#cparker

--There he was again. August Halfman. Parker had memorized the name on his license and insurance card after she had refused any of his help. The accident was two weeks ago, and her car had already been taken in and fixed. The memory of her caving in and allowing the man to help change her tire had faded. He was nothing more than a stranger who once shared a fleeting moment--or at least that’s how she wanted him to remain...The universe was wicked, making him pop up in front of her, making his face known again. Why? She huffed, rolling her eyes. All Parker wanted to do was grab her cat some food without having to socialize. --he was just so nice...and it wasn’t that Parker was the opposite, she just didn’t know how to handle other people. Blame it on years of working in the morgue. While people often blabbed their gossip, and issues to friends, Parker vented into the cold air of coronary work. It was better that way, wasn’t it? The dead couldn’t judge you, be disloyal to you..she wondered briefly as her feet carried her to weave through the aisles of the store. “Oh...--god.” keeping her head too low, Parker lost track of her sight and ran straight into someone else. “Seriously.” She huffed seeing that it was in fact, August. 

    --Some nights left the woman confused where to go when she had the freedom to leave work. What was home? It was a fickle word made up by no definition that made sense to her. The physical sense of home was about a ten minute drive from the bar she was at now-perfect for if she was too drunk to drive, she could just walk. “Raf,” through a moment of thought sitting at the bar alone, Parker had picked up her phone and dialed the tattooed man's number. Voicemail, she rolled her eyes. Rafael -- A friend. He was a friend now, wasn’t he? The two had met at this very place, and time-to-time the woman even had him look after her cat. Wasn’t that friend material? --not that Parker really knew, she didn’t really have any friends. “Listen, you need to come to the bar. --you know which one.” Dryly she smirked, “my second shot of tequila is telling me, to tell you, that you need to come here so I can kick your ass at another game of darts.” Who knew, maybe she would throw in getting another tattoo if she lost again. A small one of course, but there was something she liked about Rafael that made her feel more alive. 

@xchxsingcxrsx

Evan and Carys - As I said last time, weird fetish commonalities make up for the kinkiest couples around. To make a long story short, let’s get to the fucking, you two.