#ROF Floors

[gurgaonproperty]

ROF Affordable Sector 36 Sohna – South Of Gurgaon

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[rkvpropworld]

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[yourneighbourhoodtraumatisedkids]

Douxie's quote of the day once again because Jim is a legend 😂

@bluheaven-adw @imademigodwithalightningbolt once again I tag you because we both know that Jim's gonna cry once you guys reblog.

"Can there be a new expression where I go ROFS where it's rolling on the floor sobbing?!"

-Jim Lake Jr, man of the moment.

[clumsiestgiantess]

Y’all remember when I asked you to choose which way I wanted to take the language barrier story (either a continuation or a prequel)?

Continuing with Ritchie and Mason seemed to be the one people were most interested in, so without further ado…

Part 3 of Takeover Scenario Future!

(part two here) (@goblinunderabridge, @entomolog-t, @microfoxprime, tagging y’all because you were the ones who wanted this to win!)

The first night with Mason was wild.  Once I was certain everyone else had gone to bed — even my sister, who kept checking up on me every twenty minutes — I made us a fort beneath my blankets.  He stared in awe at the covers high above him, grinning at me as if it was the coolest thing he’d ever seen.  It was kinda like a sleepover, only he’d be here every night.  I reminded myself to get an actual bed for him later.  Tonight he seemed perfectly content to stay right here with me.  “Wow! S’ti ekil a elohw sucric tnet rednu ereh!  Knaht uoy, niaga, rof lla fo siht.  I yltsenoh t’ndid kniht stnaig derac hguone tuoba su ot evig em gnihtemos yletomer ekil siht.  M’I dalg uoy dnuof em yadretsey.  Neve fi uoy did kaerb ym gel.”

“You’re welcome.. I think?”  I hadn’t understood much of it, but Julie had stuck it to me to learn ‘please’, ‘thank you’, and ‘you’re welcome’ in the survivors’ language.  I asked about learning ‘yes’ and ‘no’, which seemed important, but she shrugged and said that wasn’t really necessary considering nodding or shaking your head could easily replace those words in the basics of communication.  She added that thumbs up or thumbs down could also mean ‘good’ or ‘bad’.  We’d just started learning ‘sorry’ when I was called off to get to bed.

We stayed up a good portion of the night playing Super Smash Bros on my Switch.  Mason refused to sleep until he’d mastered the little controller.  Thankfully the single joycon they give you on the switch was just big enough to be a bit larger than keyboard size to him.  He was decent — clearly he’d played games like this back in his world.  The only thing stopping him from beating me was the fact that he had to use both hands to move the joystick.  I still let him win a few times.  He called me out on it for most of them, though.

I don’t know when I fell asleep, but I was shaken awake by Mason.  He gestured around to the bed then to himself and I eventually realized he was asking for his own place to sleep.  Nodding tiredly, I helped him down off the bed to the floor.  He only needed a single pillow as a mattress and a small blanket as a whole comforter.  I’d just put away all my gaming stuff and slid into bed when he spoke.  “Ritchie?”  It was strange hearing him speak my name.  So much of what he said I didn’t understand.  

“Yeah?”  “Tha.. Thank…  Knaht uoy.”  Well, at least he was trying.  I wasn’t sure what he was thanking me for, either.  Maybe everything.  “Re- Re’uoy emoclew.”  Damn those contractions are hard to pronounce.  I peered over the edge of the bed at him.  He was sitting up on the pillow, grinning at me from below.  “Goodnight!” I called quietly, settling back into my bed.  “Thgindoog!”

Groggily sliding out of the covers the following morning, I nearly gave myself a heart attack.  I’d missed stepping on Mason by a mere few inches.  Thankfully, he was still asleep and hadn’t noticed.  Just as I returned from the bathroom, my mom hurriedly opened the door to my room.  I yelped, quickly coming up to the entrance to block her view of the little bed on the floor, and the small person sleeping soundly in it.  “H-Hey, Mom!  Why are you up so early?”  “What do you mean?” she asked me, “I have to drive you to school in twenty minutes!  I came to see if you were ready for breakfast.”  Her confusion turned to stern exasperation.  “Ritchie, don’t tell me you forgot.  You have six weeks of summer school, young man!  You better get up and get ready!”  “Alright, ok!  I’m up!  I’m getting ready!”  She sighed and closed my bedroom door.

Up until then, I’d forgotten about summer school.  Probably because it sucks.  At least it’s shorter than normal school.  I hurriedly readied myself in my room, stuffing things haphazardly into my backpack.  As I sat on the edge of my bed to yank on my socks, Mason stumbled blearily into the space, still half asleep.  “Tahw…  S’tahw gniog no?  Yhw era uoy pu os ylrae, edud?”

He grumbled something at me, then yawned.  “I have to go to stupid summer school,” I told him with a groan.  Mason stepped back slightly, giving me a slightly hurt look as if I’d grumbled at him.  I held up a hand, “No, no I’m not angry at you!  I’m angry at school, see?”  I picked up my backpack and placed it in front of me, zipping up the pocket I’d been stuffing things into.

Immediately upon seeing my backpack, Mason’s eyes dulled.  A knowing, almost disgusted look spread onto his face.  “Yeah,” I sighed unhappily, “school.”  Mason waved a hand at me dismissively and turned to go back to sleep, but froze in his tracks before he could reach the pillow.  Whirling back around, he ran across the room to me, excitedly talking nonstop.  “Woah!  Slow down!  I only know like.. five words in your language!  And you’re talking so fast I wouldn’t understand a single one!”

He stopped next to my backpack and yanked the zipper back open, pointing to himself then to the open bag.  “You’re kidding…  Why would you willingly go to school?”  Just like I’d been taught a few things by Julie, Elenor had also taught Mason several words in English.  ‘Why’ was one of them.  Mason stammered a moment.  “I tsuj.. tnaw ot og htiw uoy.  Ees erom tnaig secalp, I sseug.”  He stammered awkwardly, glancing away from me.  Whatever he just said, I understood ‘you’ and ‘giant’, and the fact that he was suddenly at a loss for words.  I didn’t know exactly what that meant, but I didn’t see why he couldn’t come.  It would probably make classes a bit less boring, even if Mason couldn’t exactly get out of my bag without being seen.  “Alright,” I nodded, “Let me just rearrange a few things in-”

“Ritchard?  Are you ready up there?”  I flinched, blood running cold.  “You have ten minutes to be in the car.”  Quickly grabbing Mason, I hastily slid him into my backpack — tucked between my binder and the side of the bag where the zipper was.  He gave me a wide-eyed look as I went to zip it up.  “I’m so sorry, man.  I just- my mom’s gonna kill me if I’m not ready.  Just.. try to make yourself comfortable in there, ok?”  Sliding a more gentle hand in, I settled him more comfortably so nothing was in danger of hurting him and especially his leg.  “Ok, gotta go.  I’ll see you at school, buddy.”

Zipping up my bag, I cautiously slung it over my shoulder and made my way downstairs.  Placing it on a chair at the table, I quickly snatched up some breakfast as my mom warned me again about being late.  While I finished eating, I felt a tug on my sleeve and glanced down.  A little arm had slid out of my bag, trying to get my attention.  It slid back inside once I noticed it, and Mason’s face peered through the gap where his arm had been.  He pointed to the table and mimed biting something.  “Oh yeah!” I whispered, “I can get you breakfast, one sec.”

While my mom went to put on shoes, I grabbed a bagel off the counter and slipped it into my bag beside him.  “All good?”  Mason gave me a thumbs up and I zipped everything up again.  Nothing too extraordinary happened on the way to school, but I made sure to treat my backpack with a bit more caution than I usually would.  With it on my lap, I could feel Mason shifting around inside, still trying to get comfortable.  Guiltily I remembered how hastily I put my things inside it.  Whenever I get to my locker I’ll have to rearrange it for him.

However, I didn’t realize that during summer school, you don’t get a locker.  You just bring your bag right to class — in front of about a dozen people.  I had no choice but to leave him there.  Class went by agonizingly slowly knowing there was someone else hidden right beside me in my backpack.  When lunch came and I headed to the cafeteria, I pretended I’d forgotten something and went back — secretly hoping to check up on the survivor.  But of course teachers just have to eat in their room.  Defeated, I trudged back down the hall to get lunch.  At least I could bring Mason something to eat whenever I returned.

Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea bringing him with me.  His presence was only making me more anxious.  Thankfully, I managed to wrap up some of the school’s meatloaf — which was really just random meats stuffed suspiciously together — and returned to class.  It would probably leave a huge mess in my bag, but at least my secret friend would have something to eat.

Actually, he might not even have that.  Mason was gone.  The zipper to my bag was open wide when I arrived.  I cursed under my breath, carefully rummaging through everything in my backpack.  The only sign of him was a partially-eaten bagel and the little empty place he’d constructed for himself.  Desperately, I wanted to call out to him, but I could only sit quietly at my desk, glancing accusedly at the people around me.  Did someone steal him?  Who would’ve gone through my stuff to find him?!

I dreaded it the whole time, but as the end of the school day arrived and the bell rang, I sat at my seat and attentively watched everyone’s bags and hoodies to see if anything could hint at a survivor stashed away inside.  Once I became the last in the classroom, I began peering around the floor.  “Ritchie, is there something you need help with?”  I jumped as the teacher eyed me confusedly from across the room.  “I- I think I lost something,” I said numbly, “but I can’t find it.”  She let me stay for a bit longer, but eventually even she had to leave, and I was left standing alone in the school.

By then my bus had long left.  I was stranded, but not so much as Mason might be, so I kept searching.  “Mason!” I whisper-yelled through the empty halls, “Where are you?!”  My phone started ringing, making me jump as I slunk around.  I glanced at the caller ID and paled.  It was my sister.  My mother was still at work, but my sister was at home, waiting to see whether I’d come back from school.  “Shit!  I can’t let her know about Mason!  She won’t let him stay with me if she finds out I lost him on the first day!” ��

Up ahead, I heard the sounds of a custodian in the next hall and quieted my voice.  I peeked out from the corner, planning to make a quick dash past the hallway’s opening while he wasn’t looking.  He seemed distracted enough, so I angled myself to make a run for it, but froze as a shout echoed down the hall, followed by a loud slam.  A survivor scrambled to their feet and ran for the end of the hallway, followed by the custodian with an empty bucket.  I watched in horror as Mason was roughly scooped up into it.  

With a huff, they walked around to the end of the hallway, and tossed the bucket’s contents outside.  Oh thank god, he’s just letting him out.  I raced away down a different hallway and out the side door.  My side ached by the time I got to the door where Mason had been tossed out of.  He was there!  He was.. helping someone up?  I stopped in my tracks.  Mason helped another survivor to their feet.  This new survivor was the first to spot me watching them, and upon realizing I was there, he started screaming — dashing away into a nearby bush and tugging Mason along.

“Wait!  Mason!” I yelped, rushing forward.  The survivor skidded to a halt, letting the other continue hiding.  “Ritchie!”  I fell to my knees at the sound of the relief in his voice.  He ran up to me, scrambling up my bent legs like a ramp before hugging my chest tightly.  In that way, I could feel both of our heartbeats pounding in our chests.  We sat together like that for a while before my phone rang again, startling us both.  Mason stood practically glued to my side as I hesitantly picked up the call.  

“WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU, RITCHIE?!  I KNOW YOU TOOK MASON BECAUSE HE’S DEFINITELY NOT HERE!”  Oh.  “YOU BETTER NOT HAVE GOTTEN HIM KILLED!”  “N-No!  He’s fine!  He’s right here!  He wanted to come to school with me!”  “He wanted to, or you wanted him to?” she asked.  “He wanted to!  You can ask him yourself!”  “Mhm,” she grumbled disbelievingly.

“Anyway, can you come pick me up?  I’m still at school; I missed the bus.”  A groan rumbled out of the speaker.  “Alright, I’m coming.”  The call ended.  I breathed a sigh of relief and glanced back down at my survivor friend.  “What happened?” I asked Mason, opening my bag and pointing to the empty spot where he’d sat earlier.  “Where did you go?”  “I was taht yug!” he told me, pointing to the bush where the other survivor was hidden. “Eh saw gnilaets sgniht morf eht moorssalc eht tnemom eht rehcaet deppets yawa, os I-”

Mason stopped, recognizing the growing confusion in my eyes.  I didn’t understand him.  If only I could just, like, watch a video or something and understand his language.  He sighed, also clearly wanting me to understand him as well.  Never in my life have I wanted to actually learn something language-related until now.  It’s.. kinda the reason I’m in summer school in the first place.

Stepping a little ways in front of me, the survivor motioned for me to follow him.  We made our way back to the bushes in the exact opposite way as the day I found him — with him in the lead and me cautiously following.  When I neared the bush, the other survivor whimpered something to Mason.  I could see him cowering deeper and further away from me.  Mason briefly began to speak, then his eyes lit up with an idea.  He raced over to the dirt, broke a small stick off the bush, and began to draw.  

When he was finished, I slowly peered down at it.  The drawing showed a sad little stick figure behind the bars of a cage, then Mason pointed at the other survivor.  “Ohhh,” I realized, him nodding along with me.  “Eh saw dnuof yb a tnaig dik,” he explained, drawing a larger stick figure with a mean face standing beside it.  “Adnik ekil woh uoy dnuof em, tub eht tnaig ohw dnuof mih saw.. a tol esrow.”

I watched as he gently coaxed the other survivor to come out.  He stepped up to the very edge of the bush, but stayed beneath it.  The little guy looked awful — much more like the wild survivors I’d seen before I met Mason.  His eyes were bloodshot and rimmed with purpled bags beneath them, and everywhere on him were the telltale signs of either bruises or starvation.  He looked older than us, but I couldn't tell if he was actually older, or if his awful tortured state made him look that way.  It was probably both.

“Wh- Who would do this?” I asked quietly.  Mason rubbed away parts drawing to show the survivor escaping a backpack.  He’d been living in the school since his escape.  But today was the first day of summer school.  He would’ve had to have just escaped today!

Shocked, I looked to Mason as he stopped drawing.  His expression darkened for a moment, then he turned and looked up at me — not with an accusing ‘you might’ve done this to me, too’, but a thankful ‘you might’ve done this to me, too’, only I hadn’t.  I’d hurt him by frightening him, but I’d never intended to do anything that would make him look like this new survivor.

With a shaking hand he reached for me, leaning more heavily on his good leg.  I gently took his hand and sat him in my other palm.  The new survivor physically flinched at our interaction, as if I were touching him instead.  I brought Mason to my face and scrutinized him for a moment.  “Are you.. thgirla?” I asked, remembering only one of the words I meant to ask him.  He pressed a bit closer to my hand, but nodded.  If I was so horrified by seeing the poor state of the new survivor that I’d previously grown used to seeing, I could only imagine how Mason must’ve felt finding him — how he must’ve felt when the survivor told him that a ‘giant’ my age in my school had done that to him.

He squeezed my finger as if to say he knew I wouldn’t have done that sort of awful thing, then turned to the other survivor.  “Ees?  S’eh a yldneirf eno, I raews!  Eh nac teg su tuo fo ereh ot erehwemos efas!”  “Dna woh gnol evah uoy nwonk mih?”  He seemed to have said something either really smart or really scary because his reply quieted Mason for a moment.  

“I- I t’nevah nwonk mih gnol, tub I wonk s’eh doog!  Sih retsis-”  “Won s’ereht a retsis?”  “Ehs swonk ruo egaugnal!  S’ehs neeb sdneirf htiw a namuh rof sraey!  I t’ndid tsurt siht tnaig ta tsrif rehtie, tub ehs detalsnart rof em; eh sdnatsrednu.. emos sgniht tuoba su.  Eht tnatropmi sgniht!  Dna s’eh gnoig ot nrael erom!”

The two survivors almost sounded like they were arguing, but I think Mason was just trying to explain to the other guy that I wasn’t going to hurt him.  Damn, why did ‘I’m not going to hurt you’ have be part of today’s useful phrases to learn instead of yesterday’s?  After a back and forth that went on for several minutes.  Mason said something decisive.  Moments later, the new survivor begrudgingly slid out from beneath the bush.  

After some half-arguing, he approached me with his head down as if he were being marched to his doom.  I slowly lowered my other hand for him to climb onto.  Tucking Mason against my chest — which he didn’t seem to mind — I was able to keep a steady both hands on him to ensure he would have as comfortable a ride as possible.  Still, the survivor struggled slightly in my grasp — repositioning himself every few seconds while frightfully glancing back at me.

I made it to the pickup line where Julie’s car was already sitting.  A jolt of guilty fear zipped through my chest, but I braced myself for her yelling and headed over.  Sacrificing my hand that held the new survivor’s back, I opened the car door.  Julie was on the verge of yelling at me, but then she realized the survivor in my hands wasn’t Mason.  Then she realized I was carrying two survivors.

“Where did you-?”  “Mason found him in school.  He said that this guy was caged up by another kid.”  Julie gave the new survivor a pitying look — anger rapidly fading from her expression.  “By the state of him, I wouldn’t doubt it.  Come on, get in.”  I deposited both survivors onto the dashboard so I could get my backpack off and my seatbelt on before reaching out and picking them up again.  The new survivor struggled in my grip, but Mason slid down to happily sit on my lap.  He called up to the guy in my hands and his struggles slowly lessened.

“S’tahw ruoy eman?” Julie asked the survivor in his own language.  He turned to her, wide-eyed.  “T- Tahw?” he asked.  She repeated what she said, nodding to him.  “Ym eman.. si Sirhc.”  “Sirhc,” she repeated, “Ll’uoy eb efas htiw su, I esimorp.  Revetahw deneppah ot uoy erofeb, s’ti revo won.”  The survivor stilled in my hand, and stayed fairly quiet for the whole ride back, except for occasional questions he’d ask Mason or Julie.  Again I had that sense of not belonging.  Everyone in the car had either asked or answered questions throughout the drive, while I sat in silence — only able to guess at what was said.

Back at home, Julie took the new survivor off to the kitchen to get him something healthy to eat and drink.  On my way to my room with Mason, she asked me to tell Elenor what was going on.  I poked my head into the seemingly empty room across the hall from mine.  “Elenor?”  The survivor appeared from behind my sister’s bed.  “What is it?” she snapped.  “Julie wanted me to tell you that we found another survivor.  He was in my school escaping from a kid that had caught him.”  She sighed, said something under her breath in her own language, then nodded and waved a hand dismissively at me.

In my own room, I finally put Mason back down.  He stepped out of my hand to the surface of my desk.  I gave him a long look, then sat down tiredly, head resting on my crossed arms.  “I want to know what everyone’s saying,” I told him quietly, “But I barely know any words in your language, and I’m even worse at pronouncing them.”  Mason came and sat down directly in front of my arms, scrutinizing me with concern.  “English,” I tried, pointing to myself, “you?”  I pointed to Mason.  “Hsilgne,” he replied.  “Hs.. ill.. gn-e?” I repeated questioningly.  We spent a while repeating the word for his language back and forth, then Mason eagerly grabbed a pencil and tugged a piece of paper closer.  In his hands, both items looked massive.

He tried to write something, but kept fumbling with the pencil.  “Hold on,” I said, opening a drawer and digging through it.  “I put a pencil through a sharpener for a bit too long…  Aha!”  I pulled out a very used wooden pencil — the tip ground down all the way to the edge of the eraser.  It still looked thick around in Mason’s hands, but it was small enough that he could use it much easier.  Mason wrote down a word in his language, then pointed to the last letter.  Looking up at me, he nodded towards the larger pencil.  “You want me to write?” I asked, picking it up.  He nodded, made room next to his word on the paper, and pointed to its last letter again.

Confused, but intrigued, I wrote the letter he pointed to: ‘h’.  He went down the strange word, pointing to each letter from the end of the word to the beginning.  ‘h’, ‘e’, ‘l’, ‘l’, ‘o’.  Wait.. what?  I looked at the word I wrote then at the one he wrote in his language.  “Hello?” I tried.  “Olleh!” Mason replied happily, pointing to the papers.  “Wow!  Ronele t’nsaw gniyl; ti yllaer si sdrawkcab,” he mused to himself.

Excitedly, I wrote a word in my language, then pointed to the last letter.  Mason immediately got to work copying it down.  Soon we began learning how to properly talk to one another without having to mime everything.  Through the paper, he told me what had happened without me at school while I occasionally repeated larger or important words I wanted to commit to memory.  I learned that Mason had heard the new survivor — his name was Chris — trying to gather some supplies from the room to try to hole up in the school for a while.  He’d escaped whatever awful kid had taken him by breaking out of the plastic lunchbox they’d kept him in — continuing to kick the latch until the cheap plastic snapped open.  

When Mason climbed out of my bag and made his way over to him, Chris had thought he was also escaping.  However, after learning that he’d befriended a ‘giant’, Chris had begged Mason so vehemently to run away, and tried to convince him that he wasn’t safe, that the teacher in the room nearly found them and they both had to run and hide outside the classroom.  From there, Mason had to chase down the other survivor to try to convince him to come with me.  

Of course, they both ended up getting lost.  After the last bell had rung, Mason feared that I’d left him behind.  He’d begun to have second thoughts about chasing Chris when the custodian found them both and kicked them out.  I knew the rest of the story from there.  “Era uoy thgirla?” I asked him after he’d finished relaying what happened.  I’d asked him that before, but I wanted to flaunt my knowledge of his language a bit.  Mason nodded happily, flopping down on my crossed forearms.  

“Haey, m’I tsuj dalg I tog tuo fo ereht dna kcab ot uoy wohemos.  I saw gnitrats ot daerd taht d’I eb gnivil ni eht sehsub niaga…” Despite my efforts to learn, I still couldn’t quite decipher full verbal sentences yet.  Instead, I tried to cheer him up by laying my head back down over my arms, jokingly resting it on top of him.  He laughed loudly, shoving at my chin.  “Yeh!  Pleh! M’I gnieb dehsums!” he yelped.  

The rest of the day passed more easily.  I grudgingly did homework, then went to check up on the other survivor before I got ready for bed.  He’d decided to stay with Julie, which.. fair.  She can actually understand and speak their language.  Apparently, he had a colony of people that he’d been taken from that he wanted to get back to.  Julie had promised him she’d take him early the next day after a safe night’s rest, and ONLY if he agreed to take armfuls of supplies with him to his camp.

Laying down roughly in bed, I snickered as I watched Mason get launched a good five inches into the air.  I didn’t realize it would do that to him until a split second before I hit the mattress.  He shook himself off eagerly and pointed at my Switch laying beside my bed.  I shook my head “Worromot.  I ev- ah ot peels.”  Mason gave me a slightly disappointed look, but nodded, understanding I’d have to get up early again tomorrow.  By the time I was finished getting ready for the following day, Mason was tucked away in his tiny bed, fast asleep.

[nytehavyn-circle]

(Closed starter for @entangledmuses - for Bailey Nune)

Tolaas had managed to chase the damned ShadowDemon through the backstreets and alleyways of LA, at night, and mostly avoiding lights and lots of people, thankfully.

The ShadowDemon he was chasing happened to look like a chimpanzee, with four arms, and two tails. Blacker than night, and oily looking. It had several rows of teeth, which Tolaas found out the hard way - his bandaged hand was proof. It was also highly intelligent. And it had slipped through a ShadiwPortal to create havoc.

Tolaas had chased it to an abandoned high school. He could feel the little bastard somewhere on the ground floor. "Yanno I'll find ya, ya little prick!" he shouted. His voice just barely echoed, but he knew he was loud enough the chimp-thing ShadowDemon could hear him.

There was a few noises from around the corner and down the hall, then came chittering and chattering in a fast, chimp-like fashion, followed by a very articulate and loud (albeit a bit high-pitched) "Fuck you!"

Tolaas smirked. He rounded the corner, sawed-off shotgun drawn and lifted. Suddenly, there was a trash can thrown at him, followed by a scuffling and sone crashing.

He ran toward the noise when there came an exceptionally loud ringing. Shit. It'd set off the fire alarm. Well played, ya little shitstain, Tolaas thought. However, with his senses heightened, the ringing nose was hurting the hellout of his ears.

But then came the sense of urgency. He had to find the ShadowDemon, kill it, and get out of there before the fire department and police showed up. Granted, all he'd need to do was call Terran if things got too dicey, but otherwise he hoped he would get out ofthis himself.

He was getting closer to the ShadowDemon, when he heard it clamber up the stairs. "Dammit," Tolaas muttered to himself, and ran up the stairs after it. He rounded the corner of the small hallway and spotted it. Raising his sawed-off, he took a shot. Tolaas barely missed. The damned thing jumped up against the lockers at the last minute, clambering over the top of them, rounded the corner at the end of the hallway, and scurried up the stairs.

Tolaas smirked. It had made it to the third floor, and he followed. "Ain't nowhere else ta go!" he called out. He rounded the corner and immediately ducked behind an open classroom door. "Either go back ta the ShadowLands, er I'm gonna kill ya!"

Suddenly, he heard sirens. Both cops, a fire engine, and paramedics. "Goddammit," he hissed under his breath. He peeked out from behind the door and took a shot down the hallway. He heard a loud squeal-roar, which meant Tolaas had hit the thing, and then he heard more running again.

"Where the fuck'er ya goin'?" he whispered to himself. Then he heard a door open, and it was fairly heavy by the sound of it. Before it swung closed, he heard more scuttling up the stairs. "Shit, the roof!"

Tolaas ran after it. At least on the roof, it would have nowhere else to go. He managed to make it to the door before it closed completely. He yanked it open and followed the stairs up to the exit to the roof.

He stayed bent over and ducked, moving quietly to the edge of the rof to look over. Yup, cop cars, an ambulance, and a fire truck. "Shit," Tolaas muttered. He gave a sigh.

He slowly moved around the roof, until the damned chimp-thing ShadowDemon was in sight. It was standing on the edge of the roof. When it heard Tolaas approach, it whirled around. It huffed up, extending its arms to look like claws, just to make itself look bigger and more threatening.

It hissed, growled, and gave a high-pitched scream. Tolaas raised the sawed off and smirked. "Bye-bye," he said and pulled the trigger. The ShadowDemon was blasted off of the edge of the roof. Tolaas ran to the edge and looked down, watching it fall right in front of the first responders that had shown up.

It hit the ground with a sickening 'splut', and then slowly started to sizzle and dissolve away into nothing.

Now ta find a way off'n this roof an' get the hell outta here, he thought. But he stood on the edge for a few moments longer, then ducked back, wandering around the roof looking for a ladder.

[augustpoem]

rof (rolling on the floor (not laughing just rolling))

[lesbianboyfriend]

rofs….rolling on the floor starving…..

[romana-after-dark]

But what if Lorenzo was in ROF? Hmm? What if he was Santi's second cousin? What if I got to kiss him?

(I'm so sorry)

What if???

NON CANON NON CANON NON CANON NON CANON

(This is mostly a crack fic, both The Wrong Way where Lorenzo comes from and Room's on Fire are post-apocalyptic, and ROF is not TLOU universe, there's no indication that ROF had zombies. And lets say Lorenzo and Zach aren't committed at this point. Don't think too hard on it all.)

Lorenzo was visiting his second cousin, Santiago. He heard he had a wife now and also husbands??? His side of the family was always a bit strange.

So his cousin was a cult leader! Lorenzo worked for a raider who had kidnapped a 20 year old

Well, this girl was 22 but she at least seemed to be there willingly.

"And then she'll have a child and he'll bring peace on earth." Santi explained over dinner, his wife sitting next to him. She was pretty, but Lorenzo didn't quite grasp why Santiago would want her when he had a slew of stunning men around him. At his right was his right handman, Francisco who he seemed more handsy than with his wife.

"Uh huh, right, that's crazy, man." Lorenzo wasn't really listening, he was too busy eyeing their guardsman. Jonah, he heard Will say. Older, crazy cheekbones, greying brown hair, and a cocky sway to his hips Lorenzo liked. He wondered if Jonah was gay. He'd find out.

Madonna was nodding along, looking up at her husband as he spoke and smiling. At the very least she seemed excited.

After a while, Madonna retired to her painting room to 'Allow the men some time alone', and Lorenzo and the guys went to the parlor for drinks. Francisco asked if Lorenzo smoked and when Lorenzo said yes, he gave him a blunt. The night was fun, minus Ben, Will and Santi bragging about their sexual escapades with Madonna. Lorenzo was more interested in whatever the hell was happening between the four men. Natural chemistry was radiating off Francisco and Ben, and Santi was clearly also eyeing Will, but nothing really compared to how much the focus was on Madonna. Funny, the world could end but straight relationships were still prioritized.

Leaving to go to the bathroom, Lorenzo ran into Madonna crying a tray of snacks.

When the tray fell, cheese and crackers scattering on the floor, the disappointment in her face reminded him of the young girl at his home.

"Hey" He spoke, helping her clean up. "Don't worry about it."

Unlike the girl, she didn't cry, she just seemed frustrated.

"This always happens." She mutters.

"What does?"

Madonna sighs. "I can't seem to get this right" She shakes her head.

Lorenzo was still confused. "What's this?"

She stops, knelt down at the floor with her pretty dress across her legs. "Being a wife. It hasn't really... come easily."

The girl and Madonna had similarities. Their youth, passivity, femininity, but there are differences. These things come easy to the girl, as soon as she had freedom she took care of Joel and Tommy, and even Lorenzo and Jack. "Sweetheart, you're doing great. I ran into you. Here, let's just..." He put the cheese, meat and crackers on the tray, reorganizing them with the garnish. "Bring this to them, I won't say a thing."

She looked at him hesitantly. "But, they were on the floor..."

"It's mostly the crackers on the floor, it'll be fine. Where I live, I've had to each much worse to survive. I promise they'll be okay."

Madonna looked at him, nervous but she acquiesced. "Okay... yeah, okay..."

She smiled up at him, and he smiled back. Lorenzo helped her up, straightened her dress and hair and let her go happily, excited to care for her husbands. As she walked away, a skip back in her step, Lorenzo wondered where she fit into this world. It seemed like she was almost a pawn. The four men had decades of life before her, and goddamn how many of them were sucking dick? She was only 22, how could she possibly navigate this world and complexities?

Lorenzo shook it all off. He had one young girl he had to keep alive already, he just hoped Madonna had enough people around her.

Speaking of which...

Lorenzo noticed how Jonah hovered over her, how she looked to him for reassurance. He seemed fatherly to her.

Lorenzo went to the bathroom and then went to find Jonah. He wondered, in a household of much more open sexuality, where Jonah laid on that spectrum...

**********************

Anyway IDK I just liked this

Jonah isn't necessarily gay or bi in canon, but I thought Fen would enjoy the idea of them fucking

I LOVE YOU FEN!!!!!

[moonlightjo]

How your words after a bad day feel like to me and my heart :

Fuck. I love you so much. I'm whipped bro. You don't understand. I've never felt more safe with anyone *sobs on the floor - ROF L S*

🥹🥹🥹🥹🫂🫂🫂🫂🫂

Yes I know, I feel it 🫂🩷. I love you 🫂🫂🫂🫂🫂🫂🫂🫂💋💋💋💋💋💋💋. Same here love 🥹.

🫂🩷

[rofpremiumfloors]

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[the-peddito-and-doise-show]

Methinks we should kill fake peddito with hammers

When the dust settled once more, there was now a graveyard of bruised Fake Peddito clones who looked like they’ve been in the gutter, as strewn away limbs spread across the checked floor. While the rest of the gang celebrated their victory, The Doise posed arrogantly in front of the battered bodies, proud of his work—and foolishly thinking that this battle was already won.

… “ECALP eht snwo eh gnikniht ereh ni ztlaw nac eh skniht ohw TAR eulb emos ton ,rekaf YM yb netaeb eb dluohs I ,gnihtyna fI ?emahs ot em stup ti HCUM woh wonk uoy oD .SKCOR htiw ymra ym deltnamsid uoY .ytinrete fo lla rof ylsseldne gnikcit s’taht kcolc a ekil—daeh ym ni pu gnillews si REGNA hcum woh fo ebircsed tonnac sdroW .dne na ot emoc tsum sgniht doog lla ,sselehtreveN ?ssel yna rettam t’now ti dne eht ni nehw niw ot yrt NEVE uoy od yhW ?tsisrep uoy od YHW ,em lleT .degnoleb uoy erehw esuoh TAHT ni deyats ev’dluohs uoy tuB .emoh morf yaw gnol a er’uoY .desserpmi ma I …timda tsum I ,yas tsum I .enod llew yreV .enod llew.”

“EM.

ECAF…

DNA…

EMOC…”

The luminous Doise then powered up with the levels of the mysterious entity’s energy once more, as the monstrous and demonic faker started to furiously get more grotesque in appearance, one by ONE.

Then, a violent clash erupted—except this time, only one of them would make it out alive.

[lordoftime01]

Faunus AU: Pyrha Nikos

Physical Traits: Long Hare ears

Non-Physical traits: A little bit more solitary than human Pyrrha (aside from her team).

Quirk: Whenever she's pissed, she'll speak backward.

Pyrrha walked into the combat arena. Her weapon drawn, dragging it on the floor. Her eyes glowed blood red as she stared down at her opponent, one Cardin Winchester. She was going to be his judge, jury, and executioner. His crime? Making one Jaune Arc cry.

Pyrrha: Points her weapon at Cardin.

Pyrrha: "yrc enuaJ gnikam rof yap ot gniog era uoY"

Cardin: Shakes a little in fear, but still tries to put up a brave front and has his weapon drawn.

Cardin: "Y-you don't sc-scare me" Has a little quiver in his voice as Pyrrha gets into her ready stance

Pyrrha: Doesn't even bother getting into a proper stance. She decided to use one of her newest fighting styles for this combat practice... kickboxing.

Pyrrha: "retsehcniW enim si ttub ruoY"

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

https://ifunny.co/picture/if-you-don-t-know-the-difference-between-a-hare-ZGzSj3dRA

[rkvpropworld]

One of the best affordable residential floors in Signature City Floors in Gurugram is available forat best price. Easy n smooth connectivity from Pataudi road, Dwarka Expressway, NH8. , KMP Expressway & IGI Airport Educational Institutions like SGT group of Institutes, Yaduvanshi school, Sharda international school, Colonnels public school, underconstruction Gurugram university, within the proximity

[frokenisa]

rof (rolling on the floor (not laughing just rolling))

[1hannahhannah1]

AITA??

Content warning : homophobia, racism, some transphobia

The texts are in French, so I’ll translate them under the screenshots

So, person 1 said : “When we talk about those people (he means gay people), which is less than one percent of the population and it’s often connected with really strong personality disorders or a craving for attention”

Person 2 said : “Exactly why does one percent of the population takes like 25% of the place in the medias”

So. In your opinion, gay people represent less than one percent of the population? That’s wrong. We represent approximately 10% of the world population. Here’s where I took this information. If we make a little calculation, 10% of the worldwide population is approximately 800 000 000 people.

Person number 1 said :

“Besides man and woman or at the biggest limit non-binary because of fucked up hormones level, there’s nothing else that exists

“And I mean if you take yourself for a UFO, do it if you want but don’t annoy the shit out of me 24/7”

I don’t even know what to fucking say. There are other genders beside identifying as man, a woman or a non-binary person. Besides, identifying as an object has nothing to do with the LGBTQ+ community.

Then, Person 2 said : “Dude, you talk like the president of Uganda”

…What the fuck??

So, for context, I had replied to the message of the person who said that only men, women and non-binary people existed, saying that intersex people fucking exist and this person replied : “It’s a malformation at birth, there’s only one of the two organs that work”, which is not really what I meant. Intersex people’s genitals might not match their reproductive organs, or they may have traits of both. I didn’t even talk about their reproductive organs. I only said that they exist. Being intersex isn’t a disorder, a disease or a condition. And also, some intersex traits can be genetically inherited.

Then, this.

“They are hermaphrodites”

Hermaphrodites dont fucking exist! It is an outdated term that implies that a person if fully male and fully female, which isn’t biologically possible. Many people who are intersex consider that term derogatory and stigmatizing.

So, person 1 responds to someone saying “I don’t understand anything, I just arrived 😂” and said :

“Their hormones (which he wrote without an ‘h’) of wokists are bursting”

So, to put in context, my friend had invited me into this debate because she was alone and no one took her defence. She felt like she needed help and invited me into this “debate”

Person two said : “Why do you think politicians go to gay marches lol”

What the fuck?? Who do you fucking think you are?!

So, person number one responded to one of my text, in which I said “Gender and the sex assigned at birth are two different things” and he responded : “Well no what do you think they would have done 400 years ago ROF”

So, to anyone who not might know, ROF stands for ‘rolling on the floor’. You think this is fucking funny?? People who have suffered and died because they were “different” is funny to you?!

So my friend, the one who’s text is in the middle responded to a text that said : “If there really was 78 genders we wouldn’t have bothered to do a debate to call into question?” And my friend responded : “Well why are you doing this then? There aren’t just two genders.”

Then, person number two said : “Especially that if we dig a little, most theories (gender theories) were invented by pedophiles, search up John Money and his experience on two intersex kids to prove his theory in the 50’s, the two kids killed themselves 💀”

What does this have to do with anything?! What are you trying to fucking prove??!!

So, my friend responded to that absolute garbage fire of last text and said : “Are you trying to say that pedophiles are part of the community?”

And person number one says : “And there’s no physical proof either, everything is in the head, anybody can say anything they want”

Isn’t that the whole fucking point? If you are non-binary, you don’t have to “look” non-binary!

Then another person chimes in and responds to my friend, saying : “A lot of pedophiles are, yes”

No they’re fucking not! Pedophilia is not a fucking sexuality!! THEY ARE NOT IN THE LGBTQ+ COMMUNITY!!!

Than this person says (responding to my friend (again ffs)) : “Yes it’s a sexuality out of the ordinary”

For the last fucking time, PEDOPHILIA IS NOT A SEXUALITY!!!

Then, I said : “If people are proud to be gay or lesbian, it’s their choice. The LGBTQ+ community was oppressed for millenia and burned alive because they loved someone. If they don’t “leave you alone” it’s so that the world doesn’t make the same wretched mistakes.”

I was responding to someone that said basically that they were tired of seeing gay people everywhere.

This person right here responded to my last text, saying : “I’d like to meet a gay that lived the pyres in the Occident”

That was not my point! I said that LGBTQ+ people were burned. I used the fucking past!! I did not say that this still happens today!

Then, this person responds to me : “Fuck*, do I look like I burned gays in 1600? I mean, I’m for the cause at the bottom but normal gays live their lives and you don’t even remark it that they’re gay but now it’s bozos that are thirsty for attention and assign themselves the cause for different reasons”

*Criss doesn’t really have a translation, but it’s a curse word

Again I did not fucking say that you burned gay people! I said that they suffered through that experience!

And “normal gays”?! WTF?! There’s no “normal gay” or “weird gay” you ignorant man!

This is part 1, here’s part 2