was always more his thing than Ghoul’s. Honestly though Party *could* improve on the fun but they’d practically promised Jet they’d not do anything out in the exposed open, even if on the roof is an interesting locati- Another few satellites fall, all around the same time and his eyes are on them, watching their descent to earth. Surely there aren’t that many left by now? But given the state of things going before the war there’s probably a hell of a lot more than he realises.

Then Suddenly there’s an even brighter streak, clear over their heads, in an easterly direction with a low screaming noise, how Party did’t see it till it almost landed on them would be anyones guess, but it hits land somewhere on the mid horizon, illuminating the dark briefly on its impact.

[funghoulsayboom]

Every kiss feels more and more familiar, but somehow they never grow boring. Everytime their lips meet is a little spark of excitement somewhere in his stomach, and Ghoul is incredibly grateful for that. There were a few days where he felt like he might wither away any time Party touched him.

It had felt so much like BLI had stolen yet another beautiful thing out form under him. Their time at the bunker, the clarity they'd finally got between the two of them... Their names...

But it had faded. Not a ton, but at least a little. At least enough that Ghoul could let himself breathe. Enjoy the fact that this thing, the thing between the two of them, BLI hadn't been able to take that.

"When you're involved, knucklehead, I'm always having a good time," Ghoul tells him easily, and he's about to elaborate on that, maybe even pull the other man for another kiss, but it's at that moment that light comes blazing through the sky.

Three small streaks, and then a flash that lights up the entire night sky for a brief, and shining moment, before it tears off to the east and lands somewhere with a crash. The noise is a distant sort of boom, but the weirder part still is the way that the are around the crash sit lights up in a bizarre, otherworldly sort of greenish blue.

There's silence for a moment, and Fun Ghoul lifts himself up to sitting. No longer in Party's lap, he turns his head as slowly as he can so he doesn't irritate his neck, and looks back behind him at his counterpart. "That doesn't look good, does it?"

[xx-party-poison-xx]

While Ghoul might be worried, Party’s expression is more that of a dangerous childlike wonder. Like the gears in his head are turning and he’s considering doing something potentially stupid. ”That looks exciting.”

That’s the most exciting thing he’s seen since the storm, and compared to Shrike that storm hadn’t even been that bad really. “I don’t know how far away that is- but I’m up for a drive, what about you?” He knows Ghoul would come with him regardless of if he really wanted too or not, because they’re never usually that far from each other at all these days. Party rises to his feet, stretching, but not too hard, as his ribs are still pretty fucked up but it’s enough to feel like he hasn’t been sitting too long in one place. They just have to drive off road in a direct line he thinks, towards the glow in the horizon and hope no one else has the same idea. Jet and Kobra are going to kill them for leaving the diner when they’re both still looking like they were dragged in the wars but if the red dosnt do something fun, and not just do Fun. He might actually go a bit more crazy.

[funghoulsayboom]

Party is very much right. Whether or not Ghoul wants to go, isn't part of the equation. If Party goes, so will he. He even goes as far as to groan just watching the other killjoy get to his feet. Here we go again, he thinks, but he's got a begrudging smile on his face as he slowly stands as well.

"You are aware that your brother is going to kill the both of us, yeah?" He asks, clarifying that his boyfriend is fully cognoscente of choice he's making. "Like, might blast holes in the tires while we're driving away levels of pissed off that we're about to run off looking like we got chewed up by an overpowered massage gun? And in the middle of the night! He might even strangle me, specifically, for not stopping you."

The last line is... Not entirely too far fetched. Kobra Kid is under some wildly misguided idea that Ghoul is the level headed, consequence evaluating, non-impulsive decision maker of the two of them. In all reality, Party is probably closer to that description, and that's using the description itself very lightly. But at least Party hasn't ever pulled solo heist missions out of his pocket at random. He is smart enough to take back up.

[xx-party-poison-xx]

Party laughs, offering Ghoul a hand up, from his guess it should be out by the airport, that abandoned strip of commercial air land, where the planes no longer arrive and depart. The deserts taken back most of it but you can still find bits of plane out there among the rocks.

Once the smaller killjoy is on his feet the red, moves the pillows and the blanket to one side of the roof where any passing winds can’t blow them away before someone comes to get them inside. ”it’s just a shooting star, babe- where’s your sense of adventure gone….what’s the worst than can happen?” Well aren’t they famous last words if anyones ever said them. His hand moves across Ghoul’s waist as he passed behind him, heading towards the ladder at the side of the diner roof, he slides down it near effortlessly and scuffs the ground lightly on landing.

The Am’s keys should still be tucked into the drivers side footwell, just by the door, where he keeps them after having lost the damn things several times in the past when the group really needed to use the car…sure, leaving it unlocked is basically asking for it to be stolen but if anyone took Party Poison’s car they’d be stupid. He’s careful to quietly open the door with the softest of clicks and is glad for the fact he’d oiled the hinges recently and now she no longer squeaks on use.

[funghoulsayboom]

"My sense of adventure died about 4 missions ago, dumbass," Ghoul grumbles, but he waits to do so until Party's already walked away. No need laying that answer onto the red's already very heavy head. No, he'll keep his new found nightmares to himself for the time being.

The second part, he has no trouble hissing into Party's ear when he has also shimmied down the edge of the building and caught up with his boyfriend next to the car.

"The worst that can happen is that we walk ourselves into some weird radiation field and disintegrate on contact or some shit. I'm sure we can find something to go wrong, we always manage somehow." He tells Party, but he's already walking around the car to the passenger side anyway. There's still this weird pulsing light on the horizon and he would be bold face lying both to himself and to the man that he loves if he tried to say he isn't itching to figure out why.

[xx-party-poison-xx]

If the sense of adventure is dead then my is Ghoul getting into the car. Party gets into the drivers side, laughing a little as he listens to Fun Ghoul talk.

”we wouldn’t disintegrate- maybe just get turned a little inside out.” Gosh he;s only joking, but he’d heard of that happening with some ‘joy once and a fog anomaly beyond the limits of the mapped zones. Party’s baby rumbles to life beneath his hands once the keys have been taken from the footwell, seat belt clicked into place because he’s going off road and his ribs are already pretty bruised. But he can understand Oliver’s worry, they’ve been having a string of bad luck recently and even Party is hoping this isn’t going to be a continuation of that. The red can’t even promise that Ghoul would be safe with him anymore because of the amount of times he’s failed to protect the other man. “We gotta go though Starshine- get your seatbelt on.” Because the car is only so quiet and he can see the shadows of the others getting up from the game table.

[funghoulsayboom]

"Let 'er rip, angel," Ghoul says, clicking himself into the seat, looking out through the window at the menacing shadows inside the diner. The way he watches the skinner one nearly knock over a table makes him hiss under his breath. Kobra really is gonna fucking kill them.

"Go, Felix, Go!" He urges, patting nervously at the dashboard.

[xx-party-poison-xx]

Midnight Drive, RP @funghoulsayboom

“Did you see that?” It was a small zip through a calm starry desert night. The reds hair ruffling as slight breeze swept past, carrying with it the smell of distant camp fire…but the sands retain heat after the blistering day and release it slowly, so it’s warm out, no need for anything warmer than their usual outfits.

But it’s a night Party is glad for, because he’s sitting on a blanket up on the diner roof, a few pillows strewn around and Fun Ghoul laying on his back with his head in the reds lap. Party’s fingers working their way through his dark locks of hair. Jet had set this up, arranged soft things up there in such a way that it gave the two some private time outside and not inside, where they’d mostly stayed away from the world while healing and recovering. Hell, if you asked him Party might even as gone as far as calling it a date. Soft muffled music playing in the diner below because Kobra and Jet are still home, although they’ve been playing a board-game, something old and rare that Dr D had loaned them- with Grace, and probably still are, as another shooting star zipps over head.

“…Starshine.”

Party Poison starts, as he looks down with a gentle smile, at the face of the man who’s head rests in his lap. “..If you keep looking at me, you’ll miss everything cool.”

[funghoulsayboom]

"You and I have different definitions of the word 'cool', angel. If you ask me, I'm getting the better end of the deal here." The words come out fairly smooth, a lot smoother than he would think he has the ability to be. Ghoul is a flirt, and he's good at it, especially when it comes to Party, but he's still surprised with himself at times.

Though it's not like he really has to try, anyway. He and Party are an established couple at this point. Flirting as a means to get this man's attention is a moot point by now. He always has it, in one way or the other. Amazing, considering that he's fairly certain that half the time, his boyfriend isn't even really looking at him. It's like he just knows what the smaller man is up to.

The red-head isn't wrong about missing cool things, by the way. They're having a satellite shower, tonight. Third one this week, which says something about the state of things up in the atmosphere, but Ghoul isn't sure what it's saying necessarily. Just that it's not looking good. At least that's what he would assume, were he a man of science. Which he is not. Unless you count explosives. He's definitely a man of explosives.

The night air is just warm enough that Ghoul hasn't snatched the blanket from beneath them to roll up in like an oversized caterpillar, and the breeze itself is warm as well. It's indecently comfortable, all of it. The way the music is wafting up from inside, the muffled chatter of Kobra, and Jet, and the Girl. The way he's got his head laid in Party's lap, and he's able to gaze up into that face he loves so much. Or look at the sky, he's got his pick, really, but no matter what he decides on, the view is breathtaking. Always is.

[xx-party-poison-xx]

Well at least Fun Ghoul finds him cool, Party couldn’t really ask for a better outcome than that. Because what kind of person pulls you through hell several times in the last three months. A cool one, apparently.

Party leans over, down to Ghoul’s face where he can place an upside down kiss to his boyfriends lips, shit even thinking of Ghoul now with that word makes the red all kinds of giddy. But his eyes linger when he rises again, there on where he knows that brand sit, still red and angry under the fabric. They’ve been doing all they can but it’s still likely to scar, and Party had smashed the shit out of the taken white ray gun that the others had wanted to keep as a spare but the red refused to have anywhere inside the diner.

“You having a good time though?” Party felt the need to ask, star gazing, wondering what’s out there, wondering if the people on the space station were still a live after all these years, it was always more his thing than Ghoul’s. Honestly though Party *could* improve on the fun but they’d practically promised Jet they’d not do anything out in the exposed open, even if on the roof is an interesting locati- Another few satellites fall, all around the same time and his eyes are on them, watching their descent to earth. Surely there aren’t that many left by now? But given the state of things going before the war there’s probably a hell of a lot more than he realises.

Then Suddenly there’s an even brighter streak, clear over their heads, in an easterly direction with a low screaming noise, how Party did’t see it till it almost landed on them would be anyones guess, but it hits land somewhere on the mid horizon, illuminating the dark briefly on its impact.

[funghoulsayboom]

Every kiss feels more and more familiar, but somehow they never grow boring. Everytime their lips meet is a little spark of excitement somewhere in his stomach, and Ghoul is incredibly grateful for that. There were a few days where he felt like he might wither away any time Party touched him.

It had felt so much like BLI had stolen yet another beautiful thing out form under him. Their time at the bunker, the clarity they'd finally got between the two of them... Their names...

But it had faded. Not a ton, but at least a little. At least enough that Ghoul could let himself breathe. Enjoy the fact that this thing, the thing between the two of them, BLI hadn't been able to take that.

"When you're involved, knucklehead, I'm always having a good time," Ghoul tells him easily, and he's about to elaborate on that, maybe even pull the other man for another kiss, but it's at that moment that light comes blazing through the sky.

Three small streaks, and then a flash that lights up the entire night sky for a brief, and shining moment, before it tears off to the east and lands somewhere with a crash. The noise is a distant sort of boom, but the weirder part still is the way that the are around the crash sit lights up in a bizarre, otherworldly sort of greenish blue.

There's silence for a moment, and Fun Ghoul lifts himself up to sitting. No longer in Party's lap, he turns his head as slowly as he can so he doesn't irritate his neck, and looks back behind him at his counterpart. "That doesn't look good, does it?"

[xx-party-poison-xx]

While Ghoul might be worried, Party’s expression is more that of a dangerous childlike wonder. Like the gears in his head are turning and he’s considering doing something potentially stupid. ”That looks exciting.”

That’s the most exciting thing he’s seen since the storm, and compared to Shrike that storm hadn’t even been that bad really. “I don’t know how far away that is- but I’m up for a drive, what about you?” He knows Ghoul would come with him regardless of if he really wanted too or not, because they’re never usually that far from each other at all these days. Party rises to his feet, stretching, but not too hard, as his ribs are still pretty fucked up but it’s enough to feel like he hasn’t been sitting too long in one place. They just have to drive off road in a direct line he thinks, towards the glow in the horizon and hope no one else has the same idea. Jet and Kobra are going to kill them for leaving the diner when they’re both still looking like they were dragged in the wars but if the red dosnt do something fun, and not just do Fun. He might actually go a bit more crazy.

[funghoulsayboom]

Party is very much right. Whether or not Ghoul wants to go, isn't part of the equation. If Party goes, so will he. He even goes as far as to groan just watching the other killjoy get to his feet. Here we go again, he thinks, but he's got a begrudging smile on his face as he slowly stands as well.

"You are aware that your brother is going to kill the both of us, yeah?" He asks, clarifying that his boyfriend is fully cognoscente of choice he's making. "Like, might blast holes in the tires while we're driving away levels of pissed off that we're about to run off looking like we got chewed up by an overpowered massage gun? And in the middle of the night! He might even strangle me, specifically, for not stopping you."

The last line is... Not entirely too far fetched. Kobra Kid is under some wildly misguided idea that Ghoul is the level headed, consequence evaluating, non-impulsive decision maker of the two of them. In all reality, Party is probably closer to that description, and that's using the description itself very lightly. But at least Party hasn't ever pulled solo heist missions out of his pocket at random. He is smart enough to take back up.

[xx-party-poison-xx]

Party laughs, offering Ghoul a hand up, from his guess it should be out by the airport, that abandoned strip of commercial air land, where the planes no longer arrive and depart. The deserts taken back most of it but you can still find bits of plane out there among the rocks.

Once the smaller killjoy is on his feet the red, moves the pillows and the blanket to one side of the roof where any passing winds can’t blow them away before someone comes to get them inside. ”it’s just a shooting star, babe- where’s your sense of adventure gone….what’s the worst than can happen?” Well aren’t they famous last words if anyones ever said them. His hand moves across Ghoul’s waist as he passed behind him, heading towards the ladder at the side of the diner roof, he slides down it near effortlessly and scuffs the ground lightly on landing.

The Am’s keys should still be tucked into the drivers side footwell, just by the door, where he keeps them after having lost the damn things several times in the past when the group really needed to use the car…sure, leaving it unlocked is basically asking for it to be stolen but if anyone took Party Poison’s car they’d be stupid. He’s careful to quietly open the door with the softest of clicks and is glad for the fact he’d oiled the hinges recently and now she no longer squeaks on use.

[funghoulsayboom]

"My sense of adventure died about 4 missions ago, dumbass," Ghoul grumbles, but he waits to do so until Party's already walked away. No need laying that answer onto the red's already very heavy head. No, he'll keep his new found nightmares to himself for the time being.

The second part, he has no trouble hissing into Party's ear when he has also shimmied down the edge of the building and caught up with his boyfriend next to the car.

"The worst that can happen is that we walk ourselves into some weird radiation field and disintegrate on contact or some shit. I'm sure we can find something to go wrong, we always manage somehow." He tells Party, but he's already walking around the car to the passenger side anyway. There's still this weird pulsing light on the horizon and he would be bold face lying both to himself and to the man that he loves if he tried to say he isn't itching to figure out why.

[xx-party-poison-xx]

Midnight Drive, RP @funghoulsayboom

“Did you see that?” It was a small zip through a calm starry desert night. The reds hair ruffling as slight breeze swept past, carrying with it the smell of distant camp fire…but the sands retain heat after the blistering day and release it slowly, so it’s warm out, no need for anything warmer than their usual outfits.

But it’s a night Party is glad for, because he’s sitting on a blanket up on the diner roof, a few pillows strewn around and Fun Ghoul laying on his back with his head in the reds lap. Party’s fingers working their way through his dark locks of hair. Jet had set this up, arranged soft things up there in such a way that it gave the two some private time outside and not inside, where they’d mostly stayed away from the world while healing and recovering. Hell, if you asked him Party might even as gone as far as calling it a date. Soft muffled music playing in the diner below because Kobra and Jet are still home, although they’ve been playing a board-game, something old and rare that Dr D had loaned them- with Grace, and probably still are, as another shooting star zipps over head.

“…Starshine.”

Party Poison starts, as he looks down with a gentle smile, at the face of the man who’s head rests in his lap. “..If you keep looking at me, you’ll miss everything cool.”

[funghoulsayboom]

"You and I have different definitions of the word 'cool', angel. If you ask me, I'm getting the better end of the deal here." The words come out fairly smooth, a lot smoother than he would think he has the ability to be. Ghoul is a flirt, and he's good at it, especially when it comes to Party, but he's still surprised with himself at times.

Though it's not like he really has to try, anyway. He and Party are an established couple at this point. Flirting as a means to get this man's attention is a moot point by now. He always has it, in one way or the other. Amazing, considering that he's fairly certain that half the time, his boyfriend isn't even really looking at him. It's like he just knows what the smaller man is up to.

The red-head isn't wrong about missing cool things, by the way. They're having a satellite shower, tonight. Third one this week, which says something about the state of things up in the atmosphere, but Ghoul isn't sure what it's saying necessarily. Just that it's not looking good. At least that's what he would assume, were he a man of science. Which he is not. Unless you count explosives. He's definitely a man of explosives.

The night air is just warm enough that Ghoul hasn't snatched the blanket from beneath them to roll up in like an oversized caterpillar, and the breeze itself is warm as well. It's indecently comfortable, all of it. The way the music is wafting up from inside, the muffled chatter of Kobra, and Jet, and the Girl. The way he's got his head laid in Party's lap, and he's able to gaze up into that face he loves so much. Or look at the sky, he's got his pick, really, but no matter what he decides on, the view is breathtaking. Always is.

[xx-party-poison-xx]

Well at least Fun Ghoul finds him cool, Party couldn’t really ask for a better outcome than that. Because what kind of person pulls you through hell several times in the last three months. A cool one, apparently.

Party leans over, down to Ghoul’s face where he can place an upside down kiss to his boyfriends lips, shit even thinking of Ghoul now with that word makes the red all kinds of giddy. But his eyes linger when he rises again, there on where he knows that brand sit, still red and angry under the fabric. They’ve been doing all they can but it’s still likely to scar, and Party had smashed the shit out of the taken white ray gun that the others had wanted to keep as a spare but the red refused to have anywhere inside the diner.

“You having a good time though?” Party felt the need to ask, star gazing, wondering what’s out there, wondering if the people on the space station were still a live after all these years, it was always more his thing than Ghoul’s. Honestly though Party *could* improve on the fun but they’d practically promised Jet they’d not do anything out in the exposed open, even if on the roof is an interesting locati- Another few satellites fall, all around the same time and his eyes are on them, watching their descent to earth. Surely there aren’t that many left by now? But given the state of things going before the war there’s probably a hell of a lot more than he realises.

Then Suddenly there’s an even brighter streak, clear over their heads, in an easterly direction with a low screaming noise, how Party did’t see it till it almost landed on them would be anyones guess, but it hits land somewhere on the mid horizon, illuminating the dark briefly on its impact.

[funghoulsayboom]

Every kiss feels more and more familiar, but somehow they never grow boring. Everytime their lips meet is a little spark of excitement somewhere in his stomach, and Ghoul is incredibly grateful for that. There were a few days where he felt like he might wither away any time Party touched him.

It had felt so much like BLI had stolen yet another beautiful thing out form under him. Their time at the bunker, the clarity they'd finally got between the two of them... Their names...

But it had faded. Not a ton, but at least a little. At least enough that Ghoul could let himself breathe. Enjoy the fact that this thing, the thing between the two of them, BLI hadn't been able to take that.

"When you're involved, knucklehead, I'm always having a good time," Ghoul tells him easily, and he's about to elaborate on that, maybe even pull the other man for another kiss, but it's at that moment that light comes blazing through the sky.

Three small streaks, and then a flash that lights up the entire night sky for a brief, and shining moment, before it tears off to the east and lands somewhere with a crash. The noise is a distant sort of boom, but the weirder part still is the way that the are around the crash sit lights up in a bizarre, otherworldly sort of greenish blue.

There's silence for a moment, and Fun Ghoul lifts himself up to sitting. No longer in Party's lap, he turns his head as slowly as he can so he doesn't irritate his neck, and looks back behind him at his counterpart. "That doesn't look good, does it?"

[xx-party-poison-xx]

While Ghoul might be worried, Party’s expression is more that of a dangerous childlike wonder. Like the gears in his head are turning and he’s considering doing something potentially stupid. ”That looks exciting.”

That’s the most exciting thing he’s seen since the storm, and compared to Shrike that storm hadn’t even been that bad really. “I don’t know how far away that is- but I’m up for a drive, what about you?” He knows Ghoul would come with him regardless of if he really wanted too or not, because they’re never usually that far from each other at all these days. Party rises to his feet, stretching, but not too hard, as his ribs are still pretty fucked up but it’s enough to feel like he hasn’t been sitting too long in one place. They just have to drive off road in a direct line he thinks, towards the glow in the horizon and hope no one else has the same idea. Jet and Kobra are going to kill them for leaving the diner when they’re both still looking like they were dragged in the wars but if the red dosnt do something fun, and not just do Fun. He might actually go a bit more crazy.

[funghoulsayboom]

Party is very much right. Whether or not Ghoul wants to go, isn't part of the equation. If Party goes, so will he. He even goes as far as to groan just watching the other killjoy get to his feet. Here we go again, he thinks, but he's got a begrudging smile on his face as he slowly stands as well.

"You are aware that your brother is going to kill the both of us, yeah?" He asks, clarifying that his boyfriend is fully cognoscente of choice he's making. "Like, might blast holes in the tires while we're driving away levels of pissed off that we're about to run off looking like we got chewed up by an overpowered massage gun? And in the middle of the night! He might even strangle me, specifically, for not stopping you."

The last line is... Not entirely too far fetched. Kobra Kid is under some wildly misguided idea that Ghoul is the level headed, consequence evaluating, non-impulsive decision maker of the two of them. In all reality, Party is probably closer to that description, and that's using the description itself very lightly. But at least Party hasn't ever pulled solo heist missions out of his pocket at random. He is smart enough to take back up.

[xx-party-poison-xx]

Midnight Drive, RP @funghoulsayboom

“Did you see that?” It was a small zip through a calm starry desert night. The reds hair ruffling as slight breeze swept past, carrying with it the smell of distant camp fire…but the sands retain heat after the blistering day and release it slowly, so it’s warm out, no need for anything warmer than their usual outfits.

But it’s a night Party is glad for, because he’s sitting on a blanket up on the diner roof, a few pillows strewn around and Fun Ghoul laying on his back with his head in the reds lap. Party’s fingers working their way through his dark locks of hair. Jet had set this up, arranged soft things up there in such a way that it gave the two some private time outside and not inside, where they’d mostly stayed away from the world while healing and recovering. Hell, if you asked him Party might even as gone as far as calling it a date. Soft muffled music playing in the diner below because Kobra and Jet are still home, although they’ve been playing a board-game, something old and rare that Dr D had loaned them- with Grace, and probably still are, as another shooting star zipps over head.

“…Starshine.”

Party Poison starts, as he looks down with a gentle smile, at the face of the man who’s head rests in his lap. “..If you keep looking at me, you’ll miss everything cool.”

[funghoulsayboom]

"You and I have different definitions of the word 'cool', angel. If you ask me, I'm getting the better end of the deal here." The words come out fairly smooth, a lot smoother than he would think he has the ability to be. Ghoul is a flirt, and he's good at it, especially when it comes to Party, but he's still surprised with himself at times.

Though it's not like he really has to try, anyway. He and Party are an established couple at this point. Flirting as a means to get this man's attention is a moot point by now. He always has it, in one way or the other. Amazing, considering that he's fairly certain that half the time, his boyfriend isn't even really looking at him. It's like he just knows what the smaller man is up to.

The red-head isn't wrong about missing cool things, by the way. They're having a satellite shower, tonight. Third one this week, which says something about the state of things up in the atmosphere, but Ghoul isn't sure what it's saying necessarily. Just that it's not looking good. At least that's what he would assume, were he a man of science. Which he is not. Unless you count explosives. He's definitely a man of explosives.

The night air is just warm enough that Ghoul hasn't snatched the blanket from beneath them to roll up in like an oversized caterpillar, and the breeze itself is warm as well. It's indecently comfortable, all of it. The way the music is wafting up from inside, the muffled chatter of Kobra, and Jet, and the Girl. The way he's got his head laid in Party's lap, and he's able to gaze up into that face he loves so much. Or look at the sky, he's got his pick, really, but no matter what he decides on, the view is breathtaking. Always is.

[xx-party-poison-xx]

Well at least Fun Ghoul finds him cool, Party couldn’t really ask for a better outcome than that. Because what kind of person pulls you through hell several times in the last three months. A cool one, apparently.

Party leans over, down to Ghoul’s face where he can place an upside down kiss to his boyfriends lips, shit even thinking of Ghoul now with that word makes the red all kinds of giddy. But his eyes linger when he rises again, there on where he knows that brand sit, still red and angry under the fabric. They’ve been doing all they can but it’s still likely to scar, and Party had smashed the shit out of the taken white ray gun that the others had wanted to keep as a spare but the red refused to have anywhere inside the diner.

“You having a good time though?” Party felt the need to ask, star gazing, wondering what’s out there, wondering if the people on the space station were still a live after all these years, it was always more his thing than Ghoul’s. Honestly though Party *could* improve on the fun but they’d practically promised Jet they’d not do anything out in the exposed open, even if on the roof is an interesting locati- Another few satellites fall, all around the same time and his eyes are on them, watching their descent to earth. Surely there aren’t that many left by now? But given the state of things going before the war there’s probably a hell of a lot more than he realises.

Then Suddenly there’s an even brighter streak, clear over their heads, in an easterly direction with a low screaming noise, how Party did’t see it till it almost landed on them would be anyones guess, but it hits land somewhere on the mid horizon, illuminating the dark briefly on its impact.

[funghoulsayboom]

Every kiss feels more and more familiar, but somehow they never grow boring. Everytime their lips meet is a little spark of excitement somewhere in his stomach, and Ghoul is incredibly grateful for that. There were a few days where he felt like he might wither away any time Party touched him.

It had felt so much like BLI had stolen yet another beautiful thing out form under him. Their time at the bunker, the clarity they'd finally got between the two of them... Their names...

But it had faded. Not a ton, but at least a little. At least enough that Ghoul could let himself breathe. Enjoy the fact that this thing, the thing between the two of them, BLI hadn't been able to take that.

"When you're involved, knucklehead, I'm always having a good time," Ghoul tells him easily, and he's about to elaborate on that, maybe even pull the other man for another kiss, but it's at that moment that light comes blazing through the sky.

Three small streaks, and then a flash that lights up the entire night sky for a brief, and shining moment, before it tears off to the east and lands somewhere with a crash. The noise is a distant sort of boom, but the weirder part still is the way that the are around the crash sit lights up in a bizarre, otherworldly sort of greenish blue.

There's silence for a moment, and Fun Ghoul lifts himself up to sitting. No longer in Party's lap, he turns his head as slowly as he can so he doesn't irritate his neck, and looks back behind him at his counterpart. "That doesn't look good, does it?"

[xx-party-poison-xx]

Midnight Drive, RP @funghoulsayboom

“Did you see that?” It was a small zip through a calm starry desert night. The reds hair ruffling as slight breeze swept past, carrying with it the smell of distant camp fire…but the sands retain heat after the blistering day and release it slowly, so it’s warm out, no need for anything warmer than their usual outfits.

But it’s a night Party is glad for, because he’s sitting on a blanket up on the diner roof, a few pillows strewn around and Fun Ghoul laying on his back with his head in the reds lap. Party’s fingers working their way through his dark locks of hair. Jet had set this up, arranged soft things up there in such a way that it gave the two some private time outside and not inside, where they’d mostly stayed away from the world while healing and recovering. Hell, if you asked him Party might even as gone as far as calling it a date. Soft muffled music playing in the diner below because Kobra and Jet are still home, although they’ve been playing a board-game, something old and rare that Dr D had loaned them- with Grace, and probably still are, as another shooting star zipps over head.

“…Starshine.”

Party Poison starts, as he looks down with a gentle smile, at the face of the man who’s head rests in his lap. “..If you keep looking at me, you’ll miss everything cool.”

[funghoulsayboom]

"You and I have different definitions of the word 'cool', angel. If you ask me, I'm getting the better end of the deal here." The words come out fairly smooth, a lot smoother than he would think he has the ability to be. Ghoul is a flirt, and he's good at it, especially when it comes to Party, but he's still surprised with himself at times.

Though it's not like he really has to try, anyway. He and Party are an established couple at this point. Flirting as a means to get this man's attention is a moot point by now. He always has it, in one way or the other. Amazing, considering that he's fairly certain that half the time, his boyfriend isn't even really looking at him. It's like he just knows what the smaller man is up to.

The red-head isn't wrong about missing cool things, by the way. They're having a satellite shower, tonight. Third one this week, which says something about the state of things up in the atmosphere, but Ghoul isn't sure what it's saying necessarily. Just that it's not looking good. At least that's what he would assume, were he a man of science. Which he is not. Unless you count explosives. He's definitely a man of explosives.

The night air is just warm enough that Ghoul hasn't snatched the blanket from beneath them to roll up in like an oversized caterpillar, and the breeze itself is warm as well. It's indecently comfortable, all of it. The way the music is wafting up from inside, the muffled chatter of Kobra, and Jet, and the Girl. The way he's got his head laid in Party's lap, and he's able to gaze up into that face he loves so much. Or look at the sky, he's got his pick, really, but no matter what he decides on, the view is breathtaking. Always is.

[funghoulsayboom]

Thunderheads Pt. 4

(Another continuation of the original thread, Pt 3 can be found here!) @xx-party-poison-xx

It's all a flash of red suddenly, a blur, the sound of a blaster going off, screaming, a body slumping, and then he's being released, the dracs backing off, and Ghoul takes the moment grasp desperately at his throat, which is bleeding at an alarming rate onto his shirt. He can't tell how deep it is.

"Party--" he starts, but he cuts himself off, because now is not the fucking time. Words later. Actions now.

He's rushing up onto his feet and he darts to the place that Shrike had stored their guns and holsters. Ghoul grabs both of them, powering his own blaster on and pointing it out in front of him, shifting the site between the dracs who have all backed down.

Party has Shrike pinned to the floor, and he's covered in blood from the drac he's just taken down. He looks dangerous, like an animal. Oliver loves him.

"The car." Is all he says, passing close to where the man is kneeling on the ground. He hands him his gun and walks backwards toward the Trans Am, keeping his own weapon trained on each drac in turn as he goes.

[xx-party-poison-xx]

“It’s open” Party spoke, addressing Fun Ghoul without taking his eyes off Shrike, neither does he ease the pressure on the knife. He can’t see Ghoul’s throat damage from here, but he’d heard his name previously and mention of the car.

“You drive her.” He’ll make sure Shrike stays down until the last second, and for Party to allow the green Killjoy to drive, the situation must really be important. The spare keys are hidden in the drivers side footwell, as the red can’t give Ghoul his set as his hands are both busy.

The way Shrike remains quiet I beneath the red her focus on keeping her position still, he can’t tell if she’s in pain from a very broken arm of or she’s trying to come up with any sort of plan. ”This is how it’s going to go,” He’s talking to her again, his eyes voice horrendously calm, “we leave- you don’t follow, I let you keep your life.” But he needs the Trans Am revved and ready to go because he’s going to have to release her at only the last second.

[funghoulsayboom]

Ghoul doesn't have to be told twice. He makes sure to keep his eyes on the dracs until the very last second, the moment his back hits the car. Only then he turns and rushes to get the door open. It takes a moment, his hands slick with blood from his throat.

He wonders absently how much blood he's losing as he's searching for the spare set of keys. His neck isn't gushing, but it's a steady flow, and he can't tell if the dizzy feeling is adrenaline, or the concussion he has to have at this point, or blood loss, or sheer panic. He's been through a lot in his life, he's got plenty of nightmares to choose from, but this one might end up being the worst.

His slick fingers find the keys, and he scrambles to set the seat right, adjust the rearview mirror so he can see properly, and the dracs are staring right back at him through it. Still... They haven't moved. He'll thank Party for that later.

The engine seems so painfully loud when he starts the car. It fills the little garage with a deep rumble, and Ghoul can feel it in his chest where he's sitting before he half crawls over the center console to open the passenger side door from the inside.

"Red!" He calls, and his voice is so much more raspy than he remembered it being a moment ago, or maybe it's because of the way he's leaning, or the screams he'd been emitting or the dust that's blown in from the open garage doors.

He wants nothing more than to go home and forget this fucking place ever existed. Running water and bed be damned.

[xx-party-poison-xx]

The knife digs only a little into Shrike’s throat, a reminder as Party hears that nickname, it’s time to go, it’s time to go now.

He seemingly has Shrike released from his grip and her gun in hand within the same second, fully aware of the sickening smell of burnt flesh coming from the barrel as he aims it to any drac who might dare move and even Shrike herself. No one does. The Red managing to get in the car and get the door shut successfully only just becoming aware of the laser injury to his leg but at this point it’s just another problem to the pile. His right eye, the one where he’s sure he’d felt vessels burst internally earlier has swollen up around the outside. But he’ll also be glad to get out of this place, and now he knows if he’ll not be coming back either, not unless he had to and not without extra man power and enough explosives to send it into oblivion. One hand taps Fun Ghoul’s leg, an unspoken signal as Party puts effort into regulating his breathing enough to bring his still raging mind to a more sensible logical level.

[funghoulsayboom]

The second Ghoul feels the tap, his foot slams on the gas pedal and the car tears out of the bunker with a shriek of tire on pavement, leaving the smell of burning rubber in its wake. He nearly fishtails his way out onto the road and slams the gas as hard as it'll go, shifting up through gears as quickly as the Trans Am will let him.

He's trying to keep his breathing even as well, trying to force down the panic, trying to ignore the way that his shirt is sticking, sopping wet to his skin, trying more than anything to fight away the dizzy feeling in his head. His hands are white knuckled against the steering wheel, and he takes several turns, each of them getting more familiar, until he hits a long stretch of bleached out highway. This particular area is usually covered in sand, but the storm had taken most of it away, swept off into the next Zone, probably.

"M'I going the right way?" Ghoul finally speaks, now that they've put at least 10 miles between them and the bunker. Even if they were 10 miles in the wrong direction, he'd rather take a 5 hour fucking detour home if it meant staying away from that place.

Maybe not 5, actually, he thinks, reaching up one shaking hand to touch his throat. His side still feels like it's fucking sizzling around the edges of the stupid fucking brand he's going to have to wear now, but his throat is the worst. It's the thing that's scaring him. It reminds him of the night he go this first horrifically disfiguring scar. Laying in the sand and bleeding out into a puddle.

[xx-party-poison-xx]

Party is aware of the distance travelled, the speed they move at, no one chased them, no one shot. Shrike keeping her silent promise was probably the most honourable thing she’d ever done in her pathetic little life.

Its only when they’re far enough away does he even start to surface out of his fight state, the anger bubbling out to a semi-dissociative state, nothing feels real- heck he’s struggling to feel real but the one thing that was, was the blood running down Ghoul’s throat. Is it worse than it looks? God he hopes so, urging the green killjoy to pull over as he shifts and turns in his seat to press a hand over Ghoul’s throat.

There’s a mini medical kit in the glove box, his other hand grabs it, and he’s sure they can afford a few moments to at least deal with that one thing before continuing, after all, Ghoul passing out at the wheel and killing them both would suck.

“I’m sorry sweetheart.” He gets out, whispered and concerned, Party took a beating yes, but he’s not the one branded like cattle and bleeding from his throat while trying to drive.

[funghoulsayboom]

Ghoul does pull over, and quickly, too. Party's hand against his throat hurts like a motherfucker, and it takes all he has in him to not jerk away from the touch, taking the steering wheel with him.

Once stopped, he lets go of his desperate grip, and lets his eyes fall closed, focuses on his breathing again. "Just give me something to hold on it. You drive, I'll be fine just... I wanna go home." The last four words are whispered, and his voice is quivering. He can still smell burnt flesh, and hear the way Party had fought so hard to cry out every time a blow fell against his already beaten body.

He's fucking terrified, and he's heartbroken, and he's angry, because these last two days had been the best of his entire goddamn life. And now it's all ruined. All tainted by fucking Better Living Industries, the same way fucking everything in his life is tainted by BLI. They're fucking everywhere. They're inescapable, and they bring nothing but death to anyone who dares to live life by their own rules.

His breathing has picked up, the more he's letting his thoughts wander, and with the increased heartrate comes increased bleeding. He's still not gushing blood, but the flow is still a fairly steady flow, faster than Party would probably like. Faster than Ghoul would like, if he really knew. Certainly faster than Jet would be fucking comfortable with.

[xx-party-poison-xx]

“You’ll have to keep a lot of pressure on it.”

He’s moved his hand, now coated in Ghoul’s blood to wad up gauze. “Ollie.” Strong but firm, he needs to make it clear that Fun Ghoul absolutely cannot bleed out before they get home. But he watches for a reaction, before handing the wad to the other killjoy and gets out of the car to make swapping to the drivers side easier. Ghoul would have to just shinny across the seats. But the name felt wrong now, like he shouldn’t, can’t and likely won’t use it anymore from now on. Not after that, not now that he’s paranoid about BLi having ears everywhere…he’ll have to check the car for trackers later too, or get Kobra to do it. Because shit, pain has started to settle into his bones and Party might have to just rest a while. Jet is going to be so pissed, he thinks, urging Ghoul to scoot as he gets into the drivers seat.

[funghoulsayboom]

Hearing his name properly again makes Ghoul want to weep. Those are the only lips that should ever be saying it. Ever. But now it feels... Somehow terrifying. It doesn't hold the sort of excited thrill that it did just hours ago.

He does crawl his way over the center console, though his boot slips in blood pooling in the seat that he hadn't realized was there. "Fuck..." He whispers the word, because this is starting to feel like something far worse than what he originally thought.

"Take me home." He says now, and his voice is weak, whether form bloodloss, or panic is anyone's fucking guess at his point. He wants to whisper the other man's name. Wants to say it in all the ways he had been for the last few days, but he knows that's a bad fucking idea. They were traceable now, because of it.

Before this little vacation, Ollie and Fun Ghoul were two separate fucking people. Oliver Costa died out in Zone 2, bleeding out from a wound to the stomach, his sister and mother shot point blank. Fun Ghoul was some punkass zone rat who ran around with a pack of deranged maniacs who live in god knows what Zone, and caused BLI hell at every chance. Now, those two men were one and the same. They know his fucking face, they know his name, they know his alias...

They know that he is irrevocably in love with a red-haired man named Felix.

[xx-party-poison-xx]

There’s not much to say, at least nothing Party can think of, a wealth of ‘I’m sorry’ held back because he knows this wasn’t really his fault, how was he supposed to know the bunker was a trap, that Lorikeet one of their own, was a traitor.

That BL/I would hear everything and he dreads to think if they saw it too. With the door slammed shut harder than needed, Party Poison drives them home and leaves use of any name other than the ones they chose, behind them. It’s not safe to be anyone else, that’s been proven now and it’s likely they’d have Kobra’s records too..his medical history… the medication for epilepsy was becoming harder and harder to find in the zones for the red jacketed killjoy as it was. If BL/I get stricter on security at their end of the supply chain... They’d arrived home swiftly, Jet and Kobra rushing out to greet them only to gawk in horror for dragged out seconds upon catching sight of the state the two were in. The one eyed killjoy, the best medic they had, it took Jet hours and almost all the good supplies to fix them up. Party is laying on the mattress in his and Ghoul’s room(what had once been a walk in pantry at the diner and the most secluded space they had), later, bandages while and clean around a head wound he’d not even known he’d had and the eye that had swollen was considerably less so. The sclera of it however was red and blood ruptured and it was hard to focus..that one drac had hit him so hard but he’s still watching Fun Ghoul breathe beside him regardless. Reaching out a hand to gently rest it on the man’s chest, he’s trying to not disturb him, but right now if he’s anything like the red, the best he can do is sleep lightly. Party Poison is just glad they’re both alive.

[funghoulsayboom]

By the time they make it to the diner, Ghoul looks like he's taken a literal blood bath. Party's face is swollen in several places, his eye looks completely busted, they're both sporting matching broken ribs, and to top it all off... Ghoul's throat has completely ruined the seats.

Both Party and Jet cast him twin scathing looks when he points this out. Something about 'FUCK THE CAR!' is screamed by Party, at the same time that Jet barks out, 'would you sit the fuck down?!'

They both manage to get patched up, and Ghoul even gets and extra can of flat soda for the trouble of losing a fuck ton of blood. Things are tense, in the diner, and he just knows that Kobra and Jet are positioned on the roof at either side of the diner with their eyes fucking pealed, despite the fact that they cleared the car and all of their belongings of trackers hours ago.

They're all shaken by the events of the week, all on edge, simply waiting for the next shoe to drop, but there isn't anything they can do retroactively. This is a game of resting, healing, and waiting.

Ghoul has been laying in the same position for what feels like hours. He usually hates laying flat on his back, but it's the only thing that even brings a modicum of relief to his aching body. He's got his eyes closed, and he's trying his best to dial in on his breathing, counting each second it takes to inhale and exhale.

Feeling Party's hand on his chest, he slowly reaches his own up to curl around the fingers, and finally opens his eyes which are very suddenly swimming with new tears. He has to be careful with the way he turns his head to look at the other killjoy, Jet has told him a million times already that they cannot afford for him to re-open this wound, lest it be worse.

He does manage to catch Party's eyes, though. He looks awful, the same way Ghoul must look. It makes his chest ache.

"What are we, Fe--" Ghoul catches himself, and something between guilt and white hot anger comes rolling through his stomach. He should be able to say this name. He's allowed to, Party's fucking told him so himself. It's not fucking fair. This stupid fucking corporation has taken everything else from him, and now it's taken this.

He tips his head back to its previous position and closes his eyes, trying to ignore the way tears sleep from the corners and slide down his temples and into his hairline.

"What happens to us now? Me and you?" He asks, and he hopes the meaning is implied. It's not about what happens physically in the future. With BLI and being on the run or the safety of the diner. This is about them.

[xx-party-poison-xx]

What are we. ”We’re alive.” He’d started, knowing damn well that wasn’t at all what Ghoul meant, he’d caught how the other man had stopped himself from saying his name, the one Party had given to him, his own special gift, the symbolic promise of being Oliver’s and Oliver’s only.

BLI ruined it by tearing it away from them, much like tearing the wings off a butterfly. ”Nothing-“ Nothing bad anyway, he wants this still, he wants Ghoul and all the touches and the kisses and the selfish desire to be loved in the middle of an otherwise un-loving world. If Ghoul still wants that anyway… ”We stick together, like Jet and Kobra do.” But Jet and Kobra had exchanged names years ago without BLi snatching them away. “I didn’t give you everything, I didn’t give you *me*- just for you to back out now.” He sounds annoyed, but it’s just anger at Shrike that hasn’t faded and he’s carrying the regret of not getting his satisfaction by killing her just because he’d used her life as barter for Ghoul’s.

But Party knows the zones mentally do him no favours, he was different in the bunker, or so he thinks, calmer, more chilled out, he;d not had the constant need to be in full on survival mode that kept him unstable…

However if Ghoul can stick by him even with BL/I knowing everything, wouldn’t that be the biggest fuck you they can give the company? He thinks so.

[funghoulsayboom]

"We're alive"

Not the fucking question he was asking.

"Nothing-"

Not a good start to a sentence right now?!

"We stick together, like Jet and Kobra do"

Clearly.

"I didn't give you everything, I didn't give you *me*- just for you to back out now."

"I'm not fucking backing out!" Ghoul snaps, and the words sound far too loud to be contained within this tiny room. If it can even be called a room. It's nothing compared to the room in corridor 3. Ghoul feels his nostrils flare with the effort to keep himself calm. There are more tears spilling from the corners of his eyes.

"I'm not backing out," he says, but this time it's calmer, portraying more of the sorrow and pain that he's feeling than the anger. That's good, at least. "I just want to know what we are and where we go from here? Am I introducing you to new 'joy as my boyfriend? My partner? Am I pretending none of this happened? Do we keep it under wraps, are we publuc? Can I--" his voice chokes up in itself, and the hard swallowing he does to clear it hurts his throat. A lot.

It takes a moment before he can find words, "can I still say your name when it's just us?"

[xx-party-poison-xx]

Party can’t help the flinch when Ghoul snapped his words like a nervous animal gnashing it’s teeth, they’ve been through hell, and sometimes the red is poor with words- so he quite frankly deserved that..

He sucks on a breath of air and had to consider the words carefully, while Party would have preferred, at least to start with, keep stuff just between them, with BLi knowing, it’s likely it’s already public knowledge, once killjoy hackers get updated data files it’ll spread in the rumour mill like wild fire that Party Poison, is finally off the market. “Boyfriend.” He answers, “I’m *your* boyfriend” but even the red knows whatever bond they forged ran deeper than just that, partner could be used to..but then there isn’t really a word for what he feels he is with Ghoul that describes it enough. But his name, he’d like to hear it, patch over the gaps he’d put between the person he became and the person he once was, a healing path, Jet would probably call it. ”and only if I can use yours.” That’s the only condition, the want to take back the names that Shrike had sullied so badly.

[funghoulsayboom]

"Of course you can, you fucking idiot," Ghoul says, and the laugh that he wants to give is really more of a sob, strangled around the edges. "It sounds right when you say it..." Not like her, are words that don't need to be attached to the end of the statement. The two men know that they're there.

He gives a big sniff and swallows again, and fuck dude, this shit sucks. Every time he swallows of moves his neck, it sends a fresh wave of pain down the front of his throat and out to each side. It's enough that is even distracted him from the way his side still feels like it's being burned. The nerves are all raw, and rubbing at the bandage that Jet out on him.

He said they'd need to change it regularly so it didn't get infected, but... Thanks to ghoul's stupid neck, they're damn near out of bandages.

"we're gonna have to go for a run for med supplies," He muses aloud.

[xx-party-poison-xx]

Party’s fingers curl into the fabric of the shirt Ghoul is wearing, when he’d thrown Shrike from the other man he had not thought much about the knife other than to get it off her. So he still feels at-least partly responsible for it. But it’s over now and they’re here and Ghoul is right about the medical supplies. When he’s in pain Party tends to chew painkillers like they’re candy, and now there’s two of them doing it…

”You mean me- I’m going to have to go for a run.” But really it’s more like Kobra or Jet, or both, if they dare leave the two alone injured like this…right now they’re both up on the roof on high alert like a couple of highly trained guard dogs, and Party is thankful for it.

Because the red is just glad to be alive with his boyfriend laying beside him. Shrike is still alive though, Party isn’t sure he can rest easy because of it…really if he wasn’t injured he’d probably- stupidly, go out right now and hunt her down- but no, even he knows that’s dangerous thinking especially when injured, if he’s not careful he’ll get obsessed with it too. He’s done it before, spent entire weeks on edge and easily irritated just because he hadn’t finished something properly. ”…I should let you get some more sleep.” Heck Party should be doing that too, things would feel better

[funghoulsayboom]

The way Ghoul's head snaps to the side to glare at his boyfriend sends pain shooting through his neck like a tidal wave, but it is far more important to fix Party with one of those 'if looks could kill' expressions than to focus on that.

"You're not going anywhere alone." He says, and that's it. One simple statement, because absolutely fucking not. They're a paired deal now, as far as he was concerned. Party would be hard pressed to get the smaller killjoy off of his side now. They've been through too much together.

There's a quiet that settles before Party remarks about sleep, and Ghoul snorts through his nose, tilting his head against until it's flat, forcing him to stare at the stupid ugly ceiling. "Do you really think either of us are gonna be sleeping after this?" He asks, and his voice is quiet, full of some sort of mourning.

And to be fair... It is a grieving experience. He's grieving the comfort they've lost. The purity of exchanging names. Grieving the way that their last few days of pure bliss have been tainted by the pain and suffering that it had all ended with. Mourning is the perfect word to describe what Ghoul is experiencing.

Ghoul lapses into another silence, his fingers wrapping tighter around Party's, before he closes his eyes again, and breathes the one word that he thinks will bring him comfort.

"Felix."

[funghoulsayboom]

Thunderheads Pt. 4

(Another continuation of the original thread, Pt 3 can be found here!) @xx-party-poison-xx

It's all a flash of red suddenly, a blur, the sound of a blaster going off, screaming, a body slumping, and then he's being released, the dracs backing off, and Ghoul takes the moment grasp desperately at his throat, which is bleeding at an alarming rate onto his shirt. He can't tell how deep it is.

"Party--" he starts, but he cuts himself off, because now is not the fucking time. Words later. Actions now.

He's rushing up onto his feet and he darts to the place that Shrike had stored their guns and holsters. Ghoul grabs both of them, powering his own blaster on and pointing it out in front of him, shifting the site between the dracs who have all backed down.

Party has Shrike pinned to the floor, and he's covered in blood from the drac he's just taken down. He looks dangerous, like an animal. Oliver loves him.

"The car." Is all he says, passing close to where the man is kneeling on the ground. He hands him his gun and walks backwards toward the Trans Am, keeping his own weapon trained on each drac in turn as he goes.

[xx-party-poison-xx]

“It’s open” Party spoke, addressing Fun Ghoul without taking his eyes off Shrike, neither does he ease the pressure on the knife. He can’t see Ghoul’s throat damage from here, but he’d heard his name previously and mention of the car.

“You drive her.” He’ll make sure Shrike stays down until the last second, and for Party to allow the green Killjoy to drive, the situation must really be important. The spare keys are hidden in the drivers side footwell, as the red can’t give Ghoul his set as his hands are both busy.

The way Shrike remains quiet I beneath the red her focus on keeping her position still, he can’t tell if she’s in pain from a very broken arm of or she’s trying to come up with any sort of plan. ”This is how it’s going to go,” He’s talking to her again, his eyes voice horrendously calm, “we leave- you don’t follow, I let you keep your life.” But he needs the Trans Am revved and ready to go because he’s going to have to release her at only the last second.

[funghoulsayboom]

Ghoul doesn't have to be told twice. He makes sure to keep his eyes on the dracs until the very last second, the moment his back hits the car. Only then he turns and rushes to get the door open. It takes a moment, his hands slick with blood from his throat.

He wonders absently how much blood he's losing as he's searching for the spare set of keys. His neck isn't gushing, but it's a steady flow, and he can't tell if the dizzy feeling is adrenaline, or the concussion he has to have at this point, or blood loss, or sheer panic. He's been through a lot in his life, he's got plenty of nightmares to choose from, but this one might end up being the worst.

His slick fingers find the keys, and he scrambles to set the seat right, adjust the rearview mirror so he can see properly, and the dracs are staring right back at him through it. Still... They haven't moved. He'll thank Party for that later.

The engine seems so painfully loud when he starts the car. It fills the little garage with a deep rumble, and Ghoul can feel it in his chest where he's sitting before he half crawls over the center console to open the passenger side door from the inside.

"Red!" He calls, and his voice is so much more raspy than he remembered it being a moment ago, or maybe it's because of the way he's leaning, or the screams he'd been emitting or the dust that's blown in from the open garage doors.

He wants nothing more than to go home and forget this fucking place ever existed. Running water and bed be damned.

[xx-party-poison-xx]

The knife digs only a little into Shrike’s throat, a reminder as Party hears that nickname, it’s time to go, it’s time to go now.

He seemingly has Shrike released from his grip and her gun in hand within the same second, fully aware of the sickening smell of burnt flesh coming from the barrel as he aims it to any drac who might dare move and even Shrike herself. No one does. The Red managing to get in the car and get the door shut successfully only just becoming aware of the laser injury to his leg but at this point it’s just another problem to the pile. His right eye, the one where he’s sure he’d felt vessels burst internally earlier has swollen up around the outside. But he’ll also be glad to get out of this place, and now he knows if he’ll not be coming back either, not unless he had to and not without extra man power and enough explosives to send it into oblivion. One hand taps Fun Ghoul’s leg, an unspoken signal as Party puts effort into regulating his breathing enough to bring his still raging mind to a more sensible logical level.

[funghoulsayboom]

The second Ghoul feels the tap, his foot slams on the gas pedal and the car tears out of the bunker with a shriek of tire on pavement, leaving the smell of burning rubber in its wake. He nearly fishtails his way out onto the road and slams the gas as hard as it'll go, shifting up through gears as quickly as the Trans Am will let him.

He's trying to keep his breathing even as well, trying to force down the panic, trying to ignore the way that his shirt is sticking, sopping wet to his skin, trying more than anything to fight away the dizzy feeling in his head. His hands are white knuckled against the steering wheel, and he takes several turns, each of them getting more familiar, until he hits a long stretch of bleached out highway. This particular area is usually covered in sand, but the storm had taken most of it away, swept off into the next Zone, probably.

"M'I going the right way?" Ghoul finally speaks, now that they've put at least 10 miles between them and the bunker. Even if they were 10 miles in the wrong direction, he'd rather take a 5 hour fucking detour home if it meant staying away from that place.

Maybe not 5, actually, he thinks, reaching up one shaking hand to touch his throat. His side still feels like it's fucking sizzling around the edges of the stupid fucking brand he's going to have to wear now, but his throat is the worst. It's the thing that's scaring him. It reminds him of the night he go this first horrifically disfiguring scar. Laying in the sand and bleeding out into a puddle.

[xx-party-poison-xx]

Party is aware of the distance travelled, the speed they move at, no one chased them, no one shot. Shrike keeping her silent promise was probably the most honourable thing she’d ever done in her pathetic little life.

Its only when they’re far enough away does he even start to surface out of his fight state, the anger bubbling out to a semi-dissociative state, nothing feels real- heck he’s struggling to feel real but the one thing that was, was the blood running down Ghoul’s throat. Is it worse than it looks? God he hopes so, urging the green killjoy to pull over as he shifts and turns in his seat to press a hand over Ghoul’s throat.

There’s a mini medical kit in the glove box, his other hand grabs it, and he’s sure they can afford a few moments to at least deal with that one thing before continuing, after all, Ghoul passing out at the wheel and killing them both would suck.

“I’m sorry sweetheart.” He gets out, whispered and concerned, Party took a beating yes, but he’s not the one branded like cattle and bleeding from his throat while trying to drive.

[funghoulsayboom]

Ghoul does pull over, and quickly, too. Party's hand against his throat hurts like a motherfucker, and it takes all he has in him to not jerk away from the touch, taking the steering wheel with him.

Once stopped, he lets go of his desperate grip, and lets his eyes fall closed, focuses on his breathing again. "Just give me something to hold on it. You drive, I'll be fine just... I wanna go home." The last four words are whispered, and his voice is quivering. He can still smell burnt flesh, and hear the way Party had fought so hard to cry out every time a blow fell against his already beaten body.

He's fucking terrified, and he's heartbroken, and he's angry, because these last two days had been the best of his entire goddamn life. And now it's all ruined. All tainted by fucking Better Living Industries, the same way fucking everything in his life is tainted by BLI. They're fucking everywhere. They're inescapable, and they bring nothing but death to anyone who dares to live life by their own rules.

His breathing has picked up, the more he's letting his thoughts wander, and with the increased heartrate comes increased bleeding. He's still not gushing blood, but the flow is still a fairly steady flow, faster than Party would probably like. Faster than Ghoul would like, if he really knew. Certainly faster than Jet would be fucking comfortable with.

[xx-party-poison-xx]

“You’ll have to keep a lot of pressure on it.”

He’s moved his hand, now coated in Ghoul’s blood to wad up gauze. “Ollie.” Strong but firm, he needs to make it clear that Fun Ghoul absolutely cannot bleed out before they get home. But he watches for a reaction, before handing the wad to the other killjoy and gets out of the car to make swapping to the drivers side easier. Ghoul would have to just shinny across the seats. But the name felt wrong now, like he shouldn’t, can’t and likely won’t use it anymore from now on. Not after that, not now that he’s paranoid about BLi having ears everywhere…he’ll have to check the car for trackers later too, or get Kobra to do it. Because shit, pain has started to settle into his bones and Party might have to just rest a while. Jet is going to be so pissed, he thinks, urging Ghoul to scoot as he gets into the drivers seat.

[funghoulsayboom]

Hearing his name properly again makes Ghoul want to weep. Those are the only lips that should ever be saying it. Ever. But now it feels... Somehow terrifying. It doesn't hold the sort of excited thrill that it did just hours ago.

He does crawl his way over the center console, though his boot slips in blood pooling in the seat that he hadn't realized was there. "Fuck..." He whispers the word, because this is starting to feel like something far worse than what he originally thought.

"Take me home." He says now, and his voice is weak, whether form bloodloss, or panic is anyone's fucking guess at his point. He wants to whisper the other man's name. Wants to say it in all the ways he had been for the last few days, but he knows that's a bad fucking idea. They were traceable now, because of it.

Before this little vacation, Ollie and Fun Ghoul were two separate fucking people. Oliver Costa died out in Zone 2, bleeding out from a wound to the stomach, his sister and mother shot point blank. Fun Ghoul was some punkass zone rat who ran around with a pack of deranged maniacs who live in god knows what Zone, and caused BLI hell at every chance. Now, those two men were one and the same. They know his fucking face, they know his name, they know his alias...

They know that he is irrevocably in love with a red-haired man named Felix.

[xx-party-poison-xx]

There’s not much to say, at least nothing Party can think of, a wealth of ‘I’m sorry’ held back because he knows this wasn’t really his fault, how was he supposed to know the bunker was a trap, that Lorikeet one of their own, was a traitor.

That BL/I would hear everything and he dreads to think if they saw it too. With the door slammed shut harder than needed, Party Poison drives them home and leaves use of any name other than the ones they chose, behind them. It’s not safe to be anyone else, that’s been proven now and it’s likely they’d have Kobra’s records too..his medical history… the medication for epilepsy was becoming harder and harder to find in the zones for the red jacketed killjoy as it was. If BL/I get stricter on security at their end of the supply chain... They’d arrived home swiftly, Jet and Kobra rushing out to greet them only to gawk in horror for dragged out seconds upon catching sight of the state the two were in. The one eyed killjoy, the best medic they had, it took Jet hours and almost all the good supplies to fix them up. Party is laying on the mattress in his and Ghoul’s room(what had once been a walk in pantry at the diner and the most secluded space they had), later, bandages while and clean around a head wound he’d not even known he’d had and the eye that had swollen was considerably less so. The sclera of it however was red and blood ruptured and it was hard to focus..that one drac had hit him so hard but he’s still watching Fun Ghoul breathe beside him regardless. Reaching out a hand to gently rest it on the man’s chest, he’s trying to not disturb him, but right now if he’s anything like the red, the best he can do is sleep lightly. Party Poison is just glad they’re both alive.

[funghoulsayboom]

By the time they make it to the diner, Ghoul looks like he's taken a literal blood bath. Party's face is swollen in several places, his eye looks completely busted, they're both sporting matching broken ribs, and to top it all off... Ghoul's throat has completely ruined the seats.

Both Party and Jet cast him twin scathing looks when he points this out. Something about 'FUCK THE CAR!' is screamed by Party, at the same time that Jet barks out, 'would you sit the fuck down?!'

They both manage to get patched up, and Ghoul even gets and extra can of flat soda for the trouble of losing a fuck ton of blood. Things are tense, in the diner, and he just knows that Kobra and Jet are positioned on the roof at either side of the diner with their eyes fucking pealed, despite the fact that they cleared the car and all of their belongings of trackers hours ago.

They're all shaken by the events of the week, all on edge, simply waiting for the next shoe to drop, but there isn't anything they can do retroactively. This is a game of resting, healing, and waiting.

Ghoul has been laying in the same position for what feels like hours. He usually hates laying flat on his back, but it's the only thing that even brings a modicum of relief to his aching body. He's got his eyes closed, and he's trying his best to dial in on his breathing, counting each second it takes to inhale and exhale.

Feeling Party's hand on his chest, he slowly reaches his own up to curl around the fingers, and finally opens his eyes which are very suddenly swimming with new tears. He has to be careful with the way he turns his head to look at the other killjoy, Jet has told him a million times already that they cannot afford for him to re-open this wound, lest it be worse.

He does manage to catch Party's eyes, though. He looks awful, the same way Ghoul must look. It makes his chest ache.

"What are we, Fe--" Ghoul catches himself, and something between guilt and white hot anger comes rolling through his stomach. He should be able to say this name. He's allowed to, Party's fucking told him so himself. It's not fucking fair. This stupid fucking corporation has taken everything else from him, and now it's taken this.

He tips his head back to its previous position and closes his eyes, trying to ignore the way tears sleep from the corners and slide down his temples and into his hairline.

"What happens to us now? Me and you?" He asks, and he hopes the meaning is implied. It's not about what happens physically in the future. With BLI and being on the run or the safety of the diner. This is about them.

[xx-party-poison-xx]

What are we. ”We’re alive.” He’d started, knowing damn well that wasn’t at all what Ghoul meant, he’d caught how the other man had stopped himself from saying his name, the one Party had given to him, his own special gift, the symbolic promise of being Oliver’s and Oliver’s only.

BLI ruined it by tearing it away from them, much like tearing the wings off a butterfly. ”Nothing-“ Nothing bad anyway, he wants this still, he wants Ghoul and all the touches and the kisses and the selfish desire to be loved in the middle of an otherwise un-loving world. If Ghoul still wants that anyway… ”We stick together, like Jet and Kobra do.” But Jet and Kobra had exchanged names years ago without BLi snatching them away. “I didn’t give you everything, I didn’t give you *me*- just for you to back out now.” He sounds annoyed, but it’s just anger at Shrike that hasn’t faded and he’s carrying the regret of not getting his satisfaction by killing her just because he’d used her life as barter for Ghoul’s.

But Party knows the zones mentally do him no favours, he was different in the bunker, or so he thinks, calmer, more chilled out, he;d not had the constant need to be in full on survival mode that kept him unstable…

However if Ghoul can stick by him even with BL/I knowing everything, wouldn’t that be the biggest fuck you they can give the company? He thinks so.

[funghoulsayboom]

"We're alive"

Not the fucking question he was asking.

"Nothing-"

Not a good start to a sentence right now?!

"We stick together, like Jet and Kobra do"

Clearly.

"I didn't give you everything, I didn't give you *me*- just for you to back out now."

"I'm not fucking backing out!" Ghoul snaps, and the words sound far too loud to be contained within this tiny room. If it can even be called a room. It's nothing compared to the room in corridor 3. Ghoul feels his nostrils flare with the effort to keep himself calm. There are more tears spilling from the corners of his eyes.

"I'm not backing out," he says, but this time it's calmer, portraying more of the sorrow and pain that he's feeling than the anger. That's good, at least. "I just want to know what we are and where we go from here? Am I introducing you to new 'joy as my boyfriend? My partner? Am I pretending none of this happened? Do we keep it under wraps, are we publuc? Can I--" his voice chokes up in itself, and the hard swallowing he does to clear it hurts his throat. A lot.

It takes a moment before he can find words, "can I still say your name when it's just us?"

[xx-party-poison-xx]

Party can’t help the flinch when Ghoul snapped his words like a nervous animal gnashing it’s teeth, they’ve been through hell, and sometimes the red is poor with words- so he quite frankly deserved that..

He sucks on a breath of air and had to consider the words carefully, while Party would have preferred, at least to start with, keep stuff just between them, with BLi knowing, it’s likely it’s already public knowledge, once killjoy hackers get updated data files it’ll spread in the rumour mill like wild fire that Party Poison, is finally off the market. “Boyfriend.” He answers, “I’m *your* boyfriend” but even the red knows whatever bond they forged ran deeper than just that, partner could be used to..but then there isn’t really a word for what he feels he is with Ghoul that describes it enough. But his name, he’d like to hear it, patch over the gaps he’d put between the person he became and the person he once was, a healing path, Jet would probably call it. ”and only if I can use yours.” That’s the only condition, the want to take back the names that Shrike had sullied so badly.

[funghoulsayboom]

"Of course you can, you fucking idiot," Ghoul says, and the laugh that he wants to give is really more of a sob, strangled around the edges. "It sounds right when you say it..." Not like her, are words that don't need to be attached to the end of the statement. The two men know that they're there.

He gives a big sniff and swallows again, and fuck dude, this shit sucks. Every time he swallows of moves his neck, it sends a fresh wave of pain down the front of his throat and out to each side. It's enough that is even distracted him from the way his side still feels like it's being burned. The nerves are all raw, and rubbing at the bandage that Jet out on him.

He said they'd need to change it regularly so it didn't get infected, but... Thanks to ghoul's stupid neck, they're damn near out of bandages.

"we're gonna have to go for a run for med supplies," He muses aloud.

[funghoulsayboom]

Thunderheads Pt. 4

(Another continuation of the original thread, Pt 3 can be found here!) @xx-party-poison-xx

It's all a flash of red suddenly, a blur, the sound of a blaster going off, screaming, a body slumping, and then he's being released, the dracs backing off, and Ghoul takes the moment grasp desperately at his throat, which is bleeding at an alarming rate onto his shirt. He can't tell how deep it is.

"Party--" he starts, but he cuts himself off, because now is not the fucking time. Words later. Actions now.

He's rushing up onto his feet and he darts to the place that Shrike had stored their guns and holsters. Ghoul grabs both of them, powering his own blaster on and pointing it out in front of him, shifting the site between the dracs who have all backed down.

Party has Shrike pinned to the floor, and he's covered in blood from the drac he's just taken down. He looks dangerous, like an animal. Oliver loves him.

"The car." Is all he says, passing close to where the man is kneeling on the ground. He hands him his gun and walks backwards toward the Trans Am, keeping his own weapon trained on each drac in turn as he goes.

[xx-party-poison-xx]

“It’s open” Party spoke, addressing Fun Ghoul without taking his eyes off Shrike, neither does he ease the pressure on the knife. He can’t see Ghoul’s throat damage from here, but he’d heard his name previously and mention of the car.

“You drive her.” He’ll make sure Shrike stays down until the last second, and for Party to allow the green Killjoy to drive, the situation must really be important. The spare keys are hidden in the drivers side footwell, as the red can’t give Ghoul his set as his hands are both busy.

The way Shrike remains quiet I beneath the red her focus on keeping her position still, he can’t tell if she’s in pain from a very broken arm of or she’s trying to come up with any sort of plan. ”This is how it’s going to go,” He’s talking to her again, his eyes voice horrendously calm, “we leave- you don’t follow, I let you keep your life.” But he needs the Trans Am revved and ready to go because he’s going to have to release her at only the last second.

[funghoulsayboom]

Ghoul doesn't have to be told twice. He makes sure to keep his eyes on the dracs until the very last second, the moment his back hits the car. Only then he turns and rushes to get the door open. It takes a moment, his hands slick with blood from his throat.

He wonders absently how much blood he's losing as he's searching for the spare set of keys. His neck isn't gushing, but it's a steady flow, and he can't tell if the dizzy feeling is adrenaline, or the concussion he has to have at this point, or blood loss, or sheer panic. He's been through a lot in his life, he's got plenty of nightmares to choose from, but this one might end up being the worst.

His slick fingers find the keys, and he scrambles to set the seat right, adjust the rearview mirror so he can see properly, and the dracs are staring right back at him through it. Still... They haven't moved. He'll thank Party for that later.

The engine seems so painfully loud when he starts the car. It fills the little garage with a deep rumble, and Ghoul can feel it in his chest where he's sitting before he half crawls over the center console to open the passenger side door from the inside.

"Red!" He calls, and his voice is so much more raspy than he remembered it being a moment ago, or maybe it's because of the way he's leaning, or the screams he'd been emitting or the dust that's blown in from the open garage doors.

He wants nothing more than to go home and forget this fucking place ever existed. Running water and bed be damned.

[xx-party-poison-xx]

The knife digs only a little into Shrike’s throat, a reminder as Party hears that nickname, it’s time to go, it’s time to go now.

He seemingly has Shrike released from his grip and her gun in hand within the same second, fully aware of the sickening smell of burnt flesh coming from the barrel as he aims it to any drac who might dare move and even Shrike herself. No one does. The Red managing to get in the car and get the door shut successfully only just becoming aware of the laser injury to his leg but at this point it’s just another problem to the pile. His right eye, the one where he’s sure he’d felt vessels burst internally earlier has swollen up around the outside. But he’ll also be glad to get out of this place, and now he knows if he’ll not be coming back either, not unless he had to and not without extra man power and enough explosives to send it into oblivion. One hand taps Fun Ghoul’s leg, an unspoken signal as Party puts effort into regulating his breathing enough to bring his still raging mind to a more sensible logical level.

[funghoulsayboom]

The second Ghoul feels the tap, his foot slams on the gas pedal and the car tears out of the bunker with a shriek of tire on pavement, leaving the smell of burning rubber in its wake. He nearly fishtails his way out onto the road and slams the gas as hard as it'll go, shifting up through gears as quickly as the Trans Am will let him.

He's trying to keep his breathing even as well, trying to force down the panic, trying to ignore the way that his shirt is sticking, sopping wet to his skin, trying more than anything to fight away the dizzy feeling in his head. His hands are white knuckled against the steering wheel, and he takes several turns, each of them getting more familiar, until he hits a long stretch of bleached out highway. This particular area is usually covered in sand, but the storm had taken most of it away, swept off into the next Zone, probably.

"M'I going the right way?" Ghoul finally speaks, now that they've put at least 10 miles between them and the bunker. Even if they were 10 miles in the wrong direction, he'd rather take a 5 hour fucking detour home if it meant staying away from that place.

Maybe not 5, actually, he thinks, reaching up one shaking hand to touch his throat. His side still feels like it's fucking sizzling around the edges of the stupid fucking brand he's going to have to wear now, but his throat is the worst. It's the thing that's scaring him. It reminds him of the night he go this first horrifically disfiguring scar. Laying in the sand and bleeding out into a puddle.

[xx-party-poison-xx]

Party is aware of the distance travelled, the speed they move at, no one chased them, no one shot. Shrike keeping her silent promise was probably the most honourable thing she’d ever done in her pathetic little life.

Its only when they’re far enough away does he even start to surface out of his fight state, the anger bubbling out to a semi-dissociative state, nothing feels real- heck he’s struggling to feel real but the one thing that was, was the blood running down Ghoul’s throat. Is it worse than it looks? God he hopes so, urging the green killjoy to pull over as he shifts and turns in his seat to press a hand over Ghoul’s throat.

There’s a mini medical kit in the glove box, his other hand grabs it, and he’s sure they can afford a few moments to at least deal with that one thing before continuing, after all, Ghoul passing out at the wheel and killing them both would suck.

“I’m sorry sweetheart.” He gets out, whispered and concerned, Party took a beating yes, but he’s not the one branded like cattle and bleeding from his throat while trying to drive.

[funghoulsayboom]

Ghoul does pull over, and quickly, too. Party's hand against his throat hurts like a motherfucker, and it takes all he has in him to not jerk away from the touch, taking the steering wheel with him.

Once stopped, he lets go of his desperate grip, and lets his eyes fall closed, focuses on his breathing again. "Just give me something to hold on it. You drive, I'll be fine just... I wanna go home." The last four words are whispered, and his voice is quivering. He can still smell burnt flesh, and hear the way Party had fought so hard to cry out every time a blow fell against his already beaten body.

He's fucking terrified, and he's heartbroken, and he's angry, because these last two days had been the best of his entire goddamn life. And now it's all ruined. All tainted by fucking Better Living Industries, the same way fucking everything in his life is tainted by BLI. They're fucking everywhere. They're inescapable, and they bring nothing but death to anyone who dares to live life by their own rules.

His breathing has picked up, the more he's letting his thoughts wander, and with the increased heartrate comes increased bleeding. He's still not gushing blood, but the flow is still a fairly steady flow, faster than Party would probably like. Faster than Ghoul would like, if he really knew. Certainly faster than Jet would be fucking comfortable with.

[xx-party-poison-xx]

“You’ll have to keep a lot of pressure on it.”

He’s moved his hand, now coated in Ghoul’s blood to wad up gauze. “Ollie.” Strong but firm, he needs to make it clear that Fun Ghoul absolutely cannot bleed out before they get home. But he watches for a reaction, before handing the wad to the other killjoy and gets out of the car to make swapping to the drivers side easier. Ghoul would have to just shinny across the seats. But the name felt wrong now, like he shouldn’t, can’t and likely won’t use it anymore from now on. Not after that, not now that he’s paranoid about BLi having ears everywhere…he’ll have to check the car for trackers later too, or get Kobra to do it. Because shit, pain has started to settle into his bones and Party might have to just rest a while. Jet is going to be so pissed, he thinks, urging Ghoul to scoot as he gets into the drivers seat.

[funghoulsayboom]

Hearing his name properly again makes Ghoul want to weep. Those are the only lips that should ever be saying it. Ever. But now it feels... Somehow terrifying. It doesn't hold the sort of excited thrill that it did just hours ago.

He does crawl his way over the center console, though his boot slips in blood pooling in the seat that he hadn't realized was there. "Fuck..." He whispers the word, because this is starting to feel like something far worse than what he originally thought.

"Take me home." He says now, and his voice is weak, whether form bloodloss, or panic is anyone's fucking guess at his point. He wants to whisper the other man's name. Wants to say it in all the ways he had been for the last few days, but he knows that's a bad fucking idea. They were traceable now, because of it.

Before this little vacation, Ollie and Fun Ghoul were two separate fucking people. Oliver Costa died out in Zone 2, bleeding out from a wound to the stomach, his sister and mother shot point blank. Fun Ghoul was some punkass zone rat who ran around with a pack of deranged maniacs who live in god knows what Zone, and caused BLI hell at every chance. Now, those two men were one and the same. They know his fucking face, they know his name, they know his alias...

They know that he is irrevocably in love with a red-haired man named Felix.

[xx-party-poison-xx]

There’s not much to say, at least nothing Party can think of, a wealth of ‘I’m sorry’ held back because he knows this wasn’t really his fault, how was he supposed to know the bunker was a trap, that Lorikeet one of their own, was a traitor.

That BL/I would hear everything and he dreads to think if they saw it too. With the door slammed shut harder than needed, Party Poison drives them home and leaves use of any name other than the ones they chose, behind them. It’s not safe to be anyone else, that’s been proven now and it’s likely they’d have Kobra’s records too..his medical history… the medication for epilepsy was becoming harder and harder to find in the zones for the red jacketed killjoy as it was. If BL/I get stricter on security at their end of the supply chain... They’d arrived home swiftly, Jet and Kobra rushing out to greet them only to gawk in horror for dragged out seconds upon catching sight of the state the two were in. The one eyed killjoy, the best medic they had, it took Jet hours and almost all the good supplies to fix them up. Party is laying on the mattress in his and Ghoul’s room(what had once been a walk in pantry at the diner and the most secluded space they had), later, bandages while and clean around a head wound he’d not even known he’d had and the eye that had swollen was considerably less so. The sclera of it however was red and blood ruptured and it was hard to focus..that one drac had hit him so hard but he’s still watching Fun Ghoul breathe beside him regardless. Reaching out a hand to gently rest it on the man’s chest, he’s trying to not disturb him, but right now if he’s anything like the red, the best he can do is sleep lightly. Party Poison is just glad they’re both alive.

[funghoulsayboom]

By the time they make it to the diner, Ghoul looks like he's taken a literal blood bath. Party's face is swollen in several places, his eye looks completely busted, they're both sporting matching broken ribs, and to top it all off... Ghoul's throat has completely ruined the seats.

Both Party and Jet cast him twin scathing looks when he points this out. Something about 'FUCK THE CAR!' is screamed by Party, at the same time that Jet barks out, 'would you sit the fuck down?!'

They both manage to get patched up, and Ghoul even gets and extra can of flat soda for the trouble of losing a fuck ton of blood. Things are tense, in the diner, and he just knows that Kobra and Jet are positioned on the roof at either side of the diner with their eyes fucking pealed, despite the fact that they cleared the car and all of their belongings of trackers hours ago.

They're all shaken by the events of the week, all on edge, simply waiting for the next shoe to drop, but there isn't anything they can do retroactively. This is a game of resting, healing, and waiting.

Ghoul has been laying in the same position for what feels like hours. He usually hates laying flat on his back, but it's the only thing that even brings a modicum of relief to his aching body. He's got his eyes closed, and he's trying his best to dial in on his breathing, counting each second it takes to inhale and exhale.

Feeling Party's hand on his chest, he slowly reaches his own up to curl around the fingers, and finally opens his eyes which are very suddenly swimming with new tears. He has to be careful with the way he turns his head to look at the other killjoy, Jet has told him a million times already that they cannot afford for him to re-open this wound, lest it be worse.

He does manage to catch Party's eyes, though. He looks awful, the same way Ghoul must look. It makes his chest ache.

"What are we, Fe--" Ghoul catches himself, and something between guilt and white hot anger comes rolling through his stomach. He should be able to say this name. He's allowed to, Party's fucking told him so himself. It's not fucking fair. This stupid fucking corporation has taken everything else from him, and now it's taken this.

He tips his head back to its previous position and closes his eyes, trying to ignore the way tears sleep from the corners and slide down his temples and into his hairline.

"What happens to us now? Me and you?" He asks, and he hopes the meaning is implied. It's not about what happens physically in the future. With BLI and being on the run or the safety of the diner. This is about them.

[xx-party-poison-xx]

What are we. ”We’re alive.” He’d started, knowing damn well that wasn’t at all what Ghoul meant, he’d caught how the other man had stopped himself from saying his name, the one Party had given to him, his own special gift, the symbolic promise of being Oliver’s and Oliver’s only.

BLI ruined it by tearing it away from them, much like tearing the wings off a butterfly. ”Nothing-“ Nothing bad anyway, he wants this still, he wants Ghoul and all the touches and the kisses and the selfish desire to be loved in the middle of an otherwise un-loving world. If Ghoul still wants that anyway… ”We stick together, like Jet and Kobra do.” But Jet and Kobra had exchanged names years ago without BLi snatching them away. “I didn’t give you everything, I didn’t give you *me*- just for you to back out now.” He sounds annoyed, but it’s just anger at Shrike that hasn’t faded and he’s carrying the regret of not getting his satisfaction by killing her just because he’d used her life as barter for Ghoul’s.

But Party knows the zones mentally do him no favours, he was different in the bunker, or so he thinks, calmer, more chilled out, he;d not had the constant need to be in full on survival mode that kept him unstable…

However if Ghoul can stick by him even with BL/I knowing everything, wouldn’t that be the biggest fuck you they can give the company? He thinks so.

[funghoulsayboom]

"We're alive"

Not the fucking question he was asking.

"Nothing-"

Not a good start to a sentence right now?!

"We stick together, like Jet and Kobra do"

Clearly.

"I didn't give you everything, I didn't give you *me*- just for you to back out now."

"I'm not fucking backing out!" Ghoul snaps, and the words sound far too loud to be contained within this tiny room. If it can even be called a room. It's nothing compared to the room in corridor 3. Ghoul feels his nostrils flare with the effort to keep himself calm. There are more tears spilling from the corners of his eyes.

"I'm not backing out," he says, but this time it's calmer, portraying more of the sorrow and pain that he's feeling than the anger. That's good, at least. "I just want to know what we are and where we go from here? Am I introducing you to new 'joy as my boyfriend? My partner? Am I pretending none of this happened? Do we keep it under wraps, are we publuc? Can I--" his voice chokes up in itself, and the hard swallowing he does to clear it hurts his throat. A lot.

It takes a moment before he can find words, "can I still say your name when it's just us?"

[funghoulsayboom]

Thunderheads Pt. 4

(Another continuation of the original thread, Pt 3 can be found here!) @xx-party-poison-xx

It's all a flash of red suddenly, a blur, the sound of a blaster going off, screaming, a body slumping, and then he's being released, the dracs backing off, and Ghoul takes the moment grasp desperately at his throat, which is bleeding at an alarming rate onto his shirt. He can't tell how deep it is.

"Party--" he starts, but he cuts himself off, because now is not the fucking time. Words later. Actions now.

He's rushing up onto his feet and he darts to the place that Shrike had stored their guns and holsters. Ghoul grabs both of them, powering his own blaster on and pointing it out in front of him, shifting the site between the dracs who have all backed down.

Party has Shrike pinned to the floor, and he's covered in blood from the drac he's just taken down. He looks dangerous, like an animal. Oliver loves him.

"The car." Is all he says, passing close to where the man is kneeling on the ground. He hands him his gun and walks backwards toward the Trans Am, keeping his own weapon trained on each drac in turn as he goes.

[xx-party-poison-xx]

“It’s open” Party spoke, addressing Fun Ghoul without taking his eyes off Shrike, neither does he ease the pressure on the knife. He can’t see Ghoul’s throat damage from here, but he’d heard his name previously and mention of the car.

“You drive her.” He’ll make sure Shrike stays down until the last second, and for Party to allow the green Killjoy to drive, the situation must really be important. The spare keys are hidden in the drivers side footwell, as the red can’t give Ghoul his set as his hands are both busy.

The way Shrike remains quiet I beneath the red her focus on keeping her position still, he can’t tell if she’s in pain from a very broken arm of or she’s trying to come up with any sort of plan. ”This is how it’s going to go,” He’s talking to her again, his eyes voice horrendously calm, “we leave- you don’t follow, I let you keep your life.” But he needs the Trans Am revved and ready to go because he’s going to have to release her at only the last second.

[funghoulsayboom]

Ghoul doesn't have to be told twice. He makes sure to keep his eyes on the dracs until the very last second, the moment his back hits the car. Only then he turns and rushes to get the door open. It takes a moment, his hands slick with blood from his throat.

He wonders absently how much blood he's losing as he's searching for the spare set of keys. His neck isn't gushing, but it's a steady flow, and he can't tell if the dizzy feeling is adrenaline, or the concussion he has to have at this point, or blood loss, or sheer panic. He's been through a lot in his life, he's got plenty of nightmares to choose from, but this one might end up being the worst.

His slick fingers find the keys, and he scrambles to set the seat right, adjust the rearview mirror so he can see properly, and the dracs are staring right back at him through it. Still... They haven't moved. He'll thank Party for that later.

The engine seems so painfully loud when he starts the car. It fills the little garage with a deep rumble, and Ghoul can feel it in his chest where he's sitting before he half crawls over the center console to open the passenger side door from the inside.

"Red!" He calls, and his voice is so much more raspy than he remembered it being a moment ago, or maybe it's because of the way he's leaning, or the screams he'd been emitting or the dust that's blown in from the open garage doors.

He wants nothing more than to go home and forget this fucking place ever existed. Running water and bed be damned.

[xx-party-poison-xx]

The knife digs only a little into Shrike’s throat, a reminder as Party hears that nickname, it’s time to go, it’s time to go now.

He seemingly has Shrike released from his grip and her gun in hand within the same second, fully aware of the sickening smell of burnt flesh coming from the barrel as he aims it to any drac who might dare move and even Shrike herself. No one does. The Red managing to get in the car and get the door shut successfully only just becoming aware of the laser injury to his leg but at this point it’s just another problem to the pile. His right eye, the one where he’s sure he’d felt vessels burst internally earlier has swollen up around the outside. But he’ll also be glad to get out of this place, and now he knows if he’ll not be coming back either, not unless he had to and not without extra man power and enough explosives to send it into oblivion. One hand taps Fun Ghoul’s leg, an unspoken signal as Party puts effort into regulating his breathing enough to bring his still raging mind to a more sensible logical level.

[funghoulsayboom]

The second Ghoul feels the tap, his foot slams on the gas pedal and the car tears out of the bunker with a shriek of tire on pavement, leaving the smell of burning rubber in its wake. He nearly fishtails his way out onto the road and slams the gas as hard as it'll go, shifting up through gears as quickly as the Trans Am will let him.

He's trying to keep his breathing even as well, trying to force down the panic, trying to ignore the way that his shirt is sticking, sopping wet to his skin, trying more than anything to fight away the dizzy feeling in his head. His hands are white knuckled against the steering wheel, and he takes several turns, each of them getting more familiar, until he hits a long stretch of bleached out highway. This particular area is usually covered in sand, but the storm had taken most of it away, swept off into the next Zone, probably.

"M'I going the right way?" Ghoul finally speaks, now that they've put at least 10 miles between them and the bunker. Even if they were 10 miles in the wrong direction, he'd rather take a 5 hour fucking detour home if it meant staying away from that place.

Maybe not 5, actually, he thinks, reaching up one shaking hand to touch his throat. His side still feels like it's fucking sizzling around the edges of the stupid fucking brand he's going to have to wear now, but his throat is the worst. It's the thing that's scaring him. It reminds him of the night he go this first horrifically disfiguring scar. Laying in the sand and bleeding out into a puddle.

[xx-party-poison-xx]

Party is aware of the distance travelled, the speed they move at, no one chased them, no one shot. Shrike keeping her silent promise was probably the most honourable thing she’d ever done in her pathetic little life.

Its only when they’re far enough away does he even start to surface out of his fight state, the anger bubbling out to a semi-dissociative state, nothing feels real- heck he’s struggling to feel real but the one thing that was, was the blood running down Ghoul’s throat. Is it worse than it looks? God he hopes so, urging the green killjoy to pull over as he shifts and turns in his seat to press a hand over Ghoul’s throat.

There’s a mini medical kit in the glove box, his other hand grabs it, and he’s sure they can afford a few moments to at least deal with that one thing before continuing, after all, Ghoul passing out at the wheel and killing them both would suck.

“I’m sorry sweetheart.” He gets out, whispered and concerned, Party took a beating yes, but he’s not the one branded like cattle and bleeding from his throat while trying to drive.

[funghoulsayboom]

Ghoul does pull over, and quickly, too. Party's hand against his throat hurts like a motherfucker, and it takes all he has in him to not jerk away from the touch, taking the steering wheel with him.

Once stopped, he lets go of his desperate grip, and lets his eyes fall closed, focuses on his breathing again. "Just give me something to hold on it. You drive, I'll be fine just... I wanna go home." The last four words are whispered, and his voice is quivering. He can still smell burnt flesh, and hear the way Party had fought so hard to cry out every time a blow fell against his already beaten body.

He's fucking terrified, and he's heartbroken, and he's angry, because these last two days had been the best of his entire goddamn life. And now it's all ruined. All tainted by fucking Better Living Industries, the same way fucking everything in his life is tainted by BLI. They're fucking everywhere. They're inescapable, and they bring nothing but death to anyone who dares to live life by their own rules.

His breathing has picked up, the more he's letting his thoughts wander, and with the increased heartrate comes increased bleeding. He's still not gushing blood, but the flow is still a fairly steady flow, faster than Party would probably like. Faster than Ghoul would like, if he really knew. Certainly faster than Jet would be fucking comfortable with.

[xx-party-poison-xx]

“You’ll have to keep a lot of pressure on it.”

He’s moved his hand, now coated in Ghoul’s blood to wad up gauze. “Ollie.” Strong but firm, he needs to make it clear that Fun Ghoul absolutely cannot bleed out before they get home. But he watches for a reaction, before handing the wad to the other killjoy and gets out of the car to make swapping to the drivers side easier. Ghoul would have to just shinny across the seats. But the name felt wrong now, like he shouldn’t, can’t and likely won’t use it anymore from now on. Not after that, not now that he’s paranoid about BLi having ears everywhere…he’ll have to check the car for trackers later too, or get Kobra to do it. Because shit, pain has started to settle into his bones and Party might have to just rest a while. Jet is going to be so pissed, he thinks, urging Ghoul to scoot as he gets into the drivers seat.

[funghoulsayboom]

Hearing his name properly again makes Ghoul want to weep. Those are the only lips that should ever be saying it. Ever. But now it feels... Somehow terrifying. It doesn't hold the sort of excited thrill that it did just hours ago.

He does crawl his way over the center console, though his boot slips in blood pooling in the seat that he hadn't realized was there. "Fuck..." He whispers the word, because this is starting to feel like something far worse than what he originally thought.

"Take me home." He says now, and his voice is weak, whether form bloodloss, or panic is anyone's fucking guess at his point. He wants to whisper the other man's name. Wants to say it in all the ways he had been for the last few days, but he knows that's a bad fucking idea. They were traceable now, because of it.

Before this little vacation, Ollie and Fun Ghoul were two separate fucking people. Oliver Costa died out in Zone 2, bleeding out from a wound to the stomach, his sister and mother shot point blank. Fun Ghoul was some punkass zone rat who ran around with a pack of deranged maniacs who live in god knows what Zone, and caused BLI hell at every chance. Now, those two men were one and the same. They know his fucking face, they know his name, they know his alias...

They know that he is irrevocably in love with a red-haired man named Felix.

[xx-party-poison-xx]

There’s not much to say, at least nothing Party can think of, a wealth of ‘I’m sorry’ held back because he knows this wasn’t really his fault, how was he supposed to know the bunker was a trap, that Lorikeet one of their own, was a traitor.

That BL/I would hear everything and he dreads to think if they saw it too. With the door slammed shut harder than needed, Party Poison drives them home and leaves use of any name other than the ones they chose, behind them. It’s not safe to be anyone else, that’s been proven now and it’s likely they’d have Kobra’s records too..his medical history… the medication for epilepsy was becoming harder and harder to find in the zones for the red jacketed killjoy as it was. If BL/I get stricter on security at their end of the supply chain... They’d arrived home swiftly, Jet and Kobra rushing out to greet them only to gawk in horror for dragged out seconds upon catching sight of the state the two were in. The one eyed killjoy, the best medic they had, it took Jet hours and almost all the good supplies to fix them up. Party is laying on the mattress in his and Ghoul’s room(what had once been a walk in pantry at the diner and the most secluded space they had), later, bandages while and clean around a head wound he’d not even known he’d had and the eye that had swollen was considerably less so. The sclera of it however was red and blood ruptured and it was hard to focus..that one drac had hit him so hard but he’s still watching Fun Ghoul breathe beside him regardless. Reaching out a hand to gently rest it on the man’s chest, he’s trying to not disturb him, but right now if he’s anything like the red, the best he can do is sleep lightly. Party Poison is just glad they’re both alive.

[funghoulsayboom]

By the time they make it to the diner, Ghoul looks like he's taken a literal blood bath. Party's face is swollen in several places, his eye looks completely busted, they're both sporting matching broken ribs, and to top it all off... Ghoul's throat has completely ruined the seats.

Both Party and Jet cast him twin scathing looks when he points this out. Something about 'FUCK THE CAR!' is screamed by Party, at the same time that Jet barks out, 'would you sit the fuck down?!'

They both manage to get patched up, and Ghoul even gets and extra can of flat soda for the trouble of losing a fuck ton of blood. Things are tense, in the diner, and he just knows that Kobra and Jet are positioned on the roof at either side of the diner with their eyes fucking pealed, despite the fact that they cleared the car and all of their belongings of trackers hours ago.

They're all shaken by the events of the week, all on edge, simply waiting for the next shoe to drop, but there isn't anything they can do retroactively. This is a game of resting, healing, and waiting.

Ghoul has been laying in the same position for what feels like hours. He usually hates laying flat on his back, but it's the only thing that even brings a modicum of relief to his aching body. He's got his eyes closed, and he's trying his best to dial in on his breathing, counting each second it takes to inhale and exhale.

Feeling Party's hand on his chest, he slowly reaches his own up to curl around the fingers, and finally opens his eyes which are very suddenly swimming with new tears. He has to be careful with the way he turns his head to look at the other killjoy, Jet has told him a million times already that they cannot afford for him to re-open this wound, lest it be worse.

He does manage to catch Party's eyes, though. He looks awful, the same way Ghoul must look. It makes his chest ache.

"What are we, Fe--" Ghoul catches himself, and something between guilt and white hot anger comes rolling through his stomach. He should be able to say this name. He's allowed to, Party's fucking told him so himself. It's not fucking fair. This stupid fucking corporation has taken everything else from him, and now it's taken this.

He tips his head back to its previous position and closes his eyes, trying to ignore the way tears sleep from the corners and slide down his temples and into his hairline.

"What happens to us now? Me and you?" He asks, and he hopes the meaning is implied. It's not about what happens physically in the future. With BLI and being on the run or the safety of the diner. This is about them.

[funghoulsayboom]

Thunderheads Pt. 4

(Another continuation of the original thread, Pt 3 can be found here!) @xx-party-poison-xx

It's all a flash of red suddenly, a blur, the sound of a blaster going off, screaming, a body slumping, and then he's being released, the dracs backing off, and Ghoul takes the moment grasp desperately at his throat, which is bleeding at an alarming rate onto his shirt. He can't tell how deep it is.

"Party--" he starts, but he cuts himself off, because now is not the fucking time. Words later. Actions now.

He's rushing up onto his feet and he darts to the place that Shrike had stored their guns and holsters. Ghoul grabs both of them, powering his own blaster on and pointing it out in front of him, shifting the site between the dracs who have all backed down.

Party has Shrike pinned to the floor, and he's covered in blood from the drac he's just taken down. He looks dangerous, like an animal. Oliver loves him.

"The car." Is all he says, passing close to where the man is kneeling on the ground. He hands him his gun and walks backwards toward the Trans Am, keeping his own weapon trained on each drac in turn as he goes.

[xx-party-poison-xx]

“It’s open” Party spoke, addressing Fun Ghoul without taking his eyes off Shrike, neither does he ease the pressure on the knife. He can’t see Ghoul’s throat damage from here, but he’d heard his name previously and mention of the car.

“You drive her.” He’ll make sure Shrike stays down until the last second, and for Party to allow the green Killjoy to drive, the situation must really be important. The spare keys are hidden in the drivers side footwell, as the red can’t give Ghoul his set as his hands are both busy.

The way Shrike remains quiet I beneath the red her focus on keeping her position still, he can’t tell if she’s in pain from a very broken arm of or she’s trying to come up with any sort of plan. ”This is how it’s going to go,” He’s talking to her again, his eyes voice horrendously calm, “we leave- you don’t follow, I let you keep your life.” But he needs the Trans Am revved and ready to go because he’s going to have to release her at only the last second.

[funghoulsayboom]

Ghoul doesn't have to be told twice. He makes sure to keep his eyes on the dracs until the very last second, the moment his back hits the car. Only then he turns and rushes to get the door open. It takes a moment, his hands slick with blood from his throat.

He wonders absently how much blood he's losing as he's searching for the spare set of keys. His neck isn't gushing, but it's a steady flow, and he can't tell if the dizzy feeling is adrenaline, or the concussion he has to have at this point, or blood loss, or sheer panic. He's been through a lot in his life, he's got plenty of nightmares to choose from, but this one might end up being the worst.

His slick fingers find the keys, and he scrambles to set the seat right, adjust the rearview mirror so he can see properly, and the dracs are staring right back at him through it. Still... They haven't moved. He'll thank Party for that later.

The engine seems so painfully loud when he starts the car. It fills the little garage with a deep rumble, and Ghoul can feel it in his chest where he's sitting before he half crawls over the center console to open the passenger side door from the inside.

"Red!" He calls, and his voice is so much more raspy than he remembered it being a moment ago, or maybe it's because of the way he's leaning, or the screams he'd been emitting or the dust that's blown in from the open garage doors.

He wants nothing more than to go home and forget this fucking place ever existed. Running water and bed be damned.

[xx-party-poison-xx]

The knife digs only a little into Shrike’s throat, a reminder as Party hears that nickname, it’s time to go, it’s time to go now.

He seemingly has Shrike released from his grip and her gun in hand within the same second, fully aware of the sickening smell of burnt flesh coming from the barrel as he aims it to any drac who might dare move and even Shrike herself. No one does. The Red managing to get in the car and get the door shut successfully only just becoming aware of the laser injury to his leg but at this point it’s just another problem to the pile. His right eye, the one where he’s sure he’d felt vessels burst internally earlier has swollen up around the outside. But he’ll also be glad to get out of this place, and now he knows if he’ll not be coming back either, not unless he had to and not without extra man power and enough explosives to send it into oblivion. One hand taps Fun Ghoul’s leg, an unspoken signal as Party puts effort into regulating his breathing enough to bring his still raging mind to a more sensible logical level.

[funghoulsayboom]

The second Ghoul feels the tap, his foot slams on the gas pedal and the car tears out of the bunker with a shriek of tire on pavement, leaving the smell of burning rubber in its wake. He nearly fishtails his way out onto the road and slams the gas as hard as it'll go, shifting up through gears as quickly as the Trans Am will let him.

He's trying to keep his breathing even as well, trying to force down the panic, trying to ignore the way that his shirt is sticking, sopping wet to his skin, trying more than anything to fight away the dizzy feeling in his head. His hands are white knuckled against the steering wheel, and he takes several turns, each of them getting more familiar, until he hits a long stretch of bleached out highway. This particular area is usually covered in sand, but the storm had taken most of it away, swept off into the next Zone, probably.

"M'I going the right way?" Ghoul finally speaks, now that they've put at least 10 miles between them and the bunker. Even if they were 10 miles in the wrong direction, he'd rather take a 5 hour fucking detour home if it meant staying away from that place.

Maybe not 5, actually, he thinks, reaching up one shaking hand to touch his throat. His side still feels like it's fucking sizzling around the edges of the stupid fucking brand he's going to have to wear now, but his throat is the worst. It's the thing that's scaring him. It reminds him of the night he go this first horrifically disfiguring scar. Laying in the sand and bleeding out into a puddle.

[xx-party-poison-xx]

Party is aware of the distance travelled, the speed they move at, no one chased them, no one shot. Shrike keeping her silent promise was probably the most honourable thing she’d ever done in her pathetic little life.

Its only when they’re far enough away does he even start to surface out of his fight state, the anger bubbling out to a semi-dissociative state, nothing feels real- heck he’s struggling to feel real but the one thing that was, was the blood running down Ghoul’s throat. Is it worse than it looks? God he hopes so, urging the green killjoy to pull over as he shifts and turns in his seat to press a hand over Ghoul’s throat.

There’s a mini medical kit in the glove box, his other hand grabs it, and he’s sure they can afford a few moments to at least deal with that one thing before continuing, after all, Ghoul passing out at the wheel and killing them both would suck.

“I’m sorry sweetheart.” He gets out, whispered and concerned, Party took a beating yes, but he’s not the one branded like cattle and bleeding from his throat while trying to drive.

[funghoulsayboom]

Ghoul does pull over, and quickly, too. Party's hand against his throat hurts like a motherfucker, and it takes all he has in him to not jerk away from the touch, taking the steering wheel with him.

Once stopped, he lets go of his desperate grip, and lets his eyes fall closed, focuses on his breathing again. "Just give me something to hold on it. You drive, I'll be fine just... I wanna go home." The last four words are whispered, and his voice is quivering. He can still smell burnt flesh, and hear the way Party had fought so hard to cry out every time a blow fell against his already beaten body.

He's fucking terrified, and he's heartbroken, and he's angry, because these last two days had been the best of his entire goddamn life. And now it's all ruined. All tainted by fucking Better Living Industries, the same way fucking everything in his life is tainted by BLI. They're fucking everywhere. They're inescapable, and they bring nothing but death to anyone who dares to live life by their own rules.

His breathing has picked up, the more he's letting his thoughts wander, and with the increased heartrate comes increased bleeding. He's still not gushing blood, but the flow is still a fairly steady flow, faster than Party would probably like. Faster than Ghoul would like, if he really knew. Certainly faster than Jet would be fucking comfortable with.

[xx-party-poison-xx]

“You’ll have to keep a lot of pressure on it.”

He’s moved his hand, now coated in Ghoul’s blood to wad up gauze. “Ollie.” Strong but firm, he needs to make it clear that Fun Ghoul absolutely cannot bleed out before they get home. But he watches for a reaction, before handing the wad to the other killjoy and gets out of the car to make swapping to the drivers side easier. Ghoul would have to just shinny across the seats. But the name felt wrong now, like he shouldn’t, can’t and likely won’t use it anymore from now on. Not after that, not now that he’s paranoid about BLi having ears everywhere…he’ll have to check the car for trackers later too, or get Kobra to do it. Because shit, pain has started to settle into his bones and Party might have to just rest a while. Jet is going to be so pissed, he thinks, urging Ghoul to scoot as he gets into the drivers seat.

[funghoulsayboom]

Hearing his name properly again makes Ghoul want to weep. Those are the only lips that should ever be saying it. Ever. But now it feels... Somehow terrifying. It doesn't hold the sort of excited thrill that it did just hours ago.

He does crawl his way over the center console, though his boot slips in blood pooling in the seat that he hadn't realized was there. "Fuck..." He whispers the word, because this is starting to feel like something far worse than what he originally thought.

"Take me home." He says now, and his voice is weak, whether form bloodloss, or panic is anyone's fucking guess at his point. He wants to whisper the other man's name. Wants to say it in all the ways he had been for the last few days, but he knows that's a bad fucking idea. They were traceable now, because of it.

Before this little vacation, Ollie and Fun Ghoul were two separate fucking people. Oliver Costa died out in Zone 2, bleeding out from a wound to the stomach, his sister and mother shot point blank. Fun Ghoul was some punkass zone rat who ran around with a pack of deranged maniacs who live in god knows what Zone, and caused BLI hell at every chance. Now, those two men were one and the same. They know his fucking face, they know his name, they know his alias...

They know that he is irrevocably in love with a red-haired man named Felix.

[funghoulsayboom]

Thunderheads Pt. 4

(Another continuation of the original thread, Pt 3 can be found here!) @xx-party-poison-xx

It's all a flash of red suddenly, a blur, the sound of a blaster going off, screaming, a body slumping, and then he's being released, the dracs backing off, and Ghoul takes the moment grasp desperately at his throat, which is bleeding at an alarming rate onto his shirt. He can't tell how deep it is.

"Party--" he starts, but he cuts himself off, because now is not the fucking time. Words later. Actions now.

He's rushing up onto his feet and he darts to the place that Shrike had stored their guns and holsters. Ghoul grabs both of them, powering his own blaster on and pointing it out in front of him, shifting the site between the dracs who have all backed down.

Party has Shrike pinned to the floor, and he's covered in blood from the drac he's just taken down. He looks dangerous, like an animal. Oliver loves him.

"The car." Is all he says, passing close to where the man is kneeling on the ground. He hands him his gun and walks backwards toward the Trans Am, keeping his own weapon trained on each drac in turn as he goes.

[xx-party-poison-xx]

“It’s open” Party spoke, addressing Fun Ghoul without taking his eyes off Shrike, neither does he ease the pressure on the knife. He can’t see Ghoul’s throat damage from here, but he’d heard his name previously and mention of the car.

“You drive her.” He’ll make sure Shrike stays down until the last second, and for Party to allow the green Killjoy to drive, the situation must really be important. The spare keys are hidden in the drivers side footwell, as the red can’t give Ghoul his set as his hands are both busy.

The way Shrike remains quiet I beneath the red her focus on keeping her position still, he can’t tell if she’s in pain from a very broken arm of or she’s trying to come up with any sort of plan. ”This is how it’s going to go,” He’s talking to her again, his eyes voice horrendously calm, “we leave- you don’t follow, I let you keep your life.” But he needs the Trans Am revved and ready to go because he’s going to have to release her at only the last second.

[funghoulsayboom]

Ghoul doesn't have to be told twice. He makes sure to keep his eyes on the dracs until the very last second, the moment his back hits the car. Only then he turns and rushes to get the door open. It takes a moment, his hands slick with blood from his throat.

He wonders absently how much blood he's losing as he's searching for the spare set of keys. His neck isn't gushing, but it's a steady flow, and he can't tell if the dizzy feeling is adrenaline, or the concussion he has to have at this point, or blood loss, or sheer panic. He's been through a lot in his life, he's got plenty of nightmares to choose from, but this one might end up being the worst.

His slick fingers find the keys, and he scrambles to set the seat right, adjust the rearview mirror so he can see properly, and the dracs are staring right back at him through it. Still... They haven't moved. He'll thank Party for that later.

The engine seems so painfully loud when he starts the car. It fills the little garage with a deep rumble, and Ghoul can feel it in his chest where he's sitting before he half crawls over the center console to open the passenger side door from the inside.

"Red!" He calls, and his voice is so much more raspy than he remembered it being a moment ago, or maybe it's because of the way he's leaning, or the screams he'd been emitting or the dust that's blown in from the open garage doors.

He wants nothing more than to go home and forget this fucking place ever existed. Running water and bed be damned.

[xx-party-poison-xx]

The knife digs only a little into Shrike’s throat, a reminder as Party hears that nickname, it’s time to go, it’s time to go now.

He seemingly has Shrike released from his grip and her gun in hand within the same second, fully aware of the sickening smell of burnt flesh coming from the barrel as he aims it to any drac who might dare move and even Shrike herself. No one does. The Red managing to get in the car and get the door shut successfully only just becoming aware of the laser injury to his leg but at this point it’s just another problem to the pile. His right eye, the one where he’s sure he’d felt vessels burst internally earlier has swollen up around the outside. But he’ll also be glad to get out of this place, and now he knows if he’ll not be coming back either, not unless he had to and not without extra man power and enough explosives to send it into oblivion. One hand taps Fun Ghoul’s leg, an unspoken signal as Party puts effort into regulating his breathing enough to bring his still raging mind to a more sensible logical level.

[funghoulsayboom]

The second Ghoul feels the tap, his foot slams on the gas pedal and the car tears out of the bunker with a shriek of tire on pavement, leaving the smell of burning rubber in its wake. He nearly fishtails his way out onto the road and slams the gas as hard as it'll go, shifting up through gears as quickly as the Trans Am will let him.

He's trying to keep his breathing even as well, trying to force down the panic, trying to ignore the way that his shirt is sticking, sopping wet to his skin, trying more than anything to fight away the dizzy feeling in his head. His hands are white knuckled against the steering wheel, and he takes several turns, each of them getting more familiar, until he hits a long stretch of bleached out highway. This particular area is usually covered in sand, but the storm had taken most of it away, swept off into the next Zone, probably.

"M'I going the right way?" Ghoul finally speaks, now that they've put at least 10 miles between them and the bunker. Even if they were 10 miles in the wrong direction, he'd rather take a 5 hour fucking detour home if it meant staying away from that place.

Maybe not 5, actually, he thinks, reaching up one shaking hand to touch his throat. His side still feels like it's fucking sizzling around the edges of the stupid fucking brand he's going to have to wear now, but his throat is the worst. It's the thing that's scaring him. It reminds him of the night he go this first horrifically disfiguring scar. Laying in the sand and bleeding out into a puddle.

[xx-party-poison-xx]

Party is aware of the distance travelled, the speed they move at, no one chased them, no one shot. Shrike keeping her silent promise was probably the most honourable thing she’d ever done in her pathetic little life.

Its only when they’re far enough away does he even start to surface out of his fight state, the anger bubbling out to a semi-dissociative state, nothing feels real- heck he’s struggling to feel real but the one thing that was, was the blood running down Ghoul’s throat. Is it worse than it looks? God he hopes so, urging the green killjoy to pull over as he shifts and turns in his seat to press a hand over Ghoul’s throat.

There’s a mini medical kit in the glove box, his other hand grabs it, and he’s sure they can afford a few moments to at least deal with that one thing before continuing, after all, Ghoul passing out at the wheel and killing them both would suck.

“I’m sorry sweetheart.” He gets out, whispered and concerned, Party took a beating yes, but he’s not the one branded like cattle and bleeding from his throat while trying to drive.

[funghoulsayboom]

Ghoul does pull over, and quickly, too. Party's hand against his throat hurts like a motherfucker, and it takes all he has in him to not jerk away from the touch, taking the steering wheel with him.

Once stopped, he lets go of his desperate grip, and lets his eyes fall closed, focuses on his breathing again. "Just give me something to hold on it. You drive, I'll be fine just... I wanna go home." The last four words are whispered, and his voice is quivering. He can still smell burnt flesh, and hear the way Party had fought so hard to cry out every time a blow fell against his already beaten body.

He's fucking terrified, and he's heartbroken, and he's angry, because these last two days had been the best of his entire goddamn life. And now it's all ruined. All tainted by fucking Better Living Industries, the same way fucking everything in his life is tainted by BLI. They're fucking everywhere. They're inescapable, and they bring nothing but death to anyone who dares to live life by their own rules.

His breathing has picked up, the more he's letting his thoughts wander, and with the increased heartrate comes increased bleeding. He's still not gushing blood, but the flow is still a fairly steady flow, faster than Party would probably like. Faster than Ghoul would like, if he really knew. Certainly faster than Jet would be fucking comfortable with.

[funghoulsayboom]

Thunderheads Pt. 4

(Another continuation of the original thread, Pt 3 can be found here!) @xx-party-poison-xx

It's all a flash of red suddenly, a blur, the sound of a blaster going off, screaming, a body slumping, and then he's being released, the dracs backing off, and Ghoul takes the moment grasp desperately at his throat, which is bleeding at an alarming rate onto his shirt. He can't tell how deep it is.

"Party--" he starts, but he cuts himself off, because now is not the fucking time. Words later. Actions now.

He's rushing up onto his feet and he darts to the place that Shrike had stored their guns and holsters. Ghoul grabs both of them, powering his own blaster on and pointing it out in front of him, shifting the site between the dracs who have all backed down.

Party has Shrike pinned to the floor, and he's covered in blood from the drac he's just taken down. He looks dangerous, like an animal. Oliver loves him.

"The car." Is all he says, passing close to where the man is kneeling on the ground. He hands him his gun and walks backwards toward the Trans Am, keeping his own weapon trained on each drac in turn as he goes.

[xx-party-poison-xx]

“It’s open” Party spoke, addressing Fun Ghoul without taking his eyes off Shrike, neither does he ease the pressure on the knife. He can’t see Ghoul’s throat damage from here, but he’d heard his name previously and mention of the car.

“You drive her.” He’ll make sure Shrike stays down until the last second, and for Party to allow the green Killjoy to drive, the situation must really be important. The spare keys are hidden in the drivers side footwell, as the red can’t give Ghoul his set as his hands are both busy.

The way Shrike remains quiet I beneath the red her focus on keeping her position still, he can’t tell if she’s in pain from a very broken arm of or she’s trying to come up with any sort of plan. ”This is how it’s going to go,” He’s talking to her again, his eyes voice horrendously calm, “we leave- you don’t follow, I let you keep your life.” But he needs the Trans Am revved and ready to go because he’s going to have to release her at only the last second.

[funghoulsayboom]

Ghoul doesn't have to be told twice. He makes sure to keep his eyes on the dracs until the very last second, the moment his back hits the car. Only then he turns and rushes to get the door open. It takes a moment, his hands slick with blood from his throat.

He wonders absently how much blood he's losing as he's searching for the spare set of keys. His neck isn't gushing, but it's a steady flow, and he can't tell if the dizzy feeling is adrenaline, or the concussion he has to have at this point, or blood loss, or sheer panic. He's been through a lot in his life, he's got plenty of nightmares to choose from, but this one might end up being the worst.

His slick fingers find the keys, and he scrambles to set the seat right, adjust the rearview mirror so he can see properly, and the dracs are staring right back at him through it. Still... They haven't moved. He'll thank Party for that later.

The engine seems so painfully loud when he starts the car. It fills the little garage with a deep rumble, and Ghoul can feel it in his chest where he's sitting before he half crawls over the center console to open the passenger side door from the inside.

"Red!" He calls, and his voice is so much more raspy than he remembered it being a moment ago, or maybe it's because of the way he's leaning, or the screams he'd been emitting or the dust that's blown in from the open garage doors.

He wants nothing more than to go home and forget this fucking place ever existed. Running water and bed be damned.

[xx-party-poison-xx]

The knife digs only a little into Shrike’s throat, a reminder as Party hears that nickname, it’s time to go, it’s time to go now.

He seemingly has Shrike released from his grip and her gun in hand within the same second, fully aware of the sickening smell of burnt flesh coming from the barrel as he aims it to any drac who might dare move and even Shrike herself. No one does. The Red managing to get in the car and get the door shut successfully only just becoming aware of the laser injury to his leg but at this point it’s just another problem to the pile. His right eye, the one where he’s sure he’d felt vessels burst internally earlier has swollen up around the outside. But he’ll also be glad to get out of this place, and now he knows if he’ll not be coming back either, not unless he had to and not without extra man power and enough explosives to send it into oblivion. One hand taps Fun Ghoul’s leg, an unspoken signal as Party puts effort into regulating his breathing enough to bring his still raging mind to a more sensible logical level.

[funghoulsayboom]

The second Ghoul feels the tap, his foot slams on the gas pedal and the car tears out of the bunker with a shriek of tire on pavement, leaving the smell of burning rubber in its wake. He nearly fishtails his way out onto the road and slams the gas as hard as it'll go, shifting up through gears as quickly as the Trans Am will let him.

He's trying to keep his breathing even as well, trying to force down the panic, trying to ignore the way that his shirt is sticking, sopping wet to his skin, trying more than anything to fight away the dizzy feeling in his head. His hands are white knuckled against the steering wheel, and he takes several turns, each of them getting more familiar, until he hits a long stretch of bleached out highway. This particular area is usually covered in sand, but the storm had taken most of it away, swept off into the next Zone, probably.

"M'I going the right way?" Ghoul finally speaks, now that they've put at least 10 miles between them and the bunker. Even if they were 10 miles in the wrong direction, he'd rather take a 5 hour fucking detour home if it meant staying away from that place.

Maybe not 5, actually, he thinks, reaching up one shaking hand to touch his throat. His side still feels like it's fucking sizzling around the edges of the stupid fucking brand he's going to have to wear now, but his throat is the worst. It's the thing that's scaring him. It reminds him of the night he go this first horrifically disfiguring scar. Laying in the sand and bleeding out into a puddle.

[funghoulsayboom]

Thunderheads Pt. 4

(Another continuation of the original thread, Pt 3 can be found here!) @xx-party-poison-xx

It's all a flash of red suddenly, a blur, the sound of a blaster going off, screaming, a body slumping, and then he's being released, the dracs backing off, and Ghoul takes the moment grasp desperately at his throat, which is bleeding at an alarming rate onto his shirt. He can't tell how deep it is.

"Party--" he starts, but he cuts himself off, because now is not the fucking time. Words later. Actions now.

He's rushing up onto his feet and he darts to the place that Shrike had stored their guns and holsters. Ghoul grabs both of them, powering his own blaster on and pointing it out in front of him, shifting the site between the dracs who have all backed down.

Party has Shrike pinned to the floor, and he's covered in blood from the drac he's just taken down. He looks dangerous, like an animal. Oliver loves him.

"The car." Is all he says, passing close to where the man is kneeling on the ground. He hands him his gun and walks backwards toward the Trans Am, keeping his own weapon trained on each drac in turn as he goes.

[xx-party-poison-xx]

“It’s open” Party spoke, addressing Fun Ghoul without taking his eyes off Shrike, neither does he ease the pressure on the knife. He can’t see Ghoul’s throat damage from here, but he’d heard his name previously and mention of the car.

“You drive her.” He’ll make sure Shrike stays down until the last second, and for Party to allow the green Killjoy to drive, the situation must really be important. The spare keys are hidden in the drivers side footwell, as the red can’t give Ghoul his set as his hands are both busy.

The way Shrike remains quiet I beneath the red her focus on keeping her position still, he can’t tell if she’s in pain from a very broken arm of or she’s trying to come up with any sort of plan. ”This is how it’s going to go,” He’s talking to her again, his eyes voice horrendously calm, “we leave- you don’t follow, I let you keep your life.” But he needs the Trans Am revved and ready to go because he’s going to have to release her at only the last second.

[funghoulsayboom]

Ghoul doesn't have to be told twice. He makes sure to keep his eyes on the dracs until the very last second, the moment his back hits the car. Only then he turns and rushes to get the door open. It takes a moment, his hands slick with blood from his throat.

He wonders absently how much blood he's losing as he's searching for the spare set of keys. His neck isn't gushing, but it's a steady flow, and he can't tell if the dizzy feeling is adrenaline, or the concussion he has to have at this point, or blood loss, or sheer panic. He's been through a lot in his life, he's got plenty of nightmares to choose from, but this one might end up being the worst.

His slick fingers find the keys, and he scrambles to set the seat right, adjust the rearview mirror so he can see properly, and the dracs are staring right back at him through it. Still... They haven't moved. He'll thank Party for that later.

The engine seems so painfully loud when he starts the car. It fills the little garage with a deep rumble, and Ghoul can feel it in his chest where he's sitting before he half crawls over the center console to open the passenger side door from the inside.

"Red!" He calls, and his voice is so much more raspy than he remembered it being a moment ago, or maybe it's because of the way he's leaning, or the screams he'd been emitting or the dust that's blown in from the open garage doors.

He wants nothing more than to go home and forget this fucking place ever existed. Running water and bed be damned.

[funghoulsayboom]

Thunderheads Pt. 4

(Another continuation of the original thread, Pt 3 can be found here!) @xx-party-poison-xx

It's all a flash of red suddenly, a blur, the sound of a blaster going off, screaming, a body slumping, and then he's being released, the dracs backing off, and Ghoul takes the moment grasp desperately at his throat, which is bleeding at an alarming rate onto his shirt. He can't tell how deep it is.

"Party--" he starts, but he cuts himself off, because now is not the fucking time. Words later. Actions now.

He's rushing up onto his feet and he darts to the place that Shrike had stored their guns and holsters. Ghoul grabs both of them, powering his own blaster on and pointing it out in front of him, shifting the site between the dracs who have all backed down.

Party has Shrike pinned to the floor, and he's covered in blood from the drac he's just taken down. He looks dangerous, like an animal. Oliver loves him.

"The car." Is all he says, passing close to where the man is kneeling on the ground. He hands him his gun and walks backwards toward the Trans Am, keeping his own weapon trained on each drac in turn as he goes.

[the-jet-star]

We could steal this car if your folks don’t mind

Jet was driving at a crawl as he neared the BL/ind building. He wasn’t 100% comfortable with the plan, mainly because he didn’t know all of it yet. Ghoul had prepared this all on his own, and it must’ve taken him a while because he apparently already thought of everything. Jet would say he’s impressed, but he actually never really underestimated his younger comrade. He just didn’t want his ego to inflate more than it already was.

“Okay,” he finally breathed. “You get 45 minutes. No explosions, I come looking for you, got it?” His heart is beating out of his chest like it does every time they got on a mission. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to this shit, especially now that he is officially the worst shooter out of everyone.

He reaches over to clasp a hand with Ghoul before he leaves, silently giving him a good luck and praying that everything goes according to whatever plan he has.

//ORIGINAL THREAD STARTS ON TWITTER. LINK HERE. @funghoulsayboom

[funghoulsayboom]

Ghoul looks down at their hands, clasps together and nods once before giving that signature smirk. The one he makes before he does something really fucking stupid.

Because, at the end of the day, this is really fucking stupid.

Keep reading

[the-jet-star]

Jet doesn’t even watch Fun Ghoul once he gets out of the car. He drives off as quickly as he can without burning rubber to draw attention to where he just dropped his friend off. Jet goes to the other edge of Battery City, which isn’t far. He can hear any explosions from there, and he gets some cover from the stupid fucking “welcome” sign that is out there.

He glances at the dashboard clock to check the time. He knows it’s off by however many fucking hours and minutes, but it still counts time perfectly fine. He remembers the time like a lifeline, and waits for the time to tick by minute by excruciatingly long minute. Because he knows that if he doesn’t return with Fun Ghoul, he’ll be the next dead Killjoy, even if Party Poison doesn’t kill him as soon as he returns. The guilt will eat him alive and he’ll be a shell of the person he is now.

But he trusts Fun Ghoul to see this through. He trusts him with his life. Now if only he could get his fucking heart to stop beating so damn fast. He glances in each direction every so often, making sure there isn’t a drac or ‘crow in sight. His hand’s on his blaster, ready for anything that may come his way. 

[funghoulsayboom]

Getting in is easy enough with the disguise, though he has to set his bag down at the door so it’s not obvious. He can’t let a single step of this plan go out of line. His survival depends on it.

Keep reading

[the-jet-star]

The minutes go by, and Jet can’t help but think about how they end up in some morgue of time. He stays alert and thanks his lucky stars that he doesn’t see anything out of the ordinary, or anyone after him for that matter. But it’s excruciating to sit around waiting for Ghoul when he knows that he could be dead at any moment. Worse that he could be there to maybe prevent it by putting his body in harms way so Ghoul could get away.

When theres two minutes left and he’s just about ready to drive back to BL/ind, he hears the explosion, then sees the mushroom cloud go up, filling the pale sky with a dark plume of smoke that goes up higher than he’s seen in a long ass time. He quickly turns the car on and puts it into gear, keeping his foot on the brake and the clutch to make a clean getaway, either into the city or back through the zones, when the moment comes. 

He keeps his eyes trained on the road, prepared for any enemies, but praying for Ghoul to come racing through. He’ll have to flip a bitch to high tail it out of there since the mirrors on the trans-am are pretty fucking worn out in a lot of places. Seriously, it’s a miracle that they’re able to spot enemies with those things. And with Jet’s eyesight as bad as it currently is, he’s not taking any chances by having his back to the enemy.

He thinks he sees a white BL/ind car headed towards him, and he points his gun out the window. And it is a fucking BL/ind card. He knows getting a clear shot at whoever is in it will be pretty much impossible because A) he’s shooting with his left hand and B) he only has one fucking good eye. His finger goes to the trigger and he squints as the car gets closer. Then he sees the distinguishable green ray gun that belongs to Fun Ghoul.

He lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding in and waits for Ghoul to pass him before hitting the gas and getting the fuck out of there, tailing Ghoul as close as he can without causing in accident. His heart is still racing, and he continually checks the rearview mirror for any trouble.

[funghoulsayboom]

Ghoul lets out one good “WOO!” before the effort is rewarded by searing pain in his side. Ah. That’ll be the blaster wound, then. No time, though. They can clean the blood our of the seats later. Currently, the only thing that he can focus on is tearing ass away from Bat City in record time, keeping an eye out for anyone following, and making sure Jet is right along with him.

Keep reading

[the-jet-star]

The drive back is surprisingly easy and Jet feels their heart rate slow as they get closer and closer to the diner. Ghoul quite possibly just single-handedly pulled off the best heist of the century. If there were any fucking history books still being written, this would surely make it. 

Once they park and Star kills the engine he sees Ghoul’s fucking bleeding out of his side. “Mother fucker,” he hisses and runs inside to get the medical supplies. He comes back out, Party and Kobra in tow. They always run after Jet when he’s hastily grabbing the medical supplies. 

“What happened?” Party yells at Star. He’s pissed and Star gets it. He’d be pissed, too, if Party came back with an injured Kobra and the wound wasn’t at least packed before they made it back. They should have stopped, but he’s not going to yell at Ghoul about it now.

“We can talk about it once Ghoul’s patched up,” Star says as calmly as possible and he carefully pushes the fabric away, knowing Ghoul will take his shirt off as they work on the wound. Their movements are practiced, and Kobra is handing off more gauze and alcohol to Star so they can work faster. Luckily the wound isn’t deep, and once it’s wrapped up in gauze and medical tape he feels Party shove them out of the way. 

“What the fuck happened?” Party demands as he gingerly pull Ghoul to him. 

Star stays quiet for a minute. He doesn’t want to throw Ghoul under the bus. Eventually he tells the truth. “I didn’t have his back like I should have. I’m sorry.” They feel a hand on their shoulder and Kobra is giving them a sympathetic smile before wrapping his arms around their waist.

[funghoulsayboom]

As the adrenaline is wearing off, Ghoul realizes that this shit fucking hurts. More so now that they’re at the diner and Jet is fucking dousing his side in alcohol, cleaning things as Ghoul is taking off is shirt, and pressing bandages up against the skin to stop any bleeding. Luckily it’s surface level, so that doesn’t take too long. It’s a good thing. If they had to apply pressure any longer, he might hit something.

As Star is finishing up, just as things start to die down, chaos breaks look.

Ghoul is being pulled in against Party’s side, and while he’s not upset for the comfort, he is more than a little irritated. Granted, he shouldn’t be. Party has every right to be upset. Ghoul and Jet went off on their own little excursion without telling anyone before hand, and Ghoul’s come back with a wound. He had, for the most part, expected the anger. He just didn’t expect it to be directed at Star.

What Ghoul is also stunned by, is the fact that Jet is taking the fall?

“You didn’t have my back because I told you to wait outside city limits,” He corrects the other, giving him a pointed look before he turns to Party. “He didn’t do anything wrong here, Red, I went in on my own, I did what I had to. Minor wound, I’m fine.”

He’s a bit unsteady on his feet, but he manages to stand and turn a little circle, wearing that signature ‘I am totally fine’ smile. “See? Little worse for wear, but I’m all good. And, you haven’t even checked out the car yet.”

[the-jet-star]

Jet shakes his head at Ghoul. “No. I should’ve gone in with you.” He’s been telling himself that since he saw the wound. “I could’ve given you cover.”

“Damn right you should’ve gone in with him,” Party practically barks at him, ignoring the obvious distraction Ghoul is trying to put in front of him, and the guilt sinks in further for Jet. “And you should have let him,” Party turns to Ghoul and gingerly brushes his hair out of his face. “We can’t be fuckin’ stupid like this.” His voice is softer now.

“I’m sorry,” Jet says lamely again. He’s glad Ghoul’s okay, and he’s glad that Party isn’t mad at the shorter man. It’s already bad enough that he got shot. He doesn’t need to get yelled at, too.

Jet kicks at the dirt before sighing and packing up the unused medical supplies. Once they’re stored away properly, they start picking up the soiled gauze to burn in the evening along with the rest of their trash. They give one last mournful glance at Ghoul and Party before heading inside to put the medical kit away, leaving the other three men outside.

[funghoulsayboom]

Ghoul watches Jet go with a mournful look and glares back at Party, “You cannot blame him for this. I made this plan all by myself, and if anything, you should be thanking him for at least being outside the city, because I asked him for a ride there, and told him to just drop me off and dip.”

Kobra speaks up now, eyes wide, “Why in the ever loving fuck would you do that?”

“Because I had a plan, and that plan required one person. Me. I had it handled–”

“Clearly not!” Party cuts him off, “Ghoul, you got shot!”

Ghoul gestures furiously at his face, at the slick scar running jaggedly across his cheek, “Not exactly anything new! And this isn’t even that bad!”

He watches a Kobra pulls a face. “You can’t just do shit alone.”

“I wasn’t alone! He fucking insisted on staying, that’s what I’m saying! He had my back as best as he could, but I had to do this alone, two ‘new’ dracs waltzing into a storehouse wouldn’t have been discreet, especially given one of them is like 8 feet tall–”

“He’s 6'1”, you’re just short.“ Kobra says, and the corner of his mouth is playing at a smile.

“My point,” Ghoul starts again, “Is that I needed to do this alone, and I was lucky he was even there if things went sideways. Which they didn’t.”

[the-jet-star]

Jet is standing by the door and hears everything. He shakes his head and smiles when Ghoul stands up for him. He walks out and stands on the other side of Ghoul. “Thanks, man,” he says quietly before stepping back to stand next to Kobra.

“So. Are we all just gonna stand here or are we gonna check out these new wheels Ghoul scored for us?” he asks gesturing to the car.

Kobra’s mouth quirks into a smile and nods once. “Yeah, what else did you bring?”

Jet’s slightly relieved as the other two turn their attention to the car and he taps Ghoul on the shoulder. “You should’ve let me take the heat, man.” He smiles, though. “And we have to get rid of the tracker. We can’t risk your fancy code to possibly fail and lead Better Living Industries right to us.”

[funghoulsayboom]

Ghoul can't do anything but roll his eyes. "There wasn't any heat for you to take, dude," He says with a shrug, but he's smiling, "I'm the one with the stupid plan in the first place. No point in Party chewing your ass when you didn't even have anything to do with it."

Jet is right, though. The tracker is a problem that needs to be solved, and fast. He takes the time to check under all the wheelwells while Party and Kobra are distracted unloading boxes from the back seat. When his fingers latch onto it, he give Jet a wink, tosses it to the ground and grinds it with the heel of his boot, mouthing the words 'problem solved'.

[funghoulsayboom]

Thunderheads pt. 3

A continuation of the thread linked here <3

@xx-party-poison-xx

Allergic to dog food.

Oh god, something swells up in the reds heart like a flood of just, sheer adoration for the man in front of him and the way Ghoul is looking

His names sounds like bells on the other man's lips, and it actually pulls a giggle out of Ghoul's throat. It sounds so unlike any of the other millions of times he's heard his name in his life. Party says it like it's some sort of magical thing. Like it's music. Like it's beautiful.

Ghoul bites at his lip, and lets out this long sigh of relief. Something has shifted. With only two words, their names, something between them has shifted in a way that he knows is irreversible. There is no going back from this, and while it's terrifying, he's fairly confident that he's never felt so sure of anything in his life.

"I like it when you say it," He tells the other man with that same excited smile. "A lot, actually." He moves now, until he can crawl nearly into Party's lap. "Say it again."

[xx-party-poison-xx]

For centuries human’s have believed that names are powerful, and to know someone’s name is to have power over them.

The red never used to buy into it much but now he’d believe it, because having shard them, Party swears he can feel a connection that had never been there before, shimmering brightly in his minds eye like a tether almost between the two. It’s a big step on a ladder, one that he feels is stretching so high and almost a little daunting. But then Ghoul moves, shifting on the bed until he’s almost, but not quite sat naked in Party’s lap. “Oliver.” He says it with confidence, a grin forming on his face because Party thinks the name feels right in his mouth the same way that Felix had sounded right when Ghoul had earlier tested it out. ”My Oliver.”

[funghoulsayboom]

His cheeks hurt from the smile on his face, going so far that he can feel stretch of the action in the scar on his cheek. Normally this would give cause for him to stop, but not right now. Right now, he welcomes the ache he feels in his muscles and moves against, now placing himself firmly in Party's lap. Felix's lap.

'My Oliver'

Without even realizing it, Ghoul thinks, he has never wanted to hear any two word more in his entire life. Well, maybe 3, but at the rate they're going, maybe they'll get there.

He leans in, wrapping his arms around Party's neck and presses the most gentle of kisses to the corner of his mouth. "Again."

[xx-party-poison-xx]

Hands reach for Ghoul now he’s sitting where the red can do it, and with skin on skin, he’s once again reminded of how they’d ended up here In the first place.

“My…..Oliver.” He speaks it such a delicate hushed tone, like a holy man chanting a vesper at midnight, loving and loyal to one man only, because it is almost like an act of worship as his hands splay on the skin of Ghoul’s sides.

Holding him like the green threatens to vanish, like Party might wake up from a dream But ah, what about the red…Felix has spoken Ghoul’s name more times than he’s heard his own. Not that it matters, though, he’s sure the man will be screaming it at some point over the next couple of days.

[funghoulsayboom]

He lets out a low sort of hum, relishing in the sound of it. Not just his name, now, but the specific way that the other man is saying it. Gentle, soft, sweet, like a prayer.

'My Oliver'

He's nearly dizzy with it, with all of it. The way his heart is racing and his breath is starting to pick up again. Because they are, in fact, still very much naked, and he's in Party's lap again. Naked. And they're so very close, and they've just shared something infinitely important, and it's all just so much. But at the same time, it's not nearly enough.

Ghoul plants another kiss, but this time properly on the other's lips, not open mouthed, or rushed, just a kiss. He presses in with pressure, lips a hand up into Party's hair, blows a sigh out through his nose, whispers against his mouth, "Felix..."

He says the name like a breath, as though it's natural to come out of his mouth, and it feels like it is. It fits him so well. It feels right to say, and he wants to say it forever.

"My Felix," He says in turn, another whisper, testing out his own version of that same little prayer. The urge to add those three little words nearly drags him under the surface of his own self consciousness.

"Is that okay?" He asks before another kiss, trailing off of his lips again to the corner of his mouth, "If I..." He kisses at his jaw. His heart feels like it's going to burst in his chest, "If you're mine...? Is that okay?"

[xx-party-poison-xx]

The kiss carries emotions, raw and open, and Party- no Felix accepts them with an open heart, the most open here’s ever been, the most normal he’s ever felt since before the war, when the only conflict he’d ever seen in his life had been video games and films.

They fit together so perfectly like this, he realises, like their bodies were made as puzzle bits, cut from the same block, and yet Oliver’s tattoos stand out in contrast to his own fair skin, marred only scars acquired from battles. Felix he hears it, so soft, so loving, a worship returned that Party could never tire of. This all feels like a swearing of loyalty, like a knight to a king but they’re to stand as equals in a fair exchange from here on out. At least, he’d hope that’s how it’ll turn out. It even more so feels like it when The green killjoy added my to it. But there’s kisses disguising words of uncertainty, and Party can’t help but move a hand, to take gentle hold of Ghoul’s jaw and turn his head enough to place a simple, heart felt kiss of his own, a return of the other man’s earlier one.

“It’s ok Starshine.” He means it too, even with the reluctant parts of his mind screaming about stolen freedom, but he can make it work, he’s sure if it, paring off does not loose any freedom other than to be able to see other people, which wouldn’t be a problem, considering Party had only ever been interested in and had eyes for this incredible being. ”I’m all yours.”

[funghoulsayboom]

It's the way that Felix holds him lip he's a treasure. Like he's delicate, but not in a way that the other man is afraid to break him. Not like he's fragile. He takes Ghoul's face in his hand like it's some sort of treasure, kisses him like it's sealing something, and in a way, it is.

He melts into the kiss that comes his way, bathes in the words that are spoken on his lips. He kisses back and lets out that same sort of hum in the back of his throat, but it surprises him how tight the noise is. Like there's too much emotion crowded up back there, not leaving any room for a voice.

His heart feels full to bursting.

He deepens the kiss, letting his lips fall open until he can reach his tongue out, brush it against the other man's lower lip. In the space between, he leaves an unspoken sentence that he simply punctuates with, "Please."

[xx-party-poison-xx]

Please

Party understands, parting his lips to allow Oliver the requested access. They need this connection, they’ve needed it for quite some time actually, not just any normal exchange with tones if anxiety and fear but something so raw, and open and undeniably human.

The bond they form here will likely be one that defines them as a unit from now on, one that has potential to strengthen them both as individuals and together. But it’s dangerous too, if it became known to anyone outside of Party and Ghoul, Felix and Oliver…or even outside of the others in their small group, it could be used as leverage against them. But right now the red is riding too much of an emotional high to care about that.

[funghoulsayboom]

The noise that comes out of him this time is hungry, and needy, and borders on whining. Ghoul delves into the kiss, all lips and tongue, desperate in the way that he needs... this. Whatever the fuck this is that they're doing right now, that they're about to do? He needs it.

And it's all so new to him. Not making out, or sex, even, that's not new, but as a whole, this entire experience is foreign and it's just as terrifying as it is thrilling.

Fuck, it feels spiritual. Like they're bonding themselves for life, like they may as well be committing themselves to whatever semblance the Zones have of marriage.

Maybe that's too much. Maybe it's too far. But it feels... Accurate.

He told me his name.

"Felix..." And that one word holds everything within it. Love, adoration, horror, need, heartbreak, hunger, worship.

Oliver finds himself wondering when the fuck they ended up here. How long has it been hiding under the surface, and why did it take a fucking bathtub to trudge it all up? This is all far too much to just be the result of some hidden crushes and an angry makeout session pressed up against a car.

"When did we get here?" He whispers, and this time he doesn't try to hide the fear in his voice. Because Party has to be feeling it too. Being a pair is dangerous in so many fucking ways, but there isn't any taking this back. He doesn't think he'd want to even if he could.

[xx-party-poison-xx]

Humans are often the playthings of higher powers, and these two are no different, part of a plan far beyond their understanding, caught up in a witches web and walking a path spun in silk.

Ghoul has no idea how accurate his comparison is, and Party had no idea that something as simple as giving his name could trigger this. He hears it from Fun Ghoul’s lips again, like a cascade of delicate bells. God he’s absolutely craving him, adoring him, In love with him.

But he’s right Party does feel the fear too, like he’s on the edge of oblivion leaning over into the void. “I don’t know.” He could go the logical rout, they’ve crushed and pined for months, but he’d be a liar if he said it didn’t feel at least a little like he was part of some bigger plan sometimes. “But we’ll get through together.” Because it’s too late to go back, undo everything, it’s impossible and it would hurt far more than just allowing themselves to fall, over the edge hand in hand, and into oblivion together. Felix kisses him again with all the love and the desire he contains, a needy sort of action, because if there is a bond being formed, his instincts seem to be screaming that they seal it.

[funghoulsayboom]

All he can do is nod and make some sort of affirmative noise. He holds on to Party- to Felix- like he's the last stable thing on this earth. And maybe some day he will be. But if that's the case, then Ghoul will be at his side when the planet starts crumbling beneath them.

He kisses the other man back in what feels like a rhythm, right alongside the beating of his heart, repeating those 3 words like a mantra in his head, like if he does it enough, Party might hear him. Might understand. Might reciprocate, all without without words.

"Can we...? Please?"

[xx-party-poison-xx]

Party simply nods, it’s a request he can grant, as he shifts them both into a better position. And as the storm rages in the world above, two lonely souls finally unite in the soft bed in the room at the end of corridor three, too absorbed in each other to care, but both aware, that there is no going back from here. Only forwards.

It’s the sound of their breathing Felix is listening to later, laying with limbs tangled in the soft, no longer pristine sheets of the bed. He has a soft gentle look to him self, one hand resting on Oliver’s, face cradling it so gently, his thumb brushing over the dark haired man’s scar. Because Fun Ghoul was beautiful earlier and he’s still beautiful now. ”Penny for your thoughts?” That is if Ghoul can actually think at all, because the red is aware that his partner is awake and only looks like he’s asleep…because his eyes are in fact still open a little and they have been for the last half an hour, and Party Poison isn’t stupid, not all the time anyway.

[funghoulsayboom]

"Hm?"

Ghoul hears him, he's aware that he's there. He has to be, they're laying together, spent and covered in sweats, laying in a heap of sheets that have seen better days. He knows Felix is there, and that he always will be going forward.

Truth be told, his mind has been, for the most part, blank. He lets out a tired laugh and shakes his head, finally lifting his eyes, heavy lidded though they may be. "Honestly? Just replaying it." He says with a grin.

The last hour and couple of hours have been an absolute whirlwind of emotions, and physical exertion, followed up by more emotions, and then just pure, unadulterated bliss. He could lay here forever, if he was allowed such a thing. Wrapped up like this, limbs and sheets? Nothing could possibly be better than this day. Nothing would ever compare, for the rest of his goddamn life.

"Y'know... You're really good at that." He teases, tipping his head up until he can catch Party's lips in a gentle kiss.

[xx-party-poison-xx]

Replaying it.

It makes the red blush, the already flushed tone of his cheeks getting a little worse. But truth be told he’d been thinking about it too, it’s on repeat in his head and probably will be for quite some time.

His thumb pauses the gentle petting motion over Oliver’s scar, code names put aside for right now. Because right now they’re just people, not a couple of wanna be desert martyrs. “Am I?” Good at it he means, Felix speaking after the kiss, lips not far from the others, he’s both teasing and truthful, because honestly the red is a little surprised.

“I’ve never actually done that with anyone before.” Only this man, regardless of what the rumours might say. So he could probably do with more practice, and given how Oliver makes him feel he’s likely to easily get a lot of that. “You we’re good too.” Fantastic in fact.

[funghoulsayboom]

He smiles, kissing the other man again and hums in approval, "Very." He answers to the question. Another kiss and, "I know. You told me. Several times, in fact, despite the fact that I continued to tell you not to worry about it."

He picks up a finger and boops the end of Felix's nose with it, his face soft, and then heating up at the last words. "I'm glad you seem to think so." Ollie grins, and his nose wrinkles up, "You're the only one I'm trying to impress.

[xx-party-poison-xx]

ah, yeah he had, it’s like Felix will forget things occasionally and just repeat himself, something he really should try to work inn, grabbing the hand that had booked his nose and brings the knuckles to his lips to kiss.

“Well, I’m absolutely impressed Starshine.”

He’s the only one, and the red will probably be now for as long as he lives. That sounds good to him, shifting slightly to re-ajust a leg that was going numb, he kinda aches from all the exertion too, but it’s a good, satisfied kind of ache. But shit, now he feels like he might never be able to keep his hands off the other man for long at all.

[funghoulsayboom]

"You should be," He says matter-of-factly, "I worked really hard." Lies. He spent the entire time on his back, as he is wont to do.

He watches the lines of Felix's body as he stretches, unable to help himself. He'll commit this man to memory, he has to. He'd be insane not to try, at the very least.

"Think they have any way to do laundry here, or should I soak our clothes in the tub with some soap or something?" He ponders, shifting so that he can cradle his face on a hand.

[xx-party-poison-xx]

“I was going to see if they had a laundry room.” But he’d never got that far, and doing so now would require getting dressed, at least Felix anyway, so he can find some clothes they can borrow until theirs are clean.

“I know if we wash them in the tub, we’d have to scrub the shit out of them to even start getting the dirt out.” And besides, kissing Ghoul with his back against a washing machine could be fun- “I don’t know if I have that kinda fuckin effort.” But they seem to have most things here, it was owned by BL/I in the past, having a laundry room probably isn’t that absurd.

[funghoulsayboom]

Felix makes a good point. A very good point, in fact. They would definitely have to work for clean if they were going to attempt scrub the clothes themselves. Washing clothes in the zones meant 'hey we got extra water in, we can get the majority of the caked on dust off if we rub the fabric together real hard'.

"Laundry room is definitely a better idea," He muses, running a finger gently down the other man's chest. Oliver leans up, kisses his lips again and then groans as he sits up, scrubbing hands through his now thoroughly fucked up hair with a chuckle. "Walking's gonna be fun." He notes, swinging his legs off the bed with a grunt.

[xx-party-poison-xx]

Ha, yeah, fun indeed, doesn’t help that the bed is so damn soft, it was like fucking on a cloud. Felix is actually seriously considering stuffing the duvet, the sheets and the pillows into the Trans Am when they leave, because seriously who would even try and stop him from taking them.

Even better if they find a different just washed clean set in laundry that he can whisk away to the trunk of the car in advance. Come to think of it he might also take the shower gel and the toothpaste he’d seen while he’s at it. But enough of those thoughts for now, his eyes are on Oliver’s back, watching his shoulder blades move beneath his skin. But then the killjoy finally moves to get up off the bed himself, already aware his things are still in the bathroom, while his companions are on the floor in the bedroom.

[funghoulsayboom]

Eventually they do find a laundry unit, and they make out pressed into the drier while they wait. They find clean sheets, a new duvet, and a couple of pillows (which Felix proceeds to immediately put into the trunk of the TransAm, Oliver pretends to scold him, but doesn't get too far before he starts laughing).

The rest of the night is sex, and then sleep, and then next morning is more sex, and more sleep. When they wake up in the afternoon, they have food that is intended for humans, and not dogs. They talk, and laugh, and Ollie even finds a little community library, where he picks out a book, and they both spend a few hours just reading in the quiet hush.

They both take a shower when they actually scrub their bodies, wash their hair, fuck again (Ollie thinks maybe he could get used to this bit). Felix's hair does, in fact, stain the pillow cases, but they figure they'll take those ones anyway, since they're ruined now.

They have dinner, they snuggle up in bed to read again, and they don't even have a chance for even more sex. Oliver is out like a light before the clock ever hits 11pm, curled up into Felix's side, head rested gently on the other's chest.

[xx-party-poison-xx]

It had been a good couple of days, too good, Felix has been lulled into a false sense of security so well that he almost completely forgot about the life outside of the bunker, wrapped up in Oliver, the events, the sex.

So it’s absolutely startling, in the early hours of the morning, when he wakes up suddenly, to the sound of screams. Echoing through the bunker and chilling him to the core. Something is wrong, incredibly so, and he reaches down to shake Oliver from sleep.

“Do you hear that?” He asks questions aloud, and almost can’t believe it as he’s scrambling to get out of the bed and get dressed. There’s a smell like burning hair drifting through the vents and he knows the cause of that, lasers against flesh, against hair and fabric. Pulling his boots on as fast as he can once everything else is in place, gun in holster, fear in his eyes, he hasn’t worn that signature blue jacket in days and his reality of the zones slips into place almost as easily as the soft leather slips over his arms. “Fun Ghoul, get up!”

There’s a slam down the corridor, someone kicking in doors from the sounds of it.

[funghoulsayboom]

There's noise somewhere just beyond the edge of sleep, and Ollie is desperately trying to keep it at bay. Movement, heavy breaths, weight shifting off of the bed.

'Fun Ghoul, get up!'

He hates that. He hates the immediately.

He sits up before his eyes are even open, moving before he's fully awake, because something is wrong, and the key to that is the way Felix is suddenly not whispering 'Wake up Starshine,' gently into his ear.

He's immediately on his feet, scrambling for clothes before he ever gets a word out, slipping into his jeans, so blissfully clean and smelling like lavender laundry soap. The slamming outside down the hall tells him very quickly that he's not gonna have time to savor it.

"What's that?" He asks, pulling the shirt over his head before reaching for his vest, the red rising sun on the back glaring angrily at him. It's a painful reminder. The inside of this bunker has been blissful, sweet, and not at all realistic. It's not real life, it's not teleportation, and it's not time travel. It is... Well, it's exactly what it's built for, isn't it? It's a shelter. A shelter from all the ugly things in the world outside that grated garage style door.

Only the ugly things are inside now, and they're a lot closer than Ghoul is comfortable.

The shift in the air between the two of them is palpable as he reaches for his holster and slips his vest on over it, looking over at Felix- Party Poison. His leader. "What do we do?"

[xx-party-poison-xx]

“We have to get to Gloria.” The Trans Am, he’s referring to the car, his own little name for it, something silly and secret he’d told the other, killjoy over the last few days.

Party’s blaster hums to life in his hands as he switches it on, he feels angry, annoyed that the peace had broken, that such a haven had been invaded. But even he can’t deny the off feelings he’d got from Lorikeet sometimes, when she told him she had connections yesterday, she never really did elaborate. But everything was new and it was BL/I branded, the disturbing realisation sinks in, who her connections were exactly. she’s a traitor, a fucking snake hidden among the rats, this entire place was a trap. He swears suddenly, kicking over a low table, the only other decoration in the room, it topples the nice lamp they’d been using, plunging them into real darkness but not before a small round button microphone rolls across the floor. Shit.

He’s moving towards the door, movements careful, he can hear people getting closer, but they won’t stand much chance, as Party Poison is first outside, the door slamming the wall in the brightly lit corridor three and he lets the first of what will be many shots, directly into the head of a Draculoid that had been heading their way. ”Stick close to me Ghoul,” he’s standing outside the door, waiting for the other man to catch up. They’re going to have to walk close and cover each other, alternating shots if they even want an inch of a chance…they’ve got one hell of a fight on their hands.

[funghoulsayboom]

He doesn't dwell on the way his blaster rings to life, or the way the bed is mussed. He ignores the flipped table, and broken lamp. He pretends he doesn't see the microphone altogether.

He had never cared about his name before, but suddenly the word Ghoul feels ugly when he hears it come from that mouth. The one that had been so soft these last two days, gentle, and almost always tinged with the hint of a smile.

The smile is gone now, and instead, that mouth is giving him instructions, which he follows blindly, and without thinking.

If Party moves, he will move. They flow out into the hallway, hugging the wall, and Ghoul's got his heart in his throat. He'll have time to mourn this paradise later, but for now, Party is very right. They have to get to the fucking car. The only problem is that they are deep in the furthest corner of the furthest fucking hall in this stupid fucking bunker and-- "Fuck!" He hisses the word between his teeth, and feels something close to panic gripping at the back of his neck, "There's no fucking way. F-- Party, there's no way we're making it out of here!"

[xx-party-poison-xx]

“Yes we will.” Keep it together. But the red is struggling himself, he’d let down a guard he’d taken years to build, he’d almost forgot what it was like to live on the edge of a knife, adrenaline flooding his system and anger through his veins.

Because deep down Party knows the green killjoy is right, that there isn’t much a hope in hell’s chance of getting out of here, he can hear others fighting, passes a door where he can already see a family having been taken away, killed or worse he can’t be sure. Another shot from the yellow blaster kills another Drac and they’re almost around the corner at the end of corridor three, However In the split second it took to look back to make sure Ghoul was still there, there’s a white gun pressing into his temple, held by a Scarecrow with a dangerous look in her eyes. ”Hello boys~“ They’d made such a valiant effort, “Which one of you is Party Poison, or should I say Felix, I have a few, questions, I’d like answered.” The red can feel his blood run cold, because this woman not only knows his name, something no one other than the man behind him should ever utter, but she’s flanked by dracs, and the two of them are painfully outmatched..right now, even if he disarmed her, they’d still go down. A paradise that was too good to be true, it shows Party why it’s always good to doubt the kindness of strangers in the zones, why you should only trust the people closest to you. ”Fuck you!” He shouts, when someone grabs hold of him and Party Poison struggles, they’re both being captured it seems.

“Don’t fucking touch him!”

[funghoulsayboom]

Ghoul watches Party to turn to speak to him, and then back again, but the smaller man doesn't have time to say anything about the woman walking up behind.

And then time slows down.

It moves too slow for him to react, really. Party is fine, and then he's got a blaster pressed against his temple and Ghoul feels like he's going to be sick. His body is ice cold, and he doesn't have a chance to so much as blink before his gun is gone, and he's got arms across his chest, holding him immobile. And did she just say--

Oh fuck.

"Leave him alone." he says, and his voice feels... So fucking small. He feels small. He's always been so good with all the danger that they face, but right now, watching them manhandle Party- Felix, his Felix... The fight feels like it's left his body and the only thing he can manage is a slightly louder. "Leave him alone!"

[xx-party-poison-xx]

But they don’t leave him alone do they, Shrike- the female scarecrow with the Australian accent, not too dissimilar from that of Lorikeet’s, getting her facts confused, had gotten him and Fun Ghoul mixed up.

She’d assumed the red was protecting his leader, the key to the entire desert rats nest and their plans…but she was wrong. It didn’t stop them from taking both of the partners to the garage of all places though, where others from Falcility three were being loaded into armoured trucks, only Party and Ghoul were not not be loaded into them, as Lorikeet is handed her genetically modified seeds as a reward. “Fucking Traitor!” Party had spat at her. Just to receive a gun butt to his face, the first of many beatings he’d take during this mix up, where they’re using him to try and crack info out of the other man regarding the others of their group mainly, Deathdefying and the girl… His ribs are bruising near half an hour later, where he’s laying winded on the floor, and Shrike is standing in front of Ghoul brandishing a knife in one hand. ”Tell me! Where is Deathdefying hiding!” Her patience is staring to wear even thinner. “I’m not going to ask again!”

[funghoulsayboom]

It has taken everything within him to not fold. He knows exactly where Tommy Chow Mein is, and he knows that he's got Hot Chimp and Cola with him too. He knows it's been a good five days since they left the diner which means that Grace is with him and Show Pony instead of with Kobra and Jet. And those two, the two other people most important to him other than the Girl and the man on the ground in front of him... She wants answers, and he has them. All but one.

Ghoul's got no fucking clue where D is. He's not the one who drives to the station, never has been.

He's being held at gunpoint himself, and he's been holding his entire body as still as he can. No shaking in front of the enemy. But his adrenaline is starting to wear down on his nerves, and he closes his eyes for a long moment, breathing in through his nose. "I told you, I don't know. I don't have the information you're asking for, I don't fucking know!"

One of the larger bodied Dracs lands three swift kicks into Party's guts and Ghoul feels hot tears slide down his cheeks.

"I'm telling you I don't have the fucking coordinates, alright?! I don't know where he is, I don't know the fucking radio signals, I don't fucking--"

The same drac lifts Party up by his hair and rears his fist back. Something feels like it's breaking in his chest, and he lets out a shriek that comes from fucking toes.

"STOP! Stop, please, leave him-- PLEASE!"

A hand slams into the red-head's face and send blood flying into the air.

[xx-party-poison-xx]

Fuck it hurts, it hurts so bad, Party feels like his torso has become numb after the kicks and he can’t even curl in on himself because suddenly he’s being hauled to his feet by his hair.

He’d managed to keep quiet, to not blurt out any info..but then he can *hear* Fun Ghoul screaming, yelling for them to stop. But it’s seconds too late, only just enough time to relax his jaw and Party swears he can feel the blood vessels in one eye burst on the impact of the fist. It’s by pure luck he looses no teeth, but with the state he’s in, it’s still a far cry from the clean freshly showered man he’d been upon waking up. “Fuck you.” He gets out with shoddy breathes, they’ve let him go and somehow he;s managed to stay on his feet this time. There’s blood oozing from his mouth and nose, dripping down his face as scarlet as his hair.

Shrike is on her radio, talking back to home base now, face contorting when they inform her of the description of Party Poison, red hair, red hair…and the one she’s been questioning is hair is black as night.

It’s the wrong one, and Party is wiping blood from his face onto his arm as he practically snarls at a large Draculoud, it’s like he’s a rat being played with by cats. But on Shrikes signal suddenly he’s the one getting man handled into another chair, men standing either side. ”I’m sorry for your treatment” she tells, her tone sickly sweet as her lies fall from her lips. “It seems we got you both mixed up, never mind, though, I’ll just have to try getting answers out of you instead.” He’s staring at her from under red locks, eyes narrow and his hands fidget with a loose part on the back of the chair, it’s jagged, probably broken in the past, but if he can just get it loose.

“Untie the little one-,” Like she thinks it’s a kindness, an allowance to at least give him some defensive chance, before they beat the shit out of him “-Because sweet Ollie, is going to assist us in getting some data out of Red Riding Hood here.”

Assist..they’d said the same thing about Party and now he feels like he’s been put through a fucking blender.

[funghoulsayboom]

Red hair.

Ghoul goes through a whirlwind of emotions in the span of 30 seconds. Party is still on his feet, even after getting his shit rocked, and that's good. They're untying Ghoul, that's a relief and should be good, but it is very, very bad. They're shoving him away from the chair, and he swears he can hear one of the dracs give a sinister sort of chuckle from beneath their garish mask.

Things are about to get really bad, and that's made abundantly more clear when Shrike speaks again.

"Because sweet Ollie is going to assist us in getting some data out of Red Riding Hood here."

He hates the way his name sounds on her lips. She's not allowed to fucking say his name. She's not supposed to know his fucking name.

And then there's stinging in his scalp as he's been yanked by his hair, further away from Party and into the center of the space and before he can register anything else, he's seeing stars, and he's on his knees, gasping for breath. The side of his face, previously unscathed, is throbbing, he can feel that there is skin split, which is made more evident by the feel of blood dripping down his cheek.

"Now," says Shrike, her voice sweet as fucking sin, "Let's try this again, shall we? Where is Deathdefying?"

Ghoul feels a kick delivered to his ribs, and in spite of himself, he yelps at the force of it, "Don't--" he starts an attempt to encourage his-- fuck have they still not covered this? Boyfriend?-- to keep silent, but he's stopped before he can get more than a word out with another kick, this time to the middle, and all of the air leaves his body, as the heaves the contents of his stomach onto the floor.

He is absolutely positive that the larger drac is laughing now.

[xx-party-poison-xx]

Sweet Ollie

Lingers in Party’s mind, no one was allowed to say his name like that. They were private, special, sacred, words between the two of them, words they’ll potentially never use again once they leave this place.

A slow rage starts to boil, bubble under the reds skin and he locks eyes with Shrike when she addresses him with the sane questions she’d been giving Fun Ghoul not too long ago. Like hell he’s gonna tell her anything, working still to get that shard of metal loose without anyone realising. He needs a weapon, because they’ve taken the blasters out of reach, and Party poison considers his battles lost only when he’s stopped breathing. But given how he wheezes in his chest on every inwards breath might be a possibility on the horizon. ”Go. Fuck. Yourself. Bitch.” He isn’t giving her anything, but there’s both guilt and rage that ignights in Party’s gut when he hears Ghoul’s pain, and the sound of wretching as he hurls up the remnants of yesterdays meal. That metal is almost completely free, he just needs another second, eyes glancing in Ghoul’s direction and it just further gives away how much they mean to each other. Shrike sees it, that look, turning away from Party with a tutting sound. ”I see how it is red, didn’t anyone teach you virmin to not fall in love out here.” He didn’t even realise there was a white blaster holstered on her thigh, under the skirt of her outfit. But she’s flicking it on and signalling for someone to get Fun Ghoul to his feet.

‘If you arn’t going to cooperate we’re just going to have to do this the hard way- “ She’s over charging that gun- Party would recognise the noise anywhere, the barrel where the BL/ind logo is raised from the surface will get ridiculously hot. His eyes go wide, but heavy hands on his shoulders keep the red firmly in place. ”-you see, my family once kept cattle before the war, and do you know how we would keep them in line? “ they brand them. Shrike is reaching to lift Ghoul’s shirt, asking Party once again but he’s still stubborn, whispering an ‘I’m so sorry baby.’ under his breath, but he know’s Ghoul can’t hear it from where they’re both placed far apart.

“Tell me! Where is Deathdefying?!” “Go to hell !”

Wrong answer red and Party can could only watch in horror and boiling rage as Shrike presses the over charged barrel against Fun Ghoul’s stomach.

[funghoulsayboom]

The chemical burn was nothing, in retrospect. Merely a mosquito bite in comparison with the searing pain that is taking place against his abdomen. He fights off the scream that's rising in his throat for as long as he possibly can before it rips itself out of his mouth in a ragged sound akin to glass breaking.

All of his efforts to writhe away are useless, he's got a drac behind him to stop him retreating backwards, and flanked on either side. He's got nowhere to go except forwards, which is exactly what he does when he staggers against the pain, sinking the grip holding him, causing him to fall. The full weight of body being bared on his shoulders as his legs give out beneath him, he feels the moment the joint slips from it's place, and it pullls more cries from his throat.

"Deathdefying's whereabouts. Now." Shrike says, stepping away from Ghoul, looking at him like she's admiring her handiwork. "Or I brand little Oliver here until he's more BLI than ink."

"Fuck you," Ghoul has to work for the words, and they come out as more of a whimper than the angry exclamation he wants it to be.

"Now, now." Shrike is reaching into her coat pocket, pulling out that sinister looking knife again. "Your temper isn't going to do you any favors, Ollie, dear--"

"STOP!" Ghoul is seething through his teeth. She is not allowed to call him that. His name's sound like poison when it comes out of her mouth, and it isn't supposed to. It's supposed to sound like bells and unspoken promises and thinly veiled adoration. "Stop fucking calling me that."

Shrike lets out a derisive sort of laugh, and takes a step towards him, kneeling down until they're face to face. There's a long moment where they stare into each other's eyes, and then she has her knife pressed to his neck, pressing in every so slightly, just enough to draw blood, to cause pain when he swallows against the blade.

"Why? It's your name, isn't it? Oliver? Oliver Henry Costa? I looked you up, little Ollie, but they didn't have any pictures in your file. Your face is a mystery to our system up until now. It's a pity. Such a pretty face." The knife digs deeper into his throat, while her free hand reaches up, traces a finger across the scar on his cheek, her nail scratching against the skin. "Except for this."

Ghoul bites back tears, careful not to move, terrified more for his life in this one moment than he ever has been. His eyes flick away from her face, and meet Party's. They're full of tears, bloodshot, horrified, screaming out for help without ever saying more than one singular word.

"Felix..." I love you. I'm sorry. Don't let me die. Don't tell her anything. Tell her everything. Save me. Save yourself. All of the things he wants to say and more, just in the man's name.

If it's the last thing he's ever able to say, he's got to make it count.

[the-jet-star]

We could steal this car if your folks don’t mind

Jet was driving at a crawl as he neared the BL/ind building. He wasn’t 100% comfortable with the plan, mainly because he didn’t know all of it yet. Ghoul had prepared this all on his own, and it must’ve taken him a while because he apparently already thought of everything. Jet would say he’s impressed, but he actually never really underestimated his younger comrade. He just didn’t want his ego to inflate more than it already was.

“Okay,” he finally breathed. “You get 45 minutes. No explosions, I come looking for you, got it?” His heart is beating out of his chest like it does every time they got on a mission. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to this shit, especially now that he is officially the worst shooter out of everyone.

He reaches over to clasp a hand with Ghoul before he leaves, silently giving him a good luck and praying that everything goes according to whatever plan he has.

//ORIGINAL THREAD STARTS ON TWITTER. LINK HERE. @funghoulsayboom

[funghoulsayboom]

Ghoul looks down at their hands, clasps together and nods once before giving that signature smirk. The one he makes before he does something really fucking stupid.

Because, at the end of the day, this is really fucking stupid.

Keep reading

[the-jet-star]

Jet doesn’t even watch Fun Ghoul once he gets out of the car. He drives off as quickly as he can without burning rubber to draw attention to where he just dropped his friend off. Jet goes to the other edge of Battery City, which isn’t far. He can hear any explosions from there, and he gets some cover from the stupid fucking “welcome” sign that is out there.

He glances at the dashboard clock to check the time. He knows it’s off by however many fucking hours and minutes, but it still counts time perfectly fine. He remembers the time like a lifeline, and waits for the time to tick by minute by excruciatingly long minute. Because he knows that if he doesn’t return with Fun Ghoul, he’ll be the next dead Killjoy, even if Party Poison doesn’t kill him as soon as he returns. The guilt will eat him alive and he’ll be a shell of the person he is now.

But he trusts Fun Ghoul to see this through. He trusts him with his life. Now if only he could get his fucking heart to stop beating so damn fast. He glances in each direction every so often, making sure there isn’t a drac or ‘crow in sight. His hand’s on his blaster, ready for anything that may come his way. 

[funghoulsayboom]

Getting in is easy enough with the disguise, though he has to set his bag down at the door so it’s not obvious. He can’t let a single step of this plan go out of line. His survival depends on it.

Keep reading

[the-jet-star]

The minutes go by, and Jet can’t help but think about how they end up in some morgue of time. He stays alert and thanks his lucky stars that he doesn’t see anything out of the ordinary, or anyone after him for that matter. But it’s excruciating to sit around waiting for Ghoul when he knows that he could be dead at any moment. Worse that he could be there to maybe prevent it by putting his body in harms way so Ghoul could get away.

When theres two minutes left and he’s just about ready to drive back to BL/ind, he hears the explosion, then sees the mushroom cloud go up, filling the pale sky with a dark plume of smoke that goes up higher than he’s seen in a long ass time. He quickly turns the car on and puts it into gear, keeping his foot on the brake and the clutch to make a clean getaway, either into the city or back through the zones, when the moment comes. 

He keeps his eyes trained on the road, prepared for any enemies, but praying for Ghoul to come racing through. He’ll have to flip a bitch to high tail it out of there since the mirrors on the trans-am are pretty fucking worn out in a lot of places. Seriously, it’s a miracle that they’re able to spot enemies with those things. And with Jet’s eyesight as bad as it currently is, he’s not taking any chances by having his back to the enemy.

He thinks he sees a white BL/ind car headed towards him, and he points his gun out the window. And it is a fucking BL/ind card. He knows getting a clear shot at whoever is in it will be pretty much impossible because A) he’s shooting with his left hand and B) he only has one fucking good eye. His finger goes to the trigger and he squints as the car gets closer. Then he sees the distinguishable green ray gun that belongs to Fun Ghoul.

He lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding in and waits for Ghoul to pass him before hitting the gas and getting the fuck out of there, tailing Ghoul as close as he can without causing in accident. His heart is still racing, and he continually checks the rearview mirror for any trouble.

[funghoulsayboom]

Ghoul lets out one good “WOO!” before the effort is rewarded by searing pain in his side. Ah. That’ll be the blaster wound, then. No time, though. They can clean the blood our of the seats later. Currently, the only thing that he can focus on is tearing ass away from Bat City in record time, keeping an eye out for anyone following, and making sure Jet is right along with him.

Keep reading

[the-jet-star]

The drive back is surprisingly easy and Jet feels their heart rate slow as they get closer and closer to the diner. Ghoul quite possibly just single-handedly pulled off the best heist of the century. If there were any fucking history books still being written, this would surely make it. 

Once they park and Star kills the engine he sees Ghoul’s fucking bleeding out of his side. “Mother fucker,” he hisses and runs inside to get the medical supplies. He comes back out, Party and Kobra in tow. They always run after Jet when he’s hastily grabbing the medical supplies. 

“What happened?” Party yells at Star. He’s pissed and Star gets it. He’d be pissed, too, if Party came back with an injured Kobra and the wound wasn’t at least packed before they made it back. They should have stopped, but he’s not going to yell at Ghoul about it now.

“We can talk about it once Ghoul’s patched up,” Star says as calmly as possible and he carefully pushes the fabric away, knowing Ghoul will take his shirt off as they work on the wound. Their movements are practiced, and Kobra is handing off more gauze and alcohol to Star so they can work faster. Luckily the wound isn’t deep, and once it’s wrapped up in gauze and medical tape he feels Party shove them out of the way. 

“What the fuck happened?” Party demands as he gingerly pull Ghoul to him. 

Star stays quiet for a minute. He doesn’t want to throw Ghoul under the bus. Eventually he tells the truth. “I didn’t have his back like I should have. I’m sorry.” They feel a hand on their shoulder and Kobra is giving them a sympathetic smile before wrapping his arms around their waist.

[funghoulsayboom]

As the adrenaline is wearing off, Ghoul realizes that this shit fucking hurts. More so now that they’re at the diner and Jet is fucking dousing his side in alcohol, cleaning things as Ghoul is taking off is shirt, and pressing bandages up against the skin to stop any bleeding. Luckily it’s surface level, so that doesn’t take too long. It’s a good thing. If they had to apply pressure any longer, he might hit something.

As Star is finishing up, just as things start to die down, chaos breaks look.

Ghoul is being pulled in against Party’s side, and while he’s not upset for the comfort, he is more than a little irritated. Granted, he shouldn’t be. Party has every right to be upset. Ghoul and Jet went off on their own little excursion without telling anyone before hand, and Ghoul’s come back with a wound. He had, for the most part, expected the anger. He just didn’t expect it to be directed at Star.

What Ghoul is also stunned by, is the fact that Jet is taking the fall?

“You didn’t have my back because I told you to wait outside city limits,” He corrects the other, giving him a pointed look before he turns to Party. “He didn’t do anything wrong here, Red, I went in on my own, I did what I had to. Minor wound, I’m fine.”

He’s a bit unsteady on his feet, but he manages to stand and turn a little circle, wearing that signature ‘I am totally fine’ smile. “See? Little worse for wear, but I’m all good. And, you haven’t even checked out the car yet.”

[the-jet-star]

Jet shakes his head at Ghoul. “No. I should’ve gone in with you.” He’s been telling himself that since he saw the wound. “I could’ve given you cover.”

“Damn right you should’ve gone in with him,” Party practically barks at him, ignoring the obvious distraction Ghoul is trying to put in front of him, and the guilt sinks in further for Jet. “And you should have let him,” Party turns to Ghoul and gingerly brushes his hair out of his face. “We can’t be fuckin’ stupid like this.” His voice is softer now.

“I’m sorry,” Jet says lamely again. He’s glad Ghoul’s okay, and he’s glad that Party isn’t mad at the shorter man. It’s already bad enough that he got shot. He doesn’t need to get yelled at, too.

Jet kicks at the dirt before sighing and packing up the unused medical supplies. Once they’re stored away properly, they start picking up the soiled gauze to burn in the evening along with the rest of their trash. They give one last mournful glance at Ghoul and Party before heading inside to put the medical kit away, leaving the other three men outside.

[funghoulsayboom]

Ghoul watches Jet go with a mournful look and glares back at Party, "You cannot blame him for this. I made this plan all by myself, and if anything, you should be thanking him for at least being outside the city, because I asked him for a ride there, and told him to just drop me off and dip."

Kobra speaks up now, eyes wide, "Why in the ever loving fuck would you do that?"

"Because I had a plan, and that plan required one person. Me. I had it handled--"

"Clearly not!" Party cuts him off, "Ghoul, you got shot!"

Ghoul gestures furiously at his face, at the slick scar running jaggedly across his cheek, "Not exactly anything new! And this isn't even that bad!"

He watches a Kobra pulls a face. "You can't just do shit alone."

"I wasn't alone! He fucking insisted on staying, that's what I'm saying! He had my back as best as he could, but I had to do this alone, two 'new' dracs waltzing into a storehouse wouldn't have been discreet, especially given one of them is like 8 feet tall--"

"He's 6'1", you're just short." Kobra says, and the corner of his mouth is playing at a smile.

"My point," Ghoul starts again, "Is that I needed to do this alone, and I was lucky he was even there if things went sideways. Which they didn't."