he stands before the person sitting at the bar, an intense expression of pride adorning his features. carefully, his hands behind his back reveal a drink in hand. it’s bright red with red rock candy coating it’s rim. without the context, it’s actually quite pretty. tastes brilliant too, in his opinion, akin to a strawberry sour.  ‘   i call this masterpiece the killer keller.   ’ oh, but it gets better. ‘   and if you post a selfie of you and the drink on any social media platform with the hashtag killer keller, your next drink is twenty five percent off. post it on facebook i’ll give you get fifty percent.   ’ he finishes, a wide grin on his face and he’s one moment away from taking a bow from the applause that he’s certain he deserves. 

     the past two weeks, despite the girl’s favorite season and an abundance of gifts from her best friend, had been torturous. she’d double-checked the locks to each door in their house a minimum of FIVE TIMES before bed, reorganized her speed dial and emergency contacts, and she’d only left the house if absolutely necessary. and the library, unfortunately ( despite her usual stance on the book-filled utopia ), had been a necessity. and when she bumps into someone outside, dropping her rented text books and her phone simultaneously, kevin nearly shouts at them as they reach down to give her a hand. “ sorry, ” she fumbles with her belongings, as she does she the apology. “ it’s not that you … look like a SERIAL KILLER, or something. it’s just -- more … uh, it could be anyone and … sorry, it’s silly. i’m only -- super paranoid. ” pause. “ i didn’t even want to get facebook. ”

It’d been three hours, and the latest volunteer had yet to come and pick up their shift. Perhaps it was her moral code, one of someone soft-hearted that had landed her here. That, or the inability to say no when approached with a clipboard and a pen. Perhaps a mixture of both — and did the when and the why and the how really matter sitting at the booth in front of the police station ( set up by town hall much to the actual cops’ chagrin ) entitled ARIELLA SCHMIDT IN PERSON TIP LINE. Emma supposed that human interaction was a better thing for a town now paranoid of technology, but sitting alone in the hot & dusty streets of town made her feel more a potential candidate for next victim. Even if there were cops a wall away. Kicking the red toned, sandy dirt at her feet, when she looked up to view the sidewalk again, there was FINALLY another human being walking down the side street she was set up on. Relief felt like a cool breeze in the Arizona sun, and before even looking at the movement to identify the person acrosss to her, she was out of the folding chair and on her feet. “ Please tell me you’re next shift, I think I’m about to get heatstroke in December. I’m pretty sure that’s against the laws of nature, even for Arizona. ”

like this for a starter from literally anyone . . . 

as the gc knows … i’ve spent all day giffing / vidding and that raunchy headache always strikes past midnight, thus - i am now useless. but if y’all want some threads before the new year strikes tomorrow … GIVE THIS A LIKE. coo, coo, coo.