#cobalthavoc

“Hey, humie! HEY! Hold on! Freakin’ long legs.  .  .” Rocket didn’t drop down onto all fours like he tended to do when he needed to catch up, but he did pick up the pace as the sweet, heavenly smell that caught his nose earlier grew stronger. With the distance between them growing shorter, he was able to jump in front of her, eyes locked on the white container of food in her hand.

The last few warm nights of a fading summer brought a sense of calm to Keegan as he strode along unfamiliar streets. He’d thought to go home early tonight, not to worry his mother or siblings with his constant wanderlust- but these few hours of silent contemplation were something he couldn’t bring himself to miss. 

For around three hours he’d been walking when the scent caught in his nostrils. At first his reaction was to recoil, drawing his hand over his nose to try and keep from smelling it. This quickly faded however, as the young man feared he’d appear crazy to anyone who might happen by him, after all, not a lot of people could pick up the scent of soul lingering on them. 

Still, the redhead ducked his head and let his wavy bangs fall over his face enough to provide him with a less sickly sweet scent. This, however, nearly proved to be a mistake as he just barely stepped to the side quickly enough to avoid knocking into someone walking the opposite way. None the less, his tail still smacked into their shins, which was enough to make him stop and usher and apology. 

The night sky brought him peace, but, today, it seemed the turmoil was destined to remain in place.  He sighed, before jumping off the roof he had perched himself upon, landing safely on the ground with a plume of green smoke.  

Though, he realized a bit belatedly that he landed a bit closer to someone than was probably appropriate.

“Happy birthday!”  Sure, Gemüse knew he had only approximately a .33% chance of actually being right, but, hey, how cool would it be if he was?  He’d used the trick on other people before, but he couldn’t exactly use the Agency’s resources to look up the birthday of a Grim Reaper who wasn’t even from this universe.  Plus, the Agency didn’t really like him using their resources to do things of that nature.  

     There were... certain men in his profession, who, when John spoke of his... apprehension of certain woman, laughed in his face.  (Those men didn’t tend to last long in the field, honestly.)  It wasn’t about sexism or any sort of social justice.  It was simply that a woman could kill him just as effectively as any man could.  

    There was a certain AURA to a woman that walked the streets, alone, at night.  That level of confidence was one that put him on edge, especially when thousands of hitmen were after him.

     ...admittedly, he mustn’t look harmless himself; knife still drawn, blood splattered across him from the last two that came after him.  

cobalthavoc liked your post “Hey everyone. Sorry I haven't been active much latley. Depression...”

Damien grumbled as he walked down the street, his truck was in the shop getting some repairs done. Normally, had it been something small, he’d have tried to fix it himself, but it had some problems beyond him. Of course, it had to happen while it was raining. And he had to have left his umbrella at home. 

Luck just didn’t seem to be on Damiens side that day.

“Hey!” Simon had no qualms yelling at a random woman walking down the street.  “Have you seen a stray fedora fly through here?”