#leave a yelp review

[shotmrmiller]

being at a haunted house with your friends only to get separated and end up alone in a random room. it looks empty, except for the usual props and you're just taking a moment to catch your breath, wiping your sweaty palms on your jeans only to spot something in the corner shift, realizing that you're not alone.

a guy as broad as the door behind him is in there with you, costume seemingly lower budget than the others (was he called in at the last minute? his mask makes him look more a criminal than whatever the hell he's supposed to be.)

he's a clean two or three heads above yours, his dark clothing making him hard to see, blending in with the jagged shadows created by the red (because red means scary, right?) flickering lights overhead, and he's standing right in front of the quick exit, neon green sign barely grazing the crown of his head. shit.

a sudden, ear-splitting noise activates your fight or flight response and you're out the way you came in a second flat, uncaring that you're running against the flow of traffic, harshly bumping shoulders into both visitors and actors alike, and instinct takes over- without a second thought, you glance back over your shoulder.

the guy you'd bolted from is moving with unsettling purpose your way. the crowd parts around him, letting him gain on you effortlessly, his hulking stature looming larger with every step.

his eyes lock onto yours and your breath snags in your throat- he's a hunter, staring you down through the scope of a rifle, as if you're nothing other than fresh game for him to take home and devour.

you push on even though it feels like you're swimming upstream, his gaze burning into your back like a brand, the icy fear slithering through your veins alive, coiling around your galloping heart, tightening with every ragged breath.

until you hit a dead end. cornered, every instinct screaming for an escape that doesn't exist. and then he's on you, presence overwhelming, reaching a paw-sized hand toward you-

"i thought you guys aren't allowed to touch us?" you choke out, his fingers curling around your wrist and you wonder if he can feel your racing pulse.

his breath warms the side of your throat. "says who, pet? you're free t'stop me." if you can.

(soap and kyle watch him come out with you in hand, looking like you're about to be sick. kyle gives you a water bottle and soap pats your back, telling you that if yer that scared, he'll go with ye next time.)

[smallmeanie]

chat i just received the most disappointing margherita pizza i have ever seen with mine two eyes

[possibly-in-wonderland]

*Hotel California is playing in the background of an early emh video*

Me: HM.

[divorcedwife]

going to read wuthering heights chapter 3 and 4 today :-) im intentionally limiting myself so i don't read it in one sitting and can enjoy it more. heathcliff sobbing for catherine to come haunt him, and her not doing that... i feel like i need to draw five illustrations for this scene alone. god it's so good

[alphacrone]

this is your reminder that 99.9% of employers care more about money than you and even if they are kind and fair now they WILL at the end of the day put profits over your well being so absolutely do not sacrifice your life for them.

[samuhelll]

@miidnighters (continued from here)

“Whoa. Fonder?” He seesaws his hand as if to say not quite, a grimace on his face. “But fixated? Can't order a sam-osa without thinking of Sam?” He juts out a finger, pointing. “You betcha.”

This is good coffee, better than the semi-burnt goop that oozes from the vending machines he used to frequent, a quarter a cup. Across from him is a man. Tall, but not too tall. Lean and dark eyes. He has the feeling of something like an old, well-loved book, the spine worn and wrinkled from too much perusal, only he doesn’t look it. Sam works a one-sided smile and makes a conscious effort to not knock against his knees.

“Not my wheelhouse, but different strokes, different folks.” It came like a wave of the hand. A second thought. He keeps his wrists against the table and lifts his palms, splaying his fingers. “Come on. Who says I am?”

He did say Sam was single. 

[apollos-boyfriend]

Blocked cuz ur really fucking annoying

you promise?

[phone-kisser]

I went to Barnes & Noble today to get the book of bill and journal 3 and I got journal 3 but I couldn't find the book of bill so I went to ask the employee that was walking around and he was like "do you need help with anything?" and I was like "Yeah do you have–" and he cut me off and said "book of bill?" like thank you Doug I'm glad you could tell

[necrotic-nightshade]

I can't tell if it makes me feel better or worse that I wasn't the only person who was failed and fucked over by the administration of my old school.

I'm glad I dropped out. And I'm glad I can finally say I was right about those cunts.

[meredoubt]

Shar's gonna find out that it's On Sight. Dirge can condone patricide/matricide, but he draws the line at making him have to be the bearer of bad news to his best friend.

[pink-sugar]

HELP I DIDNT ACTUALLY EXPECT THE PROPELLER HAT AND LOLLIPOP BUT THANKS😭

ori's sweets shop prides itself on its service!!

[shotmrmiller]

re: rugby team ghoap

it'd been a one-off, seize-the-moment kind of thing. casual hookups aren't really for you, plus you distinctly remember your ex prating on about how the team would only be here for the weekend hence the absolute burning need to go, and you've got work monday.

goodbye, great knowing them. you'd traipsed out of the hotel room with your sneakers in hand, soap's used jersey in the other- a memento of sorts, a trophy. mild serial killer behavior but you reckon since you just became another pearl in their long string of conquests, the least you could do is take something with you that won't be gone with a warm epsom salt bath and a couple of days rest.

("would ye believe yer the prettiest we've ever brought back with us?" right. you know where you stand on that scale, and people like you don't typically pull men like them. another cringe-worthy comment like that and you'd mistake their interest with pity.)

you'd put both jerseys in the wash later that day, and the rattling of your washing machine marked the end of your exciting weekend.

or so you'd thought. from your side of things, you'd wiped your hands clean of their sweat, spit and come and went home, once again falling back into semi-familiarity, expecting to go to work feeling completely relaxed and loose, in more ways than one, while ignoring the photos taken of you and the "star players" at the stadium on social media.

(no one caught your face, what bloody luck.)

when you see them again, it's by pure chance. you'd been ordering a sandwich at a deli down the street, hand already reaching for your wallet when an arm curls around your shoulders, dark, coarse hair of a forearm brushing against your cheek.

cedarwood and citrus. it clings to your senses— a sharp, tangy reminder of that time you'd only look back on when the familiar pang of want pooled searing hot between your legs. small world, you suppose.

"didnae leave a note. stole my jersey. 'm surprised ye didnae leave us money on the table, bonnie." warmth flared beneath your cheeks but you didn't cow to his crude joke.

"i suppose i could've left a tip. what do you want?"

the playful lines around his eyes smoothed as his lips straightened into a firm line, his eyes frostbitten. you ignore the way his touch makes you feel trapped, tethered, a cage made of velvet.

"took my shirt and then didn't show up to a single game after tha'. jus' gettin' wha' i'm owed. unless he's yer favorite."

how can he be your favorite when you know nothing about the sport they play and have no interest in knowing?

"too bad. we come as a package. get yer food, we've a place nearby."

(simon had been nowhere near as good-natured as johnny had about you leaving without a word. made you spit out apologies with swollen lips, only accepted the ones that came with a fluttering of your raw pussy around the splitting thickness of him while soap condescendingly cooed in your ear about lessons having to be learned the hard way.)

[red-hemlock]

@ratwhsprs continued from HERE!

"...Touched?"

"But-... No, no, heavens no! They were supposed to sniff-out the best batch on this little 'Ricotta romp' dear, not snack on the spoils too. I really need this stuff!"

Hands haphazardly wave in front of herself, as if doing-so would 'Force-Push' Otis' fuzzy friends away or something, "Oh, can't you get them to stop? Please?"

[fineprintlover]

we are NOT dating and will not be but i did get her to admit she’s not going on tinder for her hookups anymore since she got me lolll

[mizufae]

The BFF’s super practical and nice grandma died last week at ninety eight (and a half!) so he is currently in nowhere, South Dakota for the funeral. That happened this morning and this is what he texted me (during the service, it seems):

“Say what you want about Lutherans, they don’t do eulogies so this is going to be pleasantly abbreviated”

“Fuck me I had forgotten just how jesusy Lutheran services are”

“It must also be noted that basic bitch christian liturgical music is utterly swagless, woof”

Out there in the country reading these corn people for FILTH

[just-rhys-things]

You ever become an accidental racial profiler by not realizing that 1. The cutesy airport simulator you're playing allows for non-human passengers, and 2. That the "Inspect" option (which I immediately pressed to learn more cuz I'm like "is that just a fckin monkey? How did it buy a plane ticket???") orders security to instigate a "random" search and seizure.

Of course they didn't find anything suspicious on the monkey and now it's mad at me :c