#Black womenfolk warned you this will happen

[cyarsk52-20]

I guess that revenge vote against VP Harris, who has no power to help then yet, isn’t working out for them.

I guess that revenge vote against VP Harris, who had no power to help you yet, isn’t working out for you. Isreal now owns your land, and Netanyahu is going to let Trump and Jared build on your land. You dumb Muthafuquers, all these Palestine people are going to be killed because you wanted revenge. Cutting off your nose to spite your face!

[uzumaki-rebellion]

"Ice Cold Jax" Geechee!Erik Killmonger

Pairing: Geechee!Erik Killmonger x Black Female OC

Warning(s): 18+, Smut, Supernatural Horror, Period Piece, Erik Stevens AU, Black American Folktale.

Summary: Erik "Killmonger" Stevens is a Geechee wanderer and lover of big-legged women and good moonshine. On a trip to visit his favorite juke joint in 1940s Mississippi, he entertains a lover of sorts, Lulabelle, the juke joint owner and Madame of the nearby whorehouse. Erik battles two mythical creatures from Black American folklore, the Plat Eye and the Crossroads Man in order to save Lulabelle and her establishment. The tale is told from the perspective of a ghost who was once Lulabelle's best friend.

Word count: 5.5K

"The winter time is coming

And it's going to be slow

You can't make the weather baby

it's dry long so

You betta come on in my kitchen

because it's going to be Raining outdoors..."

Cassandra Wilson – "Come on in my Kitchen" (Written by Robert Johnson)

There were two things Lulabelle Humphreys knew how to sell in Itta Bena Mississippi and that was moonshine and other people's pussy.

She did that very well until one night of the Harvest moon when cotton would soon be harvested by the local sharecroppers and itinerant Mexican men who traveled through the delta region looking for work like every other Negro or poor white trash far and wide. On that night under a sweltering heat full of drunk patrons and her smooth-talking whores inside her juke joint with the "special ladies" house attached by a rickety bridge that crossed over a tiny creek full of frogs and singing crickets, Lulabelle witnessed the showdown of all showdowns between the Plat Eye and the Crossroads Man, shonuff, right inside her little rambling hot music-havin' and ice-cold beer havin' establishment.

And if it hadn't been for that slow walking city-to-city wandering Geechee man with the gold teeth, slick smile, and flashy suit standing by her with the smarts of his low country kin back in South Carolina, why Lulabelle might've lost everything that night like she lost me so many years ago when that Plat Eye stole me away when we was teenaged girls in these backwoods. But thank the Lord up above for Erik Stevens ramblin' through with that shiny switchblade, and his Gullah ways, cuz shonuff, that was a night to remember and I'm gonna tell it exactly how it happened from top to bottom and all the sides in between. I ain't been dead long enough or forgotten long enough to not tell it all...

"Mavis, how much lavender water is left in there?"

Lulabelle shouted into the open door that led to one of the "loving" rooms inside her special house.

"There's one bottle left," Ruth called out.

The young woman was nothing but string bean arms and toothpick legs, however, she was a favorite among the darker-skinned Black sharecroppers who admired her fair skin and limp shiny black hair. Even the high yella gals envied what Ruth could pull in because the men were willing to part with more money to fuck what was as close to a white woman as they would get.

Lulabelle knew clearly what a fetish was, so she used Ruth for the high income, but she also had Mavis, a crystal Black pearl with a dark hue so deep that negro soldiers from the military base lined up for hours waiting to part her dusky thighs to taste the sticky sweets within. There was someone for everybody at the house. Big women. Little scrawny women. Big Bodacious titties and itty-bitty mosquito bites. For the richly endowed there was Starla with a pussy so fat and deep that blues ballads were written for her. For the poorly imbued, there was Tweety Pie, a tiny woman with a small tight snatch that rivaled Starla in particular-sized fans.

For the men who didn't fawn over the womenfolk, there was Honey Boy, a twenty-something pretty little thing with bow lips, high cheekbones, and a fat ass that posed as a houseboy who brought fresh after-sex towels, water for the whore baths, and rubbers for the men who forgot to prepare for penetration. Honey Boy could dress like a pretty woman and serve clients fat wood if that was to a patron's liking. Lulabelle was surprised at how popular he was becoming on the low low, especially from the men in the military. Men with men had always been a reality, but Honey Boy was multidimensional. He could turn into a Butch boy from a chain gang, to a bullying Army sergeant to dominate and spread male ass cheeks that needed fat balls against balls. Or he could be a dainty femme movie star in a bra and heels with his hard dick swinging. Lulabelle kept a ready supply of costumes for him, more than the women. All the ladies needed were pretty underwear, strong garter belts, and lipstick. She kept quiet that she paid Honey Boy more than anyone else.

The second world war was putting money in her pockets. 1942 was a profitable war year for Lulabelle. Her pocketbook was fat with cash, and she could now afford real jewelry instead of the cheap costume fare she sported the last three years. She could even maintain a steady hot comb appointment at Mamie's Wash and Curl uptown. Her latest favorite style was imitating Joan Crawford's immaculate curls that she saw in the talkies at the Bijou theater. When she really wanted to look glamorous, she would have Mamie swoop up her thick hair on top of her head with a pinned curl on the front and an under curl in the back. The rich white women she saw in the new color catalogues wore their hair like that.

She wore her hair like that for that evening. It was a special night. The Harvest Moon was going up, and the men would be arriving in droves to drink, dance, and fuck.

He was coming too.

The Gullah man. That sly Geechie with the gold teeth.

Erik Stevens.

His arrival always coincided with some new moon every few months. She'd dress up extra special when she thought he was coming through. Her pussy was already twitching thinking about him.

"I'll have Honey Boy get you a fresh bottle," Lulabelle said patting the back of her hair.

It was hot already, and she worried that her hair wouldn't maintain until Erik saw it. Ruth stepped out of the room. The yellow silk camisole Lulabelle bought for her came to her thighs and had enough lace in the front to cover the baby bulge that was threatening to peek out. The girl got knocked up and none of the home remedies the cook Eva concocted worked in knocking the unwanted pregnancy out. Ruth could probably hide the truth for another month or so, but eventually she would have to go on convalescence and Lulabelle would have to rely on the other women to please the Ruth fans until the woman returned or left for a new life in the North. Until then, Ruth was about making her money and camouflaging the bump.

"Can you tell?" she asked.

Lulabelle squinted.

"These men will be too drunk to notice. Keep the garment on and don't worry about it."

Lulabelle checked in on the other ladies and all was well. Seven rooms, seven whores, seven sources of revenue on top of the juke joint next door. She peeked in on one of the mirrors inside a room and felt satisfied. Her beige dress hugged the curves of her big wide hips and large backside. Her heels made her short body have a little height. She needed a little more powder for her round nose, and the grease pencil she used for her eyes held the dark wings she gave herself.

"Eat your heart out, Joan," she muttered to herself.

She crossed the little wooden bridge that led to the juke joint making sure her crème bow top summer pumps didn't get dirty. Her name was painted in fading blue letters above the entrance. By Christmas she hoped to get a fancy electric sign that sparkled "Lula's". Honey Boy swept the porch entry and she could smell the grease being heated on the kitchen stove inside by Eva. There'd be fried chicken, black-eyed peas, collards with ham hocks, and plenty of buttermilk cornbread to sell with the ice cold Jax beer and corn liquor.

Her eyes scanned the lowering sun over the canopy of Tupelo trees. A loud shriek startled her and made Honey Boy stop sweeping.

"What was that?" Honey Boy asked.

His pressed hair was slicked back, and his copper brown skin was moist with sweat from the oppressive heat.

Lulabelle clutched at her chest. The sound came from deep in the woods. The darkness there shrouded any mysteries that lived within it.

"Sounded like something caught," she said.

The hairs on the back of her neck rose.

A memory.

Being a young teen girl with...

No. Don't think of her. That was the past.

Lulabelle pushed down on the terror in her throat and hid her shaking fingers in front of her dress.

"Probably some unlucky racoon ran across Old Man Rickers trap," she said.

"Yeah, you prolly right, Lulabelle. The man been hunting out there this week."

She heard the doubt in his tremulous voice. The lie hung in the air like dark sap on a dying tree between them.

"That sounded like death is on his way," Eva said.

The older plump woman opened the screen door of the juke joint while wiping down a plate.

"Don't say that, Eva. It's just an old coon, or a slow wild pig—"

The shriek pierced the air again.

"Lord have mercy," Eva said.

The older woman cradled the cheap gold-plated crucifix around her neck.

Rifle shots sounded in the distance and Lulabelle jumped, then smiled.

"See? Just some hunters putting some fresh meat down. Let's get ready for tonight, y'all."

Not one of them moved from the porch until Archie started tinkling on the piano keys inside the juke.

Pussy poppin' in the whorehouse, music jumping, bodies swaying, lips sucking down moonshine and dark beer, Lula's juke shook on its foundations. Dollar bills came in hand over fist as Lulabelle strolled around the property checking in with customers and hustling Eva to fry up more chicken plates. She rounded the corner of the makeshift stage shaking her hips to the hot sounds when her eyes slid to the entrance and saw Geechie Erik swagger in. Double-breasted gray suit with shiny silver buttons and matching cufflinks. Steel-blue silk tie, and black and gray woven Oxford shoes had the Geechie man draped. Lulabelle already knew he smelled like a million bucks even though she was standing nowhere near him. Erik took off his black fedora hat. He had kicked up the waves on his close-cropped hair, and his lightly bearded cheeks gave him a pronounced sophistication compared to all the clean-shaven military men taking up most of the space in the joint.

His eyes scanned the wide room and when they fell on her, her heart sang a minuet in his honor just to see those dimples in his cheeks. He strode toward her with long confident strides and when he circled his arm around her waist, she shivered at his touch.

"Lulabelle, Lulabelle. You get prettier every time I see you."

He gave her a wet sloppy kiss on her cheek, and she swooned. His scent was expensive leather, imported cologne, and Murray's hair pomade.

"Lemme get you a drink, Daddy," she purred.

"No, let me get you a drink. Stay right here."

He sauntered over to the big counter and within minutes he brought her back a small glass of whiskey to match his own. They toasted, tossed the liquor back, and he led her to an open table in the low-lit corner as bodies pressed together dancing around them. His thick lips were on her neck before she could gaze into his eyes, and his thicker fingers were already under her dress creeping over a seamed stocking, her garter belt, and the bottom of her girdlette. He inched closer to her core.

"Goodness gracious, you already hot down here," he whispered in her ear.

His finger swiped across Lulabelle's panties bringing her clit to life.

"Oh... there it is... my jewel," he crooned before he slid the garment aside and fingered her slit.

Erik had her sopping wet by the time the band switched tunes. Two of his warm fingers pumped in and out of her pussy, making her pant and writhe on her seat next to him.

"You gon' sweat my hair out already!" she yelped reaching for the back of her neck.

Erik flipped his digits over palm-side up and finger fucked her until a puddle of creamy juices flowed out onto her chair. Once her legs shook and she squirmed uncontrollably, he bolted up from his seat and grabbed her hand. His dick jutted out from his pants and he dragged through the side door that led to the wooden bridge and the loving house.

"Get the fuck out," he told a patron having his dick sucked in the first room they came to.

Tweety Pie was on her knees, her bright red lips puckered around a small light brown penis. Her eyes grew wide when she saw Erik and the rigid length straining against his zipper.

Erik whipped out his switchblade and flicked it open.

"Out!" he barked.

Tweety Pie scrambled from her knees and pulled her customer by his hand with his trousers dragging around his ankles to another room. Erik slammed the door shut on the gawking eyes of the other whores and pushed Lulabelle against a mahogany cabinet that held lingerie.

"Turn around."

The snarl in his voice made her spin and toot her big ass out toward him. He dragged the cool blade up against the bottom of her stockings until it dipped just under the hem of her dress. He yanked her dress up around her chest and the sharp blade skimmed across her black satin-covered ass cheek. With just a little more pressure he could break the skin on her fat rump through the material and make her bleed. Erik jerked the blade and sliced her panties off. She gasped and clutched at the smooth wood of the cabinet for balance. She heard his zipper peel down slowly and felt his hands fumble for a rubber.

"You miss Daddy?"

"Yes!"

He parted her folds before she could catch her breath. The fullness stretching her out made her shout his name and grit her teeth. Pumping into her slowly at first, he teased the hell out of her by pushing in deep, then pulling all the way out so that her pussy lips throbbed needing his dick back inside of her.

"I missed this pussy... so much... taking me so deep!"

His switchblade rested on the middle of her naked spine and tickled her skin purposely.

"Take this dress off!"

He helped her wiggle her arms out of it before unfastening her bra with his hands. Cradling her heavy breasts, he made her cheeks clap as his weapon clattered to the floor. His full concentration was on pleasing her body. Rough wide palms spread her ass cheeks wide as he grunted and pushed down on his thighs to hunch over her.

"Lula, shit... Lula..."

Erik gripped her hips and slammed into her before pulling out and lifting her up. He tossed Lula on the soft lumpy bed, undressed, and plunged back into her. The gold in his mouth glinted above her as he thrust harder and faster knocking the breath out of her body.

Her garter belts bunched up then stretched with her girdlette when he pushed her thighs back.

"Big legged girl... mmmm," he groaned.

He shoved his head down to her folds and sucked on her lower lips before spitting on them and sinking his girth back inside her walls.

"Daddy hittin' that bottom yet?"

"You in there... real deep, Daddy."

"Lemme get deeper..."

Her ankles met her earlobes and the heavy pressure from his dick made her cock-eyed a spilling gibberish from her mouth.

"Oh, Jesus!" she yelped when his fists rested on her sides and he bucked into her, slapping his balls against her ass.

Before he could press his mouth into her swollen pussy again to glisten his face, she clenched up around his dick and squeezed it with rhythmic pulses she had no control over.

"That's a good girl... let that pussy talk to Daddy's dick, Lula."

His eyes watched her contractions yank on his length, and when he finished talking her through her release with high praises and slow wet kisses, he pulled off the rubber and stroked himself against her clit. The silky curls of her pubic hairs were wet with her creamy orgasm and became even wetter when Erik splashed hot cum all over her vulva. His shouts of pleasure filled her with quiet confidence.

"That's it Daddy, cum all over your fat pussy."

He hissed when she said that, and his heated glare encouraged more of his release. A thick rope of semen painted her stomach, and he collapsed on top of her with hard ragged gasps.

"God, I wish I could be in this pussy every day, Lula."

"You could," she said stroking the waves on his hair.

He rolled over onto his back and stared at the ceiling with her.

"Not with the work I do. I try my best to get here when I can. But shit, baby. If I didn't get this pussy for free, I would pay a fortune for it."

She rolled on her side to look at him, happy that he thought of her like that. His eyes were still on the ceiling, but there was a frown on his face.

"She's in the room, y'know. Up there hiding in the corner."

"Don't say that, Erik. You know it scares me."

"If you did what I told you to do, she'd go away."

"As long as she don't start no foolishness around here, I can live with a ghost."

"Can you? Then how come you're scared?"

"She was my friend. I know she blames me for getting away and not her."

"A good coating of haint blue all around the doors would keep her out..."

"I can't. I can't do that to her. If she's just lingering as a ghost, it makes me feel like she can live a little."

"If you say so."

"Let's not talk about her."

His eyes were still focused on the ceiling, looking at Elizabeth, her childhood friend from so long ago. She couldn't see the dead teenager at all.

"She mad?" Lulabelle asked.

"She loves you. It's why she stays around... floating from room to room... following you."

Lulabelle pulled his chin toward her.

"Don't look. Please."

Erik slipped his tongue in her mouth. A knock at the door interrupted them.

"Lulabelle, sorry to disturb you and your Mister, but I need this room," Tweety Pie squeaked out.

"Give me a minute."

Lulabelle peeled the rubber from Erik's dick and tossed it inside some tissue and chucked it out of the window into a well-placed bucket outside.

"You ruined my panties," she scolded as she jumped up to rinse her privates and stomach in lavender water at a large basin sitting on a maple console table.

She dried her folds and fixed her bra back around her breasts.

"Don't need 'em, I'll be back inside of you soon enough," he said.

Pulling her dress back on, Lulabelle tried to fix her hair and make-up in a mirror.

"You look fine," he said zipping his pants.

Erik picked up his switchblade and opened the door.

Tweety Pie had a new man with her, a handsome young soldier with lust in his eyes.

"Pardon us," Erik said as he guided Lulabelle back to the juke joint.

Lulabelle sat on Erik's lap as he joked with some patrons and slammed back shots of moonshine. She fed him cornbread and pieces of chicken bites with her fingers, and occasionally she would bounce on his hardness that rested against her backside. He tortured her clit with occasional strokes under her dress, but he wouldn't let her cum. That would happen later when he was ready to plunder her pussy once more. Tradition held that he would fuck her at least four more times before he disappeared until the next new moon in the future. She sat on that hard meat all hot and bothered knowing he was going to be cruel by plucking at her bud and sticking his tongue in her ear all night. She watched him dance with a few women and flirt while she checked on her women out back and collected her money, stuffing it in her bra.

Erik was a little too handsy with a couple of fancy ladies and she had to check him. He'd become contentious then, argued with her until she argued him down threatening to cut his balls off if he cheated on her. If she pushed him, just a little too hard, his neck would move in a hostile way that put her in her place and made her drip down her thighs. He liked her mouthy and jealous, but not too jealous if he caught her rubbing her ass against some other patron to provoke him. He'd spank her hard and tell her about herself until she stopped being bratty and soothed his ego. That was his way every time he came to the juke. Arrogant. Loud. Threatening other men who got too close to her, then all seductive when he needed her loving once more.

When no one was looking, Erik unzipped his pants, pulled out his dick and slid her on top of it raw at their private table. Her dress covered the action, and he lifted her up and down.

"You bet not cum," he ordered with harsh breath.

"I won't, I promise," she insisted with clenched teeth.

She was snug on his dick, and the friction was too much to bear. She clutched onto his knees and leaned forward, dropping her weight on his thighs. The rhythm was perfect until a slender man as tall as a Tupelo crept over to their table and sat down. He didn't seem concerned that he was witnessing a woman getting fucked within an inch of her life in the midst of her own rowdy and lascivious establishment.

The man's face was long, and he had long teeth... and long fingers... and long legs... and a long tongue that lolled around in his mouth. He had skin the color of a soft sunset and one big eye in the center of his face. The music and dancing slowed all around her, and all she could see and hear was the long man with his long deep breaths.

"Lulabelle... Lulabelle..." the slender man said, and the voice that spoke her namesake was not pleasant and inviting like Erik's. It was sinister. Conniving. Filthy to her ears.

Erik thrust up into her walls, and she gasped. The slender man smiled with his long teeth, and his one big black eye blinked and Lulabelle fell forward and down into a vortex of hideous darkness until she landed on soft grass in front of the crossroads that led into the dark woods near her juke joint.

"Lulabelle, hurry up! If we don't go now, we'll chicken out!"

Elizabeth ran ahead of her. Dear sweet Elizabeth, eighteen and glowing with a gorgeous figure and good hair, and the good sense to know that Itta Bena was to be left behind. They were going to New York to become showgirls in Harlem, leaving all that country backwoods shit living behind. No sharecropping or cleaning after white folks for them. They were young. Beautiful. Full of life and ready to see the world. That meant crossing through the woods at the old dusty crossroad just as the sun was setting. The last train outta town was due in an hour. Going through the woods was the fastest route to a new life.

But then the slender man came. The Plat Eye. The Haint that haunted the trees and lingered in the darkness deep inside the woods.

Lulabelle, full of eighteen-year-old spunk, dropped her heavy suitcase and pulled Elizabeth back with a hard tug on her arm.

"Dontcha see him, girl?" Lulabelle shouted.

"Oh, he's just another traveler headed outta here too, pick up your suitcase-"

"It's the Plat Eye. You don't see its face. The one eye? The long teeth?"

"You so silly girl! Look at him... just a man tryna run like us."

"No!"

Elizabeth dropped her suitcase and stood with arms all akimbo.

"If you don't wanna go, then say that, Lulabelle."

"You don't see that monster right there?!" she shrieked, and it startled Elizabeth.

The Plat Eye smirked.

"Fine, stay here then you big baby. Hey, Mister, wait up!"

"Elizabeth!"

An arm grabbed Lulabelle's elbow stopping her from running after her friend.

"Don't move, gal."

The voice didn't have Mississippi in it. It was low country and slower than cold molasses. South Carolina lived in it.

"She done made her choice and if you move one inch, I can't protect you."

Lulabelle didn't turn to look at the stranger. His words were wise, and she did as she was told.

"Elizabeth! Come back!"

"It's too late, Lulabelle."

"How you know my name?"

"I've seen you 'round here before with your friend."

She tried to turn around, but firm hands held her shoulders in place.

"Don't hurt me, Mister."

"Nah, I wouldn't do nothin' like that."

The Plat Eye grew taller almost reaching the height of the nearest tree.

"She can't see what it is?"

"She see what she wanna see."

The thing that was as tall as a Tupelo bent down and opened its tall mouth and Elizabeth stepped into the dark maw...

Lulabelle gasped and her thighs sensed the strong muscles of Erik's legs holding her up once more. He fucked her still, hitting her walls harder. His hands gripped her breasts as he grunted and rolled her nipples with agile fingers. The slender man of her past smiled, his greasy lips splitting wide as he was long. That single eye a tainted monstrosity to behold on its face.

The juke joint partied on, and men filed out through the side door to pay their money for an extra good time with her girls. The Plat Eye reached out for Lulabelle's arm and Erik slammed his switchblade down on the table.

"Nah, haint. This one here belongs to me."

The Plat Eye blinked that Cyclops eye in shock and its mouth fell open.

"Should've known you'd be around here," The Plat Eye grumbled sitting back in his chair.

A clammy wetness dampened Lulabelle's neck. Memory boomeranged back into her chest. The low country voice. The strong hands that held her waist so that he could rut into her pussy.

Lulabelle turned her head and the glint from Erik's gold teeth became a glowing source of ethereal light. The full lips and bright white teeth still looked human but the reverb of hidden power sat under the guttural rasp of his voice.

The man from the Crossroads.

The one who stopped her from entering the throat of the Plat Eye and turning into a floating haint that lived in the ceiling like Elizabeth.

The Geechee Man.

"Ya don't play fair," The Plat Eye grumbled again.

"And?" Erik said.

Erik's firm hands skated up her sides and rested on her shoulders. Lulabelle's pussy squelched on his dick all rude and loud. Plat Eye licked his fleshy lips.

"This here the one I wanted. Not that other one—"

Lulabelle snatched up Erik's switchblade and jumped up from his lap. Her pussy throbbed from being removed from his erection. She held the open switchblade against his throat. Why couldn't anyone else in her juke joint see or hear what was happening?

She knew the stories. All kinds of frightening things could be met at a crossroads. And if the Crossroads Man himself showed up—

"Put that down, Lula. It's not a toy to be played with," Erik said zipping up his pants.

The Plat Eye leaned forward and shot his arm out to grab her, but Erik was quicker. He snatched the switchblade back faster from her grip than she could blink, and he slashed the creature's arm. Black festering ooze seeped from the wound and sizzled as it splashed on the table burning holes through the wood.

"Give her to me," the Plat Eye demanded.

Erik stood up and straightened his tie.

"Nigga you ain't getting shit but an ass kicking if you keep playing with me. I told you already. This one is mine. Get on about yourself before I send you on your way to a very bad place."

"There are rules!"

The Plat Eye leapt to his feet and towered over Erik. Not by much though.

"I make the rules," Erik said.

An arrogant chuckle tumbled out of the Plat Eye's mouth. He gripped the lapels of his suit and blinked that one beastly eye. His open wound continued to drip ruining her good table.

"My man," The Plat Eye said and held up his long fingers to placate Erik.

The creature slid out from the juke joint with no one the wiser. Erik turned to face her and Lulabelle jumped away from him.

"Stay back!"

"Lula... c'mon, baby. I've been coming to you ever since you opened this place. Have I ever harmed you once?"

"No."

"I just give you good lovin' when I can."

"That's why you can't be with me all the time?"

He nodded.

"I guard the way, and I open it up. Everywhere."

Lulabelle ran to the bar and made Eva pour her the biggest glass of moonshine possible. She gulped it down. Erik sauntered over to her.

"Don't be scared of me, Lula."

"What are you... really?"

"Your man."

"You ain't no man."

"I'm no demon if that's what you're worried about."

"God forbid if I'd been fucking the devil."

"I'm no devil, girl. Far from it."

He stroked her face.

"Let's go to the back. I need you... right now."

His voice made her insides tingle. This was their time. But how could she go back and make love to... to a what? Spirit? Guardian angel? Supernatural being?

He never did hurt her. And never once did she suspect that he wasn't anything other than a switchblade carrying Geechie that made her backbone slip.

"Are there others?" she asked, "Others like you around here?"

"Always. But you don't have to worry about nothin'. You got me. No one fucks with me.'

"How come you didn't save Elizabeth?"

"She didn't want to be saved."

"But I loved her. She was my best friend. Why would she leave me?"

"She's still here. She'll never leave until you chase her on."

"Is she happy?"

"Like I told you, she loves you. If you're happy, she's happy."

"God won't punish me for being with you, will he?"

"She won't. I promise."

"What about me selling pussy and a little dick?"

"Not even on her mind."

Lulabelle smiled.

Erik slinked over to her and rubbed his big body against hers and nudged his bearded face against her soft cheek.

"How many women have you seduced over the years?"

"You my favorite."

"That didn't answer my question.," she said putting a hand on her hip.

"You wanna argue or get some more dick, gal?"

Lulabelle checked the room. Her patrons were happy and not having a care in the world. Eva cooked more food, Honey Boy kept the girls refreshed in their loving rooms, and the Harvest moon spilled in through the window behind the juke band.

Moonlight bathed Erik's face and he slid his hand under her dress again.

"Daddy needs to take care of you... oh see now, my sweet jewel is all plump again."

He removed his hand and licked his fingers sticky with her essence. She rubbed on his crotch and he gifted her with a hard bulge. His eyes drifted up to the ceiling.

"Elizabeth wants you to get all this," he said grinding against her.

"Can you tell her that I miss her? That I love her?"

"She already knows."

Erik lifted her up and carried her across the rickety bridge and back to the soft lumpy bed.

That's their story, and I ain't tellin' it twice. Lula and her Geechee Man played nice for a long, long time. I keep watch and makes sure that stays true. Until we meet again on the next new moon...

Part 2 "There's Some Whores in This House" HERE.

A.N:

This was a birthday story I wrote for @soufcakmistress back in 2021.

[plagueriddenchild]

William James Alexander McDonald III (lore)

(fyi anything in parentheses is ooc)

about me!

my bestest friend is benedict, who happens to be a snail whom i torture relentlessly

i have typhoid flu and quite possibly the black plague but that is none of your concern

i torture animals and the butler for fun

my dad was in the Crimean War

the industrial revolution is a real war

i am sadistic simply because it is the only hobby i have

my parents are motha and fazah

bedtime=slumber

the doctors have said that my issues are caused by extreme exposure to gopher poison and possibly fentanyl

for legal reasons i do not have any issues (if he had issues back then he would’ve been sent to an institution or some shit)

my mom doesn’t allow me to come into contact with other menfolk. or womenfolk. or anyone.

they keep me confined to 28 square feet because i’m contagious. what about me is contagious, you ask? nobody fuckin knows

poor, frail, sickly, dirty

i like REALLY hate the butler for some reason

my dads name is Richard

i’m adopted

i have beans and toast for “brecky” (breakfast) every day

loves bread

also steals said bread from the fucking birds or rats or some shit

i’m like a feral little animal

loves the dentist because i get to pry the teeth out of my patients (he has never been to the dentist)

i also despise my cat and torture it constantly 

cowboys kill cows

lawyers are cannibals

my favorite method of torture is shoving rocks down peoples throats

not fond of emotions

knows nothing about mental or physical health

literally hunts down bugs and small animals so that i can take them to my laboratory (the cellar) and perform experiments (torture)

does not like royalty

only homosexual i knew was a man lying in the street covered in blood during the industrial revolution 

toxic masculinity at its finest (hes literally seven)

my father is my hero (his dad hasn’t cried in 50 years)

“if you cannot kill them with kindness, kill them.” -Richard McDonald

my dearest dead friend johnathan was impaled by a rusty nail holding a drawing of a sixpence 😔💔

i do not understand slang, please do not use it without informing me

i have never done arts and crafts :(

(WARNING: he can and WILL boil your kneecaps by candlelight!!! he is related to Monty Navarro somehow! sadistic British boys!)

[chrissys2boys-dannysteve]

Summary:

Sheriff  Steven J. McGarrett appreciates the quiet life he lives in the sleepy town of Silverton where the hustle and bustle of city has not yet been able to take root. Although he is content in his job which is made easier by the fact that the crime accompanying big cities has not made its way to his little town, Steve wishes for something more, specifically the attentions of his handsome Deputy Daniel Williams.

However, Steve is not a man without secrets, and with the terrible deeds of his past weighing on him and haunting him at every turn, sharing the intimate details of his life with Danny seems near impossible. But, when his secret is revealed and Danny accepts him despite the gravity of his misdeeds, Steve finds himself giving in to his desires. 

Previously

Chapter Two

A few days later Steve was sitting at his desk again, very deliberately not going over his stack of reports one more time, because Danny was sitting across the room at his own desk. The Sheriff knew that his Deputy was just waiting for him to touch the folder so Danny could mock him. Steve shot a glare at him, even though he’d been only thinking about Danny’s teasing, and the Deputy just raised an eyebrow at him, then grinned.

Danny was leaning back with his feet propped up on the desk, hat tilted forward almost enough to cover his face for a nap. At the moment he was still peering over at Steve, though, even if the Sheriff didn’t have a clue why his Deputy would be staring at him. Steve didn’t have a chance to ask, however, as the door banged open and Augustus Black, the blacksmith, poked his head in. “Hey, Sheriff, you better come down to the saloon.”

The Sheriff was already on his feet, grabbing his hat, before Augustus had finished his sentence. His Deputy was on his feet as well, and they both followed the blacksmith out. “What’s happened?” Steve asked him as his feet hit the front porch. He didn’t hear any signs of a fight with noise. The saloon was only halfway down the street from the Sheriff’s office and it wasn’t unreasonable to think a disturbance could be heard from there. 

Augustus shook his head, looking mildly grim. “Vaughn’s brothers.”

“Damn. They’re in town?” Steve begann walking a little faster. His hand drifted to the butt of his revolver and he tapped it once to reassure himself. He glanced over and saw the serious expression on Danny’s face, and gave his Deputy a short nod.

“Saw ’em myself,” Augustus said, pointing towards the saloon. “Sitting all around a table, pretty as you please. Didn’t know if Vaughn knew they were coming or not, but Kamekona, the saloon owner, already got his shotgun out and I saw his partner Jerry headed down the street to let the womenfolk know to keep their little ones inside.”

“Maybe we can resolve this peacefully,” Steve said, though he didn’t have much faith in his words. The notion of the Hesse brothers doing anything peacefully was flatly ridiculous. He began walking a little faster and was glad to see Danny hurrying to keep pace with him.

When the Sheriff stepped in the saloon, Danny was right at his heels. Steve walked forward just enough to let his eyesight adjust to the slightly dimmer room. It didn’t take long to see - and less time to hear where the Hesse brothers were seated. He walked up to the table, gave Vaughn a fierce look for once again not warning anybody, which the other man hardly seemed to notice. “Sheriff!” Vaughn greeted him loudly, waving his hand. On the table a bottle of whiskey, already half-empty. 

Steve gave the other occupants of the table a harder glare, not happy to see that all three of Vaughn’s brothers had made the trip. “I think you all had better leave,” he said, cutting right to the point.

Victor Hesse scowled at him from where he was sprawled back in his chair. “We just got here, Sheriff. We’ve barely been sitting down for ten minutes.”

Steve didn’t have any desire to deal with the Hesse brothers. He kept his voice even, looking Victor right in the eye. “I mean it, I want you three out of here.”

Victor leaned back in his chair, looking at the Sheriff, the very picture of hurt innocence. “We haven’t seen Vaughn in months, Sheriff. And we just got here. Surely you wouldn’t just run us out of town-”

Steve snapped, “The last time you three visited Vaughn, three houses caught on fire. At the same time.” 

Victor just blinked at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Sheriff.”

“Besides, they didn’t really catch fire,” Anton put in. “They just… burned, a little. On the outside.”

The Sheriff rested his hand on his gun, and looked at Victor. “I want you guys out. You can take Vaughn with you, and return him after you’d had your fun someplace else. But not in Silverton. Not anywhere near Silverton - hell, out of Colorado. You don’t even have to return him in one piece,” Steve offered.

“Hey!” Vaughn objected. Steve ignored him, still meeting Victor’s eyes, holding his gaze as steady and determined as if they’d been out of doors, both their hands ready to drop to their pistols.

Anton shook his head. “Wow. Victor, I think he means it this time.”

“I mean it every time,” Steve said.

Across the table, Victor shook his head. “Look, Sheriff, what if we just promise to behave?”

There was a laugh from Danny, and Steve wanted to smile. “No. We don’t trust you, and I don’t think you actually expect us to. Go, take Vaughn with you. Head over to another state. Hell, if it helps, I’ll give you some money to pay for your drinks while you’re there.”

“You’re bribing us to get out of town?” Victor said, and he looked caught between shock and laughing out loud.

“Do you want me to run you out at gunpoint?” Steve asked, reasonably. His fingers twitched on the butt of his revolver, and for a moment he could see himself drawing it. As if of their own volition, his eyes went to a spot on Victor’s chest, right above his heart. At this range there would be no missing.

Steve forced his gaze back up to Victor’s face and found the man watching him with a serious expression. “All right, Sheriff,” Victor said, and his brothers looked at him with as much surprise as Steve felt. Victor looked over at Vaughn. “We should head down home, anyhow.” He gave the Sheriff a wink. “We were only gonna stay for a couple of days, hardly any time at all to cause trouble.”

From over Steve’s shoulder, Danny said, “You usually only need couple of hours.” He’d stepped forward, nearly pressing into Steve’s back as he loomed over the Sheriff’s shoulder. Steve had to fight down a wholly inappropriate shiver.

“Yeah, right.” Vaughn agreed. “So, we’re going back to the ranch, now. Can I pack a bag,” he asked the Sheriff. “Or are we running out of town with you on our heels?”

Steve opened his mouth to say he could pack a bag, but what came out was, “Running. I’ll count to ten then I start firing.”

“Come on, Vaughn, you can borrow a pair of my underwear,” Anton said sweetly, while Vaughn just gaped at the Sheriff.

“Nine, eight,” Steve said.  “Seven.”

“All right.” Victor said, getting to his feet. He dropped a few coins on the table and grabbed the bottle of whiskey. 

Anton gave Steve a nod and a tip of the hat, getting to his feet as well - while Andrew just pushed past them all, not even looking back to see if his brothers were following. Victor gave him a nod as he walked past, nodding as well to Danny who was still looming, helpfully. Vaughn gave them all a frown, but picked up his hat and made to follow his brothers out.

Danny stepped away from Steve, towards the door, peering out of the front window to watch the brothers go. He could hear the Hesse brothers saddling up and heading out - shouting and yelping loudly. Once the sound had faded and it was almost certain the brothers had really gone, Danny grinned at the Sheriff. “Have something interesting for report, now,” he said.

To be continued...

I’m tagging: @gatorasmus, @surewouldbeinteresting, @tyhyin, @cowandcalf, @82tweeder, @pterawaters, @tcrane68, @murphyhatesme, @auntie17, @mireilleleerves, @annechoulie, @mcdanno55, @yoko787878, @coffeeandthen, @foreverdreams-blog, @nade2308, @neko-roppi, @ilikemcdanno, @avictoriangirl, @mymcdanno, @bookemfangirl, @mcdannoangelwolf, @ohmy-mcdanno​, @minahahj​, @conny-keksi​

[vidkid20ssimblrlair]

Warning: Slight nudity and gore of course.

Episode 15: Uncovered

“What the hell?”

She sighed closing the door slightly, “You can’t tell me you’re not at least a little bit curious about this place.”

“Of…Of course, but…”

“Then come with me. You and Nate.”

“No,” I heard Nate voice boom from behind me. “I mean…we just got here and you’re trying to get us in trouble already?”

I turned around to him shocked by his initial response, but I was even more surprised by his expression. He looked nervous. I wasn’t sure what to make of it. Not wanting to stir the pot the first night seemed rational, but what was with the outburst. Why was he so nervous suddenly?

“I know it’s the first night and you probably want to give this place a chance, but I know how these places work. They make you feel safe. They make you feel secure. All fucking cozy. Then the rug is pulled out right from under you revealing the ugly truth and it all goes to shit. I know all too well how it goes.”

“How do you know?” Nathan snarled. “Sure this room is not anything to rave about and being locked in gives me the creeps, but we do need to give it a chance. Things might get better. Especially if you don’t go snooping around in the middle of the night breaking every rule in the book.”

I laughed rolling my eyes, “Nathan Antony Parker. You’re worried about breaking rules? You of all people?! You live for this type of action. Breaking rules. Getting into everything and anybody’s business. What’s with you?”

“I’m trying to keep us safe.”

“And what makes you think we’re safe here? ” I asked growing more serious.

“Exactly and we’re not. I’m sure of it. I’ve been in a place like this before. When it all started…” Madison trailed off looking gloomy. 

The room then grew silent as the tension grew between the three of us. Madison looking weary by the minute standing by the door. Nathan fidgeting nervously while frowning up angrily. Me in the middle. My mind already made up.

“I’ll go. I do want to check this place out,” I said breaking the silence. 

Madison perked up smiling while Nathan seemed completely annoyed. He stuttered, “But…but..”

“You can either come along or sit here sulking.”

He chose to sit around sulking. He sat on the bed refusing to look at me. Madison stepped out scanning the hallway for any guards. Then she called out to me to follow. As I went to shut the door he came rushing forward blocking me and squeezed passed me. 

“Coming now?”

“Do I have a choice? I’m not taking the fall for you if they march in here out of the blue. Maybe I can keep you out of trouble too.”

I shrugged and he accompanied us reluctantly. Madison led the way down a long dark hallway. We walked in silence and kept our eyes out for any guards, but the place seemed deserted at night. 

“Why aren’t there any guards?” I whispered.

“The guard for this floor is blacked out drunk thanks to me. How I got this beauty.” she quietly replied holding up the key card. 

“Yeah, I’ve been meaning to ask you how you got that thing. You got him drunk?“ 

"Well let’s just say I used my femininity. You would be surprised by how horny some of you men get when all the womenfolk are either dead or close to dead.”

She paused looking at us, “Don’t look at me like that. I didn’t sleep with him. Not that it matters to you anyway. I have a right! I just flirted and teased him with the idea. The idiot fell for it. We drank…well he drank and then he blacked out drunk in my room.”

“With your roommate?”

“She’s in the infirmary”, she said sadly. “It was just me, so he’s all by himself locked in having himself a nice nap.”

“So why us? I mean why not Omar or Lin? You can open and lock any room with that right?”

“I think so, but you seem to be only ones available that I could get to. Omar is with his wife somewhere. Lin’s on another floor with her brother. Wade can be a well….pain. Then there’s you and your brother who seem like upstanding guys. Then the guard drunkenly told me he put you in the room around the corner from me, so that was convenient.”

She stopped suddenly. She looked at one side of the hallway with double doors and at the other side with a single office door. She turned to us as she seemed to be trying to decide which room to go in.

“The office is Dr. Pinto’s. I’ve been in there. Nothing to see,” Nathan spoke up after brooding the whole way in silence. 

“Are you sure? I’m sure it has some valuable information,” she said. 

“Yes I’m sure!” he snapped. 

“What’s wrong with you? Really. You’re acting really strange,” I interjected.

“I’m fine. Just check out that room and get this over with before we get caught,” he muttered walking forward over to the double doors. He stopped short leaning against the wall. “I’ll keep watch.”

Just me and Madison entered the room then. I was a little relieved we were alone now, but only because Nathan was acting weird. Other than that, I think this room would have been right up his alley. It looked like we were in some type of examination room or morgue.

“Hey. I’m sorry about Nate. He’s not usually…,” I started, but Madison waved me off smiling.

“It’s fine. I can handle him. Besides I was stuck in a room with you and Wade”, she smirked. 

“Don’t lump me in with, Wade!”

She laughed. Her face pretty and radiant as ever. I was starting to think maybe having the room to ourselves wasn’t too bad. Then we walked further looking at the examination tables. They were lined up. Some with body bags. Some with white sheets. 

“Body bags? And..and…bodies? No wonder it smells like death in here.”

“Death? That practically passes for fresh air nowadays.”

“Yeah, nothing like the smell of death in the morning,” she said rolling her eyes. “Quit joking around and let’s have a look under those sheets.”

I took one sheet off gingerly hoping to see anything, but a body. Unfortunately, that wasn’t so. The body of a female laid under the sheet. She was completely naked with wounds and an open y shape hole in her chest. I backed away somewhat stunned and repulsed by the sight. Despite, my dealings with walkers the sight of a body was still something I hadn’t got used to. Not in this setting. Madison seemed just as unsettled by it.

“It’s weird. I should be used to this by now.”

“Maybe that’s a good thing. It’s not something we should get used to.”

She nodded in agreement and pointed to a sheet with a smaller frame underneath. “God, I hope it’s not what I think it is,” she said closing her eyes. 

I hesitated wondering if I had ever seen a child walker before. I shuttered at that the thought. I then grabbed the sheet and yanked it off like a band-aid hoping to make the pain quick, but I wasn’t prepared for what I would see on the table. It was a child as we suspected, but a young boy. A boy me and Nathan once knew.

I called out to Nate without thinking and he came running in within seconds. He didn’t bother to look at corpses or the room for that matter. He came over to us immediately focus solely on our well-being. He must have thought we were in some sort of trouble as he breathed a sigh of relief at sight of us and began complaining. 

“Are you trying to get caught yelling like that? I thought something bad happened, "he moaned frowning. I pointed at the boy’s corpse. He looked down and the color instantly drained from his face. "No…no…it’s….”

“It’s definitely Nick…”

“Oh, God. You knew him?” Madison gasped. “I’m…I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah. He was just somebody we knew. Helped him and his family out,” I said studying him. “He was brought here with us, but I guess the poor kid didn’t make it. It looks like he’s been shot in the head. Just like that woman in quarantine, Sarah.”

“Well, there’s no bite wounds I can see. You think he just died and turned?” Madison asked looking away. 

“I don’t know. He seemed healthy when we last saw him. I think so anyways.”

“He was and he was just a child. He didn’t deserve this. Not like this,” Nathan lamented. 

We stood there next to Nathan for awhile until he himself seemed to have enough. He slowly made his way back to the doorway and cracked the door just enough to look out while remaining in the room. While me and Madison decided to continue the search. There was definitely something sinister about this place. This lab or makeshift morgue, Sarah, the boy. It was plenty to be suspicious about. 

It didn’t take long for Madison to find something else to rattle the nerve. She practically jumped into my arms at the sight of it. An old furnace set at the back of the room tucked in a corner and bloody parts laid scattered in front of it like coal. It took everything for me not to gag. I backed away as she held onto me and bumped into a shelf with jars lined up on it. She then jumped and screamed again almost breaking my eardrums. I turned around to see what she was looking at and almost got startled myself. A walker head in liquid stared back at us moving its mouth in a chomping motion and blinking his eyes.

“Well, that’s fucked up.”

“This whole room is fucked up,” she said quivering. “But there’s one more place we haven’t looked. Once we look there I want out of here.”

I knew what she was talking about without asking. The door on the back wall had captured both our curiosity. She examined the door first looking it up and down. Then she began pushing at it with all her might and flinging herself against it.

“Whoa! Wait! Instead of attacking it like that, why not use the card?”

She stopped breathing heavily and turned around to me pointing at the wall, “Don’t you think I would have done that by now? There’s no card reader for it. Just that number pad thing. See.”

“Yeah. You’re going need code for that,” I heard Nathan quietly say behind me as he joined us. “But for now I think we need to go. I heard someone talking at the end of the hall.”

The three of us hurried to the door and crouched down. Nathan peeked out and closed the door quickly. “Dr. Pinto is coming up the hall. I’m going distract him. As soon as I get him out the way I need you two to run back to your rooms.”

“What? Who?” I blurted out in shock. 

“No. You can’t," Madison begged. 

"Well I haven’t been the most pleasant this evening, so let me do this. He might even have the code or some worthwhile information.”

“No, wait! There’s got to be a better way to do this,” I whispered as the footsteps outside grew closer. “Wait..”

“I know what I’m doing!”

I watched him rush out the door and close it behind him just as quickly. I lifted up just enough to reach the window without being seen and peered through it. The doctor was in clear view now. He approached my brother.

“Mr. Parker? It’s nice to see you, but it’s way after curfew”, he said puzzled with a thick British accent. “Is something the matter?”

Time to get into that office and retrieve the code!

Decision: Lie and play dumb? (”I need your help doc!”)  

-or-

Cut to the chase and ask questions? (I’ve seen some things Doc...”)

Note: Depending on how you get into the office and get the code may cost you.

Vote at >>pollmaker! All votes are anonymous at less you comment.

Previous chapter

[cyarsk52-20]

Yess he’s worthy of my support, any of those weak links in the democrat party will never get a vote or support from me. I’m going independent, from now on They must earn my support. Support is not gonna be given towards anyone and especially not someone who is spineless

My 2025 goal is to just let shit play out. When I see Trump doing stuff that is harmful I will post 🤷🏽‍♀️ because people were warned. And I’m not gonna apologize or feel any guilt about that. Politics will not drain my energy. I have my phone taken multiple times over this, I didn’t have my phone throughout May and July because of this. I have even wanted to leave my house out of anger.

One act of rage had my mother so outraged that she held me up and push me onto the floor and made me bleed and she said if I ever acted that way again, I don’t need to worry about me leaving out voluntarily because she’ll throw me out! I refuse to let my mom or dad push them to the point where they will pushed to a level of rage that leads to what some people will call “them being abusive and for that reason they both should be killed for it even if that abused ends up doing to them what the Mendez Brothers did to their parents”

It’s not my job to fix whats broken. Somethings just be repaired. And even if it does, it will never be the same. It’s not a pessimism it’s reality.

I’m not part of the “resistance”. Those days are over. 🧵

What I will be doing is paying attention to and posting about what is happening in Michigan at the state & local level and keeping up with my our congressional delegation. It’s time to get back to the basics because all politics is local.

I am tired and I know many of you are as well. Go on vacation, spend time with family, and just go live your best life. I am not trying to be on social media as much because people have truly lost their damn minds. 2024 was insane and rest is needed. This election nearly killed me, it was nearly unaliving me and my livelihood , because I spent all my days ranting about a man who doesn’t care about me anyway and it’s not even worth talking about at least if I want to keep my phone for the rest of the year and next year and my sanity(but mostly my sanity)

Trump and republicans can no longer lie and hide behind the lies that democrats are the ones doing everything they have the White House senate and congress whatever happens after January 20 2025 until January 20th, 2029 it’s on them. Those who allow it don’t owe us who warned about it any apologies . I don’t want you to beg on your knees for forgiveness, I just want you to change, you upset about it, do something about it. As far as I’m concerned, I don’t wanna be a hero for everyone anymore. I choose to be my own hero, tired of saving people from their mistakes. They wanted this so let’s see how they pick themselves up. They asked for all this suffering. I’m just gonna sit there and watch.

My resistance is resting. My resistance is saving money and spending it on what I need and Less on what I want. My resistance is increasing my spiritual relationship with Christ. My resistance is living my life rebuilding my mental health and state of mind. And if it means, I got a step back and not take such a political approach unless it’s from a state and local perspective (unless it’s the 2026 midterms, though I said mf the midterms but in my defense, I said that out of anger and 2028 elections) then so be it. And speaking the 2028 elections if the dems wanna maintain the base , they need to choose a candidate that is not weak minded, and determined (and they better not backstab him or her either, because the base will not forgive or forget) the base is black ppl more specifically black womenfolk.

until then we need to get back to having fun again. Yeah Having fun while the country burns down is a lot less fun tbh. But there's nothing we can do about it except watch. They(hews, Latinos for Trump, free Palestine and uncommitted) chose this. I just hope that this country doesn’t go through another virus where I have to stay home for the majority of the year

Don’t get me wrong I’ll pay attention to the local and state elections in Michigan but as far as this on a national level, yeah Politics can kiss me for a minute. I’ll try it again in 2026 and 2028. Hopefully whoever becomes the leader of the free world after these next four years , doesn’t make America more screwed up than it already is about to be for the four years after these four years