#garbage truck fire

[prettyboymeat]

grusha scribbles

[gwyoi]

. this is so fucking awful the 19 bar burned down fuck everything . it was the oldest gay bar in Minneapolis the bartenders were so nice and always poured with a heavy hand and drinks were cheap . fuck everything ……

[petepark]

have i talked abt the au where marjorine finds pete sleeping in a ditch and is just like. oh! umm. you're gunna come home with me i think.

[maerynaire]

"Boy! I sure can't wait to live in my 350k 2 story house that somehow packs 5 bedrooms into the top floor and has a 2 car garage that takes up half the bottom floor in a cramped neighborhood full of people I don't talk to that acts as a heat sink and makes me want to kill myself and leave my 2 children inside of it all day and only do scheduled 'family fun' once a week! Also I'm going to only ever park my car in the fucking street because I think that the 30 seconds it takes to put my car in the garage or driveway are seconds that I could be ignoring my family that I willingly decided to have!" -thousands of middle class americans the nation over

[babyanimalses]

Learn Colors&Street Vehicles Names | Soccer Balls Color changing Vehicle...

[newsbites]

News from Newfoundland & Labrador, 30 May

NL has sent two waterbombers, four pilots and two mechanics to Nova Scotia to help battle the raging forest fires north west of Halifax.

2. The Minister of Indigenous and Labrador affairs is offering her thoughts and prayers to a colleague, injured in a crash just over a week ago.

3. A fish harvester fell overboard from a vessel 160 km east of St. Anthony and a Royal Canadian Air Force Cormorant helicopter was deployed from 9 Wing Gander to make the rescue in a snowstorm.

4. Police in Bay Roberts need help to locate a stolen truck.

The brown double-cab 2007 Toyota Tundra was stolen from a home on Love Street sometime between 8:30 Saturday night and Sunday morning... The vehicle had over $4,000 worth of power tools in it at the time.

5. First responders were called to deal with a fire at Cottles Island Lumber Co. on Chapel Island.

6. Construction is starting on the new track and field facility for the upcoming 2025 Canada Games in St. John’s.

Temporary construction fencing has been installed near the Aquarena and Prince of Wales Collegiate to mark the construction site.

Heavy equipment will be operating from Monday to Friday ...

7. A video showing an accumulation of debris at the section of the East Coast Trail near Robin Hood Bay has been getting some attention online recently.

8. For now, the spring fishery “storm” has calmed, with most crab, shrimp and lobster fishers back on the water—but many say the pricing system is pushing rural communities towards economic collapse.

9. Three people were hospitalized following a three-vehicle crash at Portugal Cove Road and Major's Path in St. John's last Wednesday night. City staff have been monitoring the notorious intersection and are reportedly working on plans for improvements.

10. RecycleMyElectronics are holding a collection event at Rocky Harbour Volunteer Fire Department this Saturday.

[ipsen]

I’m so sorry for what I’m about to do.

Now this is a point of contention because I do want to put the question on the table: what IS Arima’s life dream? Is it really a world for ghouls? Is it really? He’s against V, but that doesn’t necessarily mean he cares about ghouls dying unnecessarily (because well, he kills ghouls unnecessarily).

So let’s look at the one thing he does “for ghouls”: his death.

Let’s see how his death affects everyone who knows him. They love his ass. Fura cries over him. Koori continues to idolize him, down to the point he evokes his name when fighting the Taxidermied Owl. Kaneki tries to emulate his idea of him as his successor (we all know how that turned out). Hirako and Squad 0 (a bunch of literal children) quit their fucking jobs because of him.

All of this because he martyrs himself. He wants to die so bad, and when he finally kills himself, he is loved by everyone. Sound familiar?

(re 53)

So yes it IS a stupid plan. It’s stupid to the point of being childish. But hey—

(re 43)

(re 21)

— I’m just musing.

Arima's plan was so stupid like the dude was completely unbeatable and instead of fighting V on his own with also unbeatable Eto he?? left his title and life dream to some guy that could barely touch him in combat??

The impact from having THE ghoul investigator teaming up with ghoul would have been soooo much more, for the humans especially, than whatever Kaneki had going on. Especially paired with the Takatsuki is a ghoul reveal and her new book release. As for the ghouls, all Arima had to do was. stop killing them.

And instead of that, he killed Shachi and gave Rize to V and then made Kaneki his successor like???

[seat-safety-switch]

You've heard of range anxiety, of course. Lots of folks upset about how many miles their theoretical electric car can "do," when they haven't left their city for sixteen years. What my neighbours have to be worried about is strange anxiety, which is to say all the bullshit I stole when the abandoned Tesla factory's fence got cut by those raiders.

Back in the day, hot rodders used to build their cars out of leftover military gear. Once World War II was over, nobody wanted all these cool machines lying around, and the governments of the world had not yet invented China to send their garbage to. Belly tanks. Supply truck axles. Superchargers. All this glorious stuff was just free for the gettin', and gettin' the newly-minted middle class did, stuffing it into their weird shitboxes and then driving around with way too much power and too little understanding of mortality. So it is today.

You see, everything in the entire world has a lithium-ion battery in it. Vapes. Flashlights. Those boxes at the mall that shock people back to life who had a heart attack at the cost of grapes. And folks just chuck this stuff into a pile when something small happens: maybe they don't like the colour anymore, a thinner version came out, or it had a little tiny eenie-weenie baby fire. All those good batteries, these power-dense miracles that would have been science fiction a decade ago, just going to waste.

All this is to say when you see me blowing down the street in a hacked-up Model T, above three Tesla axles, with the rumble seat entirely stuffed with bodge-wired vape batteries, make sure to at least admire the amount of work that went into making all this garbage usable again. And, if it's not too much of a problem for you, please make sure to buy fire extinguishers that are electrical-safe. None of that hose shit anymore, please, it just spreads the flames. We're in the future.

[pr1ncessjo]

MDNI 18+ content ; fem!reader, violence, stalking, nudity, masturbation, wade being a perv but what else is new?

thinking about wade and clueless civilian!reader….

he watches her from the rooftops as she walks home late at night, clutching her purse closely to her chest, her heels clicking against the cement of the city streets late at night, every night, like clockwork; he's there.

he feels the bulge beneath his suit grow at the sight of her getting ready for bed. he stares unashamedly from the fire escape as she rids herself of her clothes, now only in a pair of frilly white lace panties and a conveniently (for him) see-through matching tank top.

he has her whereabouts memorized so he knows exactly where she is at any given moment. he watches who she talks to, who checks her out unbeknownst to her, who follows her as she blasts music through her earbuds and sips her overpriced, way-too-sugary coffee. lucky for her, wade's always there to make sure no one lays a hand atop her oblivious little head. even if that means the perpetrator 'accidentally' gets their throat slit fruit ninja-style in an alleyway or 'just so happens' to walk into a garbage truck compactor. anything to protect his little angel.

he nearly breaks through her window to offer a helping hand (pun intended) as she plays with herself relentlessly under the covers, biting her glossy lip, and letting whines and whimpers fill her room as loud as she wants because—after all, no one's around to hear her....

right?

taglist 𓉸ྀི @maneskinwh0re (lmk if you'd like to be added !!)

[o-sachi]

Isagi Yoichi ₊⊹ Headcanons

ଳ Character; Isagi Yoichi (Bllk)

ଳ Tags; (random) regular/platonic hcs

— He’s the type of person who avoids stepping on the cracks on the sidewalk whenever he goes out on his usual walks. Whenever he does accidentally step on a crack, he lets out an audible ‘tsk’ and is a bit annoyed by the fact.

— On the top shelf of his cabinet, there’s a reused cookie tin where he chucks all the cool rocks he found on his walks. He has had the thing since childhood and now he doesn’t know what to do with it. So it has been collecting dust there and he’s pretending that it doesn’t exist.

— He’s a plain texter, but not a dry one. The only shortcuts he uses are otw, brb, ty, and btw. He’s guilty of overusing this emoji 🙂 and he unironically uses this one 😊. He uses both in a non-sarcastic manner. His top 5 emojis are: 🙂👍🏻😂😕⚽️

— His room is neat and tidy which his parents constantly praise him for. However, the colors are a bit dull. The only eye-catching area would be his manga shelf. He’s proud of his collection and enjoys rearranging it whenever he buys new manga. He arranges them by genre, so he can easily find something to read to fit his mood.

— He is a MAJOR sweet tooth. He’d eat sweets exclusively all day if he could. The only thing that’s stopping him was that one time he got extremely sick after eating too much kintsuba as a little kid. “Moderation is key,” he’d say while eating sweets.

— Despite being a sweet tooth, he’s not a picky eater. He eats anything his mother cooks which he is praised for as well. He doesn’t particularly hate any kind of food, but he’d prefer not to have bitter stuff. Even though he’s an active and growing dude, he isn’t much of a big eater. He actually gets full pretty fast.

— He likes to tell dad jokes which he stole learned from his dad. His personal favorite (which makes him chuckle a bit before saying it) is, “What has 4 wheels and flies? A garbage truck!” The only person who has laughed at that joke was his younger cousin that came to visit them at their house some time ago.

— His parents keep an odd doodle of a cyborg-looking creature picture framed in their kitchen. It was one of Isagi’s drawings from when he was just 6 years old. He gifted it to his mom on her birthday because he thought she loved his art.

— His biggest pet peeve is people who chew loudly. Somehow he can hear it more compared to other people. It irks him so much to the point that it makes him lose appetite altogether. He usually eats faster, so that he can relieve himself of those horrid sounds.

— Whenever he goes to the mall, there are 3 places he absolutely needs to visit. The first one is the sporting goods store so he can check out some new football equipment he might like. The second one is the 100¥ store (dollar store). He likes to look for cool trinkets and kitchen tools for his mom or tools for repair for his dad. Lastly, he has to go to the sweets shop that sells his favorite kintsuba.

— Much like on the field, it’s like Isagi transforms into a different person whenever he’s playing multiplayer games. It doesn’t matter if it’s the enemy or his teammate—they’re all catching some fire.

— Sometimes he can’t fall asleep quickly because he’s thinking up of scenarios (he does this to fall asleep quicker, but it has the opposite effect). He likes to repeat events if they didn’t turn out well or if it wasn’t as vivid as he wanted it to be.

ε( ε ˙³˙)ɜ ｡° ⚬ ｡ Likes and reblogs are appreciated

o-sachi © 2024

[doodlegirl1998]

You know what's really funny to me? The trope of Bakugou in canon being super talented at everything that he does. In canon it's supposed to be for laughs when he's good at random shit, but I don't understand how it's supposed to be funny when the funnier route would have been that this guy has dedicated himself to nothing else but being extremely good at fighting with his quirk and to be a hero that he's actually super ass at everything else. But I guess having a complex version of Bakugou where he learns that there's more to life than heroics and maybe is way less of a demon isn't something that would have been interesting. ALSO ALSO, genuinely I'm confused as to why people think Bakugou is super smart. Like I get that he was excelling at school and was taking mock UA tests and shit, blah blah blah, but:

A) I can totally see his marks getting doctered by Aldera

B) Passing the UA exam doesn't tell me shit about his intelligence, since people who are "dumber" (Kaminari and Ashido) than him also passed the same exam. Without even knowing the proper format of the test (keeping in mind it's also a standardized test) there's no real way to gauge how "intelligent" someone has to be to do well. Also there's a bunch of General-Ed students who passed that test so again, doesn't tell me much.

C) For all the praise that he receives, there's nothing really like "intelligent" or complex about the plans that Bakugou comes up with when people suck him off for being such a good tactician. He fully somehow thought he could overwhelm fucking ALL-MIGHT with his explosions alone, if he's such a good tactician why would he all of a sudden fuck this up? Also, his "counter" to Uraraka's plan was just do bigger explosions, so again, nothing to do with his actual intellect, it's just his quirk. Which brings me to,

D) Bakugou fully should have been taken out by Uraraka's plan. I get that she was tanking hits and he wasn't, but he suffers no backlash at all from unleashing his quirk all day, and is even able to fire off massive explosions no problem. I don't care what bullshit excuse Horikoshi or the fandom comes up with, unless Bakugou has a second quirk that makes him indestructible or lets him cancel out forces, those massive explosions would have shattered his arms and legs from the recoil. But nooooooo, Todoroki suffers from acute frosbite and Midoriya shatters himself when he uses OfA. But Bakugou? Ah well, sometimes we'll remember that he's running out of sweat or his wrists will hurt a little or sumthin.

E) Why is Bakugou (and I guess Kirishima by extension as well) more ripped and buff then Midoriya when canonically somehow managed to balance a fucking small pick up truck on the last pile of garbage that he stood on when he cleared the beach. Midoriya should be jacked and stacked like Jotaro fucking Kujo in part 3 and be an immovable object, yet some how Bakugou is shown to be physically stronger than him??? Midoriya should be casually lifting couches with the entire class sitting on it so he can vaccum underneath.

PS. I think it would've been exponentially better to have IZUKU be the one who is good and talented at random shit. Like the kid who didn't have the one thing that is required of all heroes (a quirk) and tries to overcompensate for his "uselessness" by being insanely talented and skilled at tons of different hobbies would have been an awesome angle, he's genius enough to pull it off. Not only would it give us more insight on his life before All Might, but it would also make Bakugou less of a Mary Sue (seriously, the narrative bends over backwards for him) and Izuku less of an untalented loser (again, the narrative loves shitting on him, sweet Jesus). Having Bakugou be terrible at everything besides heroics and Izuku being good at everything "besides heroics" might've made for an interesting character parallel that Hori insists on shoving down our throats for 400 chapters straight 😒

Hi @stormiclown 👋

💯. I completely agree with this.

Bakugou being ass at everything that doesn't involve his quirk would have been much funnier, and it would have made more sense narratively for the reasons you listed.

In a good story, that fact would have also forced Bakugou to grow and realise that in UA, he's no longer a big fish in a small pond - he's just one of many talented children.

As you rightfully pointed out, it would have made much more narrative sense for IZUKU to be the ripped one, to be the talented and intelligent one. He would have felt like he would have had to prove he wasn't useless growing up, so it would have made more sense for Izuku to have dozens of hidden (and developed - where did Izuku's quirk analysis go?!) talents.

Then, for Izuku to feel jarred by the amount of praise and appreciation he is getting now, he isn't "useless quirkless Deku" that he felt like he was at Aldera. Then for Izuku to flourish and grow as a result.

[redsrooftopprincess]

I seriously love how you write Raph your depiction of him is so aligned with mine. Practically perfect and it really inspires me to expand on my own headcanons of him. I also just really like your style of writing!

I want to know what Raph would be thinking, how he’d react, to his muscular, androgynous s/o wearing a red sundress with their back out and thigh muscles peeking through the fabric

- 🌠

I hope this is okay. Red is feeling sassy today. 😈

Christmas in August

Gn reader x Raphael

August in the city is a special kind of hell. Between the reflections on the buildings magnifying the heat, and the asphalt trapping it, street level was more or less unbearable.

You don't wear short dresses often, you've always been a little self conscious about your legs, but you've been working out recently, with the world's hottest coach, and you're feeling a bit more confident about your body lately.

You turn and admire yourself in the mirror. Not bad. A vintage low-backed halter dress, coming to just above mid thigh, in fire engine red. A lucky find while thrifting with April. You smirk wickedly, thinking about your boyfriend.

You have a shopping date with April in about an hour, and when you didn't find your wallet in your apartment, you had an excuse to torture your beloved.

Grabbing a pair of black retro sunglasses, and throwing on a pair of keds, you make your way out of your apartment and into the oven that has become New York City.

You thank any and every possible supernatural force that Donnie had finished fixing the elevator in the garage last weekend, grateful you dont have to traverse the sewers in this heat, and make your way to the lair.

You step out into the garage, the sounds of the resident mechanics at work echoing off the walls.

"I got it!"

"Do you?!"

"I got it! Just grab the damn jack!"

Raphael holds the front end of the garbage truck aloft, while Donatello reaches under to grab the jack that has slid underneath.

You walk past your boyfriend with a wave of your fingers on your way into the lair, knowing better than to interrupt the mechanics at work. Donnie nearly doesn't make it out alive when Raph drops the truck.

You can hear Donnie yelling at him as you walk into the lair, a smirk turning your lip. Exactly the reaction you were hoping for. You head toward the kitchen and grab a soda from the fridge.

He takes a few steps towards the kitchen with a wicked smile. You are here, and you are hot, and you all his (at least until you have to meet up with April). But he stops, just for a moment, replaying your entrance in his head. He takes a deep breath, shaking his head. There it was, that damn smirk as he dropped the truck. Okay, fine. You wanna play games? He'll play.

All day long, he acts as if nothing is different. Even when Mikey goes gaga over your dress, he only nods. "Of course they look good, they always look good."

When Leo nearly chokes on his coffee as you walk by and tells you how incredible you look, Raph walks by him to pick up his phone off the couch without a word.

He only comes close to breaking once.

You walk into the weighroom, pretty sure your wallet had fallen out of your bag yesterday. Crossing to the bench on the other side, you start looking around.

Spying it on the floor, you brace one hand on the bench, reaching over it with the other and fuck he almost takes you right there. Your dress rides high, giving him a full view of your thighs and just a little of your ass. He catches the black lace panties peeking out from between your legs and groans internally. You were hot before, let's be real, but you've been working out with him lately and it's paying dividends.

He licks his lips as you stand and his eyes trail up your spine, watching the way the muscles he helped you build move.

One deep breath and the mask is back in place before you turn around.

By the time you're ready to leave, you're trying not to show your disappointment. You were really hoping for *some* kind of reaction from your boyfriend. He almost feels bad for fucking with you. Almost.

He offers to walk you out, and he places his hand at the small of your back as you step into the elevator, deflated.

The moment the doors close, you're up against him with your back against his plastron and his thigh between your legs, braced against the door. His hand holds you against him just below your navel, and his head is buried in your shoulder.

"You really think you can show up wrapped up like a god damn Christmas present all for me and expect me not to unwrap you?" His breath pours over you like warm honey as his voice melts into your skin. "Baby, I'm just waiting till Christmas."

You can feel the rumble in his chest at your core, and he rolls his thigh forward, just to make his point, "I'll see you tonight," his voice drops into a growl you can feel inside your chest, "and don't you dare take that dress off."

The doors open, and he sets you down on wobbly legs, just outside the elevator. When you turn around to look at him as the doors are closing, the bastard is leaning against the back wall, arms crossed, looking you up and down and smirking like the devil he is. "Mmm-mm," he hums appreciatively, his voice laced with filthy promises, as the doors rattle closed.

.....

Tag list:

@thelaundrybitch @the-cauldron-witch @fyreball66 @ninnosaurus @tmntngl @thegirlwiththeninjaturtletattoos @zagreustomb @ramielll @silverwatergalaxy

[alastorsfuckassbob]

Vulnerable

Alastor x Fem!Reader- Part 3

WELCOME TO THE LOWKEY FAN SERVICEY PORTION OF OUR BROADCAST🗣️! Sorry for the long wait..uh ANYWAY- Its just a silly little steamy make out session I felt like writing lowkey unnecessarily added into the plot. Its character development This is done mostly on the grounds of I felt bad for being slow with the plot and wanted to give you radio demon lovers out there some crumbs.<3

✨The plot✨(these are getting worse as we go)

Our depressed dear y/n self deprecates in front of a "hang in there" kitten poster. before bitching about the cold on her walk home.Oh shit her house is broken into. In this life its just you and your shitty pocket knife. Nvm its a cool dress! She then spends a good half hour thinking about their old relationship's spicy times.

⚠️WARNINGS⚠️

-Mentions of domestic violence

-Mentions of alcohol

-Fuckass Val

-A little make-out sesh (smut is scary so you can use your little imagination to figure out what happens after)

Mornings in hell were colder than one might expect, despite the nearly constant blaze of sinner set fire. At its heart, Hell was frigidly cold, especially at night. A part of you had gotten used to the way it clawed deeply against your skin. However, the other part of you secretly begged to some god somewhere you didn't quite believe in to make the sun rise a little faster. It wasn't necessary by any means, Hell wasn't anything more than a desert. All you had to do was wait. The crisp morning would lose its glacial influence as the sunlight reached out to touch it just as it always did. You just needed to be patient. You take in a deep breath, attempting to let go of your displeasure.The sharp frosty air pierced your lungs, unknitting the last strings of warmth from your skin on impact. Your teeth began to chatter. You curl into the softness of your wings, it wasn't much, but it helped.

From your recently awakened slumber, you had briefly forgotten the events of the night before. However, upon seeing angel slumped in bed beside from you, the realisation took root. The recollection flattened your heart like a careless truck running over a measly stray bit of garbage

Your performance last night was nothing more than a falsified forgery. It was adorned with the typical strokes and details found in your normal act, but it was so hopelessly fake. Valentino could always tell when you were phoning it in. Despite his fraudulent demeanour, he demanded authenticity from you. After your previous..altercation, you just didn't have it in you to thread your harsh edges in salacious intent. You were an excellent dancer, but you hated the prying eyes that glued themselves onto your figure. Val wouldn't be happy with that. You were already voiceless, he already owned your soul. He couldn't physically take much more, but he could still make your life a relentless nightmare. The punishments he so easily gave out always had a creatively cruel flair. The thoughts brought on a familiar uneasiness. You could take whatever he threw at you, you wouldn't like it but you would endure. You didn't have to like it. Your grounds were barren in the terms of genuine will. You didn't have a reason to keep living, you just refused to die. You would endure until the red toned city around you pathetically crumbled back into the ground. You would watch the world you lived in reflect the terms of your anguish in twisted perfection over and over again...All by the hands of Valentino. You couldn't do much else. Your dimly lit soul had grown more accustomed to calloused hands and absinthe than you wanted to admit..It was just the way of things.

Great now you were cold and stressed out.

Your mind drifted to Angel. His crumpled hair and soft arms outstretched in your direction. The night before, he had spilled a glass of gin soaked secrets, revealing more than you expected him to. His drunken tears leaked into the brimstone walls of your heart. You learned his name was Anthony in life among other things. He probably didn't remember opening up to you, you were surprised you did.

He had been in Hell much longer than you had been..he had been with Valentino much longer than you had..years longer. The thought held more pain than your sore bruise lined body could feel.

Valentino had the poor habit of misguiding his frustration. As much as you pissed him off, your groans of pain just weren't as satisfying as Angels. Even if Val dragged your limp body across the studio, his nails dug deeply into the flesh of your skull, he wouldn't be satisfied if he didn't hurt Angel too. You couldn't help but wonder how he put up with it all. He was a lot stronger than people give him credit for. How long had Angel been his favourite toy? How many other souls tied to Valentino fucked up as you so often did? How did he deal with the brunt of that frustration tipped in his direction? How many times was he hurt because you didn't give Val what he wanted?

He was an angry disagreeable man he would always find some excuse to take that out on others.You knew that, you just hadn't stopped to think how many times had you been the excuse he used to justify how he treated Angel. Your hand brushed a stray strand of hair from his peaceful face. You didn't want to cause him any more pain.

Angel at least looked warm. He still slept soundly curled up towards the edge of the bed. His legs were neatly cocooned into a pile of various blankets. You stretched, shaking the sleep from your eyes and the fog from your brain.

You stood up glancing back on his sleeping form. A part of you felt bad for leaving Angel wordlessly.. His night wasn't great either, even if it was your fault, you could still help make it better. You could also make it worse. You couldn't risk that. He would get over your sudden absence, but what if you said the wrong thing and he hated you for it. He should hate you, after all it was your fault the night went to shit.

I mean even if for some reason he didn't want you to leave, it would be easier if he didn't have to explain why you're here to the literal princess of hell. Its not like you could tell her yourself. You'd rather walk home a bit early and save him the trouble.

You glance at the digital clock stationed on his nightstand, It read 5am. Hopefully the other residents of the hotel weren't early risers. that would really be hard to explain.

You walked into his bathroom to at least attempt to make yourself a bit more presentable. You let out the breathy shell of a laugh; amused by the emotionally supportive posters and positive notes that adorn the wall around the sink. He was trying in some way, he was trying to make the best of things. He didn't have anyone to remind him it was going to be okay besides the small grey kitten saying "hang in there". on one of the larger posters. You pick up a note in Angel's swirled handwriting

"You're hot in more ways than just physically! Nice ass but nicer everything else"

It was a little silly, but it made you feel better for a second. Your eye gets caught on your hellish exterior in the mirror. God- you looked rough.

The mascara stains under your eyes did nothing but highlight the heavy bags that already resided there. Your hair had awkwardly shifted back into its natural texture in some places and erupted in frizz in others. You were still wearing that burlesque outfit Valentino had picked for you. Russet red dried blood and what you assumed to be half a fruity cocktail stained the front. You looked like an extra in a poorly funded zombie film.

Ironically the outfit had been one of your favorites before then. It reminded you of Alastor- big surprise there- almost everything does at this point.

The cut of the top and the off shoulder sleeves reminded you of the dress he had bought you to celebrate your new part time gig singing at that little bar downtown. The outfit's color reflected it marvelously as well- sadly the similarities seemed to end there. The outfit had numerous cut outs and a slit up each side. It didn't leave much to the imagination, but those subtle details kept it in your good graces. Not that it mattered, it was practically ruined now. Maybe you thought too deeply, but it started to feel painfully ironic.

You had sewn into the outfit memories of an ill-fated gentle romance and a shared cup of camomile tea, but ultimately it doesn't change what it really was, stained with the shadow of lust...Just as you had been.

The outfit would never truly resemble that dress. Even if you found an ounce of similarity. Even if you dragged it to the tailor and used its corroded bones to recreate the dress exactly.They weren't the same, they could never be.

You weren't the same.

You hadn't been for quite some time.

In the end, it wouldn't matter if he would ever consider accepting you in the condition you're in. Your skin will always sustain the weight of Valentino's hand. The vulnerability in your soul had been sparked by fear as opposed to love. Whats done is done. Even if you had been crafted with the object of love in mind your heart had been distorted beyond the point of recognition, it could never really be the same again.

With that, you didn't want him to find you anymore. It would be worse to watch him fall out of love with you as he realised you weren't the same. The love you had so protectively harboured in your heart for the devilish man was cut loose. It drifted away into the rotting sea of your soul surrounding it. You couldn't bring yourself to tear down the post you had previously tied it to. Even if you told yourself you couldn't love him any longer, the hole he left in your heart was too large for your will to cover.

You shrug on the coat you had slung on the floor before crashing last night and slide on your shoes.

You grab a pen from Angel's desk-if you could even call it that. It was nothing more than an old bar stool with a jar of pens and a pink glittery notepad. You scrawled a simplistic message. You didn't want him to worry about you. Even if he said he didn't care, he was sensitive. You didn't want to hurt him any more than you had already.

" Hey Angie! I went home- don't worry I wasn't kidnapped! Eat something for breakfast or I swear to god I'll make you eat an eyebrow pencil next time I see you..Love ya lots<3" Your handwriting was a bit messier than normal but it did the job okay.

You walked to the door, opening it it quietly, the lock behind you clicking as you shut the door to Angel Dust's room.

Finding your way out of the hotel was trickier than you expected but nothing you couldn't manage. Once outside you began to shiver. You tugged your coat tightly against your skin, not that it helped much. You refused to fly in such icy temperatures. The wind would be far less intrusive at a slower speed.

The walk from your apartment to the hotel was a little over an hour. Perhaps if you weren't so hung over it wouldn't have taken you as long.The sun just begun to peak out from the horizon, simultaneously allowing enough space for the nightly wind to have free passage, and the blinding light of the sun to assault your eyes; your own special little fuck you from the universe.

The steps up leading to your third floor flat were much steeper than you had previously recalled. Hauling your body up them took a lot more energy than you care to admit. Out of breath and slightly sweaty you were finally headed down towards your room.

Your steps creak in harmony with the ancient building's crumbling walls. You glance down the hallway at what you had hoped would be a chance to decompress.

You stop abruptly a few units from your own. The door was ajar. You pull a short pocket knife from the side of your shoe. The rusted knob looked no worse than it already did. The lock however, featured a few more scratches than you recalled.

You were too tired for this bullshit, You hadn't actually used a knife before. Stabbing people seemed like an intuitive thing to do, but your inexperience left you drenched in anxiety. Nothing within you wanted to go inside, but your legs begged for rest. There really wasn't any use in preventing the inevitable. Eventually you would go inside or whoever was inside would come out. Either way its stab or be stabbed. The door whines as you slide yourself inside. You knew the situation was dangerous, all you had was a shitty knife you mostly used to open packages. If someone was here to kill you..without your voice no one would even know. You pushed the thought aside. You could still run. You could still fly. You weren't hopeless.You crept throughout the apartment with the knife raised steadily in front of you- ready to fight whatever had arrived.. Nothing ever came. By the first two rooms you had lost your concern. It was just how you left it. You stepped into your bathroom, locking the door behind you. You must have just forgotten to close the door behind you the day before.

You glanced around the bathroom before you noticed it was not in the disrepair you'd left it in. A fresh bouquet of roses sat neatly in the vase, the old dried flowers tied and hung above them to use in your next bath. The radio you had so unfortunately melted been replaced by an antique model adorned in golden trim and a stained glass depiction of a small canary. Lastly, a neatly wrapped vermillion box sat on the opposite side of your vanity, a wax sealed envelope tucked between the box and the large velvety bow.

This was a bit ( really fucking) weird. Curiosity over took you as you reached for the dark inky envelope.

You trace the underside of the waxy seal with the edge of your knife, effectively tearing it from the envelopes dark paper. You unfolded the letter unsure where something like this would even come from. You had admirers, but anything they said or gifted to you went through Valentino first. He was the only one he deemed fit to give or take anything from you. He was greedy in the gifts he received and thoughtless in the gifts he gave. None of this felt thoughtless.

Dearest y/n,

I believe it is time you were compensated for all that I have put you through these past two days. I believe you would simply sparkle in this color. If it is to your liking, please wear it tonight. I hope to see you there.

With love,

-Yours truly

Val had gifted you dresses and other fashions in the past, more for his own satisfaction than as a reward. He rarely wrote the notes himself or even delivered the gift. He left it up to an unlucky assistant or just threw the garment in your face in passing.. Nothing about this felt like anything he would do. Perhaps one of his newer assistants didn't get the memo he is a massive piece of shit.

Regardless, you were curious to see what odd fantasy you were fulfilling tonight. You untied the ribbon. Upon lifting the lid, you realised today was going to end up much stranger than you'd hoped. Nothing about this made sense. The dress reminded you of something you might have worn out in your younger days..Was Val planning some weird 20s fetish night or just attempting to fuck with you? He knew the details of your past, with the exception of Alastor's involvement. Perhaps it was some form of psychological warfare you didn't understand.

Upon closer inspection , the dress was astoundingly quite tasteful. You pulled the item from the box pleased it kept going. Usually if the purchased dress was "too long" it would be cut short before it arrived in your hands, causing you a stressful few hours with your sewing machine fixing seams and hem lines.

You slid of the shell of your dirtied clothes and stepped into the dress. It fit you like a glove. The familiar 1920's silhouette and subtle inclusion of art deco threatened to pull you back into your old habits. It really was a gorgeous dress. The beaded scarlet fabric clung to your hips before slightly flaring at your knees. It sported a neckline adorned with crystals that dipped off of your shoulders and into the sleeves The back of the dress scooped down to your lower back a deeper toned train following it. Despite your otherwise disheveled appearance, you felt beautiful.

You look down at the red fabric pooling behind you, you don't want it to, but your mind begins to shift.

1929: New Orleans: The Bar

Your hands shake more than you wished they would, no matter how many times you sang here it always left you feeling anxious. The music sways in tandem with the bars patrons, mimicking the constant lull of conversation. You began to sing.Your voice cuts through the clinking of glasses and exhilarating cheers with a crystalline ring. You glance over to the bar in view of Alastor. His eyes trapped in a half lidded love led daze, filled with nothing but adoration for you.

You glance back down at your hands. They are covered in black velvet, contrasted by a simple pearl bracelet hanging loosely from your wrist. It was one of the many from Alastor on your birthday earlier that year. You had insisted it was far too much, and he insisted you were making far too big a deal of it. He wanted you to feel appreciated and loved, what better way to accomplish that than with a meaningful gift.

He wasn't fantastic with words when it came to you. His hands craved contact with your own. The sentiment he needed to convey didn't fully exist within the bounds of english, or french for that matter. You were worth more than any riches the world could offer you. He could spend his nights bottling starlight and collecting bits of moon and lay them at your feet, and he still wouldn't feel like it was enough. His mind drifted to your past. You were private with the majority of the details. He had collected the story over time from thoughtless anecdotes you mentioned in passing. He knew life before him hadn't been kind.Your mother had died during your birth, but her face stayed firmly in your grasp. Your father hated you for that reason, and he was not a pacifistic man. He felt you had taken the love of his life and left him alone with nothing more than a portrait you hadn't yet grown into. He had been sickly the majority of your life. The more you grew in likeness to your mother the less he fought to get better. He died when you were only 14, leaving you to fend for your siblings. You had raised them just as much as you raised yourself. If the world wasn't going to gift you a delicate existence. Alastor certainly would be. In that moment he vowed to make sure you never felt worried or lost ever again, he couldn't bare the thought of it.

He was shaken from his thoughts as the song climaxed into a loud jazzy finish. You glanced over at him again with a smile. You stepped down from the stage, the red fabric trailing behind you. You walked across the bar and into his arms. He instinctively wraps around your waist, his hand nestled into your own. The moment is pure ecstasy.

"If I could on pick one sound to hear for the rest of eternity it would be your darling voice mon cher" His honey toned voice whispered into your ear. You looked marvellous but the sound of your voice was entrancing.

Your eyes roll, a satirical air taking over your tone. "How many times did you rehearse that line Al?"

" Very evidently not enough. You've made i clear I needed a bit more rehearsal" His familiar sarcastic attitude evident in his tone. "For such a pretty face you have a hard time accepting a compliment"

You giggle into his chest.He placed a kiss against your forehead. Subconsciously you lean into his touch. You can't help but want to be closer to him. Your arms stretch around his neck effectively pulling him into a hug.

"My my, someones touchy this evening" his distinctive laugh following shortly after. It was the kind of laugh you could hear across a crowded room twenty years in the future and immediately know it was him. your hands travel to either side of his face, cupping it gently. Before you know it, your lips meet his. This kiss is slow and delicate at first. It is imbued with ever ounce of love you have ever felt for each other. His grasp on your waist tightens, pulling you in as close as humanly possible. The dark brown strands of his hair tangle into your hands. The kiss heats up faster than either of you care to admit before you finally register you're in public. He quickly composes himself, as do you. A sly smile stretches across his face. He glances down at your dress, his mind floating aimlessly searching for an excuse to be alone with you. Despite how deeply he loved you, he wasn't the type to display that in public. It felt a bit unsavoury. You were his and his alone.

"Darling, I think you may have torn your dress, during your wonderful performance. Would you allow me to help you fix it in a more, secluded location"

You looked down at your dress not entirely understanding what he meant. He always had your best interest in mind, perhaps he saw something you didn't. Besides, you didn't want to ruin the dress he bought you any further than you already had unknowingly.

"Oh I didn't realise it had torn. Of course, thank you love."

You take his hand in yours and lead him into the small dressing room. It was really just an extra office the owner had put a few mirrors, a changing screen, and vanity into. You stood in front of the taller of the two mirrors attempting to locate the tear.

"Alastor love, I don't see what you mean perhaps it was the ligh-"

Before you can finish your sentence his lips are pressed against your own. You lean into the kiss grasping onto his vest to steady yourself. You're caught in your own personal whirlwind. Your hands are glued against his sepia skin.

He breaks the kiss for a moment kissing the corner of your mouth trailing down your jaw and onto your neck. He sucks lightly against your skin

You're so precious to me y/n" his voice is deeper than it normally was. It held each desire he felt and simultaneously every ounce of adoration.

You let out a soft gasp as he lightly bites the side of your neck. He travels along it as your hands tangle themselves in his hair once more. God you didn't want this to end, but you wanted to feel closer to him. You drag him away from your neck placing your lips against his once more.Your hands trace the outline of his shoulders. His hands explore the curve of your spine and the softness of your waist. He lifts you up and sits you against the vanity. Subconsciously your legs wrap around his waist deepening the kiss. (scream)

"I have never loved someone the way I love you Alastor..thank you for letting me" You breathe out in between kisses.

He wasn't one to let people in. Not truly, he had a public persona and a private one. You were glad to get to know the esteemed radio host outside of the studio. You were so glad he let you seen him the way he was so afraid to be perceived as...Vulnerable.

A/N: LOL IM SORRY THAT ONE WAS KINDA SHORT. Also please let me know it the writing style and lengths are working. I've never really written before so Idk the right way to do this. Thanks for reading :) <3

-Also congrats to me for not using a song as the crutch to come up with a title.

[kaijuno]

How’s y’all’s day going I had to miss my fuckin ultrasound bc there’s a GARBAGE TRUCK on fire

[how-the-feathers-have-fallen]

Just when I think this fucking fandom is getting some fucking peace some mad man driving a gasoline truck rams straight into garbage fire....

Anyway wake up babe new Supernatual actor men rpf dropped!!