#notgrief

“ the true reveal is that kieran is actually 40 ”

Jake was a big guy - there wasn’t a chance of him not being able to stand up for himself - for him not to stop an assailant from injuring him. So how had he gotten to this place? His car had mysterious cut out just outside of the busy area of Lakewood.

He wasn’t scared. He wasn’t worried. He hopped out of the car and bopped the hood to see the damage. The lighting was poor since it was late and all that lit the blood stained streets were the hue of the street lights, blurry orange lights that had seen so much in this godforsaken town.

Not to brag but The Shake ‘n’ Jake had an incredible car - it made no sense that it would cut out like this, not without malicious tampering. But egos & male pride of ‘i can fix it!’ didn’t let Jake see that. It didn’t make him turn around to see an approaching figure in a mask holding a knife, it didn’t allow him to look up at the perfectly shined black car where he might have seen a reflection. He left him haunched over trying to fix a car that he would not fix.              The knife plunged deep into his back, between his shoulders blades where the grand number of EIGHT usually sat on his basketball jersey. He released a pained groan and fell back as the knife was tugged out. The male dropped to the pavement and looked to see the killer that had been haunting the town & group of friends. Now was his time. The Joker had lived too long & his curtain was rolling down. He felt the burn between his shoulders - far worse than the one previously in his shoulder. Before he could collect his thoughts he was dragged up and his head was harshly bashed into the car he loved so dearly, leaving a neat little dent.                                                                Craaaack. His nose broke, he smelt blood, seconds later he tasted it. It poured from his nose & he was sure he was choking some up.He couldn’t even get a moment to get up - to bare the pain and kick the ass of his bastard before the same blood coated knife found a home in his chest - this time not in a miracle spot but right in his chest.

He looked up at the mask, gasps & chocks coming from his usually smart mouth, blood dripping out of it and staining his polo shirt that his mother probably ironed for him so he could look sharp. Another knife wound - in his stomach this time and the killer pulled back - perhaps to admire his artwork of murdering The Jake. ʷʰᵃᵗ ᵃ ᵐᵃˢᵗᵉʳᵖᶦᵉᶜᵉ. The teenage boy dropped to his knees and fell flat on his face. The ground was beginning to pool in his blood & the killer felt satisfied. Leaving him that way.

t HAT FUCKING ICON

         ❛  when i have my FULL STRENGTH back, i swear to god, i am going to rail you. ❜

noah : sign me the FUCK up �������������������� good shit go౦ԁ sHit�� thats ✔ some good����shit right����th �� ere������ right✔there ✔✔if i do ƽaү so my selｆ �� i say so �� thats what im talking about right there right there (chorus: ʳᶦᵍʰᵗ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ) m