[leastxloved]

Ducking through tape, he left the crime scene with the images still imprinted on his mind. He saw the blood, the wounds, he saw the footprints, and he knew he’d see them in his dreams for days, but they’d also catch the guy. 

He headed away from the alley and glanced to the park across the road. Any kid could of seen this, which to him put this killer in the   A s s h o l e   category. It was one thing to take a life, but next to a children’s park, sicko. He noticed someone from the corner of his eye and glanced up “This ain’t a sideshow.” 

[immcrals-blog]

The investigative journalist pulls her dark coat around her, moves through the swath of police like a dark pillar. Her eyes quickly scan the blood, the foot prints, but before her own mind can begin constructing the story that is clearly in front of her, Amelia is drawn from her reverie by a voice. She holds up her badge.

“Press.”

The stranger’s face brings with it a twinge of familiarity but Amelia pushes it aside in favor of the grizzly sight in front of her. And it certainly is a sight. She sucks in a breath. She’s no stranger to blood, but, despite the recent demands of her life, she hasn’t been robbed of her humanity just yet. 

“It most definitely isn’t.”  Her eyes flick back up to him. “Do you have any leads?” 

[immcrals-blog]

heavensgcte‌:

Anthony watched as she went for the cigars, digging in his pocket for a lighter he’d stolen from Bastien a few weeks ago. Once he finally found it, he picked up the cigar that was placed in front of him and struck the lighter once, twice, a third time finally bringing the flame to life. Leaning back in his chair and placing the cigar between his teeth, he lit it and took a long pull from it after a moment, sliding the lighter across the desk so Amelia could get it and light her own.

He leaned back to get situated in his chair, crossing one leg over his knee and bouncing it slowly, trying not to act like he was nervous despite the fact that he was worried to death. He’d had to make big moves and decisions since he’d been in charge of the family, of course, but that didn’t change the fact that his nerves were shot. He needed to get his aggression out, to do something, to get his shit together, but for now he was stuck sitting so he didn’t do anything irrational.

“Yeah, it’s better that we have it now than beat around the bush and put it off.” He said finally, shoulders shrugging. Anthony took another drag from his cigar and tilted his head back, closing his eyes as he exhaled the smoke. “You’re not going to like it,” He said slowly, rolling his head forward so he could look at her again. “I want Oliver’s head, Amelia. I want that fucker dead and I want it to make a point. Hang it up in my goddamn trophy room like the animal he is.”

She's thankful for the cigar as soon as he's issued his order. It gives her something to bite down on instead of speaking too fast. Oliver's head. He's right, she's not going to like it, but that's different than having to accept it.  Amelia knew this request was bound to happen sooner rather than later.

She takes a moment of silence to weigh her words; she is always careful with them, loading them like bullets. That said, there's an argument to be made that no one knows her better Anthony, so the truth will always bleed through no matter what she tries to say, no matter how good her poker face is. 

"You've already killed Matthew O'Hara. Don't you think going for son is just beating a dead horse?"

He's nervous, she can tell. As if he could hide such a well-known emotion from her. Amelia keeps her voice steady in the hopes of being the necessary rock in this conversation.

"Maybe our attention is better spent elsewhere."

She's sure it looks like a cop out. Her defending Oliver out of some residual nostalgia. But Amelia’s not one to let her emotions get in the way of her advising. Her feelings and her professional opinion just happen to coincide in this instance. They’re better off luring the O'Haras in a false sense of security. After all, after Matthews death and after the attack on the pipeline - the O’Haras are bound to be on guard. There’s a greater chance of any Delucas on the frontlines surviving if they just put a pin in it. 

They’ve won, at this point. There’s no point in getting cocky. 

Not to mention, Amelia doesn't want to rid her son of a father just yet.

"I'd consider turning our attention on the police, who seem to have finally caught up on the shooting and believe we're behind it." A beat. "Besides, I don't think think Oliver's head would match the decor in the trophy room." Amelia deadpans, in a sort of morbid humor she keeps for those she's close to.

[madeline-kahn]

London Spy (2015) dir. Jakob Verbruggen

[bblacknblue]

[sebastiendeluca]

     Looking up from his book, he nearly rolled his eyes at the sight of the man in front of him. “What are you trying to book me for without proof this time, Mr. Vazquez? I’ve been a model citizen, as of late.”

@immcrals // alejandro vazquez

[immcrals-blog]

"As of late? Is there something we should be retroactively adding to your record, Mr.Deluca?"

He looks down at the young man.

"I'm not sure if you're aware of this," Alejandro says with a touch of sarcasm. "But we found several dead bodies on your family’s property. I'm collecting statements from everyone that lives on the premises.” 

[immcrals-blog]

sebastiendeluca‌:

     Things had gone to shit real fast. They were on top of the world at the start of the night - now look where they were. He could feel Anthony’s tension in every corner of the house, which was only leading Bastien to feel just as tense. Anthony’s office was practically growing in size, making the house feel small to Bastien. There was nowhere to hide from what had happened tonight.

     He’d left his room immaculately clean before the party, but, somehow, arriving home, things had seemed even cleaner. His room felt like it had been violated, his privacy, his personal wellbeing. This was exactly why he didn’t keep a diary. If he did, and he’d came back to a room looking the way it did now, he’d have the nagging feeling of his innermost thoughts being violated just like his room had been.

     He couldn’t stand to be in his bedroom for any longer, so he made his way to Anthony’s office, knowing that he’d be early. He didn’t care. His mind was already racing on ways they could hit them back. They deserved an equal fate, at the very least. He pushes into the room, moving to his seat far from Anthony’s. “Yeah, I’m fucking pissed, thanks for noticing,” he mutters when Amelia points out that he’s sulking. He looks down at the Fruit By The Foot that stops in front of him, his brow furrowing. He hasn’t had one of those in recent memory. He doesn’t want to eat it in the middle of the meeting, though, so he just lets it sit on the table - partially not wanting to be rude, partially not wanting Amelia to see his taking it as an act of forgiveness from his end.

Amelia's eyes sharpen at Bastien's words, but importantly his demeanor. He's not the only one who doesn't trust her return, but she blames this little bout of irritation on grizzly display witnessed.

"Bastien," she says and that characteristic icy chill creeps over her voice, making it reprimanding. "I know you're pissed, but you gain nothing from using such a tone."

She can only assume what this must be like for him. Bastien's own personal vendetta against the O'Haras is no secret to her (or the rest of the Delucas for that matter) but Amelia is one of the few that knows it's misplaced. The corpse that sits upstairs will most likely drive her cousin further towards the lie and it says something that Amelia stays quiet and complacent about it. After all, it's the lie keeps Bastien on their side, keeps the family together. Amelia feels it's justified.

(She’s also still grappling with her new life and her old, her own inherent prejudice against the O’Hara’s and her newfound love for them, but that’s her own burden to carry. Amelia’s insistent to the point of self-destruction that no one else sees her struggle.)

He doesn't take the snack so she stands up to dispose of it. Her offers are never unconditional, and most come with a time limit. Like this one. Times up on the Fruit By The Foot. Amelia tosses it into the garbage can at the corner of the chambers. Clean shot. 

"Anything gone from your room?"

Her mind is already moving on from his snippy tone and working on charting the damage. They'll do a whole sweep of the house of course, check for bugs. Then they’ll draft a plan. This is how Amelia's anger manifests. Through calculation.

[immcrals-blog]

in-wxnder‌:

At this point, the two of the probably know each other too well. For the first few years at with the NYPD Alejandro seemed to make it his mission to make sure Connor was real. That he wasn’t just sneaking into the police force for his family. At least thats what it felt like on Connor’s end. Earning Alejandro’s trust, and goddamn did he earn it, was probably his single greatest achievement in life so far. He had worked day in and day out to prove what he was about. That he was here for the long haul. To do whats right. They’d spent countless hours going over cases, staking out buildings and working tirelessly together to out criminals away. So the fact that Alejandro waited for him at the door wasn’t a surprise to Connor. He would have tried to sit down at his desk and gather up more than a few hours worth of work for himself if his chief hadn’t been waiting for him. Which, he supposed, was the point.

Spending all that time together had taught Connor a lot about what it meant to be a cop. To be a Detective. To work in this city. He couldn’t have asked for a better teacher. No, the only thing that Connor would change about there relationship now was to take away the attraction. Not because he didn’t like it, but because it was distracting as all hell. From the second they met, Connor had been draw to Alejandro like a moth to a flame. He was handsome, yes, anyone with half functioning eyes could see that, but there was more. Alejandro was a lot like Connor. A hard worker, passionate about New York and the safety of its people. Caring for those around him. Funny when the mood allowed it. Professional when it didn’t. The attraction that Connor felt towards Alejandro had only increased as they spent time together. Course, he assumed nothing would ever happen between them, why would it? Connor was hardly worthy of a man like Alejandro. Still… There was something. 

Something that he felt now as he slipped Alejandro the case file across the table. “Thanks, I guess I do have a jumping off point.” He admitted in a smaller voice. “It’s hard to remember that sometimes.” Connor mumbled more to himself than to the older man. He took a sip of coffee as well and watched Alejandro study the names for a moment. He couldn’t help but admire the others focus. The way his fingers gripped the paper and eyes scrolled over every letter it held. Was he jealous of a piece of paper? Who got jealous of a piece of paper? Stupid. Connor let his hand fall under his chair to scratch Coopers side. She grumbled lightly but otherwise didn’t move. 

Clearing his throat after a moment, Connor adjusted himself in his chair. “The bolded names are those with a history and the high lighted ones have an alibi that still needs double checking. I was going to have Anderson make those calls in the morning.” He added before drinking another sip of coffee. It was in that moment that Connor became painfully aware of just how alone the two of them were together. 

Eyes scan the page handed to him. There are a few persons of interest that stick out to him, make his brow furrow, as he wonders how they wound up on this list. Connor, it seems is a little too thorough. Still, of the highlighted ones, he put little checks next to the ones he knows have alibis that clear out. Anderson can still make those calls in the morning, but now they'll be triple checked.

Alejandro’s acutely aware, as he does this, of Connor's gaze. There's enough potency in the stare for even the commissioner to notice it. What's Connor waiting for? A sign of approval? A hmmm or a nod? A good job maybe. Alejandro's know this about the younger man: that he becomes so incredibly pliant under the slightest of praises. While there are times he finds this a sign of weakness, Alejandro rather likes it when it's just the two of them.

Just the two of them. Now here's a scenario that they don't get to witness too often. Most of the time Alejandro is swept up in the dealings of a police commissioner, with never a quiet moment, never a dull second. Not to mention, Alejandro works his entire department far too hard for them to have much down time either. Downtime usually reflects an inefficient schedule and Alejandro despises inefficiency.

He turns over the paper, expecting the column of names to continue and his brow furrows further when he finds nothing but an expanse of white.

"Where's the other page?"

He holds it up, taps on the '1 of 2' listed at the bottom and looks Connor dead in the eye. Uncharacteristic sloppiness, that's what this is. Not mention, he doesn't really have the time for it.

[immcrals-blog]

wtcddy‌:

the last time teddy was this dumbfounded, it was in math class right before he decided to take the plunge and drop out of high school. he’s utterly perplexed at her reasoning—as if selling her body off reflects any morality, but teddy’s not one to talk when it comes to the difference between right and wrong. he can’t find the words to reply just yet, instead gratefully taking his drink from the bartender and letting the alcohol burn a path down his throat. “ i’m not trying to talk you out of it, it’s just…different, you could say. you’re kind of missing out on the spontaneity of it, aren’t you? ”

she locks up as soon as the words leave her mouth, and he can’t help but grin, lifting a brow as she struggles through her apology. he’s an open book with most things, always has been—that’s probably why he has so many enemies. “ no, no, you’re totally fine. who am i to pass up an opportunity to talk about myself? ” he takes a second swig of his drink, shuddering as it reaches his gut. “ i thought she meant something to me, but i guess i was just being a horny teenager. she was, like, ten years or more older than me. moved on pretty quick. ”

this girl is just full of compliments, and it truly catches teddy off guard. he sinks a little further against the bar, and if he had any semblance of a conscience, he might feel guilty for humoring her. she’s doesn’t know who teddy is and far too willing to trust him. “ actually, i’m 99% sure i was named after alvin and the chipmunks, but i appreciate the presidential thing. really strokes my ego. ” and there it is. “ i guess there’s not much. i’m not as interesting as you are. i’m a gemini, if that means anything to you. ”

he almost snorts up his drink, because goddamn, that hits home. “ looks like you and me have a lot in common, then. never met my dad—don’t even know the fucker’s name. how’d you come to meet yours? what’s he like? ” there’s a beat as he plucks a cigarette from his pocket and tucks it between his lips, just out of sight of the bartender as he lights up. “ what does he do? ”

"I don't really have the time for the spontaneity of it." Juliet says simply. She takes the whiskey sour that the bartender hands her, and leans over the counter to plink a straw into her drink so she can sip it. There's relief that immediately comes with his willingness to overlook her forwardness and so Juliet tries to return the favor by listening to Teddy's recount his first time. "Would you go back and change it if you could?" Pardon her curiosity once and it only shines brighter. It has a tendency to make her eyes twinkle like it does now.  "Theodore! The sweetest chipmunk. With his little glasses. I could see you pulling off glasses. Am I stroking your ego by saying that too? Probably. But in my defense, you do make it incredibly easy to do." So there's a little flirt in her too. So what? Juliet wouldn't be working here if there wasn't. She doesn't think twice about the compliments she's offering. They come to her as easily as breathing. Why wouldn't you do the say the nice thing if given the chance? Centuries ago they used to call women like her saints, now she's more likely to be called soft. Juliet’s almost certain that Donovan thinks of her as too soft. She stirs the froth of her whiskey sour as she considers how to talk about her father. "My dad he -” She begins, trying to find the most diplomatic way to phrase her thoughts on the whole fiasco. Her train of thought is momentarily distracted by the cigarette, and Juliet acts on it. “Hey!” She says without thinking. She leans forward to snatch it away from him, plucks the stick right out from between his lips. "Don't you know these'll kill you? I can't have you dying on me." The offending item gets placed on the counter between them. "As I was saying - my dad is... well I really had to go looking for him. He and mom had a one night stand so I had to go the whole nine yards, trace credit cards, watch security footage. You know how it goes." 

Meeting him.. Juliet closes her eyes at that. It wasn’t as pleasant as she’d hoped, for several reasons.  His reaction being one of them. She scrunches up her nose at the memory. His chosen occupation was a whole other conversation, but even Juliet knew she couldn’t reveal that to this stranger. 

Oh shit, here comes the part she hates. Lying. Omission of truth is hardly any better in Juliet’s mind.

"It was okay. He's taken on a new job that I don't really care for. He -" what is the closest thing without straight up fibbing? "Works with firearms." 

There. Juliet tries to be so blasé with the delivery that she hopes it reads more like Donovan works at a Walmart instead of, you know, murder "And I've never shot a gun in my life so you can imagine how well that reunion went."

[immcrals-blog]

sjobergdeath‌:

                He    doesn’t    know    much    about    this    new    girl.    Shit,    he    doesn’t    really    make    it    a    point    to    learn    things    about    the    girls,    it    just    kind    of    happens.    He    doesn’t    even    concern    himself    with    them    all    that    much.    Yes,    occasionally    he’ll    borrow    them    for    their    services    (    or    in    Jordan’s    case,    just    goes    home    with    them    ),    but    as    far    as    when    he’s    working    concerned    ??    All    he    cares    about    is    the    men    acting    accordingly.    Yes,    these    girls    are    half    naked,    yes    they’re    dancing    for    their    money,    but    that    doesn’t    mean    they    can    touch    as    much    as    they    want.

                Usually    he’d    give    them    a    flat    ’no’,    and    turn    around,    but    he    can’t    help    but    to    actually    laugh.    Brows    raise    as    he    unfolds    his    arms    from    across    his    chest,    reaching    to    untangle    the    thing.    “    You    gotta    learn    to    leave    on    time.    ”

Her shoulders rise up around her ears in a shrug that can also be described as sheepish. Juliet's grinning though, because it's hard to keep her away from smiling for too long.

"Maybe, yeah." She gets distracted easily, that's the real problem here, and it's not going to change anytime soon. "But look, if I hadn't, we wouldn't have had a chance to officially meet."

The angle he's at forces her to look up at him through dark lashes. She's pleasantly surprised to find him... laughing. Not all the what his reputation paints him to be.

"Fenrir right? Like the wolf? You don't seem nearly as monstrous as your mythological counterpart."

She pats the necklace.

"Thank you."

[unspokenvows]

@immcrals

“There you are. Come in and close the door.” Oliver motioned to their father’s study and moved his fingers to signal Jasper closer. He could watch from the window in the office and see Matty playing with his toys on the other side. Uncle Hen wasn’t too far and the house was full of O’Hara’s so he doubted anything bad would happen, but he still felt nervous.

Oliver gulped and glanced to his younger brother. “We.. We need to have a serious discussion, Jasp.” He replied and glanced out again through the window. He thinks about Anthony calling Matty a brat, and what Teddy had said to him in the alleyway.

“I delivered my divorce papers to Anthony Deluca personally, and I think we need to discuss what happens if I die.”

[immcrals-blog]

Jasper's hated Amelia since day one and in the way that he does most things, he's none too quiet about it. Her DeLuca affiliation is enough to put her a permanent black stain on her record, but after the fabled "alleyway shooting" Jasper is ready, festering with impatience, to fucking claw her eyes out, to maybe even close his hands around her windpipe and crush it.

How many times can he tell Oliver ‘I told you so’ before his brother listens? He strolls into their father's office, lets the door click shut behind him. Jasper clocks the way Oliver looks around nervously, the way watches Matty through the window with a hint of paranoia. 

"If you die?” Jasper clicks his tongue. “You mean when. And I think it's pretty straightforward. We dig you a grave and put you in it. Just like we did with dad."

Everybody dies.. as even Matty has learned to say. Jasper’s heard about that little run in at the funeral too. Finds that the bitter taste it’s left in his mouth is still there. 

"But good thing she's already taught Matty about death huh? That takes one thing off the ‘To Do’ list."

Jasper doesn't sit, he’s bad at staying still. Besides, the action reminds him too much of the times dad used to call him in here to ground him. Fully deserved mind you, but strange how a memory can be decades old and still stir such feeling. 

Instead, Jasper stalks the perimeter of the office, like a wolf, as he waits for Oliver to continue with his reasons for calling him here.

[angels-reyes]

[tylrhntr-deactivated20200718]

@immcrals

Anthony had been a mess since the incident that had killed off a good amount of their security. What the fuck had happened, what had gone so wrong that this had gone down? He was pissed, to say the least. Maybe he needed to take a breather. Or maybe he needed to let that anger keep building, building, building until it overflowed and he snapped. Something had to be done. There would be retaliation. Those dumb fuck O’Hara’s weren’t going to make it out of this alive.

 “Amelia,” He greeted as he entered his office where he’d asked her to meet him, hoping for a discussion and a way to plan some of this out. “We’ve got some things to talk about. And I’m sure you aren’t going to like all of it, but I need you to listen and understand, okay? We’ve got to get our shit together and have a game plan.”

[immcrals-blog]

Her relationship with this room is a complicated one. There are no idle memories in this study, but Amelia gives a sharp nod when Anthony asks to meet there. No grace period for the deceased apparently, they're diving into the thick of the issue. Which is fine, because Amelia doesn't really sit well with inaction.

She enters the office to find the scene cleared. Gone is the blood and Anthony's animated and very alive body sits precisely where the head security guard's corpse was less than an hour ago. They’d found the body utterly mutilated. The O'Haras and their fucking dramatics.

Amelia’s eyes snap up to Anthony as he tells her that she's not going to like what he's about to tell her. Of literally everything that's transpired between them, how is there possibly a boundary they still haven't crossed? What else is there to say that she wouldn’t like? But there's something about this whole thing that feels familiar, like they're stepping back into a time capsule to five years ago, when he was first and she was second. It's easy for that muscle memory to reignite.

"I'm listening." Amelia says. 

Yes. A game plan. She agrees with that. But she hears the anger in his voice, hear’s him about to snap. It’s what makes her walk towards the him, towards the desk, to open the drawer she knows has the cigars. Pulls out two, though Amelia thinks Anthony needs them more than her. He can smoke out his aggression instead of wasting time on it. 

She sets one down it front of him. 

"I think we're both on the same page that is conversation is best had sooner rather then later." 

Time is of the essence.

[tvcinemagifs]

[stfujason-deactivated20191001]

EVERY TIME HE FELL ASLEEP, it was the same nightmare. Blood on his hands. Brains scattered along the floor. Killing someone had taken a toll on him and he still was having an issue processing it. That man could have had a family. He may have had children and now he was dead because Jason wanted to prove his loyalty to the O’Hara’s and to Jasper and this is what it got him. Nightmares. No sleep. Difficulty keeping his anxiety down. He hated it. The only good thing that came out of this was the fact the O’Hara’s seemed to trust him more now, but he had literally given his soul to the DEVIL to make it happen.

He could feel the sweat caked to his body, too. He needed a shower, but part of him was scared to move. He was always someone who believed if you did something wrong, it would come back to haunt you. Part of him was terrified if he moved off the bed, that man would be somewhere waiting for him. “Jasper?” He muttered towards his sleeping boyfriend, prodding him in the side. He didn’t want to wake him up, but truthfully, Jasper was going to deal with this, too. They’d deal with it TOGETHER like a couple should be. “Jasper, wake the fuck up.” He would shake him if he needed too, but he was hoping it wouldn’t come to that.

“I had another nightmare.” God, he felt so weak saying that. How did Jasper sleep at night without thinking about all the shit he had done? He had dug a grave and he had shot only ONE person in the head and it was sending him into a mild panic attack.

@immcrals

[immcrals-blog]

The sleep Jasper finds next to Jason is a different story than the sleep he finds anywhere else. Gone is his tendency to be a light sleeper, always alert. Next to Jason, his body releases all the weariness it’s been burdened with and Jasper imitates the dead. It’s near impossible to wake him. 

The 'wake the fuck up’ along with the prod miraculously manages to get him up, though Jasper has never been a neat riser - irregardless of circumstance. The young man is still swimming up from the swamp of sleep, and through this murky haze he grabs one of the pillows, and tries to not so subtly smother Jason with it. 

“Shhhhhh.” 

It's a half hearted attempt, the pillow only makes it partway before Jasper gives up on trying to asphyxiated his boyfriend with it. The pillow falls and he works on scrubbing the sleep from his face. 

That's when Jason's words finally make it to that processing part of Jasper’s brain and Jasper stops his Herculean effort to go back to sleep. Nightmares. Or, more accurately, Jason’s conscience is fucking at it again. Jasper marvels its ability to continuously resurrect itself just when he thinks he’s finally gotten rid of it. 

Anyway, now is not the time for Jason to develop a conscience. Jasper has every intention of nipping that shit in the bud. He rolls over, eyes suddenly awake and sharp, and rotates his body in this nest to move so that his head nudges onto Jason’s lap. Jasper winds up peering up at his boyfriend with a dark gaze, almost a mirror image of the way Jason’s staring down at him. He can see the slight tremble in the other, can feel it because of how close he is, and that’s what makes him think this honestly might be some sort of panic attack. Jasper thinks it’s real fucking character growth that he doesn’t quip back with a ‘This isn’t the nightmare about the class presentation and everyone in their underwear is it?’ Instead, he finds Jason’s hand and laces his fingers through his without sitting up. To ground him. Maybe to trap him. 

Jasper knows this is about his initiation. It’s about the grave and blood. It’s about a dead body that Jason’s responsible for. Jasper has come to learn that it’s best to utterly forget about the dead or to relish them completely. Black and white, no grey area granted for those six feet under. That way lies madness. He can tell that Jason’s accomplished neither yet and so towards madness he went. 

“Same one?” Jasper asks. Quiet yet firm. “Talk me through it.” 

[unspokenvows]

Murder Party for Five

[immcrals-blog]

immoraltrin‌:

wtcddy‌:

TRUTH BE TOLD, he doesn’t know if he’ll ever be ready for this initiation phase, but he also knows if he wants to be with Jasper – there’s no going back. He spent the last couple of minutes going everyone’s words, but Jason was still new to this. They all knew what they were doing. At the end of the day, Jason didn’t. He was just thankful Jasper was there to guide him. “I think I got it.” He admitted to Oliver, looking at the shovel in his hands. Initiation meant killing someone. He knew this, and while he could shut his mind off from that, he also knew there was no coming back from that. He may think he could do it right now, but would he actually be able to when the time came? Could he shoot someone without knowing if they had a family? And why? Because they worked for the DELUCA’S? 

“I’m kinda… nervous. What if I fuck up?” What if I can’t do it? He had always been honest and upfront with Jasper, but at least no one else was paying attention to them. The conversation was strictly between them and all of a sudden that shovel he’s holding feels a lot heavier than normal. He half wonders if he can just bash someone in the head with it, but he knows that isn’t an instant death. His main issue is the fact he’s a paramedic. SAVING PEOPLE is his job. Killing them is not. It’s been different with the O’Hara’s, however. He can handle sewing up bullet wounds, knife wounds, and scratches. He’s positive he won’t be able to save someone if he blows their brains out. Plus, he wouldn’t be allowed to save them.

“Nevermind. I’ll figure it out.” His fingers tighten around the shovel, a sigh escaping him. He doesn’t know shit about pumice, or how it takes care of fingerprints, but he trusts them. Which is saying a lot. “Let’s go handle these people.” He muttered in Jasper’s direction, grabbing for the gloves. 10 minutes? Would it be weird to make this some sort of game? Maybe he could have them out in under 10 minutes.

@unspokenvows​

Oliver took in a sharp breath and closed his eyes for a moment. Trying to subside the motion that his hand almost touched over his fresh wound. He couldn’t very well bleed on the carpet, but he had a feeling that himself and Teddy had done a good job with the patchwork of said injury. Fingers comb over his brows as he tries to calm himself. No reason to yell out at Teddy, especially calling attention to their murder ensemble. Not to mention Teddy did save him, but he isn’t going to bring that up in idle conversation. “They might have some hard candies your great-grandmum made in a popcorn canister.” Hell, he had assumptions with how the Deluca kitchen ran. Which meant it didn’t really run at all. “Maybe those hard mints that are manufactured overseas and packaged as life vests for midgets. Because they failed health code inspection thrice times.” Oliver knew he was ranting, and then he blinked slowly trying to refocus his efforts. Jesus Christ, he’s going to forget he went on that little tangent.

The ramble stopped just in time for the J’s to join them. Oliver arched a brow at Teddy’s comment, “Of course they’re here to help.” He grumbled incredulously thinking it absurd that Jasper wouldn’t be with them for this of all people. They all lost his father of course, but he tried not to snicker at the nickname. Oliver stared at Jasper with a disapproving sigh. “A quickie doesn’t make you late, Jasp.. I got shot quickie and I was here on time.” He gives Jasper a pointed look, but idly shrugs. He honestly didn’t care about Jasper’s love life but make no mistake he knew plenty about it. His brother seemed to enjoy oversharing his sexual escapades. It didn’t matter where Oliver tried to retreat, Jasper was always behind him jabbering off about a certain kink.

Oliver catches the scowl of Teddy with a slow smirk, “Do I sense you’re scared of pumice?” He tried to laugh, but shortly gasped and cleared his throat. He could carry himself like he wasn’t in pain, but he was in fucking pain.  Oliver hadn’t changed out of his blood-stained suit from the party either, because he didn’t want to be late. He considers taking off his dress shoes but realizes that Jasper would tower over him, so he doesn’t. He must hide his own amusement at how aggressively Trinity passes the pumice to Teddy. He aims a quick nod to his sister, “We shall soon.” He instructed waiting for Jason to chime in.

“Agreed. But remember we need one alive to come with us. Not to mention everyone should be able to get a kill tonight.” He glanced to Trin and waited for her to answer Jasper’s question. Then glanced over between Jason and Jasper noticing they were discussing something quietly. Were they thinking about doing a quickie in a grave? Should he object? The dull pain has made him apathetic in this minute. “Are you sure you’re alright with this?” Oliver asked and stared dead straight at his brother’s boyfriend. “You could have the car ready for us to jet off. I’m going to be dismantling and dumping this car later anyway.” Oliver offered because he knew the initiation process, and he knew for a fact that Jason hadn’t gone through it.

@wtcddy

he’s only been here for ten minutes max, and teddy’s already losing his patience. he stifles the twitching in his fingers by idly twisting the silencer on his gun, but he’s more than ready to get this show on the road. it’s safe to say he’s on edge, between ruby’s hollow threatening and oliver’s not-so-mortal wound, and he can feel the restlessness in his legs starting to vibrate through the rest of his body. if teddy doesn’t get some blood and some sleep soon, he thinks he’ll lose it. his eyes practically roll out of his head—of course oliver would criticize the deluca kitchen of all things, never mind the bloodthirsty trigger fingers that murked his dad. no, it’s all about whether or not they can make a good soufflé. “ oh, yeah, i’m sure the worst thing in that mansion is their lack of options in the candy bowl. i really love a good kit kat when i’m blowing peoples’ heads off. ”

teddy’s just about to fire off a reply to jasper, something along the lines of we get it, you have a dick, when trin’s fist is colliding with his breastbone and he’s back against the car with a groan on his lips. “ this is why we would work, you and me. i like it rough, ” he complements the sentiment with the suggestive waggle of his brows as his teeth work to remove his gloves. this is what he’s been trying to avoid all this time, but with all of these eyes on him, teddy sucks in a breath and gets to work on his fingertips, wincing every so often. he does, however, spare his left thumb for the sake of his iphone. “ no, not scared. i love mutilating myself for the cause, oliver. except when i get hurt, it’s not because i did something stupid. ” he doesn’t elaborate, but the pointed look he flicks oliver’s way tells the whole story between him and amelia in the alley. oliver coughs practically on cue, and it brings back the smirk to teddy’s lips. 

the gloves are back on in a blink, and teddy’s busying himself loading the magazine. “ oh, if you fuck it up, you die. it’s pretty plain and simple. no need to overthink it, ” he casually replies, casting a quick glance toward the mountains known as jason and jasper. teddy wants to argue, let oliver know that jason can’t escape the night without putting someone down, but he stills his tongue, deciding he’s pushed enough buttons for tonight. the pistol clicks as the magazine is loaded, and teddy’s gaze flits from oliver, to trin, to the two-thirds of the jonas brothers. “ are we ready? ”

{ @immoraltrin }

trin shook her head at jasper’s inquiry “no the only ones outside were on a smoke break it seems like the delucas aren’t keen on having their guards where we can see ‘em.” she wanted to believe it was because they heard about her sharp shooting marksmanship but that probably wasn’t it. 

she perked up at the casual mention of being shot “what the hell ollie, are you even up for this?” she asked concern for him and the mission flashing in her eyes. It was only a matter of time before the adrenaline would subside and she didn’t want to find him napping on the deluca’s couch out of exhaustion. she nodded when he said everyone would get a kill, she didn’t mind picking up any slack in that  department. 

trin shook her head at teddy’s incessant quips “maybe but i like you quiet and that doesn’t seem as likely.” she smirked watching him pout as he rubbed off his fingertips. turning back to her brothers and eventual in law she watched as they discussed jason’s role in all this, it probably should have been discussed earlier but they had all night apparently.  

@immcrals

What if I fuck up?

Jasper peers down at Jason, gaze unfeeling. 'Fucking up’ isn’t really an option in this line of work. Teddy’s right and Jasper’s the kind to follow a similar ideology. Still, Jasper’s learned in his decade of a relationship that you don’t say shit like that when someone says ‘I’m kinda nervous,’ if you have any intention of ever getting laid again. 

“Here’s the thing about killing someone,” Jasper says, “the only way to fuck up is if you stop before they’re actually dead. Pretty simple. So keep shooting at ‘em or hitting them with the shovel till you’re sure they’re down.” He shrugs and repeats Teddy’s words. “Or you die.” 

Jasper swings an arm around Jason’s shoulders, an action coercion he does unconsciously when he feels like he might have physically drag the other into doing something their conscience is actively trying to talk them out of. He points to the handle of the shovel to the trio. Gestures with it. 

“Great. Hidden guards. What fun would this be if we had all the answers?” A part of him does mean it though. Jasper likes the challenge. “We’ll find ‘em.”

Jasper wants the next words out of his mouth to be ‘Let’s go.’ Or better yet, he wants to just Irish goodbye this - the O’Hara way - and start off in the direction of the mansion’s closest perimeter. It’s Trin calling attention to Oliver’s wound that causes Jasper’s lip to curl up into a snarl. He doesn’t even need to ask to know the cunt that did this. 

“She shot you? Well, at least now I don’t have to be around to constantly say I told you so - you’ll have a reminder right on you.” 

@stfujason​

[immcrals-blog]

Cause the world isn’t what it was But I guess every generation thinks they’re fucked

I’m sorry if I can’t unwind Don’t tell me everything will be all right Growing up in the rubble raised by American muscle Where you’re lucky if you just survive You get arrested but you don’t know why Shot down by cops in doubles Packing American muscle

[mattdaddario-online]