#superdoggo

[contac]

[mravens-corner]

YAY!!! I got a present from grandpa today and I loves it. Mama here's very happy that he loves it. #MyOwnLittleSuperman #Loki #LokiThePupster #FurBaby #MyBoy #MamasBoy #MyFurBaby #LokiRavn #LokiLestrange #LokiLestrangeRavn #PuppiesOfInstagram #DogsOfInstagram #PresentFromGrandpa #LokiLovesHisHoomans #DoggyLove #LokiLovesHisNewBed #LovesSuperman #SuperDoggo #Denmark #Aalborg #DanishDog #DCComics #JusticeLeague #JusticeLeagueDoggos 🐕🇩🇰 (at Aalborg, Denmark) https://www.instagram.com/p/B2oK3Nyhu58/?igshid=1473of0u442m5

[spnfox]

Atlas, boy wonder! #halloween2017 #atlas_the_husky #superhero #superdoggo

[fosterpuppers]

Super doggo (He got a bag stuck on his head)

[lesbian-deadpool]

A bit late but 💙👀💬

💙: i have a friend crush on you!

👀: im too shy to talk to you

💬: we should talk more!

Another friend! Please come and talk to me, if you want!

[the--sad--hatter]

Red - One-Shot (Loki x Reader)

Pairing: Loki/Reader 

Warnings: Injury, blood, moral compass shifting. 

Summary: When the cost of being a hero is too high, what will become of you? And when you’re on the precipice of change, who’s the person who helps you? 

Scores of hero’s had battled him before you had your turn, and it was only luck that placed you in his path when he was already exhausted. Or maybe it wasn’t luck at all.

 Maybe it was fate.

 Whatever it was, it was the crucible in which your downfall was contained. You might have been an Avenger, a fighter, a hero, but you were not equipped to fight a god and survive, let alone win. But he was already weakened by the Widows bite, his ribs bruised by the Captains Shield, his energy depleted by the witches power, his flesh scorched by Iron Man’s repulsors, his spirit sapped by his brothers ego. He had been battled into near submission and when you drove your dagger into his chest, he could not stop it. The blade pierced his skin, sliding between his ribs with ease, and crimson blood poured from the wound you had inflicted, spilling over your hand.

 His blood was cold, dripping down your wrist like icy water and coating your hand like a scarlet glove.  

You both moved in tandem, looking down at the dagger, each as equally shocked as the other. Your breath crystallised in the cold air as you gasped, heart hammering in your chest. It was in the moment you realised you may have slain Loki, that you realised you really didn’t want to. Fear gripped your heart, squeezing until it hurt so much that you couldn’t breathe.

 Had you just killed someone, killed the god of Mischief?

 “You missed.” He whispered, his voice filled with sympathy.

 You’d just stabbed him, and he was showing you sympathy? You dragged your eyes away from the terrible wound you’d inflicted, from your fingers wrapped around the handle of the blade sticking out of his chest. His words settled over the fog around your mind and seeped through it, until they made some kind of sense.

 “I missed?” You repeated hopefully, pleading with your eyes.

 His face softened exponentially as he gave you a small and fleeting smile.

 “Yes. You did not pierce my heart with your dagger.” He clarified, wrapping his fingers around your wrist and very carefully pulling your hand away until you released your grip on the fateful blade.

 You let him manoeuvre your shaking hand away, trying and failing to swallow down the whimper in your throat as blood continued to pulse out the edges of his wound.

 “Wait! No! Stop!” You yelped as he grasped the handle, stalling him before he could pull it out.

 “I must remove it so my body can begin to heal it.” He sighed, his already pale skin growing paler by the second.

 Right, Asgardian, or something. Not human. He probably wouldn’t bleed to death if he removed it, hopefully. You ignored the incessant buzzing in your ears, vaguely familiar voices demanding information, begging for assurances of your safety. All your attention was reserved for Loki, and for what you had done to him. He yanked the blade out in one swift movement, before you had a chance to prepare for it. Crimson liquid welled up in the gash left behind, streaming out of it in an alarming stream, and your hands moved of their own accord, twisting to press against the wound in a fruitless attempt to keep any more of his blood from spilling out. His blood was, quite literally, on your hands.

 What the hell had you done?

 You had trained for this, every day for months. You had been trained to be a hero by the best of them, but you hadn’t prepared yourself for what it meant to be a killer. Adrenaline and training had pushed you forward in your task, and only when the blade had sunk deep and it was too late, did you realise what your task really was.

 “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” You whimpered, choking on the fucking useless apology. “Please don’t die. I don’t want you to die.”

 “You don’t want me to die, or you don’t want to be my killer?” He chuckled weakly, devoid of humour and dripping with weariness.

 But even as he had asked the harsh but fair question, his hand cupped your cheek, gently lifting your face until you met his eyes. There was absolutely no anger in his gaze, none. No rage, no hate, no disdain. Just exhaustion, pain, and sympathy.

 “I don’t want you to die.” You admitted.

 You didn’t want to kill him, you didn’t want to kill anyone, you knew that now. But more than that, you didn’t like that he was hurt, and you couldn’t bear to see him injured any further. He was supposed to be the villain here, but he was the one comforting his attempted assassin, and the hero’s were the one ‘s who had put the knife in your hand and told you where to strike.

 Good and bad weren’t simple concepts right now, they weren’t black and white. They were just red, blood red.

 “In that, we have common ground. I would prefer to survive this as well.” He sassed, and against all odd you found a laugh bubbling out of your chest.

 “There, that’s much better.” He crowed softly, tracing the edge of your smile with his thumb.

 “Why? I hurt you. I…” You whispered against his fingertips.

 “You’re not like the others, you’re not like anyone. Of all those who have hurt me, and there have been many, you are the first to show any kind of remorse. Strong enough to stab a god, and kind enough to cry for him.” He explained. “You are not like them.”

 Your heart had been hanging on by a flimsy thread, but his admittance obliterated it. You could feel the fissure’s running through it, feel it tremble in your chest, and just as it was about to crumble into dust, he wrapped his arm around your waist and strode forwards, leading you with him in some kind of tragic waltz across the battlefield. Darkness fell over the two of you as he backed you into the shadows of a nearby building, pressing you further into the darkness as the sky shook and the familiar figure of Thor fell from the clouds and landed on the concrete.

 Loki’s arms fell away from you and he stepped to the side, letting you see what he’d left behind. You, held aloft in his grip, eyes filled with fear. An illusion, meant for Thor.

 “LOKI!” Thor bellowed. “Unhand her, and face me brother!”

 “Step out of the shadows, show him you are quite safe.” Loki, the real Loki whispered.

 An offer, not a challenge. One you didn’t understand the point of.

 “Or?” You asked.

 “Let The Avengers watch you burn into ash at my hand, and escape them and the life you so clearly do not want.”

 He was offering to kill you. To have your team watch you die. A cruel offer, a dark one, but…

 You didn’t want this life, he was right. And you never really had, you had only gone along with everybody else’s plans for you. You had let Earth’s Mightiest Hero’s mould you, twist you into one of them, suit you up as an Avenger, never once really telling you what that might mean. What it might cost you.

 Cruel, Dark, and Justified.

 “Kill me.” You hissed decisively.

 They would suffer, but they would survive. You weren’t close to them, not really. There would be some guilt, a little anger, and then they would move on. They would be more affected by having lost something to Loki, than actually having lost you. So you didn’t feel a shred of guilt as illusory flames roared to life over your doppelgänger.

 Thor’s roar was all rage, and not pain. His eyes were fixed upon the fake Loki, and not the smouldering remains of what he believed to be you. Loki’s illusion moved in tandem with him, both conjuring a glowing blue cube from nowhere. In the distance you saw the rest of The Avengers converge upon the scene, and you turned your back on them, concerning yourself with the only thing that mattered anymore.

 “Take me away.” You begged, ripping the jacket of your super suit off and pressing it to Loki’s wound.  

 The hero was dead, long live whatever the hell you were going to become now.

 “Come. Freedom awaits us.” Loki whispered in your ear, wrapping his arm around you once again as the world bled into blue.

Loki Taglist (Open) @myfandomlife-blog​ @unfriendlyrightfighter​ @cateyes315​ @ibraggins27​ @midgardian-mistress​ @cinnamonmouse8​ @nonsensicalobsessions​ @sarahs-castle-of-clouds​ @elizabethlaufeyson @sarahs-castle-of-clouds​ @marvelsangels​ @queenneso​ @elizabethlaufeyson @superdoggo-39

Everything Taglist (Temporarily Open) @helloimanavenger​​​​  @littleredstarfish​​​​  @dilaila95​​​​ @buckysknifecollection​​​​ @justellu​​​​ @spnrvt​​​​ @deathofmissjackson​​​​ @sexyvixen7​​​​ @fairislesheets​​​​ @rvgrsbrns​​​​ @dahkness​​​​ ​​ @riverdaleserpent04​​​ @jazztherebel​​​​ @tell-me-a-poem​​​​ @hiddles-rose​​​​ @severepienerdturkey​​​​ @life-wanderer​​​​ @unlikelygalaxygiver​​​​ @fangirlwithatrowel​​​​ @abo4280ooof​​​​ @destiel-artemis​​​​ @dilaila95​​​​ @tarastudiesalot​​​​ @toxic-pineapple​​​​ @for-the-love-of-the-fandom​​​​ @breezy1415​​​​  @chaoticfiretaconerd​​​​ @marvelfansworld​​​​ @stareyedplanet​​​​ @themusingsofmany​​​​ @zeannastardust​​​​ @littleredstarfish​​​​ @sammyissassy​​​​ @alexakeyloveloki​​​​ @kaz22992​​​​ @randomidiot4444​​​​ @inquisitor-selvala​​​​ @lianadelphius​​​​ @happybookmuffin​​​​ @tony-stank3​​​​ @amoonagedaydreamer​​​​ @dropthepizza346​​​​ @my-drowning-in-time​​​​​​ @belles-garden​​​​ @lieswithoutfairytales​​​​ @rororo06​​​​ @lookalivefrosty​​​​

[just-the-hiddles]

Dancing With Myself | Stephen Strange x Reader

A/N:   So this was a request from @gaitwae​   Oh, please oh please, Reader x Dr. Strange? Maybe like something like Stephen finds the reader playing with his cape and he sees?

Pairing:  Stephen Strange x Reader

Summary:  Stephen goes out with Wong for some groceries and comes back to find his cloak and the reader up to some shenanigans.

Warnings:  fluff, language, mention of implied smut

The Whole Enchilada:  @winterisakiller​ @nonsensicalobsessions​ @yespolkadotkitty​ @hopelessromanticspoonie​ @pinkzz123​ @jessiejunebug​ @cherrygeek86​​ @littleredstarfish​ @rjohnson1280​ @the-minus-four​ @wiczer​ @lotus-eyedindiangoddess​ @catsladen​ @coppercorn-and-cauldron​ @gerli49​ @lovesmesomehiddles​ @devilbat​ @he-is-chaotic-she-is-psychotic​ @tinchentitri​ @theheartofpenelope​ @noplacelikehome77​ @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore​ @snoopy3000​ @voila-tout​ @kitkatd7​ @wolfsmom1​ @queenoftheunderdark​ @xxloki81xx​ @thewaithfuckingannoyme​ @kcd15​ @amirra88​ @malkaviangirl​ @evanlys19​ @thejemersoninferno​ @sadwaywardkid​ @is-it-madness​ @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog​ @peterman-spideyparker​ @caffiend-queen​ @sleepylunarwolf​ @anagrom​ @bradfordbantams​ @ms-cellanies​ @what-just-happened-bro​ @stubby-toe-589331​ @alexakeyloveloki​ @loki-smut-library​ @imnotrevealingmyname​ @trippedmetaldetector​ @tea4sykes​ @noambition-blog​ @sherala007​ @vodka-and-some-sass​ @cursethedarkness​ @jewels2876​ @fixatedfandomhunter​ @myraiswack​ @lokikenway97​ @groovylokifanficpersona​ @ciaodarknessmyheart​ @bitchcraft-at-its-finest​ @hanyasnape​ @lokislastlove​ @stuckysdaughter​ @theunwantedomega​ @dryyoursaltyoceantears​ @petitefirecracker10​ @thummbelina​ @andreasworlsboring101​ @krazycags01​ @howaboutash​ @thehumanistsdiary​ @daddylouislittle​ @flakyfreak​ @sigyn-njorddottir​ @green-valkyrie​ @usedtobegoodfriend96​ @salempoe​ @traumschiffe​ @letsdisneythings​ @arch-venus25​ @thefuckthesaurus @karushinekomiya​ @black-ninja-blade​ @worshipping-skarsgard​ @songbirdonamission​ @freakishlyadorable​ @xxxeatyourh3artoutxxx @rorybutnotgilmore @superdoggo-39

Story:  @cateyes315​

Tag lists are open!  Please let me know if you wish to be added to a list.  Thank you for your support!

-

“Are you going to be okay while I step out?” Stephen asked standing at the doorway of the large reading room. You peeked your eyes over the large volume in your lap.

“Are you genuinely concerned about me or the Sanctum?” Stephen quirked an eyebrow. “One time… one time you light a room on fire…”

“A room!?” Stephen started in. “Try an entire floor. I told you not to try that incantation. I told you weren’t ready. Did you even read the warnings?”

“They should put the warnings at the beginning of the spell.”

“They really should.” Stephen agreed. His long strides carried him across the room. He sat on the back of the chaise where you were sprawled out. “But to answer your question, I am genuinely concerned about you.” The sharp angles of his face softened as he leaned down to press his lips to yours, folding his tall, lean form to reach you. 

“Thank you, love. I think I can manage the few hours it takes you and Wong to go grocery shopping.”

“Sure you don’t want to come along with us?” 

“Positive. Just because I’m dating a Sorcerer Supreme,” Stephen rolled his eyes. “does not mean I get to slag off on my studies.” 

“Fair enough. Although you can just slip into the teacher’s office after hours for a little extra credit.” Stephen purred into your ear. 

With a quick motion, you pulled him over the sofa back and on top of you. Your nails dug into his back through the thin shirt he wore rather than his robes. Fewer layers to get through. As you tongues dancing in each other’s mouth and hands tangled into each other’s hair, a cough cut through the passion. Stephen’s head snapped to see Wong leaning against the doorway.

“If the two of you are done defiling that antique chaise, I would like to get to the store sometime in the next decade.”

“Duty calls.” Stephen muttered against your lips. 

“More like hunger calls.” You muttered back.

Stephen pushed himself off of you and walked towards Wong but not before you landed a playful swat on his ass. He whipped around and narrowed his eyes while you giggled. 

“I can’t help myself!”

“Try harder.” 

The Cloak of Levitation floated by and Stephen waved it over. 

“Keep an eye on her, we don’t want a repeat of last time.” 

“Hey!” 

“Bye, darling!” Stephen disappeared from view with Wong. 

Once you overheard the door open, shut, and click closed, you returned your attention to your studies. A soft corner nudged your chin. You peeked sideways at the cloak.

“I have studies.” The nudge turned into a poke. You brushed the cloak aside. 

“I really have to get this done.” you commented with a smirk on your face. 

Now the cloak tugged on your arm. You landed on the floor, head squashed and legs akimbo.

“Ow. That hurt.” The cloak continued to drag you across the floor. “Fine! Fine! I yield.”

It stopped and allowed you to stand up and brush off the dust from your apprentice robes. Damn, Stephen needed to clean better. The cloak floated in front of you, waiting.

“What would you like to do?”

It shrugged its shoulders. 

“All that and you don’t even have a plan. I’m disappointed.” you huffed in mock disappointment. “But since we’re up, I have a perfect idea.” You grabbed a corner and jerked the cloak up the stairs towards your bedroom. 

-

One Hour Later

“See Wong,” Stephen shoved him in the shoulder. “that didn’t take nearly as long as you thought.”

“Perhaps that is because you portaled yourself around the store.”

“To-may-to, toe-mah-toe. The important thing is we got those cookies you like.” Stephen jerked to poke Wong in the side but Wong blocked him. 

“Well there’s no smoke coming from the Sanctum. A good sign.” Wong commented as they turned the corner. 

Stephen smirked. He loved more than he ever told you. In fact, he hadn’t said those words yet to you. He wanted it to mean something. He loved how you tried so hard to be perfect at mystic arts and how distracted you got reading. Or how clumsy you were in heels, trying to be as tall as him. And the way you laughed.

“Earth to Stephen.” Wong waved his hand in front of his face. 

“Huh?” Stephen shook himself out of the daze.

“The door.” Wong motioned to the large wooden and heavy front door of the Sanctum. “My arms are kind of full.” He held up multiple bags.

“Right, of course.” He fumbled the keys before pushing the door open.

“When are you going to tell her?” Wong prodded.

“Tell who what?” Stephen deflected.

Wong chuckled as he headed to the kitchen. “Your girlfriend. That you love her.”

Stephen’s mouth dropped. “I don’t— How did you—” His words drifted into the air as Stephen caught a noise from upstairs. He motioned in the air for his cloak but it did not float down from its hiding spot.

“Interesting.” 

He climbed the stairs towards the apprentice living quarters. The two of you, well you, had insisted on keeping separate quarters even after becoming intimate. This was much to Stephen’s chagrin, who would prefer to have you close. For many reasons. 

The music, if one could call it that, echoed off the empty hallway and appeared to be emanating from your room. The light shot out as a sliver from underneath bounced off the floor, walls and ceiling. The door was open a hair. Enough for him to push it open with just a finger. He was not prepared for what he saw. 

His cloak around your shoulders. And you moving to the music like a woman possessed. To pop music. He leaned against the wall and waited for you to notice but your eyes were closed, lost in the music and the motion. It was perfect. 

The song faded and Stephen shifted his weight, certain he had caught your eye by now but he stopped as you sang the next song.

You’re the light, you’re the night

You’re the color of my blood

You’re the cure, you’re the pain

You’re the only thing I wanna touch

Never knew that it could mean so much, so much

He could hear the passion in your voice, and he slipped into the room. As the next verse played he came around and just as the chorus hit, he slid his arm around your waist, spinning you to face him. 

You screamed until you realized it was Stephen. His eyes watery. “Are you okay?”

“Love Me Like You Do. Ellie Goulding. 1995.” and he pulled you up into a passionate kiss. He fisted the back of your robes underneath the cloak and breathed in all that was you. The room was spinning and as Ellie belted out “what are you waiting for.” Stephen pulled back. 

“Uh—”

“I love you.” Stephen interrupted. 

“I love you too.” you commented back, smiling. He pulled you back against him. His fingers traced the curves of your brow, your cheek, your chin and finally your lips, which he soon replaced with his own lips. He pulled away sharply. 

“And you are moving into my room. No more of this separate quarters nonsense. I want you close. To me. In all manner of things.”

“Fine.” 

“And I expect you to dance like that for me every night. Naked.” Stephen’s eyebrows raised. 

Your cheeks hot, and the room spun again. You couldn’t resist a little tease of your own. “Your boss. Sir.” you smiled as Stephen’s face lit up.

“I like the sound of that.” He growled in your ear. His thumbs pressed into your hips and he bucked forward. A prelude for later that day. 

[ruffruffandaway]

Like for a starter with the superdoggo?

[therecordnerd]

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Rop (@kingropstyle)

This little mama scaled her pen, so she can see me💖💗😹 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . #barcshelter #animalmagnet #animalshelter #dogsofig #dogsofinstagram #dogs #adoptdontshop #adoptdontbuy #adoptme #adopt #donate #volunteer #doggenius #doglove #superdoggo (at Fort Greene, Brooklyn) https://www.instagram.com/p/BmUMpHmlylo/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=52ba34od1u0l

[nottanothercritter]

a not at all jetlagged, very turnt brian, a stabby birb child and a napping superdoggo sully

[yawpyawp]

Hello! I would like to ask about werebork! Was he always a were? How often does he transform into one, and when he does, what does he do? And how does Foobs feel about that? :0

I THINK werebork was were’d by Hydra and when he transforms he just derps around as you’d expect a giant bork w superdoggo powers to derp! And I think Foob loves Werebork bc he can talk to his best pal using dog speak!

[swoodthis]

Baby pictures of Bark Kent aka Superdoggo

[worldnewsinpictures]

Super-Doggo! Cool. Lets make sure youre one of those 1 billion humans we sacrifice for this dogs sake.... Got an opinion about this? See what others are saying.... See MORE -> https://worldnewsinpictures.com/super-doggo SuperDoggo #SuperDoggo #SuperDoggoCool #SuperDoggoCoolLets #SeeSee #SeeSeeMORE #billion #humans

[awwflycat]

A superdoggo!

[alienlamp]

watermelon superdoggo

(via)

[just-the-hiddles]

The Reluctants | Chapter 2 | The Reluctant Tenant

A/N:  Thank you to everyone who has shown an interest in this weird little story of mine.  I am absolutely delighted.  

Pairing: Adam (OLLA) x OFC (Charlie Bock)

Summary:  Charlie can’t believe her luck when she lands an apartment all to herself in Quincy, Massachusetts in a decaying triple decker. But life gets more complicated when someone moves into the basement. Specifically her landlord, Adam, who also happens to be a vampire. As life collapses around Charlie, these two forge an uneasy and unlikely relationship. But is their relationship as doomed as the building they live in?

This Chapter:  Charlie discovered the true identity of the man living in the basement through unusual means.

Warnings:  Smut (eventually), cursing, blood (it’s vampires), creepy bosses, drinking.  Definitely language, abuse of 90s pop music.

The Whole Enchilada:  @winterisakiller @nonsensicalobsessions @yespolkadotkitty @hopelessromanticspoonie @pinkzz123 @jessiejunebug @cherrygeek86 @littleredstarfish @rjohnson1280 @the-minus-four @wiczer @lotus-eyedindiangoddess @catsladen @coppercorn-and-cauldron @gerli49 @lovesmesomehiddles @devilbat @he-is-chaotic-she-is-psychotic @tinchentitri @theheartofpenelope @noplacelikehome77 @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore @snoopy3000 @voila-tout @kitkatd7 @wolfsmom1 @queenoftheunderdark @xxloki81xx @thewaithfuckingannoyme @kcd15 @amirra88 @malkaviangirl @evanlys19 @thejemersoninferno @sadwaywardkid @is-it-madness @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog @peterman-spideyparker​ @caffiend-queen @sleepylunarwolf @anagrom @bradfordbantams​ @ms-cellanies @what-just-happened-bro @stubby-toe-589331 @alexakeyloveloki @loki-smut-library @imnotrevealingmyname @trippedmetaldetector @tea4sykes @noambition-blog @sherala007 @vodka-and-some-sass @cursethedarkness @jewels2876 @fixatedfandomhunter @myraiswack @lokikenway97 @groovylokifanficpersona @ciaodarknessmyheart @bitchcraft-at-its-finest @hanyasnape @lokislastlove @stuckysdaughter @theunwantedomega @dryyoursaltyoceantears @petitefirecracker10 @thummbelina @andreasworlsboring101 @krazycags01 @howaboutash @thehumanistsdiary @daddylouislittle @flakyfreak @sigyn-njorddottir @green-valkyrie @usedtobegoodfriend96 @salempoe @traumschiffe @letsdisneythings @arch-venus25 @thefuckthesaurus @karushinekomiya @black-ninja-blade @worshipping-skarsgard @songbirdonamission @freakishlyadorable @xxxeatyourh3artoutxxx @rorybutnotgilmore @superdoggo-39

The Reluctants:  @onebatchtwobatchpennyanddime​ @grandfanficstation @vertdragain @langdonsluxiouslocks @majoringinlife @ladyacrasia​

Taglists are OPEN! Please let me know if you wish to added or removed from any lists (Everything (Whole Enchilada), Hiddles, Loki, and/or Chris Evans)

-

Charlie bounded out of bed that morning a half an hour before her alarm was set to go off. She hurried to the kitchen and slapped the coffee maker before popping a cinnamon raisin bagel in the toaster.

“Call on me, Call on me…” Charlie sang into her knife as she waited for the bagel to pop up ready to slather it with a generous amount of cookie butter. That ridiculous Eric Prydz song had wormed its way into her brain last night during her research. Now she couldn’t stop singing it. Or thrusting her hips.

As the coffee dripped and her bagel breakfast toasted, Charlie headed to the second bedroom. Or the room of requirement, as she called. She meant it to be her home office but instead stored all the bits and pieces of her life that had yet to find a place in her apartment. Charlie sighed and took a deep breath, twisting the brass knob and pushing the door inward. It stopped short about a third of the way. She slithered her way into the room to discover her collection of hockey sticks tumbled over, blocking the path of the door.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” she cursed mostly at herself as she righted the tub that housed the sticks. She surveyed the room, gingerly stepping around stacks of books and old stuffed animals crammed into banker boxes.

“I should sell all this on eBay.” she muttered while moving back issues of Real Simple and Martha Stewart Living Magazine.

Her Christmas present from her mother every year. Even though she never read them and would sooner read Guns and Ammo over that drivel. And Charlie never owned a gun. Just another way for her mother to comment on her inadequacies as a woman and a daughter.

“There you are.” She unearthed a pair of Bose stereo speakers. “Come here, my beauties.” She lifted them from their hiding spot, cradling them under her arm.

It took about an hour and two cups of coffee for Charlie to find the optimal spot to set up and then hook the speaker up to her phone. She laid the speakers face down against the floor at where she expected for Mr. Shelley’s living area. She adjusted the volume and clicked open the playlist she prepared last night.

“Let’s smoke you out, Mr. Shelley.” She pressed play on her phone.

Oh baby, baby

Oh baby, baby

Oh baby, baby, how was I supposed to know

That something wasn’t right here?

The speakers vibrated the floorboards, causing decades of dust and debris to sift up from between the cracks. Charlie’s nose scrunched up in disgust.

“Oh man, I walk barefoot in here.”

Her head snapped to the door as Britney continued to sing, expecting a knock at the door. But as Britney faded out and *NSYNC’s Bye Bye Bye, there was no knock. Not even when the Macarena clicked on. Charlie resisted the urge to stomp on the floor or yell. Anything for a sign of life. She shrugged her shoulders and headed to the kitchen to grab her dustpan and broom. The least she could do was clean the floors.

By the time the sun set that day, Charlie knew all the words of the entire Christina Aguilera catalog and all her books were organized by color and then alphabetized by title.

KNOCK!

She yelped and jumped in place when a solid knock hit her front door.

“About fucking time.” She picked herself off the floor where her record collection laid strewn about mid-collation and answered the door.

She had never seen such a beautiful face look so pissed off. Mr. Shelley’s striking features marred by what she could only describe as malice and murder.

“You look like Syd Barrett got caught in a lawnmower.” Charlie commented without thinking. Her thoughts often dropped onto her tongue like gumballs when she was nervous, and Mr. Shelley made her very nervous.

“Can you turn that fucking shit down?” He growled, his lips a tight line. “I haven’t fucking slept all day.”

Charlie smirked. “I just have a few questions…” He rolled his eyes and turned to head back to the basement. “I hope you like Disney!” She called out. He snapped around and leaned against the doorjamb.

“I’ll report you for noise violations.” He smiled back.

“Actually… Quincy city ordinances indicate that between the hours of 9 a.m. and 5 p.m. on weekends and holidays the decibel level shall not exceed 75dBA and then 65dBA after 5 p.m. That is slightly louder than a conversation and since you and I are conversing with ease. I think I am in the clear. Perhaps you should have soundproofed the basement before you moved in.” Charlie smirked.

“What are you, some kind of lawyer Ms…?” Mr. Shelley rubbed his temple, failing to will away the headache this conversation was creating.

“Bock. Charlie Bock.” She extended her hand. “Yes I am. I work at Legal Aid, Downtown. What do you do? Besides, own this home.”

He ignored her question. “Listen Ms. Bach.”

“Bock.” she corrected.

“That’s what I said, Bach.”

“No, Bock.” She clicked her tongue on the last syllable. “Hard ‘k’. Common mistake.”

“Fucking zombies.” he muttered.

Charlie pushed forward, ignoring the zombie remark, but cataloging it in her mind for later. She was wearing him down. “Listen, I just have some questions, agree to talk to me and the music stops. Plain and simple.”

“No.” he drawled, turning on the well-worn heel of his boots.

“Please?” she begged. He responded by shooting her the bird.

“Rude.” Charlie thought out loud as she shut the door. “Fine, you want to play, let’s play.”

-

Adam groaned as the music continued for most of the night after his run-in with Ms. Bock. As promised she switched from the 90s teenybopper trash to Disney and show tunes. He wasn’t sure what was worse, show tunes or the prospect of stepping into the sunlight and burning up. A tan sounded excellent right now.

Adam curled the pillow around his head to muffle the sounds of Julie Andrews gleefully singing for people to rot their teeth by ingesting sugar on its own rather in something sensible like tea. It didn’t work.

Matters were not helped by the fact he was hungry. He needed to drink, but he couldn’t with the infernal racket going on upstairs. Charlie Bock, the name sounded like someone ripped it from the pages of a noir detective pulp novel. Charlie Bock, private eye. More like Charlie Bock, bloody fucking annoying girl.

And why was she wanting to talk to him? He pondered pulling the pillow off his face and sat up on the edge of the bed. He never understood the zombies’ need to socialize with neighbors. Proximity did not equate familiarity. As Julie faded out and some song sung by a girl reporting that the “cold never bothered her, anyway” came on, Adam resigned himself to the uncomfortable task before him.

-

Charlie was ready to settle in for another night of reruns when another knock rang out from the door. She shuffled to find a robe to throw over her pajamas, flinging clothes around the room. Another knock and then the doorbell. Repeatedly.

“Is he fucking leaning on it?” Charlie groused as she padded to the door without a robe.

“I’m here.” she spat out, swinging the door wide. He leaned against the side of the house. If possible, his hair was even more mussed than before. The corners of her mouth twitched in satisfaction. “Ready to admit defeat?”

Adam rolled his eyes, arms crossed in front of his chest. His eyes narrowed towards her, piercing through her green eyes. His gaze dropped for a moment and he caught his tongue darting out of his mouth while staring at his bosom heaving. Her quickened breath gave away her fear. It hung in the air like stale perfume. Fuck, he was hungry.

Charlie shuffled her feet and tugged at the low scoop neckline of her top, doing little in the way of covering her assets. Her discomfort almost brought the slightest smile to Adam’s face. Almost.

“Tomorrow 8 p.m. Your place. Two questions.” He turned to leave.

“Ten questions.” Charlie countered.

“Three.”

“Eight. Ever heard Baby Shark?” She poised her finger over the phone screen.

“Six. Final offer.” He leaned towards her. Charlie acutely aware of his height in this moment.

“Fine.”

“Fine.” he snarled heading back down the porch steps and to the basement entrance.

“Can I at least get your real name?”

He disappeared around the corner. “Adam. That’s one!” he shouted into the night air.

Charlie shut the door. “Adam.” She had trouble falling asleep that night.

-

That night’s activities exhausted Adam, so he slept through the commotion of Charlie straightening up the apartment. Had he woken up, he would have been welcomed to the sounds of her doing two loads of dishes and rearranging both her kitchen and living room furniture.

“Oh fuuuuccck…” Charlie cursed as she yanked the armchair into yet another seating arrangement. She realized she cared what Adam thought of her home. A lot. “No… no… no… SHIT!” Charlie flopped in the armchair in disgust. At herself. For falling for her landlord.

“I don’t even like musicians.” she lied to herself, conveniently forgetting Mark, Tyler, and that guy from college who insisted on calling himself “Mick” after Mick Jagger even though his real name was Simon.

Charlie pushed the thoughts away when she grabbed her coat, keys and purse, heading out to pick up some drinks and snacks for later tonight.

-

Adam overslept the date, no appointment, with Charlie. He hadn’t needed to be anywhere at an appointed time in a century at least. So he didn’t set an alarm. Not that he had an alarm. Although looking back, Adam was certain he could have fashioned a suitable alarm clock from the bits and bobs of machinery in the cramped basement given the proper time and motivation.

But now time was at a premium. He needed to feed before heading upstairs. A mistake yesterday. Staring at Charlie in that ridiculous low cut top sent his body into a tailspin. If the conversation had gone on much more, she would have likely seen one of his fangs, threatening to make an appearance. He hated how his body couldn’t tell the difference between hunger of the flesh and hunger for blood, causing him problems more times than he cared to remember.

In his haste and quick movements, Adam tripped on the upturned corner of an ancient Turkish rug, the canister fell from his hands. With the cap already loosened on the canister, the blood formed a dark puddle on the ornate geometric pattern. He’d never get that stain out.

“Shit. Fuck!” A nearly full canister of the good shit, O-negative wasted. And to top it off, his supplier was indisposed for some time. He would have to figure out a way to make due with his remaining stash.

He grabbed an old towel from the unused bathroom and sopped up the mess as best he could. Adam gathered the now bloody towel along with other debris from the living area, cramming it into a paper bag as he exited the basement to toss all of it into the communal garbage cans leaning against the decaying siding. He didn’t notice the bloody towel fallen at his threshold when he stepped over it to get cleaned up, his mind on other things.

-

At fifteen past eight, Charlie stomped her foot and rose from the sunken futon.

“This is bullshit!” She marched out the front door. Charlie was already formulating her rant in her mind when she pounded on Adam’s door. She glanced down to find a towel stained red. Blood red. She picked it up and sniffed. Metallic.

Adam opened the door as he adjusted the collar on a charcoal gray silk button down. Their eyes locked. His an unnatural blue, Charlie’s a deep emerald green. And then Adam saw what was in her hand.

“Where d’you find that?”

“At your door. I KNEW IT!” she did a little dance in place, pulling the towel close to her. “You’re the fucking Mob or something! Oh, shit. I need to call the cops! You murdered someone!”

Charlie twirled in place like a top. She realized she was pressing the towel against her chest and threw it in the air in disgust. Adam with his supernatural speed grabbed the towel mid-air. Charlie stopped in her tracks, mouth agape.

“How did yo—” Her words cut short as Adam jerked her into the basement by her wrist.

The door slammed behind her and Adam released her wrist, walking away, huffing. This was not how tonight was supposed to go. He was supposed to answer some questions to appease her curiosity and then go on living their separate lives. And now Charlie stood in his home, his sanctum, smelling all kinds of… FUCK! he still hadn’t eaten.

“Listen, if you are planning to kill me, there are people who will—”

“No there aren’t.” An edge to his voice.

“I beg your pardon?” Charlie blinked before trailing after him. “I happen to have lots of…” Her voice trailed off. “Wow…”

Every square inch of the walls was covered in instruments hanging from hooks. Acoustic and electric guitars of all shapes and kinds. Several violins and a viola. Plus other stringed instruments she didn’t recognize. There was an upright bass in the corner behind a drum set. And a makeshift recording station in another corner.

“How in the hell? Who or what are you?” Charlie breathed the stale air of the basement as she continued to turn, taking everything in. How the hell did he even get all this down here without her knowing?, she thought. Her face pinched into a scowl. She stopped spinning and planted her feet facing Adam. “I’m waiting for answers.”

She placed a hand on one hip while the other one jutted out in a snap, causing her breasts to bounce. God, he needed a drink!

“It’s better I show you.” He left the room at a brisk walk. Charlie stepped to get a closer look at all the instruments. “Don’t touch anything!” He called out just as Charlie reached out to smooth her fingertips over the polished wood.

Like a child in a museum, she folded her hands behind her back. She walked the perimeter of the room, getting close but not touching. She could spy a fine layer of dust and dirt on tops of some, some looked freshly cleaned. Charlie winced when she recognized her stunt was the likely cause of the dust.

“I said no touching.” His lips pulled tight across his teeth.

Charlie waved her hands from behind her back. “You can’t touch with your eyes.”

“You can if you try hard enough.”

He placed a small crystal glass next to a tall metallic canister akin to a thermos. “Sit.” He barked like Charlie was a dog in desperate need of obedience training. In Adam’s mind, it wasn’t far from the truth. His mind wandered to all the ways in which he could break her. Make her whimper. His fangs made their presence known. He poured a small amount of the blood into the goblet and downed it. He had company. His fangs tinged pink as he fell back onto the wine red velveteen couch and for a moment he forgot everything except bliss.

After several moments, Charlie cleared her throat. Adam popped open one eye to find her sitting there, hands folding in her lap, making herself as small as she could.

“So…” she started, Adam popped open his other eye. “… you’re a vampire.”

He didn’t respond, instead rolling his eyes. He waited for reality to sink in and Charlie to go screaming into the night. Adam sighed and huffed, contemplating the fact he would need to move again. Packing up the recording equipment would be a bitch.

“Zombies. Shit.” Adam muttered under his breath.

“You’ve used that term before. Like…” She held her arms and moaned. “Brains… zombies?” It surprised him she was still here, her hands once again neatly folded in her lap. Like at church.

Adam huffed again. “That is about how humans act these days.”

Charlie crossed her arms and leaned back. “That’s an awfully pejorative term.”

“That’s the entire point.” His words sharp.

“Shouldn’t you use a nicer term for a being which you need to survive?” Her green eyes blinked, and Charlie remained unmoved.

“Shouldn’t you be running out of here in terror or disgust?” Adam snapped back.

Her nose scrunched up, and she shifted to face him. It was adorable. Adam hated adorable. And cute. And fluffy. The change in angle allowed Adam a view down Charlie’s sweater. A dark violet sweater with a deep v. All the blood he drank moved to a different part of his body. He stood to disguise his condition from Charlie.

“Are you saying that because I should be afraid of you or because you expect me to be afraid of you?” Her brows knitted together, marring her face.

“Is there a difference?”

“Yes, or else I wouldn’t have said it that way.” Her gaze followed him about the room. His torso twisted as though he was recoiling or hiding from her. “Communication is not your strong suit, is it?”

“I prefer to communicate by means other than words.” His long pale finger plucked a violin string. He didn’t elaborate on his comment.

“You haven’t answered my question.” She prodded.

“You’re awfully persistent for a zombie.” She winced at the word and Adam twinged for a moment with guilt.

“I’m a lawyer that is literally part of the job description.” She stood and smoothed down the sweater which Adam was now actively averting gaze from hoping to ward off the already painful erection or making a mess in his jeans. “Let’s try another tactic. I’ll answer your question first. No, I’m not running in fear or disgust. You are what you are and there is no changing that. And you have shown nothing but… well, I wouldn’t say kindness or respect…” She rambled, Adam shot daggers. “… but the fact is you have never tried to physically harm me. So you are okay in my book. For now.” There go those nerves again. Gumballs left and right.

She stuck out her hand, trembling. Despite her bold words, inside she was a puddle. Adam raked his eyes over her, searching for any sign of malice or guile only to find none. He took her hand and shook it. It surprised Charlie to find his skin warm.

“Thank you. Now if you excuse me, I have a precious amount of time left until sunrise.” He gestured towards the door.

“Apologies!!” Charlie startled.

She rushed to the front door, with him close behind. Too close. Adam collided with her as she turned for a final farewell, their chests colliding. She reached and steadying herself against him, her fingers burned as they skimmed across his chest exposed by his unbuttoned shirt. And Adam’s erection which had subsided came raging back. Adam shuffled back to keep it from pressing against Charlie.

“I also want to say sorry for the mess I made on your instruments. I didn’t know. And I want to invite you to use the interior stairs to the kitchen whenever you need to.”

Adam smirked, his confidence and swagger returning, or that could just be his cock talking. “Haven’t you seen the movies? It’s an awfully dangerous thing to invite a vampire into your home.” His eyes heavy, charm in full force.

“I have, but how else can I get to fix my bathtub?” She continued, unfazed. “It’s been leaking for a week.” Adam’s mouth fell open and Charlie disappeared from view.

Once she rounded the corner, Charlie took the stairs two at a time, her heart racing as she shut the heavy wooden front door. She ached in a place she shouldn’t ache when talking to her landlord. Her undead, brooding musician, hot as hell, vampire landlord.

“Fuck.” Charlie cursed, walking away.

Adam stood rooted, staring at his door, his body regaining control of itself. Did that go well? He wasn’t sure.

“Shit.” Adam walked away as that fucking violet sweater haunted his mind for the rest of the evening and in his dreams.