#scriobh

Home  is  a  person  and  that  person  has  been  dragged  through  the  dirt  so  many  times  by  him  .  Shot  in  the  kidney  by  him  --  left  by  him  ,  but  he’s  still  there  and  he  knows  he’s  there  .  He’s  crawling  back  to  him  in  percentages  ---  him  /  home  is  Jack  .  The  physical  doesn’t  matter  .  The  definition  ,  where  his  soul  searches  and  where  he  wants  to  be  -  is  with  Jack  .  He’s  been  home  ever  since  Reaper  was  Gabe  ,  and  Gabe  was  only  nineteen  years  old . 

tag yourself i'm the backup lucio

“of course not.” it’s a blatant lie. just a moment ago, she’d jumped nearly a foot in the air and grabbed his arm in a death-grip as a ‘zombie’ leaped out of a nearby hedge. yes, she knows very well they’re just actors in makeup, but it doesn’t stop the edge that rides on her nerves. this is supposed to be the scariest haunted maze in colorado, and, upon seeing an advertisement while visiting watchpoint: grand mesa, she had foolishly bragged that ‘these things could never scare her’.

leave it to gérard to use her own stubborn pride against her and actually buy tickets.

“Mon dieu, you truly are fearless.” 

Gérard is wearing a shit-eating grin. 

Just the same, he holds her close-- to keep her warm, of course. Despite his lover’s little white lie, he’s enjoying himself. Halloween is a lot more played up in the states, and he’s more than happy to scare the pants off of Amé while they’re here. 

They pass by a ghoulish priest. 

Addressee: @ficklefeline

The devil, Reficul, felt it her duty to visit various worlds of other devils and gods, not out of a sense of dutiful goodwill, but more out of curiosity and meddlesome regard. It was little surprise she might be caught on some of her excursions, though nor was she ever bothered by it. It made nice conversation.

Addressee: @offingobesquy

Today, Mitsuki was stuck. She wasn’t sure what to do! She had baked and baked, and baked some more, yet couldn’t figure out what the perfect cake could be! Had she lost her touch? Did she even have talent enough to bake in the first place? The bee was aside herself, within her own bonnet, so to speak.

Mitsuki was nearly in tears from this several-hour trial. She was left with many, many sub-par cakes, filling her home with their heady scents, all deflated and deformed in some way that tipped her off rather than made her swell with pride. Oh, what to do, what to do...