#'my dogs piss and shit all over the floor daily but man i think its so gross how ur cat pees on my clothes that i leave laying around

[jo2ukes]

the second he started talking shit on my cat while breaking up with me, i was outtie. there's NO man that's more important to me than MY man (my little baby man ohhh he's so cute)

[cruciology]

The Princess and the Dog

Requested by @the-schuylar-sisters : Hey are you still taking requests if so could you do a Sandor x reader where they are ;) and Cersei (reader’s mother) walks in and goes off? Thanks

The library was the only place you could ever find peace and quiet. Your insufferable younger brother wouldn’t dare step foot into what he referred to as “a dusty, boring wasteland.” Every once in a while, someone might wander in, but you mostly had the place to yourself, aside from whatever guard was assigned to you. 

Today’s was a younger man, one you didn’t recognize. He must have been new. He would nervously look over at you every few seconds while you read your book. You couldn’t quite blame him. You wouldn’t want his job. You loved your father, but you had to admit that he was quite overprotective when it came to you. Even if Joffrey was the first born son and his heir, King Robert reserved the softest spot in his heart for you, the first of his true born children to live past the age of infancy. You guessed that his affection for you was the reason your mother spoiled Joffrey so. Your mother claimed to love her children equally, but like your father, you suspected she had chosen her favorite. 

Your mother also wasn’t quiet about the fact that your eighteenth name day had come and gone with no betrothal. It wasn’t as if you had no suitors. There were new ones daily, all clamoring over themselves to ask the King for his eldest daughter’s hand in marriage. Not only did your hand come with money, power, and lands, but you were said to be one of the most beautiful girls in the Seven Kingdoms, much like your mother. But your father always said no. Not one was good enough for you. 

“She’ll die an old maid if you wait for someone who reaches your standard,” Your mother had said. 

“Then she’ll die an old maid,” Your father had said. 

Little did either of them know you had plans for yourself, and they didn’t involve dying an old maid. You weren’t about to correct them. 

“You may sit down,” You said to the guard, making him jump. 

“Princess?” He asked, not quite meeting your eye. 

“You’re allowed to sit down,” You clarified, gesturing your hand at the chair across from the table from you. He looked at it as if it might turn and snap at him. You felt bad for him He looked to be younger than you, and he was given the task of guarding the princess on his own. “Go on. No one’s coming in to kill me, you won’t be needed for anything more than decoration for now.”

The guard finally took the seat, looking up at you finally, as if to confirm this is what you wanted of him. You had to resist the urge to give him a pat on the head, he looked so much like a lost puppy. 

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” The poor boy fell out of the chair in his attempt to stand up. 

“The princess told me-,” 

“I’m telling you to get on your feet,” The Hound said, roughly grabbing the guard’s arm and pulling him up. 

“Don’t be cruel,” You defended. “He was following my orders.” 

The Hound didn’t look at you, his angry eyes still boring into the guard. “If you aren’t going to do your job, you can fuck off down to the stables.” 

“Yes, sir, I’m sorry,” The guard nearly yipped. The Hound released him, shoving him out the door. 

“That was unnecessary, Sandor,” You scolded. 

“That’s who they leave you with? They call that protection?” The Hound said, finally turning towards you. “Some cunt who pisses himself at the slightest noise?” 

“He’s just a boy,” You said. 

“Exactly.” 

You stood up, walking around the other side of the table where he stood. You looked up at him with a slight smirk. “You don’t need to take it out on him. You’re just upset my mother assigned you to Joffrey instead of me.”

The Hound bent down, his arms circling your waist and he lifted you off your feet. You laughed, grabbing him around his neck. He kissed you, his lips tasted like the bitter wine he kept on his belt. You knew the taste well, both from sips taken on moonlight walks and from kisses stolen when you were sure you two were alone. 

“Takes everything in me not to strangle that little shit in his sleep,” He said into your mouth. “She suspects something.” 

“You don’t think she knows about us, do you?” You asked, pulling away slightly. You liked when he held you like this, being just slightly above him. You liked being able to look in his eyes when you spoke. His arms were so strong, you knew he could hold you up for hours and not get tired. Mostly, you just liked being held by him. 

“If she had any real proof, your father would have my head mounted on his throne and my balls in a jar,” The Hound assured. “Are you worried, Princess?” The corners of his mouth turned up, making you roll your eyes. 

“You don’t need to call me that, no one’s here.” 

He kissed the hollow of your throat, then your collarbone, and finally the top of your breast that was nearly spilling out of your bodice. His lips moved against you as he spoke. “You’re the princess, even when no one’s here.” 

Nearly a year ago, when you had first kissed him, he had pulled away as if you had burned him, saying almost exactly the same thing. “You’re the princess,” was his reason then. He didn’t know what you wanted him, even now, even though he wanted you. You could easily have any man you wanted. The difference was that now, he wasn’t afraid to touch you.

You kissed the puckered line of scarred flesh on his forehead, your lips touching both the ruined skin and the unburnt. He used to not let you even look at that side when you were together, worried that it disgusted you. It never had. Even when you first met him, it hadn’t bothered you. It was just a part of him. 

“My father means to take us all to Winterfell,” You said. His lips stilled on your breast. “He told me this morning. We’re to leave in a fortnight.” 

“I’m part of the Kingsguard, I’ll be traveling with you.” 

“You’re smarter than that, Sandor,” You said. You tugged on his hair, making him look at your eyes. “All that time traveling with my parents? Someone is bound to notice us.” 

“No one notices your mother and uncle,” The Hound said. You rolled your eyes. 

“Everyone notices my mother and my uncle,” You corrected. You loved your Uncle Jamie, he was always kind and gentle. But you also weren’t stupid. Just looking at your younger siblings, you knew they weren’t your father’s children. And looking at your mother with her brother, you were sure you knew who their father was. “No one is fool enough to tempt my mother’s wrath.” 

“No one wants to face mine either, Princess,” The Hound assured. 

“Sandor,” You said. He placed you back onto your feet. You missed his arms immediately. 

 “Princess.” 

“We should leave,” You said, your voice low even though you knew you were alone in the library. “Like we said we would.” 

He stared down at you. You knew what he was thinking. He had asked you to run away with him before. It was something you rarely talked about, it was something to fantasize about. It was always in the abstract. But you knew you didn’t have much time before it was decided that you were too old and needed to be married. It was when your father mentioned Robb Stark and how much he trusted the boy’s father that you worried that you wouldn’t have a choice much longer. 

“That’s one way to piss off your Queen Mother,” The Hound said with a laugh. 

“My goal in life.” 

He let you pull him around so he was against the table. He sat down on the table top, his legs so long that his feet were still grounded on the floor. You stood between his legs, getting close enough to kiss him but not letting your lips touch his. He let out a strangled groan when you palmed his quickly hardening erection through his pants. 

“That’s another way to do it,” He said. He threaded one hand through your hair, the other pressed on the small of your back, pulling you closer and kissing you. You squeezed him tighter, sending a rumble through his throat. 

“Careful, now, Princess,” He said against your lips. 

“Nothing I can’t handle,” You said. You pulled at the ties of his pants, slipping your hand in and grabbing him fully. He grabbed your wrist with warning. “No one is in here. You scared that guard half to death, he won’t be coming back.” 

The Hound paused for a long moment before releasing your wrist. You smirked at how easy it was for you to convince him. He played the role of being as hard as stone well, but when it came to you, he cracked so easily. You could get him to do anything you asked. 

You pulled his cock out of his pants, exposing him to the empty library. You got onto your knees in front of him, your dress flaring out around you as you lowered yourself onto the ground. He moved his hand into your hair once again as you took his cock into your mouth, making him let out another groan. You could barely fit half of its length, using your hand to stroke the rest as you ran your tongue along the head. He used to never let you use your mouth on him, almost as if he thought it was too depraved to ask of a princess. He had no such problem now as he nearly thrusted into your throat. 

You could feel him tense as he usually did before he came, his hands tightening in your hair, but he pulled you away. He nearly shuddered at the loss of contact, but he wasted no time leaning down, pulling you up by the waist. He lifted your skirts, setting you onto his lap, your knees against the table on either side of him. His arm around your waist to hold you in place, he guided you onto his waiting cock. You gasped as he entered you, your hands on his shoulders. 

You lifted yourself up, making sure to take your time as you slowly brought him into you again. He squeezed your hips tightly. You smirked, kissing his lips lightly. 

“How’s that?” You whispered against his mouth. 

“So fucking good,” He mumbled. He slid his hand along your thighs and up to your center. You couldn’t help a moan as his thumb found your clit. He made quick circles as you bucked your hips against him wildly. You both knew he wouldn’t last but he never liked to finish before you. His practiced hand knew exactly how to bring you to your end. “Come for me, princess,” He whispered in your ear just as you came apart, squeezing tightly to him. He held you so you wouldn’t topple backwards as he continued his thrusts. 

You didn’t realize you had heard your name until the Hound was pulling out of you roughly. You found your footing, your legs a bit numb from holding yourself on the table, making you feel like a newborn fawn. Your mother’s voice pierced your ear as she grabbed your arm and pulled you away from the Hound. 

“What in the Seven Hells do you think you were doing?” Your mother nearly shrieked at you. 

“Your Grace,” The Hound started, his voice surprisingly calm and even. 

She turned on the Hound, her arms wrapped around you as if you needed protection from him. “This is exactly why I no longer wanted you guarding her. I find you with your cock in my daughter, the King’s daughter. Who do you think you are?” 

“Mother,” You said. “It was me, I was the one-,” 

Your mother held you at arms length, her grip on you iron clad and bruising. “This is why you refused every proposal I brought to your father? So you could fuck the Dog? I raised you better than this.” 

“I love him,” You felt the words in your chest as they came from your mouth. Your eyes flashed to the Hound. He looked as if he had been slapped. You had never said those words aloud, but you had certainly felt them for a long time. 

“You know nothing of love,” Your mother said firmly. “And after I tell your father what he’s done, you will know nothing of the Hound.” 

“You won’t tell Father.” You pulled out of her grasp. “If you do, I’ll tell him about Uncle Jamie.”

You felt the slap sharp across your cheek. You held your hand to your face, the sting still ringing across your skin. But what surprised you more was seeing the Hound’s large hand clasped around your mother’s wrist, not nearly as gentle as he had just been with you. Your mother looked just as shocked as you. The Hound had been nothing but loyal since he had come to King’s Landing. You supposed he was loyal still, just to you above all else. 

“Unhand me,” Your mother said through gritted teeth. The Hound looked at you and you gave him a nod. He released his grip, taking a step back. 

“I will, Mother,” You said. “Keep my secret and I’ll keep yours.” 

She looked at you a long time, her chest puffed out with self importance. You supposed you were lucky it had been her and not your father who had walked in. At least with your mother you had leverage. 

“I don’t doubt you, my love,” She said coldly. She shot the Hound a disgusted glance as she rubbed her wrist. “His bastards will tear you to shreds on their way out.” 

[renaerys]

PPG One-Shot: Six Degrees Chiller (Brick/Blossom)

A new cute one-shot in honor of @carriedreamerx birthday! In the same high school AU as part 1, part 2, and part 3, but can totally stand-alone. Also posted on my AO3. Tune in for some laughs and some Reds cuteness!

Summary: Brick goes deodorant shopping. It doesn't end well. (Or does it??)

xxx

Brick squinted at the nine-foot shelf packed with a full color wheel of deodorants and antiperspirants. The sheer surfeit of brands and scents was as daunting to behold as it was absolutely batshit insane—how many ways did people need to not smell like a dirty gym sock?

He picked a random stick and scowled at the label as if it had offended him and all his future progeny. Who the fuck would want to smell like mango lassi?

The squeak of a shopping cart rolling down the aisle sent Brick into a febrile panic for a hot second, and he shoved the saccharine deodorant stick back onto the shelf. A geriatric woman with a hunched back, a bright head scarf, and eyes so folded over with wrinkles it was a miracle she could see anything at all wheeled her cart slowly past Brick, who froze where he stood. She smiled politely at him, and he nodded out of sheer self-preservation instinct. The moment she passed him, he yanked the bill of his red cap lower over his eyes.

“Get a grip,” he grumbled. He was an eighteen-year-old guy buying deodorant, not stool softener. He was totally casual and had absolutely no reason to be so fucking paranoid. Nobody who might recognize him was coming to Cooper’s Market at 8 a.m. on a Sunday.

Brick wiped his clammy palms on his jeans and searched the shelves for what he’d come for so he could hurry up and leave. There it was, fifth shelf in a sea of sleek black and edgy, neon letters: Axe Ice Chill.

“Okay, do you consider yourself more of a music lover, sports star, gaming guru, or style icon?” Boomer had asked as he sat cross-legged on the sofa with his laptop open to the Axe “Find Your Magic” test a few months ago.

“Sports star,” Butch had said on his left, and poked the screen that wasn’t a touch-screen.

“That’s you, moron,” Brick had said, totally above this stupid test. “Pick style icon.”

Boomer grinned. “Oh yeah, your hoodies are so stylin’.” He clicked the next question. “Signature scent? Huh, maybe warm and aromatic?”

“Sounds like one of those Yankee holiday candles,” Butch had said.

Unfortunately, he had a point.

“Well, you're not exactly woody and earthy, and you’re definitely not fruity and sweet—”

“Just go to the next one.” Brick clicked on “fresh and cool” and waited for the screen to load. “Smellin’ good!” the loading page flashed at him. Jesus fucking Christ.

When the quiz presented a true or false statement, Butch moved like he had a bug up his ass and slammed the touchpad before Brick or Boomer could do anything about it.

Boomer tried not to laugh. “Dude, come on.”

“Please, he’s a punk-ass dweeb who’d never make the first move in a fight, let alone on a girl—” Butch had taunted.

Brick punched him in the throat with his Super speed and smiled at the sound of his asshat brother gagging. “Choke and die, motherfucker.”

Butch wheezed as he laughed through the pain, and Brick and Boomer breezed through the more generic age and appearance questions: under 18, long hair (“Mane Man!” the quiz gushed, and Brick almost melted Boomer’s laptop right there), and natural look. After an artificially anticipatory loading screen, a picture of a dude with a clown nose crowd surfing in a sepia Instagram filter appeared on the screen with the generic “Be your best self!” encouragement in blocky letters superimposed upon it, and finally the expert, personalized recommendation for Brick’s body spray needs.

“Because you’re hotter when you’re chill.” Brick had cringed when he read that idiotic tagline the first time, and he cringed reading it again now in the deserted personal hygiene aisle where he prayed no one would find him buying this cry-for-help vanity spritz.

However.

He sprayed a bit of mist in the air and reveled in that cool, icy scent that wasn’t a scent so much as a feeling. Six degrees chiller in a bottle. The first time he’d tried it (under great duress), he’d griped and bitched and slammed his bedroom door to get away from his howling brothers. Settled on his bed with a frown, he had to admit it did cool him off. It was almost pleasant. The smell wasn’t overwhelming like that tiger piss Butch bathed in on the daily. But it wasn’t out of this world compared to the generic shit he’d been using before.

It wasn’t until Blossom sneezed on their way out of AP Lit that her ice breath—and understanding—hit him with the force of a cold snap to the balls.

“Sorry, did I get you?” she’d said, abashed as she covered her mouth with one hand and fished out a bottle of Purell from her messenger bag with the other. Her ice splatter fast melted on his shoulder as his too-warm body absorbed the cold with a bizarre, but extremely pleasant, shiver down his spine.

Son of a bitch, but he had a kink.

Which, of course, spiraled way the hell out of control when he found himself here months later with a recycled shopping bag he’d brought so he could carry the three bottles of Axe Ice Chill he planned to purchase home, because Brick planned ahead and liked to keep his bathroom well-stocked.

Which also, of course, was why at that very moment, fate decided to punch him in the dick.

“Bubbles, you have, like, fourteen bottles of shampoo at home! You don’t need another one,” Buttercup groused at 8 in the goddamned morning on a Sunday.

“Those are all different products, not just shampoo. Honestly, Buttercup.” Bubbles zipped into the aisle with Buttercup on her tail just at the moment Brick had his second panic attack in the span of five minutes and completely lost his shit.

He launched the bottle of Axe Ice Chill so hard into the ceiling that it lodged in there tighter than a prairie-dogging turd.

“Brick?” Blossom’s hand on his shoulder nearly sent him yeeting after his abused body spray, if the sheer mortification didn’t rob him of further motor function and exactly one hundred percent of his brain cells.

Like her sisters, she wore a jacket over her pajama pants. They must have just popped over for some last-minute breakfast staples and a side of peer humiliation. But even in those criminally hideous Ugg boots and five boxes of pancake mix in her shopping basket at 8 on a fucking Sunday morning, her smile glowed.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hi,” he returned lamely, because that was all she was getting from him until his neurological functions rebooted.

“Hi, Brick,” Buttercup said, suspicious like usual and searching for some excuse to bust his balls for a laugh. “What’re you doing here?”

The Super sisters had cornered him in front of the Teen Spirit, which came in an absolutely frightful eighteen scents because there was nothing pubescent teenagers needed more than eighteen reassurances that their social survival depended on smelling like a potpourri candy bar.

“Shopping, obviously,” Bubbles said. “Ooh, Brick, you have straight hair. What do you think?” She held up two bottles of brightly colored free-range, organic hair shit.

“I think I was just leaving,” he managed.

“Empty-handed?” Buttercup peered at him like he might transform into a literal dick with ears if she only managed not to blink for long enough. He could smell the threat of a joke on her.

“They didn’t have the brand I wanted.”

“Oh, that sucks,” Bubbles said, genuinely stricken.

“Girls, let’s get going. I really want those pancakes,” Blossom said.

“We better grab more syrup. Buttercup finished it all,” Bubbles said, already moving away. She dropped both hair products in Blossom’s basket, not bothering to choose between them.

“Oh please, everybody knows you and the Professor are the syrup fiends in this house.” Buttercup floated after her and waved to Brick. “Hey, tell that shithead to answer my texts. He owes me $20.”

“Uh-huh,” Brick said, fully intending not to mention anything about this conversation to Butch at all.

“Sorry about your favorite brand being sold out,” Blossom said.

It’s fine, he would have said had she not caught his cheek in her hand and pressed a frosty kiss to the corner of his lips before he could do anything about it. Frozen fernlings crept over his cheek and chin, down his neck, and slowly absorbed through his now flushed skin, and he shivered. Without even thinking about it, he reached for her, but she was already walking away to catch up with her sisters.

When she got to the end of the aisle, she shot him a cheeky grin over her shoulder and had the nerve to wink at him. “Stay cool, Brick.”

Red in the face and high on her, Brick just stood there like an idiot gawking at his kind of unofficial girlfriend and the singular dominating object of his fantasies, be they sexual or otherwise. What was dignity when she smiled at him like that? What was a paltry imitation in a bottle when she kissed him like that?

The paltry imitation fell from its hole in the ceiling and exploded on the tiled floor at Brick’s feet with a winter ferocity that, in that moment at least, rivaled Blossom’s in the heat of battle.

When Brick got home later that morning and Boomer asked him why he smelled like a snowman’s asshole, Brick burned the clothes on his back and spent the next half hour in the shower thinking about how he was going to convince Blossom to make the first move and finally make them official.

xxx

Y’all better appreciate the research that went into this fic. That Axe quiz is real and I took it pretending to be Brick, and it literally does spit out a photo of a dude wearing a clown nose in a club. If that’s not a sign from the Daddy that I’ve chosen the righteous path, then idk what is. Sacrifices to my Chrome search history were made for this fic in the name of celebrating Carrie, ergo, worth it.

[gemstoneconstellations]

Puppers

Summary: Werewolf Bakugo moves to the city and has a neighbor who really likes dogs.

Wordcount: 3061

Okay, he didn’t plan for this to happen.

 It’s not like he’d made the conscious decision to expose himself to you; he just kind of… did. He wasn’t used to living in the city yet and had just wanted to feel the night air in his fur. If he hadn’t had to work early in the morning, he would have gone to the woods. He didn’t even think of checking to make sure no one was on the balcony next to his. Bakugo just opened the back door of his apartment, took off his clothes, and stepped out onto the patio in wolf form.

You on your balcony, watering your plants, was not what he had been hoping for. Bakugo flinched at the sound of a watering can clattering to the floor. “Uh…” You stood there, blinking, as Bakugofroze.He did the first thing that came to mind, and that was to pretend to be a dog. 

“Woof?” He gave a hesitant bark. That’s what normal dogs do right? They bark at people? That seemed to snap you out of it and you scrambled to pick up the watering can.

 You looked around, leaning over the divider between your balconies to look into Bakugo’s apartment. “Um, I didn’t know you had such a big dog? I didn’t think the landlord would let you have one when she got pissed at me for having a hamster.” Bakugo avoided looking at you as you waited for a response that would never come, lying down on his lounge chair.

 He thought that would be the end of it but he could still feel you watching him. Looking up, he saw you looking down at him. He tried to ignore you, looking away at the sky But then he felt fingers going through his fur. He was about to growl at you to stop but….

 Next thing he knew, he was leaning against the divider on his hind legs, tail going crazy and your hands deep in his fur, scratching in all the right places. If he’d been in his human form, he would be moaning and making all sorts of embarrassing sounds. Oh that feels so good! What the fuck; why don’t pack members do this shit? Her hands are fucking glorious! 

 “Well, aren’t you a sweetie?”

 And it just got worse from there. After that, every time he saw you out on your patio, he couldn’t resist joining you. He’s barely said two words to you before and now here he is with your fingers behind his ears as he listened to you talk about your day. He would respond in his head but most of the time, he just panted. How the fuck did you know exactly where to pet? Man, fuck being human; if dogs get treated like this, he’d rather be a pet.

 He had an easier time dealing with you when he was in his wolf form. But in his human form, when he had to speak to you, not so much…

 “Hey, Bakugo. Your dog is really pretty, what’s his name?” Bakugo choked on air as he locked his door. He looked over to see you walking over towards him with groceries in your hand. “He’s super cute and-”

 He slammed his hand over your mouth. What kind of idiot says that in the open? “Shut the fuck up! Are you fucking stupid? What if someone hears you?!”

 You just raised an eyebrow at him, completely unfazed by his hand over your mouth. “So you didn’t get permission?” Bakugo shook his head at you and pulled his hand away to shush you. You gasped and came closer to him to whisper, “You smuggled in a puppy?”

 “He is not a puppy! He’s a full grown adult!” Are you doing this on purpose? Bakugo could feel his tail bristling in his pants leg and tried to take deep, raspy breaths to relax himself.

 “Hmm he doesn’t act like it; he gets all cute and cuddly. I just wanna hug him.”

 Groans spilled out of Bakugo’s mouth as he rubbed his temples. Somehow, you have been pressing every one of his buttons. You can’t meet any of his idiots, you’d blend in too well with them and become a permanent thing. “Shut up already. You’re giving me a fucking headache. Fuck off.”

 Assuming the conversation was over; Bakugo huffed as he walked away and waved you off. He could hear your keys jingle for a moment before your door opened, but it didn’t shut right away. “I’ll meet you on your patio later!”

 The wolf froze mid-step. “Hah?!” He looked back at you in horror, pulling down on his hood to make sure it was still in place. Did he fuck up? Had you realized---

 But you just smiled at him, your groceries swaying behind you. “You always open the door for your puppy, why don’t you come out and hang with us?”

 Ah, that’s what you were getting at. No way. The less contact he has with you, the less chance of getting exposed and possibly endangering his life and others. “Fuck you, I got better things to do! And he’s not a puppy!” He growled the last part and took off running; he was most likely going to be late to practice now because of you. Maybe he should limit his contact with you? Nah, you would probably bug him if you don't regularly see his human or wolf side.

 The wolf continued grumbling, not listening to you giggling to yourself. “He sure acts like one.”

 After hours of practice and being able to release a lot of pent-up energy and frustration from beating on the drums, he was finally relaxing at home, in his territory with no idiots around. Just him lying back on his couch, a book, the sound of the rain, and his neighbor, who kept peeking over the divider between their balconies… For the last twenty, agonizing minutes. 

 “For fucks sake.” Bakugo slammed his book shut and stormed over to the door, nearly shattering the glass from the force of him slamming it open. “He’s not coming out, it’s fucking raining! No one likes the smell of wet dog!”

 You had the audacity to pout at him, exaggeratingly extending out your lower lip. “How about I come over? I feel off if I don’t get my daily puppy snuggles.” You tried to flutter your lashes at him. Too bad for you, he grew up with the shitty nerd, who had mastered that sad, kicked puppy look that it should be considered a lethal weapon. Your attempt was cute though.

 Bakugo growled as he scratched his scalp under his hood. “He’s not a fucking puppy! He’s a full grown adult; left the den and is all on his own! Lone wolf and all that shit!”

 “So mean! Puppers seems to like me touching him all over. He rolls over for me and whines when I stop.” You leaned on the divider, your head resting on your hands as you spoke with a teasingly smug tone. He tried not to inhale your scent, which changes slightly every time he saw you. He wondered what you used to smell so good without the chemicals irritating his nose. “Do you pet him enough? He seems aloof but is actually pretty desperate for some affection.”

 Heat rushed from his neck up to the top of his head. His claws dug into his palms as he tried to swallow down his embarrassment and he stormed up to you to tell you off in your face. “Hah? Desperate? You’re the one that seems fucking desperate! Begging to pet some stranger’s dog, the fuck is wrong with you?” The surprises kept coming so he really shouldn’t have been surprised that you didn’t react like he thought you would. Instead, you just smiled more, even laughing under your breath. “The hell you smiling about?”

 “You came out to talk to me.”

 He could feel all his fur standing up as a shiver went through his body. Coughing in his hand, he tried to hide his embarrassment. “You are so stupid. I can’t deal with your shit; you are on the same level as those idiots.”

 He turned around to lean against the divider with you, feeling himself giving into your antics. “Who?”

 “The group of morons that won’t stop following me. Not my fault they all decided I’d be the one brain cell they share.” Despite him making the choice to leave the pack he’d grown up in on his own, his friends had still followed him, saying that he was the leader of their mini-pack. Where he goes, they go. A small smile snuck up on his face; he couldn’t help it. Till he realized you were watching him.

 Bakugo kicked off the wall and stomped back inside his apartment. He glanced back at you for a moment. “Just go inside already, before you get sick.” Door closed and curtains drawn, his nose scrunched up at his own smell. The humidity had seeped into his fur. “Great now, I stink.”

 A few days later, the night was finally completely clear, a half-moon shining brightly in the sky. He was out on the balcony earlier than usual in his wolf form, just staring at the sky, feeling slightly homesick. But he wouldn’t admit that out loud.

 “Oh hello puppy!” Bakugo jumped at the sudden sound of your voice. You leaned over, trying to peer into his apartment. “Bakugo? Are you there?”

 Throwing one leg over the divider, you shouted into the empty apartment. “I’m coming over!”

 Instantly, you were on Bakugo, scratching behind his ears and squishing his face against yours. “Who’s a good puppy? You are!” Stupid tail involuntarily moving on its own... 

 You sat down with the wolf between your legs, arms wrapped around his neck. “There you go. I’ll give you all the love you want.”  Fuck you and your miracle hands!  Bakugo grumpily glared as you just continued to cuddle him and started to fill him in on how your week had been.

 “Your fur is so soft… your owner may not like me, but I’m glad you do.” Bakugo huffed at you. He can’t blame you for thinking that.  Stupid human, I don’t hate you. I don’t know how to act around you. Too happy all the time…which isn’t a bad thing.  He leaned against you, pushing you to continue petting him.  Just continue petting me, dumb human, feel honored since I don’t let anyone else. You giggled into his fur,your fingers going back to work, making him croon and his tail wag crazily.

 Bakugo’s time with you was suddenly interrupted by his front door being unlocked and a big, red-headed idiot storming in, with the blonde idiot close behind. “Hey Blasty! Guess what? We got a gig-” The room went  completely still as everyone took each other in.

 You were the first one to speak up. “Uh, hi? Are you friends of Bakugo? I think he stepped out earlier.”

 “Eichan? Are you okay?” Oh fuck, now Deku had entered the room and his eyes landed on you suspiciously. “Who are you?”

 “I’m Bakugo’s neighbor who likes to pet his puppy.” To emphasize your point, you pulled Bakugo into your arms and his traitorous body relaxed under your touch before he could even try to control himself.

 “P-P-Puppy?! Ka-Kacchan?!” It seems the nerd had only just now noticed Bakugo sitting beside you. Deku lost all the color in his face as he waited for Bakugo’s typical reaction, while the other two had to hide their faces, Kaminari buried in his hands and Kirishima in the crook of Deku’s neck, their shoulders shaking with laughter.

 Bakugo growled at his pack mates’ reactions, but was stopped by fingers rubbing through his fur. “Oh, so that’s your name. It’s so cute, perfect for a puppy like you. I’ll be sure to tease Bakugo for it later.” He completely melted into you, the fight leaving his body. “Kacchan.” Your hot breath rushed against his ear, making it twitch and his tail began to wag like crazy again. Another snort came from the three stooges still standing in the doorway.

 That’s it. Will all of his willpower, he ripped himself away from you and ran to his bedroom. Quickly shoving on sweatpants, he shouted as he ran back into the living room. “You fuckers! Get the fuck out and give me my god damn key!”

 Pushing the three of them out into the hall, Bakugo was about to slam the door in their faces when Kaminari spoke up. “Oh but Bakugo, we wanted to play with the puppy too.” Kirishima and Kaminari both laughed together while Deku just sighed at them, thinking that they’d earned what was going to happen next.

 “I’m going to kill you idiots!” Before the two could pull away, Bakugo grabbed both of them by their throats and pulled them centimeters away from his murderous glare. His claws dug into the back of their necks, showing how serious he was. “I know fucking Deku isn’t dumb enough to say anything, but if you two so as mention it, I will force feed you your own fucking eyeballs so you can watch me claw out your organs! Got it?”

 “Got it!” The two of them yelped in agreement. “Never again!”

 “Now leave.” He tossed them away from him so Deku could lead the two dumb alphas away. Bakugo slammed his door shut and made sure it was locked before turning back to you still sitting on his balcony. “And you! Go home.”

 He stormed over to you and lifted you with ease. “Woah.” You whispered in amazement but he was feeling too angry and embarrassed to really enjoy impressing you and nearly tossed you back onto your side. Not even waiting to see you go inside or try to speak to him, he ran back inside, door locked and curtains pulled.

 Once he was finally alone and there was no way anyone could see him, he curled up inside his plush bed under his blankets, wishing for a fast death to save him from the potential continuous embarrassment.

 He avoided his balcony for days, his curtains never opened, but he could hear you coming out and waiting for him to only go back inside. Thankful that the gig the idiots had mentioned was coming up soon, he used that as a distraction. It was actually a concert for were-kind only in the woods, with no humans around for miles. Exactly what he needed’ no fear of getting exposed and his tail and ears could be out freely.

 The concert was a success. Of course it was; their band was actually pretty good, especially compared to the other musicians there. He knew that this was supposed to bring awareness for local artists of their kind, but they were all mediocre. The rest of his band members were handling talking to the new fans while Bakugo hung back, sitting on the back of Kirishima’s truck as he chugged down water.

 Deku came to join him. The nerd was also not great with crowds, but for different reasons. They sat together quietly, to Bakugo’s bliss, but it barely lasted. “So…”

 “Don’t.” Bakugo rolled his eyes; he should have known the meddlesome nerd would put his nose where it didn’t belong.

 “I was just going to tell you that I do the same thing for Eichan. It’s actually typical for omegas to pamper their alphas like that. So you don’t have to be embarrassed.” The mentioned red-headed alpha turned towards his mate and waved, blowing a kiss as he did. Deku pretended to catch it and press it to his lips. Gag.

 Bakugo crushed his now empty water bottle and tossed it into the bed of the truck. “I don’t need some stupid mate to pamper me. She’s nothing but some fucking human who thinks I have a dog. I’m only making sure she doesn’t get suspicious of me.”

 Deku tilted his head in confusion. “Human? Um… but Kacchan…” The blonde growled warningly and Deku raised his hands in defeat. “Okay; I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

 It was silent between them again, this time with a slightly awkward atmosphere. Bakugo was about to leave when something pink and fluffy zoomed right by him. “Babe!” Mina had launched herself into Kaminari’s arms, wrapping her limbs around him as he spun around. You would think they’d been separated for years instead of just six songs, ergo the dumbest couple to ever live. “Hey guys!” Mina waved to everyone, still clinging to her boyfriend.

 Speaking of the idiot, with no consideration of how inappropriate and intimate it was, Kaminari shoved his face into her neck and deeply inhaled her scent in front of everyone. “What’s that smell, Mina? It’s really good.”

 “Oh my new friend from work helped me. She makes this lotion that helps with that nasty wet dog smell. Humans don’t ask if I have a dog anymore! It’s so nice and not overpowering.” She pointed behind her to where she had come from and that was when he finally saw you, making Bakugo jump to his feet.

 Bakugo didn’t know what to do, body frozen in place as his brain processed the fact that you were there and what he should do next. His first instinct was to hide his tail and run. But Mina’s words began to sink in as he spotted a tail swaying behind you and ears on the top of your head. “Hello, Kacchan.” No hesitation, you walked right up to him with a mischievous smile.

 “You knew…” He crumbled to the ground, groaning and hiding his burning face in his hands.

 “The whole time, Puppers.” You hummed as you squatted down with him. He could hear your tail speeding up, either out of enjoyment of his pain or the fact he didn’t pull away from your touch. Fingers ran through his hair, massaging his scalp the same way you usually did and he easily turned into putty for you. He slowly raised his eyes towards you; of course you had a big smile on your face. “Awe, why are getting shy now? You’ve already had my hands all over you.”

 “Shut up.” He’ll get you back… later.

[centipedall]

The Milkman Cometh

“Sorry baby, did I wake you up?”

“Hmm? No, I woke up a second ago. I had this nightmare… I can’t remember what it was about.”

“Me too. And they say marriage gets boring.” I shot her an invisible smile in the dark.

She got out of bed and said, “Well, I gotta get ready for work. Remember, milkman comes at twelve.”

My blood ran cold. “When did we get a milkman?”

“I- I don’t know.”

“I mean, I’m sure we have one but-”

“But you don’t remember when we got one. Yeah… same here.” She sounded shaken.

“Well, whatever. Gotta hit the daily grind, right? I’ll go see if Fee’s up yet. She’s taking Joey to school today, right?”

“Yep. Thank god she can drive now.”

“No thanks to you.” I winked and gave her a quick hug.

“Which one of us is the hot dog cart salesman?” she asked.

I chuckled and let go, “Cold.”

“Like your hot dogs, dad.” Fiona said from behind us.

“I see you got up especially early today. Is it, like, anti-Father’s Day or something?” There was an uncomfortable silence. “Y’know, where you insult and belittle-”

“We got it dad. Geez, you’re so lame.” She smiled and left the room.

“You’re driving Danny to school today, not Uncle Greg!” My wife called as she left the room.

There was a moan of frustration and I finished getting dressed. I walked down the stairs and went straight to the kitchen. My wife had beaten me there, unfortunately. She had the pantry door open and was rummaging around in there.

“Hey honey? Where’s the food?”

“Whaddaya mean? Shouldn’t it be in the pantry?” I checked with her, and sure enough it was empty. Well, except for some canned milk Greg had bought. Jackass. “Probably one of Greg’s pranks. I’ll see if he put them in the fridge.” I said.

I almost vomited when I opened up the fridge. There was only cheese, yogurt, butter, and milk. And all of it was spoiled. Jesus Christ, I could practically taste it. Like a tsunami of awful that wormed its way into your mouth. Good God, it felt like I was the one rotting.

I backpedaled away from the biohazard, into the other room and onto my favorite comfy chair. “Where are my hot dogs?” I whimpered.

“Oh my God- honey? You alright? Listen, it’s- fuck me it’s already eight? I gotta go. Can you deal with this today? Good God, the client’s gonna be pissed.” She started running towards the door.

“What the hell? Hey, Harry? Can you give me a hand? The door’s not opening.”

I jogged over to her, and sure enough, the door wouldn’t budge. It was like the damn thing was welded in there. I went over to the back and- no dice. If only we had windows, we could- why don’t we have windows?

“Hey honey? I’m gonna go get Greg. See if he’s-” The basement door was wedged shut, just like the others.

“Mom, Dad? I can’t open Danny’s door. I think he locked himself in again!” Fiona called from upstairs. I saw her legs as she started walking down the stairs. “Aw geez, it smells like bad milk down there? Milk… hey, did I mention my weird dream last night?”

Okay, what the fuck is going on?

“Wait, it’s nine already? Shit I’m late for school!” Fiona started rushing down, pinching her nose as she entered the awful ground floor.

“Language, young lady! And the doors don’t work.” She sighed. “Goddamnit, I can’t lose this promotion...” My wife muttered.

“What is it with you and this job? Why are you always chasing promotions? Our son is missing! Your shitty brother is missing!” I yelled at her. “Is it really more important than them?”

She wheeled on me, spitting venom. “You and I both know the only reason we live in this house is because of me. How much money does a hot dog salesman make, again? Is it less than a lawyer?”

“Not funny. When we got married, we said we wouldn’t have this conversation. It is my fucking dream, and it makes me happy. Why can’t you be happy with this? With us?”

“Goddamnit Harry, you know I love you guys! And that’s more than you can say! What about Greg, huh? I know you hate him.”

“Guy’s a slacker, Louise! He farts around in our house all day, pulling his stupid little pranks and costing us money. He’s rubbing off on Danny! Have you seen? The kid’s a wild child!”

“He’s only acting out because you are a shitty dad-”

“What the fuck did you just say? What the fuck did you just say?” I screamed.

“You don’t care about him! I get it, he’s not your biological kid! But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t love him!”

“Shut the fuck up. I love Danny so much it hurts and you know it. Stop trying to hurt me. Just- just stop.” I sat back down on my chair. “I’m so hungry. I’m so tired.”

“I- me too. This is just such a bad situation I- I’m sorry, honey.”

“I’m sorry too. Do- do you think this has something to do with that dream?”

“I don’t know. God, I hope it doesn’t. I don’t remember much but-”

“Yeah.” I shivered. “Yeah.”

“Hey guys? Is the clock messed up? Because it says it’s ten o’clock already. And nine was like, five minutes ago.” Fiona said.

“I think we have two hours left.” I said. “Your mom said the ‘milkman comes at twelve’ this morning right after we woke up.”

“And what happens then?” Fiona said.

“You remember the dream?” Louise said.

“Only the feel of it. It was bad.”

A silence fell over the room.

“So what do we do now?” I asked.

“Can we break the door open? If we grab that old lamp in Fee’s room, I bet we can bash the back door down.”

“Aw man. I love that thing, I don’t want it to break.”

“Do you want the milkman to come? Because I don’t think we can get out any other way.” Louise said. Fiona nodded hesitantly.

In a flash, all three of us grabbed the heavy lamp and, with a great deal of pivoting, managed to squeeze it down the stairs. We lugged it over to the back door, and began swinging.

“On three!” My wife yelled. “One! Two! Three!”

The thing slammed against the door and there was a sharp crack. The door split right down the middle. A stench drifted out of the crack. More rotten milk. Oh my God. I would’ve barfed if I had anything in my stomach. As a family, we retreated into the living room.

I glanced at the clock. It was eleven. I sank down into the chair like my entire body was weighted. I was so tired. God, I was exhausted. And hungry.

“So what now?” Fiona asked.

“I don’t know. I- there’s nothing we can do.” Louise said.

I grabbed the remote and turned on the TV. A sitcom was on. The theme song played. It was about a family of five. A mom, a dad, a daughter, a son, and an uncle. The dad was dumb, but big-hearted. The mom was smart, but long-suffering. The daughter was a classic teen with too much sense. The son was a wild child. The uncle was the comic relief, a slacker with a love of pranks. I almost threw up.

They laughed and japed. The uncle had collaborated with the son. They had swapped the food in the refrigerator and the pantry and locked all the doors. The other three members of the family ran around like headless chickens. The mom made a joke about how she made all the money. The dad made a joke about how she didn’t love anyone. The mom made a joke about a milkman, and how the kid wasn’t his. I almost threw up.

The family decided that leaving wasn’t worth all the stress. They all sat together and watched TV, like they did at the end of every episode. There was a knock on the door, in the sitcom and in real life. Everyone, TV and real, threw up pure spoiled milk all at once.

I stood up. I walked over to the door. I opened it. The smell almost killed me. There was something out there. A massive, hulking thing. A humanoid, almost, covered in dry cracks and wet holes constantly leaking spoiled milk. The milk flowed both up into the sky and down onto the infinite white plains outside my house. It has no eyes, mouth, or ears, just wet holes that spurted milk like a ship full of leaks. It did have a tiny little paper hat though, perched askew on its head. Below that was a thick, foot long, flopping tongue that sprouted out of the mouthless face. The nostrils were massive too, leaking milk like snot. Jesus, the stuff was chunky. And hairy. I looked down. It had long arms with elbows that reached to its knees so that it could touch the ground standing up. Its hands were huge with no fingernails, just skin with wet holes at the tip of each finger. It had a massive penis, swinging like a pendulum. Spoiled milk leaked. And leaked. And leaked. I was up to my knees in the stuff.

It looked at me with those wet holes, and the tongue flopped wordlessly. I still knew what it was saying. The same thing as in my dream.

Lait, ici.

Fiona, Louise, and I replied.

L’epoux, il est dans la maison.

It screamed. We screamed back.

It nodded to us and left. The milk continued to flow. It sank into my throat. Into my lungs. My nostrils filled with clumps. I drowned in vomit and spoiled milk.

Not the worst way it could’ve gone.

[dontdietwd]

Don’t Die, day 0

The city bus that stopped on the corner of 3rd St and Davis Avenue was nearly empty. It broke the eerie silence of the street to drop off a lone person, who stood there, back to the door as it closed and the bus went on its way down the street. Hands on the pocket of her black hoodie, Sam looked to her left to see the bus rattle away, discreetly feeling for the sheathed blade she kept hidden on the waistband of her jeans. She kept it with her all times, a habit that made her feel safer, stronger. Starting to walk, she kept her head down but her eyes up, attention on its peak. Her steps were silent, her old, worn-out tennis shoes light on the hard asphalt, but her rapidly pounding heart sounded loud on her ears as a dog leaped up the fence she passed with a sudden, deep bark. She took an involuntary step to the side, hand flying to grip the knife handle on the sheath. It wasn’t safe to walk around there at night, she knew that by experience. Eyeing the dog for a moment, as it kept barking angrily, she forced herself to breathe in and out and adjusted the straps of her small backpack from where it rested over her blonde dreadlocks.

It was a simple seven-minute walk from that corner to her house, but it felt like an hour.

Turning on the corner of 7th St, Sam should have been relieved to be close to her house, but she wasn’t. Her heart thumped hard again as she took a couple of steps after the corner and voices reached her ears. Loud, menacing laughter travelling through the air from a house near the end of the street, about a hundred yards away. Not far enough. Sam had counted her steps over and over again, eyes always darting around.

She knew that street in its details. The houses there were not close together, big spaces and trees between them, no fences. The blue house on the left corner was the nicest one, with the nicest people, an elderly couple who always smiled at her when they met, even though they never spoke. She felt sorry for them, growing old in a neighborhood like this. To her right, a long line of trees with no houses, cricket singing in the warm night. The second house had a nice but now overgrown front yard, a big For Sale sign stuck on the grass for a long time now. The first two houses on the right side belonged to just one family; loud people who were always crossing the yard between them, fighting daily and yelling at each other, but tonight the voices she heard didn’t come from there, but from the next house on the left. Two-story, old yellowing white paint, chipping brown windows and railings. Four steps lead up to a small porch, and an old, decaying couch under the window, now littered by a small group of men under the dim light. It wasn’t a rare occurrence; they were there many nights a week. Sam looked around once again and over her shoulders, checking if she was really alone, and removed her right hand from her pocket, only to snake it around the knife handle once again. Reassured it was really still there, she let her slightly trembling hand move back into the pocket, lowered her head and hastened her steps, but didn’t run.

Empty beer cans and a strong smell of low-quality weed decorated the place. Tonight there were three men other than the two who lived there. A man she knew to have a weird nickname like Gecko or something was sitting on the top step, back to the railing, lighting up the joint with a lighter. There was another sitting on the couch, she couldn’t see him properly behind the railing and the overgrown bush that tried to decorate it, but she saw enough of him to know it was the weird guy who lived at the end of Anderson Street, three blocks away from here. He was named after a letter. She didn’t even try to remember which one now. There was another man sitting on the floor in front of the door, a can in hand, draining it. She heard him belch when he finished, and he laughed throwing it to the floor by his side. Elbows resting on the railing, looking out at the street, was the younger of the two brothers who lived there, cigarette in hand, his expression guarded, looking pissed off like he usually looked. Finally, on the arm of the couch, the older brother, graying shaved head, a smirk playing on his lips as his light blue eyes saw her approach.

A cold chill started on the bottom of her spine and traveled up to lodge on the nape of her neck. One by one the men saw her, and she knew what was about to happen. They never permitted her to go by them in peace. That had never happened and Sam was not optimistic enough to think tonight it would be different.

“There she is!”, Sam heard Merle coo aloud in his hoarse, drunkenly drawled voice. “Done a lotta studyn’ today? Did ya give it good to the teacher for em’ good grades?”, he yelled and laughed, the others echoing him, highly entertained. They followed his rude, inappropriate comments and gestures, things Sam tried to ignore and stop herself from being offended by, but as usual, she failed miserably. She wanted to disappear, or better yet, she wanted them to disappear. To close her eyes and to see them gone when she opened them, but no, she didn’t dare to close her eyes. She kept them open and attentive, looking at each of the five men once again.

Only one of them was quiet, not following the other’s lead, light blue eyes like his older brother’s fixed on her now, teeth biting on his lower lip’s skin. The younger brother was not much older than Sam herself. He was the only one whose voice she didn’t hear on those occasions. He never said anything and she had never seen him laughing at what the others say. But he was there, and he didn’t stop the others from humiliating her every other night, so to her, he just as much a threat as the others. Sam looked away, walking even faster, trying to dodge the impending situation, but it was too late. One of the men, the one who had been sitting on the couch, was already up and crossing the front yard over the poorly kept grass in quick steps. He stood in front of her, blocking her way. His name was D, she remembered now. Sam didn’t know what it stood for, she had never heard his real name, but she liked to imagine it was Dickhead.

It was his last name. First name was Dead.

He smiled down at her, the smell of beer on his breath, with barely any teeth left in his mouth at all, except a few stained, yellowed teeth. Blonde, oily hair falling over his forehead almost covering his blue, reddened eyes. He wore a ragged tank too short to cover his protruding belly.

“Where ya goin’ sweetheart?”, he said opening his arms to block her way.

She stopped, just like her breathing did for a second. “Get out of my way, D”, she growled between clenched teeth.

“C’mon, sugar, let’s go inside and have us some fun.” And with that, he grabbed her left arm just above the elbow, strongly, and turned towards the stairs, forcing her with him. Her hands fell from inside the hoodie pockets. The other men got up from their positions to watch as Sam struggled to make D let go of her arm, urging him to pull her harder. Among them, Sam saw Merle up and attentive, smugness gone from his eyes, something unreadable taking its place. The men’s voices filled her mind of any further thought, D’s fetid breath suffocating her.

“Let go!”, she hissed aloud, arm bouncing strongly back and forth trying to escape, but he was stronger, even in his inebriated state.

“Not gonna happen, sweetie”, he smirked as he pulled her strongly against his chest, one arm circling her lower back, pressing her hard against him. “Been patient enough for years just talkin’ and hearin’ ya always bitchin’.”

“I’m warning you, D, get your fuckin’ hands off of me!”

He laughed aloud, the sound making a cold chill travel up her spine again, forcefully pulling her to the middle of the Dixons’ front yard. “Well shit, would ya look at the dirty mouth on ya!”

“Son of a bitch!”, she barked as he spoke, her free arm thumping against his chest with a clenched fist.

“You gonna show me how dirty ya can be, princess”. With that, he put even more force to his grip and pulled her to him, his mouth crashing against hers, his tongue moving over her tightly closed lips, trying to force its way into her mouth. Her stomach churned, bile rising to her throat. Eyes wide open, Sam saw as her two neighbors moved from where they had been watching it all so far. Her heartbeat even faster, now almost painfully as they both walked down the steps heading in their direction. The pair stopped dead in their tracks a moment later, though, as D’s loud, hoarse scream filled the night around them and cut off the laughter coming from the porch. He pushed her away from him, a hand touching his lips, eyes wide in horror as he saw his own blood run down.

Sam’s trembling hand wiped the blood from her own lips and spat on the floor, features showing just how disgusted she felt now, her hand already reaching for the knife on her waistband sheath.

“Fuckin´ bitch!”, D yelled, all signs of laughter gone, blood dripping from his lower lip. “Gonna show ya not to disrespect a man!” Raising his hand, he slapped her across the face, strong enough to make her head swirl to the side. She caught herself before stumbling to the ground, and just as she regained balance, her hand came up so quickly the other men almost missed the movement altogether, but D saw it and froze in place, eyes glued to the girl in front of him.

Blood stained her lips, a mix of rage and disgust in her eyes, and now a knife pointing to his throat.

“I. Warned. You”, she whispered menacingly, pausing after each word.

“I know whatcha need, kitten”, D said in a low voice, the smile returning to his bit down, bloody lip, “ya need a man to calm yer nerves. Ya ain’t of ‘em lesbos, are ya?”

“If ya ever touch me again – fuck, ya ever even look at me again, I swear I’ll cut off your dick and shove it up your ass!”, she hissed venomously and pressed the knife further, D taking a tentative step back and the tip of the knife pressed into his skin. She raised her voice then, hating that it trembled a little, “Now get the fuck outta my face!”

“Alright, alright, sugar.” He laughed and raised his arms in mocking surrender, taking more steps backwards to the house. “Just kidding anyway, keep ya panties on”. He turned to his friends to see them laugh at his absurdly stupid joke. “Tough one, ain’t she?”, he smirked at the other men and looked at her again over his shoulders, a dangerous smirk and a threatening glint in his eyes. “Won’t mind taming it”.

Sam followed his movements with her knife, still pointing it to him, her hand trembling a little even as he stepped up to the porch. Only then she looked at the others. Merle hadn’t moved and he wasn’t laughing, his hand touching at the gun tucked under the back of his waistband. Sam became sure he’d shoot her on the spot if she went any further with D. The others laughed with him as he approached, clapping him on the back, complimenting him for his attack like he was their hero. Merle’s younger brother, Daryl, was standing by him, observing the scene, his eyes looking dangerously at D and then back at Sam. Her narrowed eyes met his for a moment as she started to back away, eyes darting over every man there as she increased the distance between them. She finally turned around and retreated in hasty steps towards her house, the too-small distance between them feeling much longer as she did, her ears still trained on their vicious voices.

Bounding up her own front steps, Sam risked one last gaze at the neighbors’ house and caught Daryl watching her unlock the door, desperate for the psychological safety being inside would bring her. Once inside her house, she locked the door, knife still in hand, knuckles white from gripping it so hard. She faced the door for a long moment, half expecting it to be forced open at any second now. As long moments passed and nothing happened, Sam felt her legs threaten to give away and lowered herself to the floor, pulling her knees tight onto her chest.

She was sure the men didn’t hear the rage that came out of her in a low, throaty scream.

[elisdays]

Don’t Die - Day 0

The city bus that stopped on the corner of 3rd St and Davis Avenue was nearly empty. It broke the eerie silence of the street to drop off a lone person, who stood there, back to the door as it closed and the bus went on its way down the street. Hands on the pocket of her black hoodie, Sam looked to her left to see the bus rattle away, discreetly feeling for the sheathed blade she kept hidden on the waistband of her jeans. She kept it with her all times, a habit that made her feel safer, stronger. Starting to walk, she kept her head down but her eyes up, attention on its peak. Her steps were silent, her old, worn out tennis shoes light on the hard asphalt, but her rapid pounding heart sounded loud on her ears as a dog leapt up the fence she passed with a sudden, deep bark. She took an involuntary step to the side, hand flying to grip the knife handle on the sheath. It wasn’t safe to walk around there at night, she knew that by experience. Eyeing the dog for a moment, as it kept barking angrily, she forced herself to breathe in and out and adjusted the straps of her small backpack from where it rested over her silver blonde dreadlocks.

It was a simple seven-minute walk from that corner to her house, but it felt like an hour.

Turning on the corner of 7th St, Sam should have been relieved to be close to her house, but she wasn’t. Her heart thumped hard again as she took a couple of steps after the corner and voices reached her ears. Loud, menacing laughter travelling through the air from a house near the end of the street, about a hundred yards away. Not far enough. Sam had counted her steps over and over again, eyes always darting around.

She knew that street in its details. The houses there were not close together, big spaces and trees between them, no fences. The blue house on the left corner was the nicest one, with the nicest people, an elderly couple who always smiled at her when they met, even though they never spoke. She felt sorry for them, growing old in a neighborhood like this. To her right, a long line of trees with no houses, cricket singing in the warm night. The second house had a nice but now overgrown front yard, a big For Sale sign stuck on the grass for a long time now. The first two houses on the right side belonged to just one family; loud people who were always crossing the yard between them, fighting daily and yelling at each other, but tonight the voices she heard didn’t come from there, but from the next house on the left. Two-story, old yellowing white paint, chipping brown windows and railings. Four steps lead up to a small porch, and an old, decaying couch under the window, now littered by a small group of men under the dim light. It wasn’t a rare occurrence; they were there many nights a week. Sam looked around once again and over her shoulders, checking if she was really alone, and removed her right hand from her pocket, only to snake it around the knife handle once again. Reassured it was really still there, she let her slightly trembling hand move back into the pocket, lowered her head and hastened her steps, but didn’t run.

Empty beer cans and a strong smell of low quality weed decorated the place. Tonight there were three men other than the two who lived there. A man she knew to have a weird nickname like Gecko or something was sitting on the top step, back to the railing, lighting up the joint with a lighter. There was another sitting on the couch, she couldn’t see him properly behind the railing and the overgrown bush that tried to decorate it, but she saw enough of him to know it was the weird guy who lived at the end of Anderson Street, three blocks away from here. He was named after a letter. She didn’t even try to remember which one now. There was another man sitting on the floor in front of the door, a can in hand, draining it. She heard him belch when he finished, and he laughed throwing it to the floor by his side. Elbows resting on the railing, looking out at the street, was the younger of the two brothers who lived there, cigarette in hand, his expression guarded, looking pissed off like he usually looked. Finally, on the arm of the couch, the older brother, graying shaved head, a smirk playing on his lips as his light blue eyes saw her approach.

A cold chill started on the bottom of her spine and travelled up to lodge on the nape of her neck. One by one the men saw her, and she knew what was about to happen. They never permitted her to go by them in peace. That had never happened and Sam was not optimistic enough to think tonight it would be different.

“There she is!”, Sam heard Merle coo aloud in his hoarse, drunkenly drawled voice. “Done a lotta studyn’ today? Did ya give it good to the teacher for em’ good grades?”, he yelled and laughed, the others echoing him, highly entertained. They followed his rude, inappropriate comments and gestures, things Sam tried to ignore and stop herself from being offended by, but as usually she failed miserably. She wanted to disappear, or better yet, she wanted them to disappear. To close her eyes and to see them gone when she opened them, but no, she didn’t dare to close her eyes. She kept them open and attentive, looking at each of the five men once again.

Only one of them was quiet, not following the other’s lead, light blue eyes like his older brother’s fixed on her now, teeth biting on his lower lip’s skin. The younger brother was not much older than Sam herself. He was the only one whose voice she didn’t hear in those occasions. He never said anything and she had never seen him laughing at what the others say. But he was there, and he didn’t stop the others from humiliating her every other night, so to her, he just as much a threat as the others. Sam looked away, walking even faster, trying to dodge the impending situation, but it was too late. One of the men, the one who had been sitting on the couch, was already up and crossing the front yard over the poorly kept grass in quick steps. He stood in front of her, blocking her way. His name was D, she remembered now. Sam didn’t know what it stood for, she had never heard his real name, but she liked to imagine it was Dickhead.

It was his last name. First name was Dead.

He smiled down at her, the smell of beer on his breath, with barely any teeth left in his mouth at all, except a few stained, yellowed teeth. Blonde, oily hair falling over his forehead almost covering his blue, reddened eyes. He wore a ragged tank too short to cover his protruding belly.

“Where ya goin’ sweetheart?”, he said opening his arms to block her way.

She stopped, just like her breathing did for a second. “Get out of my way, D”, she growled between clenched teeth.

“C’mon, sugar, let’s go inside and have us some fun.” And with that, he grabbed her left arm just above the elbow, strongly, and turned towards the stairs, forcing her with him. Her hands fell from inside the hoodie pockets. The other men got up from their positions to watch as Sam struggled to make D let go of her arm, urging him to pull her harder. Among them, Sam saw Merle up and attentive, smugness gone from his eyes, something unreadable taking its place. The men’s voices filled her mind of any further thought, D’s fetid breath suffocating her.

“Let go!”, she hissed aloud, arm bouncing strongly back and forth trying to escape, but he was stronger, even in his inebriated state.

“Not gonna happen, sweetie”, he smirked as he pulled her strongly against his chest, one arm circling her lower back, pressing her hard against him. “Been patient enough for years just talkin’ and hearin’ ya always bitchin’.”

“I’m warning you, D, get your fuckin’ hands off of me!”

He laughed aloud, the sound making a cold chill travel up her spine again, forcefully pulling her to the middle of the Dixons’ front yard. “Well shit, would ya look at the dirty mouth on ya!”

“Son of a bitch!”, she barked as he spoke, her free arm thumping against his chest with clenched fist.

“You gonna show me how dirty ya can be, princess”. With that, he put even more force to his grip and pulled her to him, his mouth crashing against hers, his tongue moving over her tightly closed lips, trying to force its way into her mouth. Her stomach churned, bile rising to her throat. Eyes wide open, Sam saw as her two neighbors moved from where they had been watching it all so far. Her heart beat even faster, now almost painfully as they both walked down the steps heading in their direction. The pair stopped dead in their tracks a moment later, though, as D’s loud, hoarse scream filled the night around them and cut off the laughter coming from the porch. He pushed her away from him, a hand touching his lips, eyes wide in horror as he saw his own blood run down.

Sam’s trembling hand wiped the blood from her own lips and spat on the floor, features showing just how disgusted she felt now, her hand already reaching for the knife on her waistband sheath.

“Fuckin´ bitch!”, D yelled, all signs of laughter gone, blood dripping from his lower lip. “Gonna show ya not to disrespect a man!” Raising his hand, he slapped her across the face, strongly enough to make her head swirl to the side. She caught herself before stumbling to the ground, and just as she regained balance, her hand came up so quickly the other men almost missed the movement altogether, but D saw it and froze in place, eyes glued to the girl in front of him.

Blood stained her lips, a mix of rage and disgust in her eyes, and now a knife pointing to his throat.

“I. Warned. You”, she whispered menacingly, pausing after each word.

“I know whatcha need, kitten”, D said in a low voice, the smile returning to his bit down, bloody lip, “ya need a man to calm yer nerves. Ya ain’t of ‘em lesbos, are ya?”

“If ya ever touch me again – fuck, ya ever even look at me again, I swear I’ll cut off your dick and shove it up your ass!”, she hissed venomously and pressed the knife further, D taking a tentative step back and the tip of the knife pressed into his skin. She raised her voice then, hating that it trembled a little, “Now get the fuck outta my face!”

“Alright, alright, sugar.” He laughed and raised his arms in mocking surrender, taking more steps backwards to the house. “Just kidding anyway, keep ya panties on”. He turned to his friends to see them laugh at his absurdly stupid joke. “Tough one, ain’t she?”, he smirked at the other men and looked at her again over his shoulders, a dangerous smirk and a threatening glint in his eyes. “Won’t mind taming it”.

Sam followed his movements with her knife, still pointing it to him, her hand trembling a little even as he stepped up to the porch. Only then she looked at the others. Merle hadn’t moved and he wasn’t laughing, his hand touching at the gun tucked under back of his waistband. Sam became sure he’d shoot her on spot if she went any further with D. The others laughed with him as he approached, clapping him on the back, complimenting him for his attack like he was their hero. Merle’s younger brother, Daryl, was standing by him, observing the scene, his eyes looking dangerously at D and then back at Sam. Her narrowed eyes met his for a moment as she started to back away, eyes darting over every man there as she increased the distance between them. She finally turned around and retreated in hasty steps towards her house, the too small distance between them feeling much longer as she did, her ears still trained on their vicious voices.

Bounding up her own front steps, Sam risked one last gaze at the neighbors’ house and caught Daryl watching her unlock the door, desperate for the psychological safety being inside would bring her. Once inside her house, she locked the door, knife still in hand, knuckles white from gripping it so hard. She faced the door for a long moment, half expecting it to be forced open at any second now. As long moments passed and nothing happened, Sam felt her legs threaten to give away and lowered herself to the floor, pulling her knees tight onto her chest.

She was sure the men didn’t hear the rage that came out of her in a low, throaty scream.

[bloodlinevalentine]

The Blessed Unrest

Decided to cross-post my little ohmtoonz ghost thing here :)

Chapter 1: Live Like You’re Still Alive

Luke sighs and crosses his arms, leaning forward onto the rusted rails in front of him. Behind him is a set of glass sliding doors and a large, empty room. Blank, golden brown eyes scanned the rows of buildings, looking out over the city. It seems that's all he can do now: spectate. He's been up there for longer than he can keep count for, and he can't seem to get down. He felt like a goldfish in a small bowl, stuck watching the humans go about their daily lives.

And, perhaps it was a bit of a pretty fish bowl. The balcony he'd been sitting on was pretty high up, and sprawled before him laid all that Chicago, Illinois had to offer. Luke is, by far, not the most observant person, but by now he's seen all there is to see. During the day, the nearby streets were a blur of cars speeding by and the ant-like figures of people making way down the sidewalks. From how high up he was, he couldn't even see the fashionably large coats and cars that dominated during this time of year due to the climate, just the ant-like figures moving around below him. The summer sun's overpowering rays were shrouded by the thick, grey winter clouds.

During the nights, nearly all the people down below cleared out the streets and all that was left was the chilled breeze against tall glass towers. Checkered light dotted buildings where janitorial crews remained busy decorated the dark sky, while neon signs advertised hotels and bars open late. A pale yellow glow illuminated the once busy roads, reflecting in the semi-melted snow. Muddied and marred crystals splashed onto the curb as the occasional car crept past. It served as a reminder that in a city as big and populated as Chicago, it was never completely quiet. Even in the darkest hour there was always someone on their way home from a late shift, someone walking across a parkway to meet another, someone smoking out on a porch.

All things considered, it actually took him a long while to realize he was dead. But once the signs make themselves known, he only wonders how he didn't figure it out sooner.

It starts with a lady in a nearby apartment complex taking her dog out for a piss. She has her brown hair lazily tied back and his leash loosely in her hands. The dog waddles around for a moment before he finds a grassy corner to go in, and it makes Luke think about how long it's been since he himself went. Then he remembers the last time he's slept, or eaten, or even simply spoken to another person. It's an an awful feeling, realizing your dead, especially when you have to be alive and conscious for it. Well, conscious. And in his many attempts to get somewhere, anywhere but this balcony, he's mostly just expanded his repertoire of different ways to give up. People came and went, but no one stuck around long, or even acknowledged him.

As he sat and watched the world pass him by, Luke had to wonder why. Why was he just sitting here? What exactly was stopping him from getting down from this accursed ledge? And after a quick moment of consideration, he decided it was nothing. He was leaving.

Or, so he tried. But anytime he attempted to pass from the balcony and into the room behind him, this awful heat in his chest would start up and kick into high gear, filling up the inside of him until it felt like he was drowning in it. The further it went, the worse it would get until it overwhelms his ability to move and he's forced back onto the ledge to relieve it. After a few failed attempts, he dejectedly gave up.

He'd even tried jumping as a means of escape, but it was only once. In an angry fit he'd narrowed his eyes at the ground below, and with a not even a single thought, leaned over the rail and let the sky have him. It didn't work, of course, a fact for which Luke didn't know if he should be happy about or not. He'd flipped through the air once, twice, and three times before he was speeding face first to the ground. It was the most terrifying moment, plummeting to the concrete unnoticed by any people below. Tears from the wind and perhaps something Luke doesn't think about blur his vision pretty strongly, but he can still see himself nearing the ground. At the last possible moment, when it seems the pavement is just grazing his skin, he blacks out. When he wakes up, he's back on the ledge like before, the memory of what feels like years before the only thing occupying his brain.

Luke felt so alone, even though he often found himself in the company of another lonesome stranger. Sometimes people would come out when they rented the party room behind him, for whatever reasons, and bring their odd conversations with them. He'd hear people sigh in defeat at a love not reciprocated while others partied their hearts out inside, or be forced to listen in as people complained about their situations at work or school, oblivious of his own problem.

One time, a guy even came out talking to himself and leaving convenient gaps for Luke to give his opinion, even though the man couldn't have known he was there. He never minded when people came outside, even if they seemed to ignore him or whine about problems that paled in comparison to his own. When you're clearly a ghost, any company is good company.

So, a little while later, Luke isn't too surprised to see a man enter the party room and cross over to the balcony. He wordlessly slides the glass door and step out onto the ledge, staring over at the people below. There is nothing going on in the building, so he must be scouting the area for a party later. However, when the guy's foot makes contact with the balcony Luke hears a snap, like the sound a rubber band when it smacks into your hand. He feels something in his chest reel, the way you would imagine a bullet tearing through your skin, shredding muscles and sensitive tissue until it finally drags its weight out of you. The sensation makes him whip his head back up in alarm.

The man looked as if he was hastily dressed, shiny brown tresses a mess around his head and tattered clothes free in the wind. His face is tense and slightly angry, but if you look past that, he's pretty attractive. Although, he has a sort of rushed air about him, as though a man on a mission.

Luke watches the guy scan the area, ghosting over him like everyone else. He raises a hand to his chest to soothe the odd pain and looks back over the edge to continue his miserable mulling.

It's not until the man takes a particularly sharp inhale that Luke looks over at him again, and this time, soft, hazel eyes are staring directly at him with a frightened intensity. It seems to take the guy a minute, during which he looks as though he wants to say something, but when he realizes what is so wrong he gasps for real. A pale hand reaches out towards the door handle, swiping and missing a few times before he finally gets a grip.

Luke realizes in one elated sweep that the man knows he's there--is looking at him--which he says as much as he can in a gasp of his own. He leaps to his feet, and other pales at his reaction, finally gaining his bearings and yanking the door open just wide enough to fit his body through before he throws himself into the room. He doesn't bother with a fleeting glance or even the slightest pause, just slams the door shut so hard the glass rattles in it's frame.

Not about to let his only chance of getting out of his hell escape, Luke reaches for the handle himself, only to phase through it and the door in turn. That feeling makes everything left in his body run cold and rush hot all at the same time. 'Now that has never happened before,' he thinks, and had to take a moment to appreciate the effortlessness of it, but that time quickly passes. Before, he's never been able to phase through anything else, but before he's never run into anyone who could see him. He's got to catch that person.

"I can't see you!" The guy shouts over his shoulder and makes a break for the stairs rather than the obviously slow elevator. Luke wants to yell something back about the absurdity of that statement, but finds himself consumed with laughter instead. In no way disturbed by Luke's amusement, he rounds a corner at the end of the first set.

"Why are you running from me?" Luke yells back when he gains his composure. He's a little surprised by the volume of his voice, but then again it has been who-knows-how-long since the last time he'd actually spoken out loud to someone. The other doesn't look like he cares about his inquiry, though, and instead increases his speed down the steps. Luke doesn't remember exactly how tall the building is, but he knows there's many more at this rate.

That thought, along with the fact that he's falling behind in their chase makes him jump to close the distance, almost losing his footing at the landing because when he reaches out for the handrail, his fingers glide right through it. When he finally rights himself, he picks up the pace as well to catch up.

Seemingly inspired by his show of diligence, the boy attempts a leap of his own, but misses a step at the bottom and goes down hard. With a departing yelp, he tumbles down the last few steps and smacks into the wall signaling the turn with all of his momentum. The fall looks painful as anything Luke has ever seen, and all the hopeful mirth drains from his face; in its wake is trickle by agonizing trickle of mortification.

"Holy shit, are you alright?" He slows to a stop a few paces away, watching in silent guilt as the guy examines himself. There is no blood, at least none that he can see, but there is definitely some major bruising and perhaps some swelling that is soon to come. When he decides nothing too incapacitating is amiss, he winces to sitting position and levels a reluctant gaze at Luke.

"I..." he makes to answer Luke's question, but pauses briefly, "No, I--uh--that was totally my fault." He directs his vision to the floor with a dejected gaze.

"Why were you running away from me anyway?" Luke prods carefully, assessing his companion's face as he processes the question.

"Listen man," he starts after a moment, obviously not inclined to answer the second question, "I know this is hard to hear, and it probably doesn't even make sense, but you... you're dead now." He looks up at Luke again, watching his reaction closely.

"Well I think I've realized that by now." He sighs and moves to sit as well and hopefully disarm the guarded look on the other man's face.

The guy just screws his eyes shut and tilts his head in a pained nod, bringing a hand to his head once again. "Fuck," he curses as he draws the hand back down into his lap, and Luke feels a pang of guilt through himself again.

"I didn't kill myself though." Luke blurts into the silence. He'd actually never thought that completely, but as the words come out of his mouth, he feels assured that they're true. He doesn't even need the memories of his life to understand that the pure terror he felt when he'd jumped after already being dead all that time was too unfamiliar to have been how he died in the first place.

The guy opens his eyes at the sound of Luke's voice, and nods lightly once more. "Yeah, I can tell. You looked more like a murder anyway."

Luke's eyebrows fall at the odd words, and the man seems to mistake his silence as balking at the statement. "Look, right here is not the best spot for this. We can go to my place and I can explain it better, okay?"

Luke gives the guy an assessing look as he thinks it over. He's wearing grey hoodie, ripped and frayed at the wrists and a scruffy pair of no doubt unintentionally distressed blue jeans. His bedraggled shoes were the most worn of all though, complete with a belt of duct tape around the toe painted white in a semblance of normality. Truly, they looked as though they were being held together by sheer willpower more so than any of its threads.

But then he also watches the tension in the guy's expression unwind, almost as if just the idea of being at home makes him more comfortable. Well, it wasn't like he had any reason to distrust the only person who'd even seen him in weeks, and he's already dead, so what's the worst that could happen?

"Sure, sounds good." He nods and they both rise and head down that last few flights of stairs.

"I'm Luke, by the way." he supplies as they step out into the sunshine, but the guy doesn't react at all. At first Luke thought it to be a bit rude, but as people look and even speak through him, he realizes that he's being ignored because no one can see him. Even he can conclude that standing around talking to no one is pretty strange. But as he observes the crowd a bit more, he realizes that people are naturally giving them a wide berth. It was almost as if the other people could tell he was different, not knowing anything about him. Luke made a mental note to ask about it later.

[][[][][][]][]

The guy doesn't stop until they reach an apartment complex that Luke wouldn't give a second glance at if he was still alive. Although, a muted grey building with white trimming and a graffiti collage on the alley-side wall isn't much to blink at for most people anyway. They turn down a path leading to more buildings in similar condition, and Luke frowns. This can't be where he lives, can it?

Luke himself had never been especially well off, but he would never consider his family poor growing up either. They fit more snugly into the upper middle-class sector. He did believe he knew what poor looked like though, and despite his clothes, he refused to believe that this man lived in such bad conditions. He must have been taking a shortcut.

Only now, muddy tennis shoes with no recognizable brand were stomping up cement steps leading up to the second floor and Luke's eyebrows knit together as he follows.

"Sorry about earlier" he speaks up as the near the doors, and at first, Luke isn't sure if he's talking about running away or ignoring him until he continues, "But I'm sure you understand why I can't really talk to you in public. My name's Ryan." He throws Luke an exasperated smile over his shoulder as he routinely walks over to a door near the end of the corridor and pulls out a pristine silver key from his jacket pocket. The wooden door has a worn and chipped plastic address on the front, characters reading 6A bolted haphazardly to it. Is this really where Ryan lives?

"And sorry about this too, but it's gonna be a bit messy inside," Ryan grins apologetically, wrestling they key into the dubious looking lock and working it open with slight difficulty. When the old, creaky metal finally gives, he pushes the door open and lets them both in.

The interior really is a mess, but Luke gets the feeling that isn't entirely Ryan's fault. Chalky, inconsistent manila walls are losing more than just their paint in the corners, and white carpeting is always a bad idea. But aside from those things, the room's mostly organized state convinces Luke that Ryan is a clean oriented person. He probably didn't even make those stains on the floor.

"It's not that bad." Is his leisure reply. Ryan reaches for a light switch that Luke half expects to flicker and blink into life, it would go with the rest of the working in this place.

Except the light just comes on, no humming or flickering included, prompting Ryan to plop onto the gently loved sofa and dig around for something underneath one of the cushions. He pulls a laptop out as if withdrawing it from a storage, and Luke raises an eyebrow when expectant eyes turn up towards him.

"You can start by just telling me anything you remember, as far back as you can go." He lifts a hand and drops it onto the back of the couch, and Luke stills at the smile he receives.

It occurs to him that Ryan really is trying his best here, and he gets the feeling that it isn't his first time of him having to go through this with someone. He looks tired and a little defeated, but undeniably means well by all this.

"I don't remember a lot," He confesses reluctantly, but when Ryan's look of support never wavers, he goes back as far as he deems relevant.

"I was at a party," Luke begins, and as he speaks the memories come back a little, "It was for me, At least I think it was... No I'm sure, I'm pretty sure I had done something, or gotten something. It definitely wasn't a birthday party." He can hear the soft taps of Ryan typing on his laptop as well.

"Maybe a graduation or something?" Ryan pipes and pauses the ticking of his note taking to level Luke with a curious glance.

"No but, similar..." Ryan nods and types some more, but Luke feels and odd sensation of confusion rise in his chest. It was as though the memories of that night had just been erased from his mind. "I remember a fight-- as in, I'm a boxer, so maybe it had to do with that."

He waits a moment for Ryan to asses and decide what he want to write, and eventually receives a nod,"Okay, you can go on," he encourages as he finishes typing, and Luke continues.

"There was a shit-ton of people there. I'm talking rooms all the way down the corridor full of people. I'm sure there was no way for me to know them all, and there were so many were people I hadn't seen in a while. Everyone was constantly taking pictures. And, for some reason I remember something about wild bananas." Luke's face contorts from introspection to back into confusion as his brain conjures up the hazy images.

"Sounds like an interesting party." Ryan chuckles as he types, flashing him a quick look of disapproval, but a good 'your-friends-are-weird-people' kind of disapproval. Luke would laugh lightly at the situation too, but a sobering thought arises.

"But, I remember some other stuff too." He takes a deep breath before continuing. "I remember standing by the door were you found me. I think I got into an argument with someone, or something like it. I was so angry and..." Sad?

Luke pauses with the word on the tip of his tongue, almost tasting it, but something about it wasn't right. And suddenly, he is filled with the sensation of familiarity. The most vivid memory so far: he can feel the phantom flurry of emotions from that night wash over him again like a wave, and they go far beyond sadness. Betrayed. His brain supplies with another hazy image: raised voices, the goosebumps left behind from a feral yell, and the only emotion that reaches deeper than anger. He had been deeply, deeply betrayed.

"Luke?" Ryan asks his silence, leaning to enter his field of view. Luke just shakes his head.

"Then, I stepped outside for some air, because I was just getting angrier and angrier. I slammed the door behind myself before I was pushed over the edge. I don't think I actually saw anyone out there, I didn't even think to check, really. But suddenly there was nothing but wind and sky around me, and I'm positive I didn't just walk off."

When Luke looks over, Ryan still has not continued clacking away at his keys. Instead, his eyes remain openly trained on Luke, hands slack at his sides. He has this expression on his face that's not quite legible, but Luke decides he doesn't like the way it makes him feel.

"After that it was just me up on that balcony for the longest until you showed." Finally, after a bit more hesitation, Ryan begins typing again.

"Any idea how long?" he asks quietly, and Luke meets his gaze as he thinks.

"A month, maybe two?" he hazards a guess, "It got pretty hard to keep track."

"That's okay," Ryan hums lightly and looks up at him, stalling the movement of his hands, "Time goes by a little funny when you're dead."

The words don't sit too nicely with Luke, but he doesn't say anything in retaliation. It really is going to take some getting used to it for him to easily joke about this. I mean, he was dead for god's sake. Instead of voicing this this thought though, he sits quietly as Ryan begins looking for anything online surrounding his death.

"Hey, I think I found something." He speaks up, after a while. "It says here that you were at a party a friend was hosting for you." Ryan pauses as though the statement is unfinished, and appears to read over it a few times before continuing. "And, that you won a UFC Championship against the former champion. It was big, huge even, televised apparently." He says in disbelief, and the words draw a gasp from Luke's lips.

Ah yes, that sure jogs the memory. It was the biggest event of his career, and it was even better when he won. How had he forgotten! Now, he didn't even have to guess at how so many people he barely spoke to somehow arrived at the party now. If he won something that huge, Jon was probably hosting the after-party, and you could bet on the fact that Evan was on the VIP list. And these days, if Evan was doing anything, his entourage was quick to follow in a mess of plus-ones and questionable invitations.

"It says that it was a tremendous party turned tragic when you committed suicide. There were no eyewitnesses in the vicinity, but no one else was believed to be there when you jumped off the balcony. It made the news."

"I didn't commit suicide," Luke's frown deepened, and he started pacing again, "I was murdered."

Ryan nods but doesn't say anything else, eyes scanning his laptop screen a few more times before he closes it and looks up a Luke.

"Wait. If you could have just looked it up, why did you ask me?" He laughs a little, but it feels empty, especially when Ryan just levels him with a admonishing look.

"I know you didn't commit suicide Luke, but the police don't, and that is a big issue for us. Right now, the best thing you could do for yourself is try to remember as much as you can." After he says this, his eyes soften and a shy smile graces his features. "But on the other hand, whoever pushed you might be a little easier to find since it's been so long. They've likely stopped being careful and keeping away from suspicious areas, thinking they've gotten away with this. I think that if we really work at it, we'll be able to find the bastard who did this to you." He giggles lightly, and Luke can't keep the small grin off his face.

He tames it though and nods, settling himself to the sound of Ryan's confidence. As much as he hates struggling to remember his own damn life, he must say that he hates being dead even more. If anything, he was stoked just to be away from that ledge and with someone who could see him, if if the guy might just be crazy for it.

"Thanks, man." He says with as much genuinity as he can muster, and his faith is only strengthened by Ryan's winning smile.

Perhaps this whole being dead thing could work out for him.

[swannkings]

lightly connected thoughts on death and grief in fiction, spurred by the magicians 4.13

this post mentions rape and discusses suicide and death - if you feel any of these topics might negatively affect you, please proceed with caution or click away.

i tried writing something coherent, but i’m still pissed off and can’t bring myself to tap into my english comp skills right now.

re: “death in real life” - fiction is a safe way to explore and experience intense emotions. fiction is an escape from reality, when we need it, and so many of us desperately need that one hour escape in the actual hell we’re in. what a privileged world you must live in to believe that constantly viewing or reading trauma and death in fiction is what people who deal with that shit on the daily need to be reminded of?

idk about other shows, but beth greene from the walking dead is a mirror image to quentin coldwater. she survived an attempt to end her life, made it her job to care for others, was held hostage by rapist cops, and when she was given a chance to leave with her family she instead did something illogical that resulted in her death.

“i know you look at me and you just see another dead girl. i’m not michonne. i’m not carol. i’m not maggie. i survived and you don’t get it because i’m not like you or them. but i made it.”

more deaths that make no sense: abbie mills, beverly katz, glenn rhee, leslie shay, kate todd, poussey washington, t-dog, debra parker.

when a writer or showrunner does something to a character with the single intention of breaking their audience, that’s a death for profit. low ratings? kill off a main character in a shocking way. not sure what to do with this character and don’t want to continue paying the actor? kill them off suddenly. actor asks for pay raise after being on the show for multiple seasons? kill off their character so they can’t come back later. want to make every other character depressed for the rest of their lives? kill off anything and everything they love.

you’ve met daryl dixon, right? the sad white man who finds a glimmer of happiness and is just constantly kicked in the dirt because he’s a fan favorite - it’s boring!

in hollywood, audience grief isn’t about telling compelling stories, it’s about a small cluster of people blowing smoke up each other’s asses for so long they forget what actual cleverness is.

if you can’t figure out what to do with a character without killing them, you aren’t creative enough to continue being paid hundreds of thousands of dollars (or millions) for your work.

stop exploiting death.

during 4.13 of the magicians, i literally said “this is awful, but it’s so pretty”

stop romanticizing death.

quentin coldwater wasn’t the garden variety white male protagonist, and the fact sera gamble, john mcnamara, and henry alonso myers (and some fans) can’t see that is a lack of awareness and critical thinking.

also, why are you making eliot waugh, the only canonical gay man on the damn show, struggle with the death of a man he loves FOR THE SECOND TIME? he killed mike to get rid of the beast and spiraled into a deep depression and addiction! he got out of that hole, found love again, got body snatched by a monster, and now has to live through all that pain again? WHY? why is that so compelling to y’all?!

TV is killing off so many characters that death is losing its punch

The Walking Dead & the Dead Lesbian trope

Scott Gimple’s defense of killing Beth Greene

Gamble/McNamara/Myers’ defense of killing Quentin Coldwater

Life’s Not Fair So Suck It Up And Deal With It

I Want Loads Of Realism In My Fantasy

But Only The Horribly Scarring Kind Like:

Rape In Every Season Of Game Of Thrones

A Disproportionate Amount Of LGBTQ Characters, Women Characters, And Characters of Color Murdered On TV - Realism!

And All Fictional Villains Are Either Mentally Ill Or Have Some Form Of Disfigurement - Because Those Are Realistic Markers For Actual Criminals And Despots In The Real World We Live In.

writing an entire season of a show setting up a big bad and big bad 2.0, setting up a coup, setting up a hedge witch revolution, setting up a government take over that killed underprivileged magicians, setting up an actual slow burn romance, and then dumping that all on the floor to reup a toxic relationship and kill off the big bads, any chance of a coup, an entire revolution, and a well deserved love story in .03 seconds, just to be edgy - that’s bad writing my friends!

that’s like doing a group project and assigning different parts of an essay to different people and the first 3/4 are cohesive and well researched and the last 1/4 is just a three sentence paragraph that has nothing to do with the rest of the essay and was written by the one person who refused to come to meet ups and thinks they���re smarter than everyone else.

and keeping your actors in the dark concerning their friend and colleague and the actual story they have signed their names to - bullshit! extremely unprofessional! if any average person did something like that at work they’d be in super trouble! what assholes you are!

[alpxcamin]

1K Prompt List

Once again, thank you guys so much for 1k followers! We both love you guys so much and thank you for supporting us despite our messy posting schedule and random hiatuses. Here’s the prompt list and feel free to create your own prompt. However, please don’t pick over 2 since both of us are quite busy. I linked the original post where I got the prompts from on #1 and #66.

Please only choose 2 and send it in with any member you would like and we’ll write a drabble for you. If you have any other questions, please do send them in and we’ll do our best to clarify!

"You're really soft."

"You smell nice."

"I'm here for my daily fix of hugs and kisses."

"Is it possible to love too much?"

"I don't wanna get up-- you're comfy."

"I will always be there protect you."

"I'm cold. Come closer."

"I love you a lot, but please stop trying to cook me dinner, you suck.”

"The stars look especially lovely tonight."

"I've never seen such gorgeous eyes before."

"May I have this dance?"

"I can't stop thinking about you."

"You'll never feel alone with me by your side."

"Let's get to know each other over dinner.

"All I want is you."

"I could never leave you, I love you too much!"

"A fairytale with a happy ending always brings a smile to my face."

"I want to hear you sing."

"I don't think anyone could ever be as lovely as you."

"You look incredible in that."

"He/She's quite stunning, isn't he/she?"

"Sometimes I just can't control myself when around you."

"Do you believe in love at first sight?"

"I think I'm in love."

"I’d like it if you stayed.”

"People are jerks, but not you."

"I'll share the blankets with you."

"I have never felt this way about anyone."

"Can I kiss you?"

"I waxed the floors, grab your fluffy socks."

"Who changed the thermostat settings? I’m freezing to death."

"Can we just watch a movie and fall asleep on the couch?"

"You can put your cold feet on me."

"Your stray red item turned my whites pink."

"A thunderstorm is rolling through town and you’re scared of lightning/thunder so I’ll protect you."

"There was a power outage and now we have to have dinner by candlelight."

"Rock Paper Scissors to see who has to go talk to the neighbors upstairs for being too loud."

"I just came home to you crying while watching a movie, please tell me what’s going on."

"Our AC is out and it’s the middle of the summer."

"You found me crying on the kitchen floor in the middle of the night surrounded by a shattered jelly jar."

"My parents are coming over in 10 minutes so please put some clothes on"

"We’re repainting the apartment and going to the hardware store together to pick out color swatches."

"IF YOU USE UP ALL THE HOT WATER ONE MORE TIME IM GOING TO BAN YOU TO THE COUCH FOR A MONTH."

"I caught the bouquet"

"My ex just invited me to their wedding and I need you to be my date so it doesn’t look like I’ve spent the last few years failing to get over them."

"We accidentally got married in Vegas oops"

"I’m really drunk, please help me get safely out of the way so I don’t ruin our friend’s wedding."

"I planned out this super romantic proposal and you just ruined it by beating me to the whole proposing thing."

"I wasn’t planning on asking you, but it appeared to me that life is short. Will you marry me?”

"If you shove cake in my face this will be the worst wedding night of your life."

"You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I’m so happy I can finally call you my wife/husband."

"I jokingly told you that the only way I’d marry you was if you did this weird outlandish thing, and you actually did it, and I’m kind of charmed."

"This is probably a bad time, but marry me?"

"We’ve become the clingy newlyweds you always complained about. "

"Your ‘miracle hangover cure’ couldn’t possibly beat mine."

"I know you haven’t had the best experience with dogs in the past but look at its face please please can we keep it?"

"I wanted to surprise you for our anniversary, but everything that could go wrong did go wrong."

"I beat you at Mario Kart and now you're banishing me to the couch for the night?”

"I surprised you with tickets to see our favorite band… WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU SURPRISED ME WITH TICKETS TO SEE THEM TOO?"

"I know we had a big fight but we still need to decorate the house for the holidays."

"Oh! Hey! Could you come and taste this to see if it's okay?"

"We’re arguing over book versus movie."

"I came home to a Nerf gun on the front porch and a note that says ‘Here is your weapon. I have one too. Loser cooks dinner. Good luck. Xo’"

"We’ve been celebrating our wedding anniversary on a wrong day for the past nine years."

"You had a business trip and I missed you so much that I kind of tore up the house in your absence like a dog with separation anxiety… sorry?"

"We both have nowhere else to be so we get to spend our rare day off at home."

"Aren't you going to say something?"

"And I thought I loved you."

"And I thought you loved me."

"Angry. I'm...I'm angry."

"Aren't you even going to cry?"

"Are you going to cry?"

"Are you crying?"

"Are you okay?"

"Ask if I'm okay. Just ask."

"And this is why I don't want to stay anymore."

"Are you angry with me?"

"Are you afraid?"

"And now is the part where we say goodbye."

"And now you're going to leave me!"

"Are you just going to leave me?"

"Be friends with someone else."

"Boy/Girlfriend? Is that what you thought I meant?"

"Because you're such an ass and I- I just hate you!"

"But I've changed."

"But you've changed."

"Buy yourself something nice. Because I don't want this ring."

"But.. you're still alive?"

"Can't you just let me be happy for one?!"

"Can't you be happy for once?

"Can't you just be happy for me?"

"Come on, leave already!"

"Coward. That's all you are. A coward."

"Do you even know what you've done to me?"

"Do you have any remorse? "

"Don't you dare close your eyes on me!"

"Don't you dare die."

"Don't you care about me/her/him/them anymore?"

" Don't give me that look"

"Don't you want me to be happy?"

"Dammit! Everything was just starting to get better and then you do this!"

"Damn you."

"Don't lie to me."

"Dammit...Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck! You fucking ass!"

"Everything is fucked up now- everything is fucked because of you!"

"Everything's gone to hell."

"Everyone hates me."

"Everyone hates you."

"Everything hurts."

"Everything's going to be okay."

"Everyone loves you, not me."

"Everything is falling apart."

"Everything fell apart and I can't pick up the pieces anymore."

"For someone who's dying, you seem kind of happy."

"Friends forever, right? Isn't that what you said?"

"Find a new place to live."

"Find a new girlfriend/boyfriend."

"Find a new best friend."

"Fine. I'll leave."

"Forever and ever. That's how long I said I loved you. But you never said it back."

"Fucking hell, I hate you!"

"Get lost!"

"Get out of here!"

"Go. Just go."

"How are you still alive?"

"How long are you going to keep this up?"

"How long until you finally get lost?"

"How about I just leave."

"Hold up. You're breaking up with me?"

"Hell is the only place we're going to be going."

"How about you leave now?"

"Is this how you're going to treat me?"

"I can't believe you."

"I killed someone."

"I want to kill myself."

"I'm leaving you."

"I can't look at you right now."

"I hope you die!"

"I don't understand."

"I'm so angry/sad. But you don't care."

"I can't hear anything."

"I'm dying."

"I have cancer."

"I can't breathe."

"Just joking, I don't love you."

"Just leave me alone!"

"Just fuck off."

"Kindly get the hell away from me."

"Kind. That's the one thing you can never manage to be."

"Lie to me."

"Life is not worth living."

"Like I give a shit about you."

"Lies are all you're capable of."

"Lay down. It'll all be over soon."

"My heart is broken. "

"Everything hurts."

"My girlfriend/boyfriend left."

"My ____ is dead."

"Man, you're an asshole."

"My lies aren't working anymore."

"Never again."

"Never speak to me again."

"No. I won't do it."

"No, I don't like you like that."

"Now, now, is there really any reason to cry?"

"Now and again I really start to hate you."

"No. Stop crying, just stop it."

"Not how I wanted to spend my life."

"Never look at me again."

"People hate me/you.”

"Person? No, no. You're not a person. You're a robot."

"People like you sicken me."

"People like you deserve to die."

"Perhaps you should just leave, then."

"Piss off."

"Question: why are you still here?"

"Quiet. I'm getting sick of hearing your voice."

"Running away. That's what I'm doing."

"See? I hate you."

"See? You hate me."

"Sometimes I wonder why you stay with me."

"So...you hate me, then?"

"So this is how it ends."

"Shoot me."

"So why are you still here?"

"Took off with everything I had!"

"Time to go."

"This is the end. It's done."

"This is the end."

"This is why I hate you."

"Then why do you say you love me?!"

"Unlike you I have friends."

"Under the bed is where I have to hide from you."

"Utter it again and I swear I'll kill you!"

"Why can't you grow up?"

"Why can't you care about me?"

"Why do you hate me?"

"Why do I hate you?"

"What? You're dying?"

"Why can't you just be you."

"When am I supposed to get my time to be happy?'

"Well. This isn't how it was supposed to end between us."

"Whatever, you asshole."

"Whenever you decide you can stand to talk to me ago, please do."

"Well, I hate you now."

"Well, you hate me now."

[hazeofhearts]

Modern!Billy Hargrove Headcanons

(Ok!! So this idea came to me and idk how many of these there are on here but I it doesn’t matter because this is gonna be great!)

(EDIT 2/15/18: I’VE BEEN WORKING ON THIS FOR LITERALLY TWO MONTHS I HOPE YOU ALL LIKE THIS!!!)

So we all know that Billy likes looking pretty for his ladies based on how long he probably took to do himself up for his date in episode 8.

So we KNOW that the modern boy would be ALL👏🏻ABOUT👏🏻SKINCARE👏🏻

He does face masks like twice a week. One for stress relief and another of random choice from his collection of free samples

When he goes into the store, he pretends to be shopping for you but really it’s for him so he can get the samples

You have ‘girls’ night in and wear your masks and you paint your nails and Billy wears fluffy socks after he puts lotion on his feet because he’s an ‘old man’.

Modern Billy would hate smoking. Hate it with a fucking passion. Lemme explain myself ok?

In the 80s, people were smoking because that was the thing to do. You just did. So everyone smoked.

But now that we know all we know about how bad it is for your skin and lungs and your general health (no shade to anyone that does smoke, it’s your choice but you have to know the dangers and you probably do)

So Billy would smoke for a couple years and then when he got together with you, he stopped because you wouldn’t kiss him if he tasted like cigarettes

To keep Billy from smoking, you replaced his cigarettes with lollipops

Like those Dum Dum lollipops. The ones you can buy in a bag of 100 or something.

You’d put them in his car in place of his cigarette cartridge, on his bedside table, on his desk, in the pockets of all of his jackets

He was never without a lollipop in his mouth

Your favourites on him were bubblegum and blue raspberry

His favourites were cherry and lemon lime

Billy is all about protection and consent in every way possible!!!!

He wants you to feel like you’re safe with him and that you can be assured that you’re not going to get pregnant

So before the two of you even get naked, you’ve talked about condoms and birth control and all that jazz

Depending on if you’re already on birth control for menstruational reasons, this part of the conversation is easy

Condoms are another thing

Billy tries to pull that ‘condoms make me uncomfortable’ shit and you’re not having it

‘Either you wear a condom or you’re not getting ass at all’

Billy wears a condom from then on

He totally buys the funny ones to make you laugh

Like he once bought a neon coloured box of them and you nearly pissed yourself laughing you couldn’t even have sex

The first time you had sex, Billy was nervous as all hell because he knew that you felt your body was a temple and if he disrespected you, he’d be out on the curb

So he went super slow, asking if everything he did was okay

‘Can I go down on you?’

‘I’m just gonna open your legs like this, is that okay?’

You’re like ‘just fuck me already’

Modern Billy still loves his cars

He works on them all the time

He’s one of those guys that finds really shitty cars on the side of the road that have been abandoned or in junk yards and is like ‘yep new baby’

You just love walking into wherever he’s set up shop to see him without a shirt, jeans still as tight as ever, grease stains in the dirtiest places

Like there’s on right in the center of his crotch and he’d bring them to you and be like ‘oh how did that get there???????’

“Baby come kiss me”

“No you’re dirty”

“That’s never stopped you before”

Billy surprising you at work all the time

He starts recording himself going to your work every couple days to bring you coffee or lunch or anything

“Excuse me?”

*gasps because he scared you*

“I brought you your lunch”

He hands you a bag of your favourite food and you immediately break for lunch because you missed your man and you want to spend time with him

You totally live together if that wasn’t obvious by now

Your apartment clashes because Billy is an alpha male who doesn’t pick up anything and just slings stuff wherever there’s an empty space

You however can’t stand when he does that

You’ve managed to get him to replace the toilet paper roll when he finishes one, put the toilet seat and lid down and take off his shoes before walking on the carpet

He still doesn’t put his jacket on the hook by the door but that doesn’t matter because if you’re both coming from somewhere, the entryway is going to be littered with clothes anyway ;)

Which brings me back to sex ofc

So

Sex happens everywhere

On the floor, on the couch, in the shower

Floor sex happens when you come back from a night out on the town and too many guys were looking at you the wrong way

Couch sex happens the day after the night out when you’re both nursing hangovers and all you want to do is spoon so you do but you also fuck

Shower sex is one of those things where it happens rarely and only if you’re both 100% in the mood like if you’re not, not happening

You have sex on the counter and it’s rough and hard and fast and sexy and you can’t get enough and you just want him more and more and more

Sex in an abandoned parking lot at two in the morning in Billy’s car where the windows fog up and you rock the car on its wheels until the sun comes up

Sex in your bed is by far the best though, of course

I mean, you’re both comfortable, you’re both completely naked, you can fall asleep together right afterwards

Bed sex is slow and sensual

Billy thrusts into you slowly and sucks on your neck

He runs his hands all over your body and through your hair

He lifts both of your legs up over his shoulders and now you’re in missionary

Billy presses you to his chest while he fucks you like this, your nails digging into his back

Not painful, but on the edge of too much pleasure

After sex time

YOU👏🏻ARE👏🏻THE👏🏻THE👏🏻BIG👏🏻SPOON👏🏻BC👏🏻MODERN👏🏻BILLY👏🏻IS👏🏻A👏🏻SOFT👏🏻BOY👏🏻

Road trips all the time!!!

You’re both so young and you’re already living together

You need some time to grow but who says that you can’t grow together?

Literally no one

So you drop everything for the weekend and go to the beach, rent a beach house but usually just camp out of the trunk of your car

(You convinced Billy that sex is better in the hatchback of your car than in the backseat of his for the trip. This is almost a daily argument that you guys have and it always ends up in test runs in both cars ;) )

You cook burgers and hot dogs on the mini grill you brought and wrap yourselves up in a giant ass blanket and look at the stars

Talk about the future with each other

Plan your lives together

Modern Billy being in love with the idea of having kids and raising them

He had a shitty childhood and being a teenager sucked ass

(In my AU, instead of projecting out onto others as much as he does, Billy also grows from his abusing father and has a solid relationship with Max after he moves away from his family)

So Billy would be in a constant wave of baby fever

He’d stop moms on the street and coo at their babies

He’d love to go to parks with you and just stare at the kids

Thinking of babies made him think of marriage

Which leads me to....

Billy is not rich by any means

He essentially ran away from home as soon as he was a legal adult and had his high school diploma

He had been secretly packing his stuff up for months and storing it at friends houses and in the backyard of his house

He met you and moved into your apartment with you when you both decided things were going to be serious

So

When he decided he wanted to marry you, he knew he loved you

He had spent his whole life in a rocky home

His father was never around and when he was, his parents fought so hard the pictures rattled off the nails and onto the floor

So if he wanted to marry you, it meant that he trusted you and believed there would be a future with you

He spent weeks hovering around ring stores, looking and looking but never finding the right one

He became frantic, sure that if he didn’t propose soon, he would lose you

He wouldn’t but he didn’t want to be right in his doubt

So after a romantic dinner and even better dessert (ifyaknowwhatimsayin’) you’re slightly disappointed because it was the perfect set up for a proposal

Like Billy splurged on you for dinner

You wore your new red dress

You rolled over and were half way asleep when Billy prodded his elbow into your back

Now you were irritated

You turned sharply to snap at him when you saw the look in his eyes

You’re left speechless

His eyes are so soft, this beautiful sky blue

His bottom lip is between his teeth and he has his arm out for you to roll into his chest

But first he says those words 

“Will you marry me?”

You immediately burst into tears

Billy panicks

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Just forget it!!”

You smack him and say of course you’ll marry him, stupid!

You fall asleep after you calm down and Billy just has the biggest smile on his face

Out of everyone on the planet, he managed to find you

[lckylight]

[ONESHOT | SMUT] One Last Fuck (JONGDAE X OC)

Hey guys! I wrote this one-shot on the spot very quickly but please give it a shot! Would mean a lot if you could share it & leave a comment on what you thought about it! THANKS KIDS <3

!DISCLAIMER! DO NOT COPY OR EDIT MY WORK.

You parked your car at your usual spot as soon as you entered the parking lot. There weren't that many cars but you just had this habit of parking at the exact same spot every working day, as if it was your reserved spot. You grabbed your bag from the passenger seat and immediately ran to the elevator. One look at your watch. 7:59. Shit, you thought, I'm late. You knew the elevator was taking a minute to reach the floor of your department and that walking up to your desk would at least take you 3 minutes if you were wearing heels. One look down and you sighed.

"Heels... Each time I'm late. Great."

You disliked being late, in fact, you hated it. Just like many other things that were estranged to your daily habits. But surprisingly, you were never the type of person that had to have everything in order, nor that got mad over being late or not having a specific parking spot. Unfortunately for you, a disruptive element had made its appearance into your life and you were not pleased by the impact it had on you. Being late became a problem, as well as everything that didn't fit into your routine.

As the elevator reached the 8th floor, you stepped out and walked straight to your desk without greeting anyone. Your colleagues already knew you were having a bad day so no one bothered to point out your lack of respect. You pulled out piles of paperwork out of your bag , and just as you thought you would get away with being late, what you feared the most happened. You immediately froze as you heard someone calling your name from behind. Not just anyone. The Devil himself, as you liked to call him. While trying to control your anger, you slowly turned around with a fake smile displayed on your face.

"Jongdae."

The man facing you showed you his most devilish smirk as he scanned your body.

"You're late."

You knew he was more than pleased to tell you this. He always was. And that is precisely why you hated him. Kim Jongdae had been your co-worker ever since you were promoted to a higher position within your firm 10 months ago. When you first met him, the first thing you thought was none other than Wow. He's hot. But that was obviously before suffering from his daily pestering. He would order you around like a dog and would give you extra work so often that you even asked yourself if he was a sadist. The worst part was that you couldn't even decline nor say anything about the work load he was giving you because he was the CEO's son. You couldn't change jobs either because you just liked your job too much and you knew you wouldn't find better with the salary you earned. Everyday, you just hoped that Jongdae was either on a business trip or on a sick leave. But it obviously never happened, considering the non-existent luck you had. So in order to survive on a daily basis, you avoided Jongdae as much as possible and made sure to pester him even more when he annoyed you.

"It's freaking 8:04, Jongdae. No need to make a fuss for 4 minutes. I have work to do. Leave me alone."

Yup, that was your tactic to make him leave. Surprisingly enough, Jongdae never felt attacked by your words. In fact, the smirk plastered on his face grew wider.

"You should know by now that 4 minutes are important, it's enough to fetch me my morning coffee~"

Ugh. This asshole. There was the obvious satisfaction he displayed when he was being a bitch. The thing with Jongdae was that he didn't have any limits. He would come to you during your breaks and would always ask for something he could do himself, like getting himself coffee at the coffee machine (which was right next to his office), or simply ask for the impossible. Once, he asked you to buy him a plane ticket for Europe leaving the next hour. Because you were obviously unable to find that for him, he pestered you for a month about it, saying he missed the most important even of his life, when you're pretty sure he only missed something like ComicCon.

Soon enough, your fake smile was replaced by an expression Jongdae is very familiar with. Anger.

"You know what Jongdae? Get it yourself. You can shove that coffee in your ass. Fuck you."

Jongdae just laughed as you finally sat down and started reading your papers. He slowly approached you and whispered in your ear as softly as possible.

"Why don't you shove it yourself then?"

There. That was enough to make you stand up and get him his stupid coffee. You were tired of arguing over such a shitty thing. It was making you lose time and just made you talk to him more, which was the opposite of what you wanted. After being around him for 10 months, you knew getting him coffee would at least make him leave you alone for a few hours. So you did. And so did he.

After spending the day working in peace (which was very unexpected), you decided to finish your day by writing emails back to clients who contacted you. You weren't anyone's secretary but you surely did have a central position. As you had been in charge of the project you've been working on for the past months with Jongdae, several affiliates of your company regularly emailed you for questions or problems faced with the implementation of the project.

As the time went by, you soon realized the people around you were leaving to go home. You obviously wanted to do the same but with all the work Jongdae gave you, you simply couldn't afford it. So you continued replying to emails for the next hour. By the time you opened your last email, all of your colleagues had left, leaving you alone. Finally, you thought while sighing. You had to admit you were exhausted but you were still surprised at how peaceful your day was. Getting up from your chair, you made your way to the records' room to fetch a file one of your clients needed. As you looked around the room, the lights suddenly went off.

"Damn it. Another black out..."

It had been the third this month. You sighed and made your way towards the exit of the room, not without too much trouble obviously. As you walked towards what you thought was your desk, you bumped into someone's chest.

"What the- "

"Damn I knew it was you. You're always the last one to leave."

Jongdae. That was (unfortunately) the first thing that came to your mind as you heard him speak. You cursed under your breath for always ending near him in shitty situations like this. Just when you were about to speak, you suddenly felt a light blind you and you quickly looked away. Jongdae was pointing a flashlight in your direction. You quickly adjusted to the brightness and looked at him, hoping to see another man in front of you. Nope. Still unlucky as ever. Jongdae stood in front of you with a serious expression on his face.

"We're going to have to wait until the power goes back on, the front door is locked and the elevator isn't working."

It's official. This was probably the worse day you've ever had so far. You had to stay with the man you hated the most for God knows how long. And the worse was that you couldn't even escape. Again, you automatically cursed under your breath before sitting back down at your desk. You grabbed your phone and ignored Jongdae. Right, you're stuck with him but no one forces you to talk to him so just ignore him, you thought. After a long silence, you heard Jongdae sigh. Wait, did I just piss him off?! Well, that's a first. You continued playing with your phone until you heard footsteps getting closer and closer.

"Is someone waiting for you home? Do you need a ride? Not that I would give you one but yeah. Are you single? Where do you live? Are you- "

"Shut the fuck up Kim Jongdae. Why do you even give a fuck about my existence? Can't you just leave me alone and stop pestering me with your questions?! It's called invasion of privacy."

For once, you were able to shut his mouth. At least for a few seconds. Jongdae would usually immediately laugh or smirk or come up with a bitchy phrase. But this time, he just looked speechless. Or tired. But you didn't care. As long as he wasn't talking to you, you were fine.

"We work together. Of course I would give a fuck about your existence. And since we're co-workers, we should get to know each other."

He wasn't smirking, nor smiling. In fact, he looked emotionless. You huffed loudly while looking at him.

"I'm not interested. You have enough girls to talk to anyways, they're drooling all day long over your looks so go bother them instead".

You were obviously talking about your female colleagues, who were all head over heels for Jongdae. It was obvious and they weren't trying to hide it. Jongdae would often get flowers or presents from them but he would never accept them. That doesn't mean he wasn't flirting with them though. He knew his charms and how to use them.

"Yeah, that's the thing. You're not even affected by my looks. Why not? Why do you always have to argue with me?! Others would kill to bring me coffee."

His looks. He definitely was handsome, and as much as you hated to admit it, you tried your best to ignore his looks because you didn't want to become like your colleagues. Desperate. You were thankful enough that Jongdae had a shitty personality to distract you from his handsomeness, although he did make you think of yourself sometimes. He was as impulsive as you were and knew how to drive someone crazy to the fullest.

"This conversation isn't going anywhere Jongdae so leave me alone."

But he didn't.

"You just won't admit that I'm hot. I know I have an effect on you, you're just hiding it."

You tried to put on a disgusted expression on your face to hide your slight embarrassment. Jongdae had never been this bold with you. And you didn't like where this was going. You knew you wouldn't last long if he insisted any longer.

"No?! Stop saying bullshit and go away."

Well, that was low. Probably the weakest answer you ever came up with. You wished Jongdae had stopped the conversation right at this instant and had listened to you for once. But what can you do, he's Kim Jongdae.

"I bet I can make you give in. Just let me give one last fuck about you. And we'll see what happens."

Well, that caught you off-guard. You almost dropped your phone with his words, slightly shaking from the stress. Had you heard him correctly? You were still speechless when he continued.

"If I make you want me, I win and you'll have to do whatever I tell you to do. If I don't, you win and I'll leave you alone for the rest of your life, I won't even call your name. Do we have a deal here?"

It took you a few seconds to process his words. Whatever he wants?! Hell no. You wouldn't want to be his slave forever. However, the second part of his statement caught your interest. Of course, it was a crazy deal to make, especially with the Devil himself. But winning the deal would be more than helpful in getting your peaceful life back. Was it worth the risk though? Maybe. After thinking for what seemed to be like an eternity for Jongdae (you swear you could see sweat dripping from his forehead), you finally answered.

"Fine. If I win, do add fetching me coffee everyday for the rest- "

Jongdae immediately walked up to you and grabbed your cheeks, not letting you finish what you were saying.

"Deal."

And there you stood, completely frozen as Kim Jongdae was kissing you. You were honestly too shocked to push him away or to even process that into your mind. The only thing that came up to your mind was how mind-blowing and steamy this kiss was getting because, let's be honest here, the guy knows how to use his mouth. He wasn't just kissing you, he was literally fucking your mouth with his.

Just as you came back to your senses, you gained the strength to push him away.

"What the heck Jongdae?!"

Jongdae kept his hands on your cheeks.

"Let me give just one more fuck about you. One last fuck."

He looked deeply into your eyes as he spoke. His deep brown orbs left you speechless once again. Unknowingly, you found yourself nodding your head. Jongdae didn't wait any longer before smashing back his warm lips on yours. And although you were fully aware of what he was doing, you just couldn't help but feel the heat rising up to your cheeks as he deepened the kiss. Unlike what you've ever imagined, the kiss was gentle yet full of something you couldn't quite grasp yet. And then it hit you. Care. Affection. Love. The last one was hard to believe, but you had no doubt about it. Jongdae was kissing you with what felt like all the love in the world.

You tried your best to resist, but it soon became impossible when Jongdae was making you melt under his touch. He slowly traced the outlines of your curvy body until he slipped his hands under your shirt, making his cold hands touch your bare skin. His actions sent shivers to your spine and unconsciously made you kiss him back with just the same amount of passion. You quickly wrapped your arms around his neck. Jongdae immediately responded to your actions by wrapping your legs around his waist and lifting you up to sit you on the desk.

As soon as you were seated, Jongdae was back to fucking your mouth with his. His hands were wandering all over your body and you had to admit you were tempted to moan. But you didn't want to give up. You couldn't. Not after the deal. You tried your best to stay calm (which was obviously difficult when he was touching you) and you made sure not to let any sound slip out of your mouth. Easy, right? Yeah. That's what you kept repeating in your head until Jongdae slipped a hand in your panties. You barely had the time to think straight that he was already fingering you. Hard.

You shut your eyes tightly to suppress a moan as you gripped his shirt tightly. Before you even knew it, Jongdae was pumping his digits in and out of you at the craziest pace while massaging your clit with his thumb. That was it. You knew you wouldn't be able to last long and that moans would eventually come out of your mouth if Jongdae didn't stop. As a habit, you found yourself wishing really hard that Jongdae would stop, even if you knew it was useless. But to your surprise, he did. Jongdae removed his fingers from your core. For once in your life, your wish was granted. At least, that's what you thought for the first few seconds. You suddenly felt an unexpected feeling, followed by another wish you never thought you would have. You wish he hadn't stopped. And it seemed like Jongdae knew exactly what you were wishing for as he broke the kiss to display his famous smirk on his lips.

"Just say you want me and I'll start again."

The playful annoying Kim Jongdae was back. He was obviously mocking you more than ever and you almost gave in for once, just because his fingers worked wonders. But you didn't. Instead, you put on your best stoic face.

"Never."

You mentally praised yourself for staying somehow serious in such a situation. Jongdae looked still amused though. And that wasn't reassuring at all.

"Oh really~?"

Jongdae slowly penetrated his fingers back into your core as he watched you playfully, while massaging your clit with his thumb in circles. You let out a small yelp in surprise, followed by a short but deep moan. Blood rushed to your cheeks in response to your sudden embarrassment as you tried to control your breathing. You were getting more than wet and only one thing was on your mind. You wanted Jongdae. You wanted him more than anything at this right instant that it felt too wrong to be true. You immediately regained your serious posture despite Jongdae's hands doing you wonders. He looked at you for a moment, seeing your determination, before placing butterfly kisses into the crook of your neck as his fingers moved in and out of you. You let out another moan, unable to hide it any longer. Jongdae continued pleasuring you for a while until he felt you nearly reaching your climax. Before you could do anything, he removed his fingers, resulting in an unexpected whine escaping your mouth.

That's it. You couldn't wait any longer. You needed Jongdae to finish what he had started. You needed him. You didn't want to admit it. But it was already too late.

"I need you. Now."

You knew you had lost the deal. You knew what it implied. Yet, none of it mattered. You just wanted Jongdae to fuck you.

Jongdae smirked like there was no tomorrow and immediately pulled down his pants as well as his boxers, revealing his meat ready to slide into you. He placed his member at your entrance and whispered into your ear.

"I won."

As soon as he finished talking, his members automatically slammed hard into your pussy, making you moan loudly as you tightly gripped his shirt. Jongdae didn't lose any minute and started thrusting in and out of you rapidly, already breathing heavily in the crook of your neck. You slightly laid back as you let you co-worker fuck you hard, shivering under his warm breath. Just as Jongdae was getting tired, you dug your nails in his back and asked for more. For the first time in your life, you witnessed Jongdae following your order and accelerating. Your moans got louder and soon became a motivation for Jongdae to go even faster. The pleasure overtook the both of you as you reached your climax at the same time a few minutes later. Jongdae let out a loud groan as he milked your pussy, making you tremble from ecstasy. Soon enough, both of you were panting like crazy. You let yourself lay back on the desk while trying to catch your breath. Jongdae slowly hovered you while breathing heavily, smiling while looking down at you.

"Want to make another bet?"

Link to my original work: https://www.asianfanfics.com/story/view/1279493/one-last--oneshot--exo-chen-jongdae-chenxoc-jongdaexoc

[reesebird]

New Post has been published on https://reesebird.com/2019/07/21/help-the-houswife/

Help the Houswife!

This may be a bit of reading so i will apologize in advance.

I need help from someone, anyone! At this point anything will help.

Background: i am 26 years old with a 6 year old daughter and a husband. (10+ years high school sweethearts) I live in a home that my mother & father own. I live here rent free, with a catch.. My 24 yer old brother and his 6 year old son must live here rent free as well. It is up to the both of us to keep up on the property and make home repairs since we live rent free. It has been this way for 3 years now. In these 3 years my brother, lets call him Taylor.. Has not had a job at all. His son does not have a mother. She dropped him off at 3 months old and has never looked back.. He does not get child support. Nor does he get foodstamps or medical insurance because he will not go for child support, he blantly refuses. Therefore he brings nothing into the household. My husband has honestly the shittest job there is. Hes a foreman for a fence company but sees between 2-300 a week. His company says hes only been a foreman for 4 months so hes still in “training” whatever that means. It is next to impossible to live off of but we make it work! Taylor doesnt help with daily upkeep on the house. He stays at the nieghbors house 80% of the time. He comes over with his son gets food, drinks whatever they need leaves a huge mess then leaves. He doesnt bathe his son, he once went 2 weeks before i realized little dude hadnt had a bath! Little dude doesnt have to pick up toys. Little dude can dump out 10,000 legos and when i aak who is going to pick them up Taylor answers with “well if YOU want them picked up, YOU will do it.” I do all the chores here, i dont ask my husband to do much (husband isnt completely innocent we’ll get to him in a moment) i have gotten Taylor to do dishes 2x in 3 years. Taylor goes around the neighborhood and picks up other peoples trash like furniture, tables, broken tools, busted lawn mowers anything you can think of is piled high in the front yard. My neighborhood calls my yard the junk yard and its so embarrassing! If i ask my parents for help they tell me “you guys are adults, we let you live here rent free so work your problems out with yourselves” and you know i totally agree with that! But why wont Taylor grow up, get with the program and raise his child?! Today was the last straw. The event that happened roday made me make this post.. We live in a 2 story house, Taylor & little dude have the upstair all to themselves. There is a foyer entryway before you get to the stairs that is blocked off by a closed door. Today i seen something white wigglying under the door (no carpet) i opened the door and the floor was COVERED in dog poop and maggots!! I had a mini panic attack then RAN to go get the bleach. I bleached everything!! Then when he came back for a drink run from the neighbors, i sreamed at him WTF?! We have kids that live here! If you want to live like that fine but YOU WILL NOT DO THIS TO YOUR CHILD! He looked at me, blinked and walked out of the door headed for the neighbors house. My parents also are not innocent, on one hand they tell us to work it out.. On the other hand they will call me on payday and ask “can you give Taylor $20” umm whyy?? “So he can get a little weed, hes a single father he needs to blow off some steam” if i dont give him the cash i have to listen for days about how my parents have helped me out so much by not charging me rent and i should help them out by helping Taylor. Doesnt make sense to me. or my parents make excuses for him “hes a man he shouldnt have to clean as much as you” or “they dont make that much of a mess how hard is it to just do it for them?” I have spent 2 years begging my husband to move us out, he cant afford it. He suggested i get a job. So i did. For 3 weeks. Taylor was home watching both kids while i worked. I would come home after 8/9 hour shift and clean my ass off. Dishes, sweep, mop, collect all trash from throughout the day, laundry.. Too the point my husband is screaming at me to sit down and stop, but i cant i am the person that if i spill a drink on the floor i will get a towel to clean it, my husband and brother do not.. It will sit there untill i find it. I get shit from my husband about all this as well. Hes pissed taylor is treating me like a slave and taking it out on me, saying im the reason all this is happening, because i wont stand up for myself.. But my father has looked him in the eyes and said “Taylor can do whatever he wants and needs to do in his fathers house if yall dont like it find somewhere to pay rent” my father knows 100% if we leave he has to come here clean the house pay his bills buyhis food and cook it for him, my father said he will do anything for his son and granson.. This situation has sent me to the mental hospital. I got prescribed buspars so whenever im mad and have to spend 4 hours deep cleaning the house everyone tells me to go take my meds.. Uhh YALL ARE THE REASON IM ON THEM! My husband has taken up drinking beer to the point of passing out every single night because of this. I hate it. When i was 8 years old i made a promise to my father. He made me promise that i would NEVER marry an alcoholic. When we got together almost 11 years ago he was completely against any alcohol. Now he says blame your brother for this beer i cant handle all this. I beg him to stop drinking but he screams at me that he is a grown man with a job and can do what he wants and says he doesnt care about a promise i made with a man who is letting another man treat me like shit. But the promise honestly does mean so much too me. I hate the beer. I hate the smell. I hate the smell of his breath (that he constantly swears im crazy cause “my breath dont smell like beer” as hes taking a sip of beer) i hate having to pick up ALL the beer cans EVERY morning. I have asked my husband for 8 months if i could get my nails done.. We cant afford it but we can afford beer every day!

Really what can i do? How do i handle this? How do i get my brother and husband to all work together as adults to get things done? Right now i am a slave and i want things to change, im desperate S.O.S

[bungou-stray-dogs-indulgences]

You know that "who you should fight" meme? Could you do a BSD version of it, if it's not too much to ask?

(Ngl this may be the best thing I’ve ever answered)

WHO YOU SHOULD FIGHT

ADA

Atsushi: You win(?)

Walk right up to him and beat the ever-loving shit of him. He’ll apologize to you. An easy fight, just don’t slip in any tasteless orphan jokes, it’ll have the opposite effect intended and he’ll take you the fuck out with the pure intent to prove he’s worthy. You could beat him but the psychological weight of crushing someone so innocent will ensure that you never feel right again. Fight him if you have no soul.

Dazai: You lose

He’ll turn the whole affair into a big joke. If you, by some stroke of luck, actually hit him, he’ll probably just say ‘harder daddy’. The psychological effects of brawling Dazai will be devastating either way. DO. NOT.  FIGHT.

Ranpo: You win

Honestly, it’s hardly worth your time. He hasn’t eaten anything but chocolate cake and cheap lollipops for the last six years, not to mention any form of physical exercise. He’s got pale-ass noodle arms and a muffin top (don’t believe the official art’s lies. The bitch eats solely from a candy shop and looks like he just topped off a cycling session with Jillian Micheals? Get the fuck out). Just don’t bring a Jolly Rancher shiv because he’ll eat the damn thing. Undoubtedly fight, just be prepared to book it like a fucking librarian after you knock him out because the rest of the ADA will come after you.

Kyouka: Depends 

Look, fourteen’s a shitty age even when you’re not dealing with pressing morality crises.There is nothing Kyouka wants more in this world than to dial herself, let Demon Snow rip and raise her kill count to thirty seven. But all you gotta do to keep her at bay is debate on morality like Matthew fucking Murdock in Netflix’s Daredevil. If you can successfully hold her back with discussion on ethics (and how hers will be jack-shit if she slaughters you) you have a slim chance of victory. A great fight if you need to practice for speech class.

Kunikida: You lose

You might think victory’s as simple as tossing his notebook in a nearby water fountain and watching him flip a lid, but this is an absolutely awful tactic and the inside of your head will be decorating the sidewalk in mere milliseconds. He beats Dazai’s band-aid wrapped flanks on the daily and he won’t hesitate to destroy yours. If you fight, at least your cause of death can be listed as ‘blonde beefcake’s rippling biceps’.

Kenji: You win

Just feed him a few bowls of Spaghetti-o’s before you deck him and the little blonde bitch won’t stand a chance. You can smack him back into the cultist backwater rice paddies he crawled out of easy as smacking a crippled fly. A perfect fight for abusing a fourteen year old without getting into too much trouble. 

Fukuzawa: You lose

You might think you could dress up in a kitty costume and sneak up to him. And you could. It would be easy, in fact. He’s so focused on the cuteness he won’t notice any maliscious intent. Despite this his reflexes are simply too quick and he’ll still take you the fuck out when you make your move. A bad fight from all angles. You’ll have to fend off his adopted, dysfunctional ADA children too. Just don’t.

PORT MAFIA

Akutagawa: Depends (99.5% losing chance. risky.)

Yeah, you’re fucked. Akutagawa won’t even wait until you initiate, he’ll be the one attacking you, probably over something minor and stupid like the color of your pants is personally offensive. Rashomon will be slicing and dicing you into a smoothie for cannibals before you know what hit you. The only way you make it out alive is if by some stroke of luck Dazai happens to be in a one hundred mile radius and Akutagawa’s senpai-radar starts going off. Fight only if you bring My Chemical Romance vinyls to punt at him; they’re his biggest weakness .

Chuuya: Depends (99.75% losing chance. Cross thy fingers and pray)

Facing Chuuya is a bigger risk than that board game. He’s practically impervious to all close-up melee and he’s too small of a target to be hit with anything from afar. You might think you’d have a fighting chance if you knocked his hat off; after all, that’s basically all he is. A hat rack prone to alcoholism. But that fury will only make him stronger and he’ll crush you like you’re a cum-covered Dazai body pillow. As with Akutagawa your only glimmer of hope for survival is if bandage-kun happens to be close by because Chuuya will prioritize and leave your now crippled ass in the dust that he punted you in. Only fight while intoxicated. (Both of you. Not just him. It’s more fun that way. Much like Turkish oil wrestling but with more gravity.)

Mori: You lose

If you want to fight him you’ve obviously got a death wish and I’m not going to stop you. There’s easier ways to go though, man. Easier ways. His expression won’t even change when he whips out that scalpel (I don’t believe that man’s ever been to medical school) and filets you like a fresh caught tuna, on its way to a B-rated fast food join. Your body’s gonna get left on the pavement for the stray dogs. (No, I’m not gonna finish that joke. Low hanging fruit. I have some dignity.) If you want to die that bad, just go see if Dazai will suicide with you. It’ll be significantly less painful

Elise: I fucking dare you

I mean, you probably could take her out, she’s like seven. Mori will let her play skip rope with your small intestine after she’s recovered. Rest In Peace if you even consider it.

Kouyou: You lose

I don’t know what would inspire you to be so stupid. She’ll just let out a dignified little chuckle and shove that umbrella sword so far up your ass you’ll be tasting acid rain for months, and she’ll do it all in the most ladylike way possible. Unless you’re ready for your innards to end up in a teapot, served with chocolate-coated orange wafers at tea break, just don’t fight.

Oda: ???

He’s fucking dead. What are you gonna do, kick his headstone, maybe plant some weeds over his grave? Just don’t mention the burnt orphan soup, or he’ll literally rise and put you in his coffin instead. If you’re willing to dabble into necromancy, knock yourself (or him, in this case) out.

Q: Haha

I get why you’d want to fight him, I really do. He looks like a miniature Cruella Deville on an acid trip. But you just don’t have a chance. Hit him. Go ahead. As soon as you so much as brush him he has the power to destroy your shit like it’s never been destroyed before. Will annihilate you from the inside out. The deadliest emo thirteen year old there’s ever been; avoid at all costs!!!

Higuchi: You LOSE

You might think you have a chance because she doesn’t have an ability. But you’re gravely mistaken. Higuchi is bitter. Higchi is ruthless. Higuchi does not give a fuck about anything other than getting Emotagawa-senpai to notice her. She has nothing, nothing to lose and she will not rest until she’s pulling your tonsils through your asshole in the hopes that Akutagawa will give her a thumbs-up for slaughtering you. DO NOT fight. She stands to lose nothing and gain everything.

THE GUILD

Hawthorne: You lose

You might think that you’d have a fighting chance because he’s a priest and priest’s aren’t supposed to wreck people’s shit but he will see your sins and you won’t even see him coming. Try to punch him his ability is literally activated by injuries. Knocks you out with a psalter hymnal and ships you off to Bible camp while you’re unconscious.  Only fight if you have never sinned, not once, ever.

Steinbeck: Depends

If you’re from the city he’ll destroy you. Farm boys always tear apart city people no questions asked. If that fact doesn’t dissuade you then just prepare yourself not to be freaked the fuck out when he jack-knifes his own neck and starts sprouting flora. As long as you keep your cool you’ve got a 30/70 chance. Only fight if you bring a metric fucktonne of weed killer.

Poe: You win (biggest douchecanoe award, but that’s about it)

Physically, sure, you could sneeze within fifty feet of his pasty ass and take him down. But really? Do you really want to hurt him? He’ll stare right into your soul with those sad, sad eyes and wonder just what he did to inspire such bitterness in you. If you can still fuck him up after that then you’d best kiss your spirit goodbye because it’s descending to the seventh level of fiery hell as you read this. Plus, honestly, there’s no true triumph against a man whose best bud is a raccoon. That’s just too rad. If you can deal with the pressing moral consequences and a pissed off  raccoon, go for it. (You monster). 

Mitchell: You win

All you have to do is push her hospital bed down the stairs and pretend it was an accident. Her comatose ass can’t do a thing to stop you. Fight if you’re ready to run from angry hospital staff.

Fitzgerald: You lose 

You know, this sentient sack of Benjamins deserves it, in all honesty, but don’t try. Him and his power suit will kick you into the next millennia before you can say ‘old sport’. Prepare to be crushed by capitalism.

Melville: You win

He’s like eighty and his ability’s a goddamn floating whale. As long as you don’t throw down at Sea World, you’re good. Fight as long as you’re not in front of an assisted living facility; the CNAs will think he’s a resident and defend him.

Lovecraft: Depends

Attack him while he’s trying to nap and he’ll be too lazy to get up. Otherwise… yeah, just google ‘Cthulhu’. You’ll get the idea. Don’t fight: there’s no beating weaponized tentacle porn.

Montgomery: You lose

Go right ahead and try, she’ll whisk you away to her Melanie-Martinez ass torture dimension and let Anne mop the floor with your teeth. It’s kind of like challenging God. Unless you want to spend eternity in an unsexy rip-off of the 50 shades Red Room, DO. NOT. ENGAGE.

Twain: You win

Twain’s all talk, anybody that walks around with their titties hanging out 24/7 is definitely trying to distract from something. In this case he’s trying to fool people into thinking he’s not a dictionary-definition pussy. Rip the heads off his muppet babies and he doesn’t even have an ability anymore, the schmuck. Fight when you’re looking for a quick self-esteem boost. 

Alcott: You win

This poor woman does not deserve to be tortured anymore than she already is by the weight of her own social awkwardness, but if you really insist: make a derogatory comment and she’s basically down for the count already, no physical contact necessary. If you really want to dominate, just steal her glasses and she instantly morphs into a significantly less foxy Velma Dinkley. Also significantly less prone to self defense. An A-1 fight for when you’re looking to cement residency in Hell.

OTHER

Ango: Depends

You would think his beanpole ass would be an easy target. You’d be wrong, though. So very wrong. He’s been chugging tomato juice like it’s his job for the past forever and he’s got a snazzy pair of handcuffs he’s just dying to break out. If you sabotage basic safety features on his car, though, he’s a goner. Just sneakily unbuckle his seat belt while he’s driving and you’ve basically defeated him right then and there. A good fight for practicing strategic tactics and subtle vehicle vandalism.

Fyodor: You lose

Just ask A how that one turned out. Actually, ask anyone in the manga what throwing down with Fyodor entails. (Unless you only watch the anime, then just wait for the season three that we’re probably not getting) He’ll escort you personally to the gates of hell with a flick to your forehead. Then he’ll step right over your still-warm corpse and start playing the cello with that unnecessarily wide leg-spreadage. Mess with this sentient ushanka hat and he’ll uSHANKa you.

[boleynns]

LOOSE ENDS, ASSHOLES.

I wrote this 3 days ago, because I just KNEW they were going to fuck it all up.

^PHOTO OF A LIAR, for reference. LONG list of pissed off thoughts below.

ON YOUR WATCH.

That Molly scene in TFP was so horrendous. I don’t even ship them at all, but really. How much of an asshole do you have to be???

How did John and Sherlock survive a bomb by jumping through glass windows and landing 2 stories down on the concrete with no injuries?

How did they get on that boat?

WHY were they on that boat?

WTF was that imaginary plane bullshit???

NO ONE CARES THAT THE DOG ISNT REAL, ARE YOU KIDDING ME

Why did Mary think John would pull away from Sherlock if she died, if she didn’t know she was going to die saving Sherlock? If she’d died ANY other way, John would have no reason to pull away.

Why did Mary give Sherlock the 10000% worst advice in the world (seriously, who tf tells their “friend”, who is a DRUG ADDICT, “GO FUCK YOURSELF on drugs, and GO DIE on purpose” on the random ass off chance that John would find this out in time???)?

Why did Mary have a slip of paper to knock Sherlock out prepared ahead of time?

Why did Mary tell Sherlock and John that “A.G.R.A.” was her initials, when if they had just looked at the fucking drive they would see her real name?

Why was she SOOOOO worried that Sherlock and John would look at the drive, if all that was on there were A.G.R.A.’s identities???

Why did Mary shoot Sherlock directly in the chest point blank, which did kill him enough that the doctors GAVE UP, if she wasn’t trying to fucking kill him dead forever?

Why would Mary not recognize Vivian (or at least, her voice) if A.G.R.A. worked with her?

If Mycroft dealt with freelancers, why did he not know Mary wasn’t fucking MARY???

Why would Mary name her daughter after an alias that could get said daughter KILLED??? AND WE FUCKING KNOW THAT NAME WAS DANGEROUS, BECAUSE MARY LEFT IT BEHIND TO BECOME “MARY MORSTAN” YOU IDIOTS

What did John’s letter to Sherlock say? If is wasn’t going to be addressed, why the fuck would you put it in the episode??

Why did Molly deliver such a hard “John would rather have anyone but you. Anyone” message if it had NO POINT.

Where did the baby go when everyone the baby knew was at John’s “Therapist’s” office at the beginning of TLD? And don’t give me that “it was with friendS” crap, literally only Sherlock, Molly, and Mrs. Hudson went to that kid’s babyshower for fuck sake, John has no other friends.

If you can’t handle the placement of a baby for ONE EPISODE, don’t write one into your show FOR LITERALLY NO REASON.

What was Sherlock’s reoccurring dream that he was telling Ella? Why put that in if it wasn’t important?

If Mary isn’t bad, and therefore wasn’t working with “Faith” and Culverton to set Sherlock up to die (which would have been a perfect and interesting conspiracy), HOW did “Faith” and Culverton know Sherlock would be drugged up enough to fall into their trap??

WTF was the POINT of Eurus texting with John IF SHE WASNT WORKING WITH MARY to mess with Him and Sherlock? Literally ZERO point to the “plot”.

Also, we see that John and Eurus see eachother for a 2nd time at the bus stop. I thought it was important, even though y’all acted like all they did was text, BUT NOPE just another loose end.

TD-12 was absolutely useless, and you spent SO MUCH time on it. 

why did mary keep repeating villain lines (“Miss me?” multiple times, “Anyone!” multiple times in her video, literally fuck off)

If mary had time to jump 5 feet to take a bullet after its already been shot than sherlock had time to jump out of the way you idiots

also the irony of your holier-than-thou deduction sequence when Sherlock got shot, about how big spurts of dramatic blood only happens in movies? You literally fucked yourself.

zero point to Sherlock and John’s extended “ROMANTIC LOVE WILL COMPLETE YOUUUUU” scene on every level, went no where

speaking of that scene, how did Sherlock hear “Mary” say that he should wear the hat???? HUH>?

Mrs. Hudson WATCHED Mary’’s DVD with sherlock, why was she all “OH, wonder what this is, what could it be, WOW LOOK JOHN its your wife???” later with John and Mycroft WHEN SHE KNEW SHERLOCK WAS PROBABLY DYING

Also why would she just let John watch that cold, knowing Mary’s face would show up??

Why did you make Irene a lesbian if you were going to keep making her ride Sherlock’s dick via text message AGAIN.

I’m sure she would want to tell you this if she was here, so I’ll relay the message: LITERALLY GO FUCK YOURSELVES, YOU “SHERLOCK CAN TURN A LESBIAN WOMAN STRAIGHT, HES JUST THAT AMAZING, NO HOMO!!!” ASSHOLES

why was John still crying about his no homo bro being dead after two years, no offense to my best friend but I will think of you really fondly but probably not be going to therapy forever and being all “I literally am so heartbroken that i cant even say the things that i wanted to say to him when he was alive”

speaking of that thing that he couldn’t say out loud to Ella the Therapist: i guess he just really wanted to tell sherlock “No homo tho”, just to make sure he knew that before he died

speaking of things unsaid - I guess the serious thing that sherlock was going to say to john on the tarmac, that he chose not to say for absolutely no decernable reason, was “Bro, I’m gonna miss you, bro! We had some good bro times bro, NO HOMO!!1!” and then they do that back-slap hug that guys do so things don't get too homo

no offense to the prop department, but that light-up skull, that would be either lit or not lit or COMPLETELY BLACK, was bullshit

speaking of bullshit: kindly shove all of those elephants up your ass

including that Take-Out menu on Mycroft’s fridge. I hope you get a paper-cut that never heals.

i might as well have not even bothered taking notes on these episodes, when I could have literally never watched the show before, not cared at all, and been totally fulfilled by everything by not giving a shit about details and character arcs and, you know, literally all of ACD’s original works.

OMG SHERLOCK HAS A SISTER, I don’t fucking care.

AW POOR MARY, John and her were clearly soooo in love!! - says a person who thinks couples that don’t want to be together even a little are super romantic

literally he was trying to leave his marriage like a month after it started, literally go fuck yourself

Your show made less sense, in terms of emotion and character arcs, than Guy Ritchie’s cash grab movies. Yeah. I said it.

“Look at us both”. YEAH, LOOK AT YOURSELVES IN THE MIRROR.

oh wait i forgot, you don’t know what a mirror is. what is literature? what are emotions? idk, lets make mary gasp for breathe and say “you were my whole world!!!” to john even though that makes zero fucking sense for her character or their relationship at all and does huge disservice to them both LOL

Mary could have been the most Awesome Badass Mastermind EVER but you fucked her

An Emotional Arc: Its this thing where characters (who, like people) have emotions (CRAZZY i know), and they start in one place emotionally, and end somewhere new through the story! Lets see:

Sherlock: Starts as a suave, kinda swashbuckling guy who tries to tidy up his apartment for John, asks him to dinner, and basically blushes at John’s attention. In the middle: a bit of an asshole, but one who literally tries to die for John over and over, and literally COMES BACK TO LIFE from a FATAL gunshot bc his subconsious doesn’t want to leave John with Mary. End? “Sometimes I text Irene, just like you text your side-chick! No Homo For Life, RIGHT??? Don’t think about how every action I take is to keep you safe or happy, lol”

John: Starts as an emotionally repressed, suicidal, PTSD stricken loner who is immediately enamored with Sherlock’s brain, and literally kills a man like 1 day after they meet. Middle: A bit of an asshole who is horrible at understanding that Sherlock is NOT a robot without feelings - but an asshole who is willing to die for him, and with him, but who has major trust issues. End? “I wish I had REALLY cheated on Mary with Bus Girl, I can’t believe I missed my chance! Also, even though I’m reacting extremely jealously to you texting Irene, I think you should hit that! Now hold me while I cry, and then lets get cake while my baby cries on the floor like a Sim somewhere NO HOMEO”

I will never let you forget this.

Congrats actually, you HAVE made history! You’ve made a Historically Huge Fuck Up.

Your show’s depth is thinner than Donald Trump’s skin.

200+ adaptations of Sherlock Holmes, no courage present - oh, except for that one parody “Oklahomo” one (thanks for including Sherlock tweeting an “Oklahoma!” reference also! if I had balls, that would’ve been a kick to them!).

LOL Sherlock and John - literally so hilarious!! All those people whining “They’re Not GAY that gross, Doyle would be rolling in his grave if he found out people thought that!” and “NO! SHERLOCK IS AN EMOTIONLESS ROBOT except he can fuck irene I'm okay with that for some reason”? They were all right! What a fucking joke.

I guess “Could he daily feel a stab of hunger for you, and find nourishment at the very sight of you? Yes [he’s in love with you]. But do you ache for him?” meant nothing—OH WAIT that’s from a show that actually textually acknowledged the feelings of love between it’s two main characters. And they didn’t even say “No homo!” afterwards?? I can’t believe it.

don’t ever ask your audience to pay attention on a subtextual level again. clearly, you can’t handle it.

also: I honestly couldn’t give a shit about your endless and constant derision and annoyance with people asking about the relationship between the MAIN CHARACtTERS OF YOUR FUCKING SHOW get over yourselves, and i really hope somehow ACD comes back as a ghost to haunt you one christmas, just to tell you straightt to your stupid faces that you fucked up, and how sad he is that it will always be 1895 - because nothing ever changes, and they will be stuck there forever, out of time.

how dare you bring Oscar Wilde and Freddie Mercury into this mess.

Your intentions don’t matter - what matters is that I would have been better off not paying attention to literally ANY details, not caring one ounce about the characters, and just tuning in as a completely casual viewer. 

The real lesson was “Caring is not an advantage.”, and that is sad.

And the real Final Problem? “It’s not about the characters, its about some stupid ass dog and a stupid ass ‘Saw’ house, and who gives a shit about the rest.

Congratulations - I no longer care!

[dappercapricorn]

Summer Camp’s For Losers

Hiya @mellifluous-cicadas, I’m your secret valentine~ This was turning out longer than expected, but here’s the first part of the story for ya. Since you originally said you enjoy meme redraws and the like (which I could not provide due to being too ill and moving to put a good effort in), I tried to aim for a story of the more wacky and humorous type. I hope you enjoy~ I don’t know how far I’ll eventually take this (I’m enjoy the idea I got going), but the other parts will be posted here as they come (as I don’t have an AO3). On to the story~

“Let me get this straight. You want me to tag along with you on some far fetched road trip to search for cryptids that you want to try and videotape for your weird vlog?”

“That would be correct.”

“And you’re not sure how long this will take?”

“Nope.”

Lance hesitated, shuffling his weight from foot to foot. “I dunno Keith, I was supposed to start job searching since I decided not to jump right into college.” The other male standing in front of him on his porch looked up with a pout. “You know better than to pull those dog eyes on me.”

“Please! You’re always complaining about the lack of adventure in your life. Besides, I’m not going to college yet either and we have the whole summer ahead of us! This is the first real chance I have at proving these creatures are real other than the piss poor efforts of setting up night cameras in my yard I have.”

With a sigh, Lance relented and stepped back into his home to pack a bag. “You’re lucky I like you or I would’ve shut the door on you by now like a group of persistent Jehovah's Witnesses.” Despite these words, a soft smile spread across his face as he shook his head. Twenty minutes later, a large backpack in hand, Lance scrawled a quick note to his family to leave on the fridge before he walked out the door to join Keith in his car. “Oi, since when did Shiro let you drive his Mazda?”

Keith poked his head out of the driver’s window to look back at him. “What? He actually gave it to me for a grad present. Besides, Allura made him get one of those soccer mom vans.”

“Pfffft, oh man, really? That’s freaking hilarious.” Lance laughed as he hopped into the front seat. “So mister ‘I’d totally marry mothman’, do we even have a plan?”

“Nope! The three of us shall be hitting up whatever environment along the way that holds high potential for cryptid sightings before moving from there.” Pidge piped up from their spot. They were typing away at a laptop in the back seat behind Keith.

“Holy shit, were you always back there?” Lance jumped, hitting his head on the ceiling in the process. With a hiss he rubbed his head and glared back at them. “Hey, shouldn’t you be back at home? Don’t you have like, summer homework to do or some nerd camp to attend or something?”

“Hah, camp’s for losers and homework’s never been a problem.”

“Does your mother know where you’re going?” Lance looked over to Keith. “DOES SHIRO KNOW ABOUT THIS WILD PLAN OF YOURS?”

“What they don’t know won’t hurt ‘em.” Both chimed in unison as Keith started the car and pulled out onto the road to begin their journey out of town. Lance sweatdropped as he gave in and leaned back into his seat. He might as well get comfortable for the long ride ahead of them.

In the livingroom of Keith’s home, Shiro sat beside Allura on the couch. He scanned through the daily paper while she watched a documentary on space travel. “Do you know where Keith went off to? I saw him haul a duffle bag into his car and speed off down the road.” He asked, glancing up over the top of the paper.

“Hm?” Allura looked up from the television. “Oh yeah, he said Pidge was attending a summer long science camp of sorts and he was attending as a counselor for community service experience and to act as a sort of chaperone for them I guess.”

“Is that so? Hmm.” Shiro returned to reading an article about nearby UFO sightings and missing goats.

A mixed playlist of bands like My Chemical Romance and Green Day filled the car as Keith drove off towards the Eastern coast of the country. “Well, do you at least know what cryptids or specific habitats you wanna hit up or whatever?” Lance questioned a couple hours into their trip. “Don’t tell me we’re just driving until it’s either time to rest up or you spot something worth checking out.”

“Well...It’s kinda both?” Keith shrugged, keeping his eyes on the road.

“You see Lance, we have a general idea of what we’d like to showcase on our vlog. It’s kinda hard to get much when you live in a desert town, so that’s why we’re branching out, if you will. I guess we’ll be doing a loop through the country of sorts that will eventually lead back home. Our first group of sneaky critters are the ones found along the Eastern states, like Keith’s husbando mothman, the Jersey Devil, and big foot just to name a few. So we’ll be looking for forested areas for starters along with checking out the towns and cities that have more frequent sightings.”

“I see...Well that’s something I guess.” Lance rolled his eyes. Soon his stomach rumbled loud enough to be audible by others. He pointed out a sign for an upcoming rest stop. “Hey, unless you moth brains thought enough to pack a starting supply of food, we should stop to eat. Then probably stock up on stuff to keep us going for a while.”

Keith was hesitant, but Pidge agreed with Lance. “Shit, he’s right. We actually only have random bags of junk food stashed around the car. There is plenty of bottled water, but I don’t think any of us will be too happy trudging through the woods with only chips and twizzlers to fuel us.” With a sigh he pulled into the rest stop as soon as its exit sign popped up before them.

A light drizzle greeted them as they parked and stepped out of the car. “Hurry up guys before we get soaked! We can waste time after eating and buy some of our stuff here.” Lance called back as he used his jacket as a makeshift umbrella. The trio scurried into the building. Only a few other people were milling about at the time. “Ah, much better.” Lance shook out the water from his hair and readjusted his jacket. “Sooo, what do you guys wanna get? There aren’t too many restaurants to choose from.” He asked while eyeing the dismal variety at the food court.

“Let’s share a pizza I guess?”

“I’m not riding in the same car as you if you’re gonna ingest any sort of dairy.” Pidge side eyed Keith and shook their head. “Let’s just pick out our own things and find a table to gather at.” After agreeing upon one of the numerous empty tables to meet at, they each lined up at whatever place sounded appetizing. Pidge and Keith chatted about their favorite cryptids while Lance watched on while drinking his milkshake and shoveling fries into his mouth. Aside from the handful of disgruntled staff, no one was really around to pay them mind anyway.

The rain continued to fall after they’ve eaten. Wanting to stay dry a bit longer, they decided to hunt down what they could for supplies. Lance spotted a non branded general store of sorts that was similar to a CVS or Walgreen's. “This’ll have to do until we stumble across actual stores later on.” As the light storm continued, they took their time wandering each ilse and filling up the small plastic cart Lance pushed ahead of him. They stocked up on easy to eat/prep foods like bread, tab open cans of fruit, beans, and soup, jerky, peanut butter, granola bars, a couple packs of toilet paper, and some first aid supplies. Between Keith and Lance’s grad present money and Pidge’s stash from their tech repair side business, the three had more than enough to last through the trip. Well, they had hoped so at least. Keith had Shiro’s emergency credit card stowed away in case they ran out and could get home.

By time they began carrying their bags to the car, the rain died down to a light misting. Keith unlocked the car and opened the back hatch so they could store their supplies. As Lance set his load down he spotted a black plastic case secured to the floor. “Uh Keith, what’s in there?” He inquired out of curiosity.

“Oh, just my knife collection. I figured it might come in handy not only for general use, but hey, we may need to defend ourselves at some point.” Keith replied in a nonchalant tone while opening the case to show off his assortment of blades. “Do you want one to keep on your person?”

“Er, I’ll pass for now. Besides I do have a pocket knife on me. It’ll suffice until we get into the thick of things I suppose.”

“Whatever, suit yourself.” With a shrug Keith hopped back in and waited for the others before he began driving once more.

Pidge spoke up a couple minutes in after having skimmed over something on their computer. “Hey, since we still have a long distance between our current location and the group of creatures we want to investigate first, how about we check out something a bit closer beforehand? There’s the Honey Island swamp monster in Louisiana and then big foot’s stinky cousin, the skunk ape down in the Everglades of Florida. Do either of those sound good to you?”

Keith pondered this for a moment. “Nah, I’d rather not. Both are in swamplands and marshes that I really have no intentions of wading through. I’d also rather skip the croc infested Everglades and just head straight for the New England forests to look for bigfoot himself.”

“Well, I guess you have a point there.” Pidge nodded and looked back to their screen. “So, then where are we headed to first?”

“West Virginia to meet up with my boi mothman.” Keith grinned and pulled back onto the highway. Lance let out a groan and rolled his eyes. This was going to be a long summer.

With no other intended stops the group began the long drive to West Virginia. Lance and Keith took shifts driving and Pidge spewed out random trivia about either their current location or a random cryptid to keep things lively. As three am rolled around, they were all grumpy and tired. Not wanting to risk sleep deprived accidents, they stopped at a shady looking motel to sleep before hitting the road again at ten. Despite Lance’s worry they did not, in fact, get murdered in their sleep by some crazy hillbillies to be either eaten or sold to the black market.  By two they drove across the state border and Keith directed the car towards his intended location.

“Before we set up somewhere there’s someplace I wanna check out first.”

“What, a mothman exhibit or something?” Lance asked, eyes skimming over the passing scenery with a bored expression.

“Why yes, actually.” Pidge poked their head in between the seats. “We’re way too early for the festival as it’s held in September, but not only does Point Pleasant have the origin location and most sightings, there’s a museum dedicated to them.”

Lance dragged a hand down his face. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Well let’s go see this oddball museum I suppose. ‘Cause I can only assume we’ll be camping or something in the near future.”

After looking up the museum’s location via Google, Pidge directed them towards its location. As they pulled into an empty parking space, Lance’s phone buzzed with a call. Seeing as it was Hunk, he answered while they all exited the vehicle and walked towards the entrance. “Yo, this is Lance. What’s up buddy?”

“Oh thank God, you picked up on the first try. I was worried about you. Where are you? I heard Pidge and Keith are at a summer camp or something, but when I went to your house to hang out, you were nowhere to be seen. Your parents said you went on a road trip to tour colleges with Keith. Things just don’t add up, yo. This is all freakin fishy and I just wanted to at least make sure you were alright.”

“Well, uh you see Hunk...Keith pretty much dragged me along to travel the country in search of elusive creatures to potentially film with Pidge tagging along as well.”

“Wait, WHAT?”

“Don’t tell Shiro or my folks. Love ya. Bye.” Lance spewed out before hanging up and redirecting his attention to the building in front of him. Getting questioning looks from the others he just waved it off. “Oh that was just Hunk being a worry wort. Don’t pay him any mind.” With that he lead the way inside and to the admission desk. Once the tickets were acquired they set off to explore the small exhibit.

For such a small subject matter, there was enough content to occupy nearly three hours of their time. Although, they had to practically pry Keith from each section once it was time to move to the next. Lance was actually impressed. There were various sculptures of each rendition of mothman with a small plaque describing who first encountered it along with its origin location. A side room contained the museum’s collection of photographs along with footage playing on loops on the wall mounted televisions. It even had a gift shop and of course they just had to stop there before they left. Keith and Pidge both got t-shirts and pitched in to get one of the large plush versions to prop up in the empty back seat behind Lance.

Back on the road Keith steered the card towards the forested part of town. “So, our first actual stop will be the Ordnance Works, or more fondly known by locals as the ‘TNT area’ because of what was stored there. There are several concrete domes scattered about. Which is where they stored gunpowder or something? I dunno, but each one has a small clearing and I heard there’s even secret tunnels. Although most are sealed away or inaccessible due to water and other things.” Pidge debriefed them as they read off from the long set of notes stored on their computer.

“Don’t worry. We’ll just be setting up camp in one of the clearings with some cameras to monitor the area. After we get set up, we’re gonna do a little hiking in the surrounding woods with our handhelds to look for any evidence they live in the area or to capture any odd encounters we have before retiring to our tent for the night.” Keith spoke before Lance could protest. “Whether we find anything or not, we’ll also spend another night in the actual town just ‘staking out’ areas to see if we can experience any sightings there.”

“Sounds like a grand ol’ time. Hopefully we won’t have to put that knife collection of yours to use so soon into our trip.”

“It’ll be fine Lance.” Keith gave him a faint smile before turning onto a dirt road hidden among the tree line. “It’s supposedly a short drive from here. We’re gonna set up at one of the middle section ones so that we’re well into the forest, but not deep enough to wind up utterly lost.” He explained as they traveled further down the road. It only grew rougher and more narrow from there. Eventually Keith pulled over in a small alcove like clearing as the car could not travel any farther. Their destined camp site was well within walking distance anyway. “Come on guys, it’s a little after six and we’re losing daylight. We’ll have to hustle if we want to be done setting up in time to wander the area with some sorta light before having to switch to flashlights.”

Once parked they hopped out and grabbed their bags from the back. Lance carried the tent while Pidge followed behind with the other supplies in hand.  Keith led the way, various cameras stowed away in a few different bags. Six minutes later the path branched off and they headed left where it soon ended and opened up to a grassy clearing. Situated smack in the middle was a domed, concrete wall with a sealed off entrance.  “Here we go. Come on guys, let’s get the tent and cameras set up so we can head out. We have little time before the sun fully sets.” Pidge assisted Lance with the tent while Keith set up three cameras to post at even intervals around their campsite. They finished around seven. The sun was already well on its way below the horizon. Keith and Pidge each carried a handheld recorder while Lance brought along a large flashlight.

“So do ya have any specific plans, Keith?” Lance asked as he brought up the rear of their line with Pidge between them.

“We’ll walk out a short way from camp and wander the surrounding circumference of the area. We should be able to cover a decent amount of ground and still manage to find our way back. Pidge does have some high-tech GPS stuff on ‘em in case we run into trouble.”  Keith replied with a glance over his shoulder. “Now let’s start huntin’. Hopefully we don’t run into any security patrols or anything. I did hear they’ve turned this general area into a wildlife preserve or something of that nature.”

As they began, Keith turned his camera towards himself to address whatever small group of followers he had for his vlog. “Yo, Keith here and welcome to another episode of ‘Cryptid Catchers’. Today begins my summer long journey through the states in search of our beloved hidden creatures. I’m joined with my fellow fan Pidge and boyfriend Lance who willingly tagged along to help us out.” He stopped to pan over them before continuing. “We’re currently in the woodlands of Point Pleasant, West Virginia where the mothman legend began. More importantly, we’re actually hiking through the Ordinance Works area of the town where the very first sighting occurred. Before retiring for the night, we’ve set off to scout the nearby area for any signs of this elusive creature. Let’s see what we can uncover, folks.”

After the brief intro, Keith turned the camera forward once more and continued down their current path. Lance kept a watchful gaze of their surroundings, keeping an eye out for any security patrols, potential threats, or even any pair of illuminated eyes from the underbrush. He could only hope this went over well and that if there really was a mothman out there, they wouldn’t devour them for a late night snack.