#IF YOU TAG THIS AS A SHIP I'LL RIP YOUR EYES OUT OF THEIR SOCKETS AND USE THEM FOR STEW

[flimflamfandom]

Mordecai Heller’s Perfectly Normal Stroll Through the Park.

in which Mordecai walks through the park and doesn’t meet anyone who could make things awkward in any way, shape, or form.

Maybe it was the warmth of the day that did it. That got Mordecai to finally leave the apartment, and just...walk for a moment. Maybe it was the fact that none of his good jackets were left, so he had to leave the house in a shirt and vest without one. Maybe it was the small songs of birds.

Maybe it was just that it was a Saturday, and he couldn’t work, and he couldn’t focus, and he had to do something to occupy the time so Asa Sweet wouldn’t forget what Shabbat meant.

So, Mordecai walked. He paced, almost, before finally settling into a decent rhythm of steps - not too fast, or too anxious. Just...walking.

It was calm.

It was the most calm he’d been in ages, really. He softly smiled. The breeze was nice, and cooling, and the sound of children playing was, remarkably, not as annoying as it typically was. Perhaps there was something to be joyous about these day-

“Mordecai?”

Mordecai’s peaceful experience was shattered by his name. Not a lot of people around named Mordecai, probably - must’ve been him.

The voice was light, and soft. It belonged, very clearly, to-

“Miss Pepper.”

“What’re you doing out?” Ivy Pepper asked.

“I don’t work Saturdays.”

“I thought you didn’t do ANYthing on Saturdays.”

“Beg pardon?”

“Is that...not the point?”

“The point is to rest. This is...restful.”

“You look restless.” Ivy said. “I’ve never seen you in the park before! Or dressed down.”

“Well...” Mordecai looked at his outfit. “...it’s quite suitable, isn’t it?”

Ivy giggled. “Sure it is. Mind if I walk with you?”

“People will get ideas.”

‘Pfft, please. You look like my dad or older brother or something. Let’s catch up!”

“We are from rival firms.” Mordecai said.

“Ahhhh, that sounds like work talk.” Ivy crossed her arms, and smirked. She leaned in. “Please? Been itchin’ t’hear about stuff!”

“...fine.”

And so, Mordecai, who was planning on a peaceful walk, let Ivy tag along. He spoke.

“How are your studies?”

“Fine. Math’s getting to be pretty interesting! We’re doing non-linear algebra these days.”

“I see...” Mordecai smirked. “I’m glad you’ve gone into a more enterprising field than my sister Esther.” He sighed. “Entertainment.”

“...hehe, yeah.” Ivy, who was taking acting classes and even considering switching majors, tugged her collar. “Eeeeentertainment.”

“...oh, goodness, you’re not considering it, are you?”

“Well, I...i really like acting! I enjoy it, it’s fun!” Ivy protested. “Besides, it’s not gonna end up being my main thing...just...community theater and such. It’ll probably be nice...something to do when I inevitably end up as a stupid housewife.”

“I fail to see you ending up as a housewife, Ms. Pepper.” Mordecai said. “You’re far too...” He stuck his hands in his pockets, “far too...aggressively yourself. Wife, sure. Housewife, no. Absolutely not.”

“Heh, well...who knows?” Ivy shrugged. “...say, Mordecai, you never told me if you were married or not?”

Mordecai blushed. “There was...a girl. At one point, in Brooklyn.” He said.

“Ooooo,” Ivy cooed, “:She have a name, this girl, in Brooklyn?” She asked.

“She was named Alte.” He said.

“Pretty!”

“It’s Yiddish.” He said. “...then I found I was...not particularly keen on women. Or any sort of marriage or relationship at all. By that time, i had come to St. Louis.”

“...oh.”

“You sound disappointed.”

“Well,” Ivy laughed, “I just like the idea of there being a cute little Miz Heller running around the place.” She chuckled a bit more, and spoke, “ ‘evenin’, dearie, how was work?’ ‘oh, terrible, Asa is a chump and I wish i worked for the Daisy again.’ ”

Mordecai...laughed a little. He tried hard to hide it.

“Hah! I made you laugh!”

“You...” He laughed a little more. “You did not.”

“Did too!”

“Did not.” “Did  too!” She stuck her tongue out at him. He sighed, and smiled. he put his hands in his pockets. “...I...I will admit, the idea of a spouse has been...entertaining. But truth be told, I think I am far too specific and peculiar a person.”

:”Nah. You just know what you like.” Ivy said, patting his back. “And that’s not having a spouse.”

“Hmm.” He walked.

“...I gotta get going...speaking of relationships.” Ivy checked her watch. “I gotta meet Calvin.”

“...Ivy.” He spoke. “About the Daisy...” Mordecai turned to face her as she walked away. She saw him, the sun peeking over his head. She looked.

“Yes, Mordecai?”

“...nevermind. I...lost it.” He said. He waved. “Stay safe. It is a dangerous business, yours and mine.”

“Will do, Mr. H!” With that, she was off.

Mordecai stood for a moment, and sighed.

He walked back home.

#mordecai heller #Lackadaisy #Lackadaisy Cats #ivy pepper #IF YOU TAG THIS AS A SHIP I'LL RIP YOUR EYES OUT OF THEIR SOCKETS AND USE THEM FOR STEW #They are FRIENDS they are BUDDIES they are HAVING A LAUGH they are NOTHING MORE

[ahordeofwasps]

Find the Word Tag

I've been tagged by the terrific @loopyhoopywrites! Thanks for the tag! My words are Fight, Fire, and Frail! I'll be sharing excerpts from To Not Falling Off Cliffs!

But first, the no pressure tags! I'll be tagging @deanwax, @space-writes, @kaiusvnoir, @autumnalwalker, and open tag! Your words are mend, metal, mere, and manage!

Now, onto To Not Falling Off Cliffs!

Fight

The [unintelligible] kept talking, kept rattling the doorknob, kept shoving pamphlets underneath the door, which shook as they tried to break it down. The [unintelligible] would not stop. Not until they had their prey. Erika kept her weight pressed against the shaking door, using all her strength to keep it shut. She would not give in. She would not be twisted against what she was. A frigid chill had set in her bones. The pain in her head grew worse, crescendoing beyond what she had felt at the supermarket. It hammered away at her brain, more relentless than the [unintelligible]. She had to fight herself not to clutch her head, to keep her attention focused on keeping the door shut. Erika kept fighting against the [unintelligible] until… *** …until Erika found herself lying on top of a bed of pamphlets. It was dark, with the only light coming in from the streetlights and full moon outside. Her head ached and she had a chill. Her skin was slick with sweat. She glanced up to see that both the deadbolt and the chain lock had been broken, her front door left ajar. The [unintelligible] had made it in, but Erika had not been any state to have a conversation. Finding their prey unsuitable, the [unintelligible] had left.

Fire

At the first few parties, Steve thought nothing much of Tiffany, beyond her being Kushim’s friend who liked to wear a lot of gold. And then, thanks to Kushim, he had a conversation with her. At the time, the Hapsburgs of Spain and Valois of France were fighting over the Italian peninsula, and Kushim brought it up in conversation. At the mention of the war, Tiffany’s eye sockets lit up and she began to chatter about her latest reaping: the crew of the Mary Rose. There was delight in her voice as she described the calm waters of the Solent Strait, the two massive fleets of ships facing each other off, and the sudden sinking of the Mary Rose, not due to enemy gunfire, but to a breeze at the wrong time, forcing it to tip over, seawater flooding its gunports. It had been less than two centuries since the Reaper Rebellion and Steve was still getting used to befriending those who had souls, so he hadn’t really tried anything to prevent their deaths yet. He remembered a familiar feeling taking root in his chest as Tiffany described men getting tangled in netting and crushed by their own cannons, as Kushim prodded her for more details. The feeling was heavy and seemed to twist around his bones, binding them into place. It had not budded into the ache at that point, not yet, but it already had the sting of uselessness to it.

Frail

“Those dirty cut-throats! I am gobsmacked! Gobsmacked, I say! You bet your bottom dollar I won’t have any of their shite in my house! Slavery in the 20th century? Those barbarians!” she shouted into the phone, her blood a roiling boil. Again, Pat found herself cursing her human form, its frail limbs and squawking voice, only able to express a fraction of her rage. As a wolf, she could growl complaints without needing to utter a word; the meaning would come through, unbound by the limits of language. As a wolf, if something pissed her off, she could just rip its throat out. Or get into a nasty scrap trying. As a wolf, there was none of this nasty business of material goods, none of this making living beings material goods. As a wolf, she just was.

#writing #writeblr #fantasy #urban fantasy #tag game #find the word #To Not Falling Off Cliffs #TNFOC

[fairy-writes]

Just wanted to let you know that I would absolutely love to read your Grimm fic, no matter the ship :) I know the Grimm fandom is so small (I never understood why!) but I still love that show and thinking about it/reading/writing, so you're not alone ;)

I saw your tags and would love to hear about your story too! Maybe I'll sneak into your ask box and ask about it ;)

But I actually haven't decided on a ship yet! I was leaning toward Nick x OC but I'm not 100% decided because that's a lot of rewriting. But also the idea of Sean x OC is so fun but Adalind is such a pain to get around. She is also the literal bane of my existence.

HERE'S A PEEK AT THE STORY UNDER THE CUT BECAUSE I HAVE NO SELF CONTROL

Just be forewarned, it is quite morbid.

It was cold and dark. Frost decorated the leaves and grass, the moon was high in the sky, and cars drove down the highway at safe speeds. No one wanted to go over the cliffside that was mere feet away from the guard rails. The only sounds noticeable were the sounds of the cars roaring by.

But underneath the low hum of the engines was the sound of crunching bones and flesh.

Off the side of the highway, at the bottom of the cliff, someone was eating. A broken, bloodied body lay at the feet of the person hunched over them. The figure reached into the open stomach, where organs were already missing. Muscles squished under their fingers, and tendons snapped as they ripped a hunk of flesh from the corpse.

And then stuffed it in their mouth. Blood spattered up their face, but they paid it no mind.

As soon as the figure finished the mouthful, they stood and gripped the left arm of the corpse. Twisting it, the arm bulged in its socket before being torn free. It was stuffed into a duffel bag, the other arm and then the legs following suit. Blood soaked the fabric of the shirt and trousers of the corpse and leaked into the dirt below it. The crunch of the bones snapping cracked through the air like a whip but was still muffled by the sounds of passing cars.

The figure crouched and gripped the chin of the corpse with one hand to hold it in place. Then, they press their gloves thumb of their free hand by the other eye. Pushing down and in, they pop the eyeball out, and it’s slipped into a ziplock bag and then the duffel bag. The other eye followed suit. 

And then the figure zipped up the duffel bag, stood, and disappeared into the woods without a trace.

#grimm #nbc grimm #grimm nbc