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deercountry2021-09-09 04:02 pm
venatoris) wrote in deercountry2021-09-09 04:02 pm
oh, Lazarus, how did your debts get paid? [ OPEN ]
Who: infractus, lefthemisphere, egyptologist & you!
What: event shenanigans in one fabulous catch all, for all your RP needs
When: Throughout September
Where: All over!
Content Warnings: mentions and gifs/images of blood and dead bodies, death, decay, and trauma, possible suicide ideation, possible R rated scenes of varying degrees, etc etc. will mark as needed
(( ooc; event prompts, various september logs, and tdm continuations will go in this thread. if you have something you'd like to do, pm me or hit me up at![[plurk.com profile]](https://plurk.com/favicon.ico)
pincurls! ))
infractus, lefthemisphere, egyptologist & you!What: event shenanigans in one fabulous catch all, for all your RP needs
When: Throughout September
Where: All over!
Content Warnings: mentions and gifs/images of blood and dead bodies, death, decay, and trauma, possible suicide ideation, possible R rated scenes of varying degrees, etc etc. will mark as needed
(( ooc; event prompts, various september logs, and tdm continuations will go in this thread. if you have something you'd like to do, pm me or hit me up at
𝕓𝕝𝕠𝕠𝕕𝕤𝕡𝕠𝕣𝕥 | LEMME KNOW IF THIS WORKS
Instead he's here, with Dean Winchester's hand twisted up in his shirt collar, and he's not having a good time. He scrabbles a little against the guy that towers over him a bit too much as the crowds hoot and holler.]
What the fuck, Dean—! Lemme go!
[A fist hits him in the eye, glancing off his orbital bone, and then another hits him in the mouth, filling it with the taste of warmblood; the shock of pain spirals him into something feral, much like a rabies-infested dog in a corner, and he does the only thing that his mind readily supplies to him: he goes apeshit.
Which means he starts scratching wildly with his fingers at the threat, just before he throws his head forward, sinks his teeth into Dean's forearm, and bites hard. Hard enough to break skin, with all the fervor of a man dead set on tearing away a chunk of flesh.]
no subject
Craves it.
It's enough to drive a man wild, edge him towards corruption, past the point of no return, where nothing matters, only violence and rage, an outlet for all of his pent up fury where there has been none before.
He's done well with avoiding hand to hand with Sleepers, trying to make allies instead of enemies, but there comes a point in time where maybe that's all there is - violence, brutality.
The more he enters the ring the more pieces of himself he loses, until he's barely a man at all, right there on the cusp of of it all, right on the precipice of madness.
He doesn't recognize the man in the ring, he only knows one thing - destroy. Blow after blow, connection or not he keeps trying, keeps going, he'll kill if he has to, because he needs to, wants to-
-
At first, he doesn't even realize. Dean doesn't feel pain the way he used to, the way he did before. He barely feels it at all, a pressure on his arm, the rip and tear of teeth.
It's the sound of it that breaks him away, actually -- the panicked noises of someone desperately trying to free themselves, the tear of nails on flesh, of it ripping under human jaws-- ]
What the--
[ It's Charlie. Dean gasps, shoving at his head, because no, stop -- stop, he poisonous, literally poisonous-- ]
Charlie, stop, stop!
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He howls a bit like an angry injured cat before lunging himself forward, trying to throw his small but solid body into Dean's in an attempt to knock him over. The crowd is loving the energy going on here, but — as he scrambles to try and get on top of Dean, his head suddenly sways in a dizzy circle, eyelids fluttering. He looks a bit dazed while he tries to keep looking at Dean. The vileblood dripping off his split lip proooobably has something to do with that, and he seems... to be getting hit with the effects of Dean's blood belatedly.
Charlie's almost unnatural tolerance to toxic substances has really helped him out here, but he's absolutely feeling his vision fuzzing out, the shouts turning into weird buzzing sounds as his muffled heartbeat begins to drown them out.]
Oh... sssshhhhit...
[Aaaand he's collasping.]
no subject
[ There goes any and all hope of Charlie being even remotely useful in the arena, because yeah, while they fought like cats for a solid two minutes, now Charlie's unconscious and it's just Dean left standing there like an asshole, which is boring for the spectators, isn't it.
So gets released the monster hoard.
Which is fine, it's nothing an overpowered Dean Winchester in Trench can't handle, but backups always nice and Sam's been acting weird so it's just him. He fights like a savage, back in the ring (again), tearing into monsters and protecting Charlie's unmoving form with the shield he's figured out how to project.
When Charlie comes to, it'll be because Dean did the damn thing and slung Charlie over his shoulder and marched his ass out, triumphant and utterly blood splattered, but both alive and in...relatively one piece. Dean is definitely gonna need some stitches on his arm, but he'll live.
He's plopped on Dean's couch (after a sheet was thrown over, cause Charlie dirty), a glass of water on the coffee table in front of him.
Dean snaps his fingers in front of Charlie's face. ]
Hey. Jaws. You alive?
no subject
Yooou asshole- [He groans, and then swings his fist at Dean again. Only it's way slow and wobbly and not even remotely a threat while he's still all groggy from the poison that's slowly dimming in severity. It takes all but gravity to make him flop back against the couch, hands on his stomach.] You hit me, dude! Right in the eye. That shit hurts!
no subject
Knock it off, [ he grunts, batting Charlie's fist away. ]
We were in the arena. Bloodsport - it was an accident. You alright? [ Dean's arm has a dishrag wrapped around it, but his blood is going to start soaking through soon enough. He probably needs more than just stitches to fix that injury. ]
no subject
[Elegant. A graceful, well-thought response.
He makes a face at the mention of the arena, his fuzzy memory focusing a bit more. Oh, yeah. People were yelling and acting like it was practically the Superbowl, or maybe one of those underground boxing things Mac and Dennis tried to drag him into. Real stupid.]
... Don't remember how I got there. I was kind of super high before that, so... uh.
[He runs his tongue over the cut on his lip.]
I feel like I got my ass kicked.
no subject
[ He pushes himself up from where he'd been kneeling, reaching for the glass of water and offering it. ]
You did. And you bit the shit out of me. Probably not a super great plan around here, dude. Some people's blood is poisonous.
no subject
... S'fine. I get clocked all the time. And I clock people back sometimes.
[In case Dean hadn't noticed, Charlie really can go full feral, apparently. He takes a moment to try to peel his black eye back open, but it hurts, so he just leaves it.]
Hey, I didn't die, right? Maybe licking bleach and drinking paint gave me a strong amenity — or whatever it's called. You good, though? I think I remember spitting you out somewhere in there.
It's been a while since I've bit a chunk out of someone.
Not since santa, I think.
no subject
[ Amenity, immunity, whatever. Dean's no scholar, but he's pretty sure on that one.
Anyway. ]
Yeah, well. Can we maybe not do it again? It didn't hurt, but it's probably gonna leave a mark.
no subject
[He points sternly at Dean, squinting. Kinda. One-eyed squint.]
Don't act like I just did that outta nowhere! What was I supposed to do, let you keep beating my ass?
Just be glad I didn't go for your nose!
no subject
Was the whole...bloodsport thing. I wouldn't normally punch you in the nose.
[ Probably. ]
Want a drink?
no subject
........ Well-]
You don't mean water or something stupid like that, do you?
no subject
[ They have a barrel of water that just keeps...giving them potable water which is great, but no. That is not what he means. ]
I meant whiskey. It's rotgut, leftover stuff you made actually, but... [ He shrugs. ]
Want some, or not?
no subject
'Course I want some. What am I, some goody two-shoes? I'm from Philly.
[As if being from Philadelphia equates to drinking rotgut. Ha. Haha.
(Okay, maybe it does, but mainly if you're standing in the right streets on google maps.)]
It'll get my face good and numb; way better than going to the actual doctor; I can't stand the doctors. Always blah blah blah, 'substance' abuse, blah blah blah, neurological this, badly healed bones that.
no subject
[ He snorts, pushing himself to his feet to swagger to the kitchen - bigger, nicer, but still the same ugly china from what looks like the 70s.
Dean kinda likes it.
They'll both get teacups with nasty moonshine, but Charlie's right, it'll do the trick. ]
Here. Cheers. No one died, yadda yadda.
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[He takes the tea cup and offers a small cheers at the air.]
Here's to not dying yet, I guess. Other than that time I ate those bad eggs, which probably doesn't count, 'cus I got brought back a few minutes after.... Cheers!
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[ Definitely not health nuts -- maybe Sam, though in his current weird mental state, who can say.
He's fine, he's not dead. Dean isn't worried. ]
That was pretty gross. But hey, you made it here. Chalking that up to a win. So -- cheers.
no subject
I think doing some drugs is one of the nicer things we can work with.
[He tinks their glasses together before downing his drink, looking... well, like he can't see out of one eye. He squints tiredly at the big bloody spot on Dean's arm and points at it.] You should probably wash that out. Germs, and all.
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What? Oh. Yeah...probably.
[ Huh, he'd forgotten about it. It doesn't hurt, but green streaked blood is running down his arm, so he downs his glass and gets up to go rinse his arm off in the sink. ]
...Did you say you bit Santa?
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It's kind of a long story, but my ma used to whore herself out to mall santas at christmas to make money when I was a kid, and I kinda had a weird episode about it years back? I'm totally over it now, kinda. It was a one-off.
[Oh well, he's gonna just go for more beer, like the healthy person he is.]
no subject
Huh. [ Yeah, beer is the way to go here, cause, what the fuck. ]
I promise to never dress as Sant in front of you.