#|| IF I WERE A DEAD KID AND SOME SWEATY MAN CHASED ME DOWN I'D FIGHT BACK TOO.

[revvnant]

i fell asleep but perhaps tomorrow i post more movie mike stuff. obsessed with him being an angry beast who's constantly losing control with everyone except abby. it's essential to me that he petscop mimics the killer in his dreams and that none of the ghost kids feel safe with him.

[deathtale0-0]

Mother's Day

TW // police brutality, police murder, racism

It was 19:35 on Mother's Day and I was going home. Well, more like I was rushing home. I was doing that weird thing where you run a bit and then walk a bit so that people don't look at you funny, but it was dark out, so I don't know why I was even doing it. You see, I spent Mother's Day at a friend's house because ma was working a long shift at the hospital today and didn't want me to be alone, but she was meant to be home soon, and I was meant to be home already. See my problem?

Flickering lights from streetlamps chased me, happy to be of use to someone in the night, as I noticed the foolishness of what I was doing and decided to run the last stretch home. My trainers thumped dully each time they connected with the dying pavement, with each crack and break it smugly showed a naïve attempt to catch at someone's feet and drag them to its depth of humiliation and neglect. Silence encompassed the night air, only broken by my shallow pants as I checked the phone held in my nimble mocha hand to see the time - 19:37 - I would make it home before her. But that happiness was short-lived as I rounded the corner and was hit with a gut-wrenching dread. Not dread that one feels as they go to their first school dance, or when they speak in public, but the type of dread that creeps into your flesh from the cruelty of the world and seeps into your bloodstream, filling your body with the distinct sense that something is not right. This dread gripped my mind with talons in its dark prowess, and came in the form of white and blue…

I slowed to a halt as the police officer came into sight, the rules that turned my melanin into a curse in this country flashing across my mind in a panic, but it was too late, he had seen me running. Without thinking, I tucked my phone into my sleeve. He stared at me, his brown eyes pierced my brown skin as I failed to see the softness that usually came with those colour eyes and as he failed to see me as anything other than my blackness. Flustered, I scanned him, saw the dirty blond hair poking out from underneath the hat that sat proudly on his head and the mouth that was set in a hard line. I saw the tension in his muscles and the wariness of his stance as he eyed me up and down, scrutinising me. I saw him take in the Adidas joggers, the Jordan's, the black hoodie, the black baseball cap, and most of all the black skin. Today was a bad day to wear all black as well as be all black. His harsh eyes stopped at my shaking fingers clutching my duffel bag tight. My own eyes flicked down to my bag before looking back up and with shaky legs, I decided to keep walking and pretend as if nothing had happened – because nothing had, I didn't do anything wrong so there was no need for me to be nervous. Yet as I took steps forwards, I realised there was a need for me to be nervous because things happen, I just never thought that they would happen to me, but my feet walked all of one metre before the officer stepped in my path.

He stood directly under a streetlamp, "Where you heading, kid?" A question that was so simple, so easy, and yet so loaded. I was paused in the middle of the pavement, about two and a half metres away from him, stood in the spot where the light from the lamp had begun to fade – the outskirts. Growing up I knew my favourite Bible verse was 'all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God' but why was it that when he looked at me I felt like I had fallen farther than others? When he looked at me and asked that question, I felt like the biggest sinner of them all. After being silent for a moment too long he took a step forward and asked again.

"Home, sir," the words tumbled out, raw and messy, but oh so true, "I'm just heading home, sir."

"Home? Let's not pretend I didn't see you running a minute ago, where are you really heading?" His voice had a weight to it that made me sick. A quiet conviction that made me feel guilty.

"Sir, I swear I'm just going home-" the words tumbled out again, raw and messy, but oh so desperate.

"Then why were you running?" He took a step closer and I took a step back, the light surrounding me became dimmer.

"I was, it was because-" my hands were sweaty as they balled into fists but then straightened out again because I didn't want to seem angry, didn't want to seem like one of those drug-dealing thugs that the media paints us as, "-I'm, I'm late home, sir, and my ma she-"

"What's in the bag?" he demanded, his gruff voice taking on a menacing tone that sent chills up my spine.

"Sir it's nothing, it's just-"

"You just said it was nothing so how is it suddenly something, huh? Tell me where you're really coming from," he walked straight up to me and stared me in the eyes, "what you got in there kid? Who'd you rob the store for? You one of those thugs?" and the condemnation in his words almost made me believe it. I stared into his eyes and saw nothing but coldness, I thought that if we had no resemblance then it'd be over for me, so as pitiful as it sounded I hoped and prayed that he would see that I wasn't doing anything wrong if only because we both had brown eyes – he could relate to me because we both had brown eyes. Pathetic right? My body shook as his malice grew in front of me, "What, you think you guys can keep getting away with things like this? Open your bag!" and I felt tears prick at the back of my eyes as I willed myself not to cry in front of this man. I guess my silence assured him of his twisted righteousness as he shoved me to the ground with such force that I heard a sickening crack and when I touched the back of my head, it came away wet, slick with blood. My phone, although still in my sleeve had landed awkwardly on my wrist as he loomed over me like a demon, his pale skin stark against the night. "Are you not gonna answer me, boy?" the question, so casual, as he crouched beside me, baring his teeth and cruelty.

I didn't know why he was so angry. But I did. I was a criminal in his eyes. A criminal for having my skin two shades too dark, I missed the mark for acceptance in his eyes – the eyes of this country, this society. I was painted with a blackness that came from richness and royalty, but today ordained me as a target for those filled with a lust for hatred to take out their bigotry on. A blackness that was not a choice for me and yet shackled me to the fate of every other black man in this country – to die because of my blackness or live constantly reminded of it. Looking at him now, with the streetlamp behind him, I bet this scene was right to him, he was standing in the light, and here I was, sprawled out on the floor, afraid, alone, and in the dark. He shone his torch at me, and I put my hand out to block it, but as my hands went out to protect, his hands went out to his gun. I froze. As I lay there, vulnerable and with my melanin pooled around me – the dark in his city of light, of white - he kicked my bag, "Open it."

"Yes, sir," came my shaky reply as I slowly pulled myself up off the floor, my head lit up with agony. With his hands firmly plastered on his gun and his gun aimed at me, I reached for the zipper with my coffee hands and began to unzip my bag slowly. But, through some cruel twist of fate, someone called me. The call surprised me, so I let go of my sleeve and out fell the phone, but to him it was a gun…to them it's always a gun.

I felt them before I heard them, before I saw them, and I wish I could tell you how it felt, but I can't, because it hurt too much. He shot me six times in the chest before I could even say "Please," before I could even look at him and plead my case of life in this monochrome world. After the ringing in my ears stopped, I became weightless – just for one lovely moment – before my body, mind and soul dropped as one to the ground, feeling like the burden of the world that Atlas carried on his shoulders. I'd never felt so heavy, so conscious of my humanity and mortality as I did when I lay there dying. Tears streamed, desperate to fall as evidence of my life, to leave the mark that I was here, because there was no one else around to see me fall. As I felt vibrations in the earth, I looked to my side to see my phone screen lit up and ringing once more. After cringing at the brightness, I noticed that it was 19:45 and that the caller, it was ma. I was too tired to move. I lay there, in the darkness, with naught but my wheezing breaths, my inky blood seeping from my body, and my tragic story seeping from my soul to keep me company. A flash of pink caught my eyes as they started to close, pink of all things, pink that seemed so out of place in my greyscale experience. It was from my roses. I gathered my remaining strength to tilt my head to look through the half-zipped top of my bag and there were the roses I had bought for ma resting in the bottom. More tears streamed. Oh, the irony of it all. Looking up, I see the moon and decide that I want to die looking at it, simply because I have nothing else to look at. It has a sharp contrast to the darkness of the night sky, one's attention is drawn to it as it overlooks the Earth, taking over from the sun as the overseer and the one who must witness all the horrors this world has to offer. How sad it must be to be the moon. Grey, white, and black begin to swirl into each other and blend as I keep looking, the grey overtaking the white, and finally the black overtakes the grey as I close my eyes to rest.

At 19:49, ma called me again, but I was dead.

[littlemessyjessi]

“Carnivore”: A Dracula Story: Plus Size Reader: Chapter 2

BBC/ Netflix Dracula  Imagine

Warning:  Mentions of cannibalism, violence kink and taxidermy.  Just a warning. Enjoy.

I had never been what I would call a morning person.

Unless by morning you meant 12 a.m.

If you meant being active when everyone else was asleep in bed then yeah, sure- I was a morning person.

But when the birds started to chirp and the people began to busy about... I. Was. Out.

Which was exactly why I was so extremely grateful to my butcher who stayed open to the wonderfully spry hour of eleven at night.

Bless his soul.

Joe was honestly a saint at times and I had no problem giving him my business.

I always peeled some off the top of our kills to bring home to my meat freezers but for my main diet...I needed a butcher and that was just that.

I arrived there at precisely 9 pm and I was greeted with a smile as I came through the door.

"Ah, my favorite creature of the night!" came the rather chipper voice of Joe.

I glanced up at him, "Evening, Joe."

"I have your usual ready." he said.  "It's just in the back."

"Sounds wonderful." I said dragging the large rolling cooler I'd brought with me to the front and wheeling it over to him.

"You're the only woman I know who actually comes in here with an ice chest.  Weekly.  Sometimes twice a week." he teased.

"Yeah, well, I'm a special breed." I said taking out the cash and handing it to him.

It was always the same and I paid him in cash...with a good tip.

Say what you will but tipping well made all the difference with people.

"I have some exotic game for you as well." I said. "It's in there before you fill it up."

"Keep your money then." he said with a smile.  "We'll call it a deal."

"Joe." I said with a pointed look. "I bring you my business because I want to and I bring the exotic meat because  A.) I know you can appreciate such a thing and B.) I adore the service.  So please don't insult me and just accept the gift and keep the money. Besides, last I heard you had a new baby on the way."

"For a vampire, you're awfully nice." he winked.

"What makes you think I'm a vampire?" I asked lifting a brow at him in question.

He just winked, "Oh, that's right it's werewolves that consume human flesh."

I stared at him and for a moment I had a mild panic attack.

Did he know?

How did he know?

He burst into laughter a second laughter, "I'm only joking!  Or was a spot on about your extracurricular activites?"

I narrowed my eyes at him.

"According to Marcus, you seemed to have quite the fondness for biting." he said speaking of a mutual friend that I may or may not have toyed with a few times.

Purely sexual of course.

Although, the man was a fine specimen and should I ever choose to murder him...he would make excellent steaks amongst other things.

"And how would you know such things?" I asked.

"He and Dylan are close." he said with a knowing smirk.

"Yes, well perhaps you and your husband should stay out of my 'extracurriculars' as you call them." I said, half joking, half dead serious.

Though in truth, Joe never took anything I said like that to heart.

I was what he like to call "Dangerously Adorable".

I abhored the term but it was endearing affectionate in a way, I suppose.

"Just fetch my meat, butcher boy." I said. "Before I decided to eat you."

"Ooooh, kinky." he teased. "I could probably convince Dylan to threeway. Neither of us have been with a woman in a long time."

I threw my pen at him to make him move and the sound of his laughter could be heard as he ventured into the back.

Moments later he emerged with my cooler and a basket on top.

"What's this?" I asked lifting a brow at the little brown thing. "Do I look like Little Red Riding Hood to you?"

"Yes sometimes you do give me that vibe." he laughed. "But in that basket are two special things for you.  One is a considerable amount of duck eggs and a jar of duck fat.  They're from my mother.  She really appreciated the package you sent her when she was sick.  I know you like to pretend you a cold heartless-"

"Stop talking, you'll ruin my reputation." I said with an unconvincing glare.

"Anyway, she wanted to say thank you." he said.

I made quick work of bidding him goodbye and got out of there.

He was one of the humans that I could tolerate being around for more than a little while...even if he was insufferable at times.

As I walked the streets with the basket on my arm and the cooler rolling behind me I thought of how conflicted I was with the nightlife of the city.

On the one hand, the convenience of having some establishments staying open all hours of the night was incredibly useful.

On the other, it usually meant conversation and I just had no patience for it sometimes.

Which is why it's so ironically cruel that the universe would put me in the path of someone who loved company.

"Hey, what's up, mami?"

I cut my eyes to the left to glare at the little heathen who looked me up and down.

Probably no older than twenty five.

A little younger than I would've liked and not really my type but attractive enough for me to toy with and end my boredom.

And certainly enough to make a meal out of it.

But was he awful enough to eat?

Was he some punk who just like to catcall?

As disgusting as it was .... did he have other motives?

"Darling, there you are!" entered a new, richly accented voice that I was unaccustomed to. "I've been looking everywhere for you."

I turned in time to see a man who was every BIT my type.

Older and classically handsome.

Like an old Hollywood movie star.

Tall and strong with years of aged muscle.

Not the roid rage muscles that the youth were so fascinated with today.

I likened that to the sensation of chewing tire threads.

No...this man...

This man was nothing short of delectable.

And damn him for being a knight in shining armor.

I so would have enjoyed feasting on his flesh.

"Hello, Darling..." I said slowly as he came closer to me and wrapped me in his embraced.

He unusually cool to the touch, not that I minded since I absolutely detested the sensation of being hot and sweaty.

He offered the young man a 'friendly' smile that seemed to say 'back off' behind the mask of politeness and the kid ran off.

"Thank you..." I said pulling away from the man.  "That was very kind of you."

"No problem." he said. "I fear the boy might not have had the purest plans for you in mind."

"And you would know this how?" I asked curiously.

"Because I have been a young man near a beautiful woman before." he smirked.

"So lust justifies rape to you then?" I countered.

"No." he said. "But it can cloud the mind and produce a level of stupidity. He might not have attempted to force himself upon you but he definitely would've touched without your permission."

"As you did when you took me in your arms?" I asked pointedly.

"That's different." he laughed a bit, seemingly shocked by the cheek of it all.

"How? Because you chose to play the Knight in Shining Armor?" I challenged. "Perhaps I was playing Little Red and I was looking for a Big Bad Wolf to eat me up after all."

"Well you would fit the bill. A tantalizing tart with a basket and all." he said, a slight air of irritation oozing from him beneath the mask of charm. "I'm sorry if I have offended you. I only meant-."

"I'm not offended." I cut him off. "I'm just a massive bitch and not much of a people person."

His handsome face pulled up into a grin and he laughed heartily.

"You are a refreshing creature aren't you?" he said.

"You have no idea." I said.  "Good night, sir."

"Dracula." he said extending his hand.

I lifted an eyebrow at him momentarily before leaning forward and whispering my name into his ear before placing a small kiss to his cheek.

"Good night, Dracula." I said.  "Now I must be off before the Big Bad Wolf comes back."

"Perhaps it's the wolf that chased the young pup away." he challenged.

I smirked, "Well, then, Mr. Wolf. If you're clever and hungry enough, you shouldn't have a problem tracking me down then."

I realized that those words were dangerous.

They were provacative and even luring to a stalker.

He could've easily been a psychopath.

But what did I care?

I could either have some fun with him and if he bid me harm....I'd simply have him for breakfast in the morning.

----------------

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Love, Kenny