#idk if i plan to continue this

[aboyshapeddog]

WIP ⚠️

Halloween on the compound

Relationships: Staci Pratt/Jacob Seed

Rating: NR (no smut but i’m building up to it lol)

Warnings: Alcohol Use, Collars

Jacob was getting drunk, well buzzed. In the wake of a proverbial ceasefire for the holiday, he had no reason to keep up his post. Really, he could take one night off. If his Chosen couldn’t handle themselves without physical guidance for a single day, they weren’t worth keeping, were they. There was a knock at his door. No matter how light, the echo would ring ominously through the office, bouncing off the thick wood; though not that many had the guts to bother Jacob if he wasn’t immediately available. The Herald tossed back the glass of whisky in his hand and hummed to himself as it went down, sliding further into his seat. With one leg propped on his desk, and the other planted by the leg of his chair, he felt the whisky spread across his chest, warm. Now made comfortable, he answered, voice rough from the drink “What is it”.

The door creaked open just enough for Deputy Pratt to slide himself through the gap, and shut it quietly behind him, “Sir” he responded. The tentative greeting almost lost itself if not for the ear ringing silence of the room. “What is it, Pratt.” His words were slower than usual, faintly giving way to a drawl on the last syllables. Jacob thought idly if Staci had noticed his inebriation (Stacj had) he wouldn’t even think to acknowledge it (Staci wouldn’t), he had his dogs trained well. Speak, Sit, Stay . . . Beg. Staci began to rattle off tallies and quotas reached from his clipboard, stopping tentatively between some to gauge Jacobs reaction. The oldest Seed just stared, impassively, the Deputy’s words buzzing in his ear quiet and clipped; But his body taught like a bow, all lean muscle, did he always look this tense?

“C’mere”. Jacob’s voice was rougher than rough.

Staci froze, looking up from his clipboard. “I can’t hear a damn word you’re saying. Come here.” Pratt knew well enough not to show his apprehension, he also knew how little Jacob enjoyed repeating himself. He stepped up to the desk quickly, fixing his posture and puffing up his chest for good measure. Maybe his false bravado would get him some extra points this time.

The first words out of his mouth still came with a stutter, eyes back to the board Staci. Not to the massive man tracing ridges on the whiskey glass with his fingers, not to the way he’s tracing you with his eyes. Board, Staci. As he continued listing, Jacob began grumbling noises of affirmation or disapproval to certain things, which Staci made mental notes of, not daring even now to move from his position of attention. Then Jacob got up from his seat, and stepped close. Staci could smell the alcohol on the breath of the other man, his breath hitched, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Closer.

Staci couldn’t help the blush that crept up his cheeks and neck, it could’ve been the cold, must’ve been the cold. The cold and the hot breath he could feel prickling his skin from the mountain in front of him, yeah that had to be it. The Deputy finished listing and looked up. That was a mistake. The look Jacob had fixed him with turned his blood to ice, and set butterflies loose in his stomach; there was a fox in the hen house. Staci’s mouth opened and closed. Less than a foot away, Jacob licked his teeth.

A meaty hand reached in to Staci’s space, “What’s this . . . Peaches.” Jacob cracked a sharp toothy smile. He was so fucked. “That’s uh-“ he couldn’t even think of what to say -sorry Sir in a moment of pure delusion I thought it would be ironic to dress like the attack dog you treat me as- “it’s um” Who was he kidding this was insane, evidence of a mental break if anything; and now he was wearing a fucking dog collar in Jacob’s office, well a cat collar if it mattered. Jacob loomed over him, thick fingers heavy as they rubbed around and under the thick leather. “What is it, Peaches, cat got your tongue?”. Staci’s mouth went dry. He looked Jacob in his eyes again. “l uh, Halloween costume Sir.” He could hear the blood in his ears.

“Oh.” Jacob said, actually seeming half surprised. He stepped back from Staci, turning back to his desk, and drink. “Is that what that is?” The oldest Seed took back his seat behind the desk. Staci could breathe again. “Yes, Sir.”

“Well” Jacob grumbled “That about covers it doesn’t it, Peaches.” He paused looking Staci up and down slowly, drinking him in, gauging his reaction. Unless he could feel Pratt’s heart rate increase under his scrutiny everything should be fine, but Staci didn’t doubt that he might have that ability. In Jacob’s presence his brain always seemed to run a mile a minute, but still, not. fast. enough. He should say something, “Yes, Sir” good one Stace way to think on your feet. The Deputy turned to leave, and “Aht, aht, aht” Jacob’s chair pushing out from its resting position across the wooden floor sounded like a car wreck, it rattled Staci entirely. “You’re not ready to walk out like that are you?” Jacob seemed to move without moving, he hadn’t made a sound, the chair had but this massive man had closed this distance between the Deputy and himself in a matter of seconds, without making a sound. It attracted and terrified him completely, he understood deer in the path of LED headlights. “Are you, Peaches?”. That was a question. “Uh- No, Sir?” Jacob smiled, good answer, relief. “No, Sir.” Jacob repeated back to him, and reached for the collar again; This time handling the buckle, smoothing his thumb over the metal tip before tightening it a notch around Staci’s throat, warm.

It was still loose, made for a bigger cat than him, Jacob thought; but it made Staci’s head spin. Jacob pulled at it, bringing their faces within inches of one another. “Next time i’ll get you one that fits, huh, Peaches.” Oh God. “Ye-Yes, Sir.”

[hypogryffin]

Hey, do you have the next part of idiots in inaba in mind? Just asking because if you post it in the next few months, it will be an annual event, and I think that'd be funny.

(this is part 4 of my anne in inaba au, you can find the previous posts here: [part 1, part 2, part 3])

[1driedpersimmon]

Random doodles and Wips, been in a Saffron and Zenos mood for no particular reason :)

[purplebehittindifferent]

Hope y’all have got some kromer or this call might be pretty short.

masterpost

prev (ch:3::2) / next (ch:3:4)

(a quick thanks to my beta reader @prunpplee)

[plush-rabbit]

A/N: I can't come up with a title so,,,, yeah!! Anyways, I've had this saved in my drafts and I miss writing and even with spring break!! my professor still gives us homework. So, here I am. this is just a thing where like reader is an angel and falls and like it was gonna be a short series, but like,,, i never finish my series (except for ciays)

Word Count: 3.1K

-

You sit with a pit in your stomach. Your legs are causing the items on the table to shake, and you can't stop the dread that is looming over you, cold and heavy. There's a shift beside you, and a hand cups over your thigh, a feeble attempt to get you to stop moving. You can only flinch in response. 

“Can you just- I don’t know, fucking chill or something?” His hand gives you a squeeze, before pulling back and crossing his arms. “They aren’t gonna do shit to you.”

“Lucifer fell because he asked too many questions,” you counter, gasping for breath. The room feels too tight, too full and empty all at once.

Beside you, he scoffs. “Love to break it to ya babe, but you aren’t him. You’ll be fine.”

“Exactly,” you hiss, hiding your face in your hands. “I’m not him. I’m- I’m a low ranking Angel. I- Oh Father, I don’t hold any type of status. I’m going to fall,” you voice breaks and tears are in your eyes, horror and fear making you pale.

“You’re not.” He’s harsher this time, and pulls you to look at him. His name is on your tongue, and he interrupts you. “I’m vouching for you. And so are the rest of my girls. You’ll be fine.” He loosens his grip on you, and smooths a hand down your hair. “Chillax, babe. I know you’re a little goody-two-shoes, but this is nothing. You’ll probably just get demoted or some shit.”

“Adam.” Your hands grasps onto his, and you want to believe that he’s right. “But what if-”

The door opens, and you both whip your head around, watching as Seraphim walks in, her head held high and face lack of expression. The pit in your stomach swallows more of you.

Your rise from your seat, and Adam begrudgingly follows. “Sera-” you clear your throat- “I uh- Seraphim. Good evening. I- I thought we were not allowed to meet before the trial,” you look around the room, and for a moment, you have hope. She wouldn’t go against orders, so perhaps she’s here with good news. You give her a tense smile, and she walks to the desk, her wings taut and folded behind her. 

She sits at the chair with her arms folded over the desk. “I wanted to be the one to deliver the verdict.”

Your brows furrow, and sit back down, your ankles crossed over one another, and your body leaning towards Adam’s. His hands reach over the space between the chairs and you grasp onto him, nails digging into the clothed covered skin. 

“The verdict?” You ask in a whisper. “But I hadn’t- What about my trial?”

“It was decided that you would not have a trial.” Her voice is like stone, unwavering, strong, and heavy. 

“Decided by who?” A chill runs down your spine, and it’s as if you can feel a presence around you.

“If there’s no trial then how do fuck do you all even have a verdict?” Adam, as always, is crude, and it only furthers the sickness deep in you.

“Adam,” you say in a high pitched voice. 

He turns to you, and squeezes your hands. “Well? What is it? Community service? A demotion in rank? Paperwork?”

“Sera,” your chest is tight, your bones pricing into the tender flesh, “why didn’t I have a trial?”

“Look, the demotion can’t be that bad, right? I’ll look after them. Make them my assistant or something. I got shitload to do anyways, they’ll keep me on it.”

“Sera,” you plead, “I was promised a trial. I was told that it would be fair.”

“No trial is good, right? Means it was easy to consider your fate.” You flinch. “You get to be my assistant. Don’t worry babe-” he tugs on your hands for your attention, but you’re fixated on Seraphim and that way that they look at you with somber eyes- “I won’t work you too hard.” The playful tinged words make you sick. 

“Sera,” you croak, leaning away from Adam- “my trial. It was promised.”

She calls your name, it’s whispered like a prayer, uttered like a curse and laced in sorrow. You know your outcome, before she can even say it. “I’m terribly sorry.” Your body goes cold. “It has been decided that your punishment for questioning the beliefs and practices of Heaven will be the taking of your wings and The Fall to Hell.”

You can taste the bile. It burns, the acid fills your mouth, and it makes your eyes burn with hot tears. 

“What the fuck!” Adam shouts, your hands are let go, and you stare into her eyes. You can hear the chair squeak as it’s pushed away and it nearly topples over. Adam goes to you, short strides to grasp his hands over your shoulders. “That isn’t fucking fair! They were promised a trial, so where the fuck is it?” He’s furious, and the hands around you bring you no comfort. 

“I’m terribly sorry.” Seraphim looks at you as she speaks. “For the both of you.” Her eyes dart between you and Adam.

“I didn't mean to,” you whisper, your nails digging into your clothes. “I promise that I-”

“Come on Sera! I've done worse shit than them. Can't we just look the other way?”

“Adam, I need to speak to them alone.”

“Like fuck I’ll-”

“Adam,” you breathe out. He looks at you, moving to kneel in front of you and you look at the demonic mask, and you want to retch. “Let us speak in private, please. I’ll meet you outside.”

He looks at you, through the golden eyes of the mask. “Fine,” he huffs. He stands, and presses a kiss to the top of your temple. You wish that you could return the gesture- that you could look up and kiss him back without worry. “Yell if you need me,” he whispers to you. You nod, unable to mutter a word to him.

The door clicks behind him, and you’re left alone with Seraphim- something that you’ve never had the opportunity to experience. Perhaps if circumstances were different, you’d be more ecstatic. 

They call your name, and she holds her hands out to you. Like a trained dog, you place your hands in hers, and you let the tears fall.

“Why am I falling?” You ask, gaining no comfort from her hands.

“Emily- one of the younger Seraphim- has begun to question certain aspects of Heaven. I fear that the questions won't settle.”

“So this is- I’m meant to scare her? To remind her of her place?”

Seraphim sighs, and she lifts a hand, tracing a delicate finger along the back of your hand. You hate the ways he says your name- like she still cares for you. Like your name is sweet as honey. As if she has the right to speak to you with care and love. “You must understand that Emily is still so young.”

“And a higher ranking than I am.” You turn away from her, but you can’t pry your hands away. You want comfort, even if it's given by your judge and even if the hands that hold yours are going to be stained in gold. They say nothing to your comment, and you hold their hand tighter. “When?” You croak out.You dig your nails into their skin- it’s cold, and as much as you want to hurt them, you cannot.

“By the end of the week.” Their words are spoken without wavering. “You’ll be confined in one of our holding rooms for incoming souls for the time being. You’ll still be allowed visitors. The spectacle will be watched by only those that you allow, and by the high-ranking angels.” You let out a sob, and bow your head. “It will be quick. With the ranking unbeknownst to the rest, it will be an Exterminator who will remove your wings. They’ll be wearing one of the ceremonial robes. After the removal of your wings, you’ll be-” she pauses and you can already feel the emptiness.

“I’ll be cast out.” You look up and she nods, her hands squeezing yours. 

“Understand that if I could will it any other way, I would.” 

You look at the hands holding onto yours, and you think about how someone will have to clean your blood. How they’ll get on their knees and wipe the ichor from the floor, how the rags will drip in riches and stain their hands in sin. Your wings flitter in response. 

“You said an Exterminator?”

“Lute has been tasked with your severance.”

“Why not Adam?”

Seraphim looks shocked. “I- I would not wish for him to be the one to remove your wings. If it were any other, I believe he would do an excellent job, but since it’s you,” she trails off. “I do not believe he would be able to commit.”

“But Lute can,” you say.

“Yes. She is able to put her feelings aside, and do her job.” Seraphim pauses, their eyes are trained on you, and a few look at you in pity. “However, if you wish for it to be Adam-”

“No,” you interrupt. “No, you’re right. He wouldn’t be able to.” Your wings feel heavy. “Sera?” She hums in response. “How soon will I be cast out after my wings are removed?”

“Effective immediately.”

-

You lay in your new bed- the mattress new and solid underneath you. It’s nothing like the one back home. You can’t seem to get comfortable, all that you can do is lay there wrapped in Adam’s arms, pulled close to his body where your breath tickles at his skin. “You can run,” he says quietly into your ear. “I’ll leave the door unlocked, and you can run.” His act of defiance brings tears to your eyes. 

“Adam,” your voice breaks.

“The Exterminators will be the ones tasked with chasing you down.” You feel the way his hands grip your skin, clawing and desperate to keep you beside him. “They won’t get you. They’re loyal to me. They’ll listen. You can live on Earth.” 

When you close your eyes, tears trace down the curve of your face. “Lute is the one performing the severance of my wings,” you tell him a hoarse whisper, unable to keep the horror out of it. Even speaking about it is enough to send a pain down your spine and at the base of your wings. His nails pierce into your skin, pinching into the softness of your stomach. His wings flutter, and they are heavy above your body. “She’ll do a good job,” you comfort. “A clean cut that will make it easy to heal.” There’s bile burning in your throat. “Please don’t be upset with her after the event.” His arms wrap tighter around you, and his wings hide you from the outside, curving over your body, cupping you and holding you. Your hands hold onto him, at the nape of his neck, trying not to look at him, but commit his touch to memory. “I don’t think you should be there.”

“Like fuck I won’t,” he seethes, the venom in his words are unable to hide the tremor. 

“Adam,” you murmur, “I’m serious. I- You shouldn’t see me like that. I- I know that I would look for you after it happened. I- I can’t ask for you to see me so broken.”

“I’m going,” he tells you in a tight voice, his breaths coming out in gasps.

You nod, and swallow the pit lodged in your throat. “Please don’t stop it.” He whispers your name, and lets you go, coming up to a sitting position. His wings still stretched, touching you so gently. You look up at him, tear stains glistening on your cheeks. “This is my fault. I’ve accepted it. I know I’m going to plead and cry for mercy, but ignore me, Adam.” Your hands find his, and you hold onto him desperately. “Don’t fight for me. Let it happen.”

“You should run away,” he tells you again. “We can run together.” Tears glisten in his eyes, and you don’t recall ever seeing him so upset. 

You smile, but it trembles and falls, and tears spill out. “Where would we go?” You ask in a quiet voice. 

“Earth.” His jaw tightens, and you don’t comment when his voice cracks. “We’d take a bunch of gems from here and sell them there. We’d be rich.” You try not to let the quaking in your chest show, the soft stuttering that threatens to release a storm. “We’d sing in some dingy ass club, and I’d use my blessing to make us famous.”

You laugh, and it’s clouded by tears. “I thought we were in hiding?”

“We’d be in disguise,” he counters, a hand prying away from your grip to wipe away the tears. “We’d settle after a few years, get a nice house in a big city. Gamble, drink, fuck. Maybe have a few kids in like a hundred years.” He smiles when you turn your head to kiss his palm, your other hand going to curve over his. “We’d have a nice life.” He lays over you, hiding his face into the crook of your neck, and presses his lips to the warmth of your skin when your hands tangle themselves into his hair. “It’s a nice plan, right?”

“Of course,” you say through tears. “You always come up with good plans.”

-

You stand in a stadium, dressed in white, your back exposed and your wings fluttering about no matter how much you will them to still. No one fears that you are going to run. Not when there are archers lined, and not when the Angels are watching you. You see Adam, and he wears his mask, standing with his arms held behind him. 

You wish you told Seraphim that he wasn’t allowed. 

Chains bind your ankles and wrists. The iron pinching your skin and irritating the flesh. You’d take this pain a thousand times over than what’s about to happen. 

“For questioning Heaven’s beliefs and practices,” the voice echoes around, “we sentence you,” your name sounds empty, and you can’t breathe, “to have your wings removed and to be banished from Heaven.” You do a stupid thing and glance at Adam and he looks away at your glance. You feel a tinge of pain, but it’s better this way. “You will now have your wings removed.”

You turn your head, and see Lute. She’s shrouded in white robes with gold accents. Her hair is tied, and her wings are pinned behind her. She does not cast you on any type of look and you're grateful for that.

Her gaze is steeled. You know her. She knows you. She’s seen you at your worst, and you’ve seen her at her best. You’ve shared meals with her- broken bread and drank wine together. She’s been in your home. Her smile has always been sharp, and there are moments where it’s tender, vulnerable and saved for those closest to her. 

She does not smile at you. She keeps her gaze focused on you, and you can’t help but tremble, the iron of the chains clinking together. You look away, and you’re grateful you had nothing to eat the morning of. You were grateful you were not given the choice of a last meal. 

“On your knees,” Lute tells you in a strained voice. 

You hope Adam won’t be mad at her. You hope that if he  is, that she can take it.

You flinch at the chill touch of the sword. Your wings flutter, and you bite your tongue. You should make your case once more. You shouldn’t be here. You only asked a simple question. This shouldn’t be happening. You shouldn’t be here. There’s a point against your back. You look up and find Adam. You need him to save you. You can run away with him. You’ll live the life he wanted. You’d do anything. You’d be his. You yelp as something sharp cuts into you. You’d never disobey Heaven again. You’ll never ask again. You’ll be content. Please, Father, you’ll be good.

“Stay still,” she says, breathing out the last word in a plea, and when you cannot, she’s forced to continue. 

The tearing is a sharp pain. One that makes you writhe and scream, your throat raw and the sounds unbearably loud. Every twist and turn only further aggravates the wound, skin pulling and muscles bare for the Angels to see. Warmth runs down your back, caressing the small part of your back and spilling onto your legs and thighs. Your hands slam into the ground, clawing at the porcelain floor. Through tears, you can liquid gold, shining and shimmering.

The cool air is agony against your open wounds. You’re warm, and wet, and the final strip of skin is pulled away from you. The heaviness of your wings are gone from you, and crane your neck to see them land with a heavy ‘thud’ away from you. The base of the ivory feathers are drenched in gold, and you can only think about the misery you’re in, and you reach for them. You need them back, you want them back. You’d sew them onto yourself if you could, but you can’t leave them here.

Your eyes glance around, wide and horrified, searching the crowd, and you roll onto your back, screaming once more, and calling for Father, your eyes landing on Adam. Legs block your view, and heavy hands lift you, pulling on your arm, and stretching the raw muscle. 

You can hear someone, but your own screams overpower the other, and for a moment, you’re in the air, lifted and unable to breathe, until gravity pulls you down.

It’s a searing pain. It burns your skin and the whips of air slash against your back and body. You’re beaten and battered, carried by the air of Hell, and your screams only echo around you. The ground is unforgiving, a crater forming around you as you land. Gravel and sticks push against your skin. Your body lays crumpled on the floor, limbs twisted around each other, and your body is a mix of gold and dirt. 

Weeds twist into your hair, and the stench of Hell makes you retch. You cry on the ground, alone and numb. There is no Father here; there is no warmth for you here. In a shay breath, with your hands clawing at the dirt, you wish for death. You wish for the demons to pry you apart and for your body to never recover. 

-

And far away, tucked away in his castle, eyes looking up at the heavens, Lucifer sees a shooting star streak across the sky, and his heart drops. 

[tanglepelt]

Dp x dc idea thing. 44

Someone says the forbidden words. I wish. Now it was a child’s wish. I wish we all were with our familles. One meant to be nice.

A ghost attack had caused the collapse of a roof. The child was just happened to be in a room with the trio. Danny hadn’t even had the chance to transform.

As Desiree twists her wishes. The worst thing for Danny happened. You see he was adopted. After he failed a mission for the league rather then return he noped out of there. Granted the mission was set up to fail. He overheard his twin discussing it with mother.

Being adopted by two mad scientists at 6 was the biggest reason they never found out he survived. The Fentons were astonished by his story. Helped hide him and forged new papers. Quickly accepting him as their own son. The family had no social media presence minus the Fentonwork site, no mentions of children.

Rather then be returned to the Fentons a green portal dumped him in the middle of a grand dinning room. A ton of blue eyed black haired people eating dinner. The one that stood out was the one with green eyes.

Nope.

No

No way

Well then the green eyed one lunges at him.

Okay maybe.

When he starts yelling about impersonating his dead twin. How dare grandfather clone him. Honestly he wasn’t listening until he spoke of killing all the other clones.

Yup. That was Damian.

If vlad could make clones he has no doubt grandfather could. For all he knows vlad could have handed the info over to him for some of the rancid ectoplasm they had at the base.

He knew the truth now.

The Lazarus pits was just remnants from the river of revulsion. It’s a wonder they brought anyone back.

Honestly Damian charging him was a pain. Danny didn’t even know how his twin suddenly had a sword. Getting cut was enough of that. This was a dinning room not a training room. He was just going to have to dine and dash.

He really needs to thank jazz and sam for getting him back into physical training. He enjoyed not worrying about it 24/7. Then the whole dying had to happen. As such he got back into it. This was starting to tire him out.

From the lack of people getting out of the way. They must be used to this chaos. The look in there eyes indicated they were going to get involved. Honestly he’d rather not.

Realistically he doesn’t think Damian would be able to find him. The fentons and then tucker have helped to conceal him. By all accounts his past life never existed. Only Daniel Fenton did. Amity was a nowhere town mostly hidden by the government anyways. The whole ghost thing was meant to stay secret.

They didn’t want people poking around there.

Danny was aware it just helped hide him so why expose it. Tucker sam and jazz knew. They all could bypass it.

With a sigh and a wave of his hand he froze them in place.

“Let all just cool down here. Damian i have and had no intentions of ever seeing you again. But genies like to twist wishes unfortunately. Desiree just had to screw me over specifically to get me out of town.”

“For all i care keep your title as heir, I’m much happier playing dead. I’m already half way there. Don’t look for me. You get to be the superior twin”

“No need for late night plots on how to kill me or prove yourself. Enjoy. I have friends and family to get back to.”

With a snap of his finger a green portal opened in front of Danny.

“The ice will disappear in five minutes or so. If i remember to unfreeze it” grabbing one of the rolls on the table. Danny left through the portal.

What Danny didn’t know was his twin had been trying to find ways around the botched mission. Grandfather has only wanted one heir. Easiest way to get that was to dispose of the youngest.

[angelpuns]

Update on my health that no one asked for: mmmmbad

[phoebepheebsphibs]

I’m very proud of these two expressions lol

[kanjichris]

it's so funny to me that in the books, louis and lestat might've never met if it weren't for the french revolution.. rip marie antoinette you would've loved loustat

[valgeristik]

twilight princess + skyward sword stuff ive been drawing the past few days for practice and for fun <3 (you can take TP link's mustache out of my cold, dead hands)

Vetted Gaza Evacuation Fundraiser List

E-sims donation

[sxlamima]

So uh.. found smth while cleaning up my gallery

Lmao I forgot I did these holy hell

Chaggie

RadioApple

HuskerDust

CherriSnake

i still don't like this one, want to change it

Charlie's Angels

I might continue these who knows

I do... I know that I'll forget about this again or be too lazy lol

[lunalikestowriteanddraw]

*Jericho does…whatever the fuck THAT was during the bathroom scene in episode 4*

Me, genuinely horrified: what. The. Actual. FUCK.

[kirisclangen]

Larchpaw

She/her, 8 moons, cis molly

[todayisafridaynight]

he's gonna be late to his first day of breaking the law

[housecow]

Is it easy to hide from friends, roommates or family that you intentionally eat more and therefore buy a lot more food?

this is SUCH a good question!!! it is not easy at all :(( my friends don’t mind because i’ve been a glutton like this for a decade, but roommates are a whole different matter. i will admit my food takes up most of the freezer and fridge 😭 i’ve talked to them though and they know that if there are any issues concerning it, they can talk to me and we’ll figure it out :)) i also share a lot of my food so it’s not too much of an issue

my family though agsksjshs. they’re the difficult ones… obviously any food i take is going to be noticed by them, so when i’m visiting i try to cut back on what needs to be refrigerated / frozen

this holiday season, however, i’m trying a strategy called “eating so much there’s nothing to hide”

[hellsite-detective]

Hellsite Detective in...

The Bad Banana

it was another cool day in Tumblr City. the breeze was blowin' through the streets and the rain was poundin' down hard against my window. the ceilin' fan that hung above me spun slowly and hypnotically as if blown by a wind that wasn't present. as i sat there in my chair, smokin' my cigar and watchin' that fan spin eternally, i grew hungry. thankfully i keep a small fruit bowl in the corner. gettin' up to go grab a bite, i picked a banana out of the bowl. it was a bright yellow, but you might not have known it from the monochromatic filter over the scene. as i began to unpeel it, a voice spoke from the back of my head sayin'...

...hold on...

...go ahead...

...what...

naturally confused, i spun around to see if someone had snuck in while my back was turned. but no, no one was there. however, the words continued to resound in my head. almost like they were callin' me to somethin'. i walked over to the window and took a look outside and the traffic lights at the intersection caught my eye. i looked at them, and looked back at the banana in my hand. that's when it hit me...

see, there was a post i've been lookin' for for ages. in fact, it was the post that inspired me to open my office up in the first place. it was a post comparin' the colors on bananas to the colors on traffic lights. back then, i couldn't find it. but now? i had the experience i needed. i decided to re-open this personal case of mine.

i tucked the banana into my coat and strolled through the rainy streets. i came across that hoppin' joint with jazz music always pourin' out the doors onto the street. the neon sign above the door read "The Search Bar." i headed inside, ready to do some business with my associate, but they were nowhere to be seen. they weren't sittin' at their normal booth. curious, i decided to ask the new robot bartender for help...

say, doll, you know where i can find the Boss?

[Oh! I do apologize. Don Google is upstairs in their office, but they are not seeing any visitors today.]

heh, well we'll see about that, won't we? say, what's your name?

[I am H.A.V.E.N. It stands for Hostess Attending to Virtual and Informational Needs. Essentially, my purpose is to keep track of Don Google's database so they do not have to. I also serve the drinks.]

Haven, huh? nice to meetcha, Haven. i gotta go see the Don though, whether they like it or not. i'll be seein' you later.

i tipped my hat to Haven and walked to the door leadin' to the stairwell. my mind lingered on the robotic hostess, wonderin' what an advanced artificial intelligence construct like her was doin' in this world that had it's basis in 1940's noir, but i wasn't gonna think about it too much. i headed up the stairs and into the Don's office. their goons whipped out their guns and almost took my head clean off, but the big fella themself stopped it.

the office was a far cry from the bustlin' night club on the first floor. where as the club had neon lights and kept things rather dark, probably for the best, the office was more well lit and elegant. it held a more warm atmosphere than the club, but somehow it was more oppressive in here. the walls appeared to be made of wood, bookshelves lined the walls, and a chandelier hung from the ceilin'. there was a carpet in the center of the room that had a kaleidoscope of colors rangin' from blue, red, yellow, and green. and directly across from the door was the desk. mahogany, it seemed, and real fancy too. a giant round window overlookin' the city streets was placed behind it with a large letter "G" formed in the window frames. the Don spun around in their large leather chair and puffed on their cigar.

"'Ey there, Miss Detective. What can I do ya for?"

i'm lookin' for a post involvin' bananas. specifically in relation to traffic lights. you got anythin' like that for me?"

i set the banana i had brought down on the desk and they chuckled at the sight.

"Yea, I think I got what your lookin' for."

with a wave of their hand, one of their goons fetched a file from off one of the shelves and brought it over to them. they thumbed it open with one hand, the other hand draggin' on the cigar. they slid it across the desk.

"This what your lookin' for?"

and there it was. the post that started it all. it had finally come full circle. i grabbed the file eagerly and began to leave the room, but the Don wasn't finished with me yet.

"'Ey, Miss Detective! Don't think I've forgotten about that little favor you owe me..."

i stopped dead in my tracks. preparin' myself for the worst, i stood there frozen. i couldn't even turn around to look at them. but shockingly, the conversation took a different turn.

"I'm not lookin' to cash that in just yet. Just be on the look out for a call, got it? I'm lookin' forward to our partnership."

i couldn't see them, but i knew their snide smile was bearing down on me at that moment. fear filling my body, i left the lion's den and went back to my humble office to file my prize away. as i did so, my stomach rumbled...

damn it. i left the banana with the Don...

Post Case: Closed