Step aside, coffee. This is a job for alcohol! (at 3Dog Cantina)
Characters getting fucked to the point of them only being able to exclaim in their mother tongue during sex (ʘ‿ʘ✿)
Brad Paisley ft Alison Krauss - Whiskey Lullaby
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the murder train, the idea was fascinating and spooky and even a little disturbing for her. But her family had pitched in to but her the ticket as a present with the condition that she didn’t get herself killed. Luckily that was on her list as well and they said it was safe now. Which meant they either believed it was safe or a great way to lure new victims in. For once Avery was hoping the safe route.
Avery took a step back as the whistle blew her eyes darting all around. “Me too. I’m Avery and lets both hope those stories are long done being written.” She had no desire to be the next victim on a train. She would like to die either fighting or old in her bed. “At least there aren’t any children singing nursery rhymes. That would freak me out even more.” That was always the worst part about horror movies the kids and the little things that seemed horrifying in a scary setting.
Gabi offered her hand to the other woman with a nervous laugh. “Gabi. Gabi Stone in case you need to identify my body or something.” She hoped it was just a joke, but with this train’s history, who really knew if anyone would get off? Her eyes darted to the other woman and widened. “Ugh. Creepy kids are the worst. Always.”
The doors to the train opened and she smiled at Avery. “Wanna share a cabin?”
After his questionably daring escape (something he would really more closely categorize as pure dumb luck), Andy moves his feet and starts walking. It’s better than his cushy prison cell, and even if everything still has that underwater quality to it while the drugs work their way out of his system, that at least he can manage. He’s Out, and maybe it’s just a dream, wouldn’t be the first, but Out is better than In and he’ll take it for now.
Hello, onlookers and residents of whatever town he’s managed to get out in (he honestly doesn’t know, knowing the government it could easily be anywhere), meet one Andy McGee, Pusher of questionable strength and most recently a resident of a fancy Facility for those who need to be locked up for national security, rent paid for by the US government and taxpayers and continued residence enforced by the Shop.
Suffice to say he’s a little happy to be out, even if he looks and walks a bit like an escaped mental patient. It’s not far wrong, in some ways.
He can be found moving from place to place in something of a haze as he tries to clear his mind and find his bearings, investigating things seemingly at random and generally trying to keep his distance from others as only someone with a severe case of learned paranoia can.
Except then he stops, or more accurately drifts close to a passerby. Matches pace the best he can with his mind as fogged as it is, to try to reach for a shoulder. Hold them up. His gaze is unfocused, glassy blue and fever-bright to match the hospital scrubs tucked into stolen jeans. There’s a desperate quality to both manner and words, a man chasing a dream, maybe. “Hi. Have you seen a little girl, maybe this high—” he holds his free hand up, maybe four feet off the ground. “Her name’s—” Charlie “Bobbi.” It comes slowly, like through molasses, but he got it right. He knows he did. The fake name he told her to use with strangers.
Gabi had spent a long few hours at the station, some suits had come to talk about some escaped mental patient who was after his kid. She’d been… skeptical about them. Suits didn’t personally notify the station. They sent a fax and were done with it. They most certainly didn’t watch the broadcast so that they could know for sure that the network made sure that the public knew to just call in and not engage the subject.
They also didn’t often call a patient a subject.
So when she left the station, it was with a healthy dose of relief to be away from people who set her shady character radar off. Gabi had walked the several blocks to her apartment and had just turned the corner when the man drifted near her. A frown lit her features for a moment. She thought him some bum and she was already reaching for her wallet to hand him a five to send him on his way. But something made her stop.
The escaped patient. The one that set her bells off when the suits showed at work. Her chin lifted. “No, sir. I haven’t.” Gabi took his hand and moved so she could look into his eyes. She wasn’t afraid, not with mace in hand. “Sweetheart, let me help you…”
OHHHH she is your other fc??? awesome, yeah I want to see it. Im re watching Breaking Bad and just falling in love with him all over again.
He was also super adorable in Need For Sppeed.
Him and MEW were adorably dysfunctional in it. She’s alt Gabi. Or teen Gabi.
With his fangs on display, the Viking leaned forward a bit at her question. “Myself for one, Pamela if you wish to delve in that, or one of the others on my staff,” Eric answered before setting back in his throne. “But just to make myself clear, if I hear that you’ve asked any questions concerning my establishment, I will find you and I will make you my personal fuck toy for however long I see fit,” he stated with a mocking smile. “Are we clear, Ms. Stone?”
She had not anticipated him offering himself. Her eyes widened and she cleared her throat as her cheeks reddened slightly. He’d made her momentarily speechless, but she was quick to regain her composure. “Crystal, Mr. Northman.” Her head tilted to the side. “You may want to come up with some threats that sound less… fun.”