mt.

[mtreadwell-blog]

tristonscollfyld:

Triston felt sorry for the kid once he took out an inhaler. He had already looked like quite helpless, and his panting only added to that. He tried to focus on the guy’s heartbeat, to make sure that it was slowing down, because the chances of him getting a heart attack suddenly didn’t seem all that slim anymore. Triston crossed his arms as he waited for the boy to catch his breath and reply, all the while making sure he didn’t hear any running footsteps approaching him. When he finally spoke, Triston simply shook his head. 

This was all about a bully? A middle school bully? The fact that said bully was still holding grudges didn’t necessarily surprised Triston– especially since the guy told him he’d masturbated on the other’s sandwich, but the fact that even to this day, it included the smashing of a window, tying someone to a chair and the police coming to aid seemed a little much. Triston tried not to laugh, and instead walked a little closer to where the guy had taken a seat. “Right. That’s– um, that’s an unexpected story, to say the least,” he said as he kept listening to the boy’s heart. “Are you sure you’re alright?” he asked, worry filling his voice. “I mean, only minutes ago you were tied to a chair, and now we’re running from the police. Seems a bit much for just a bully.” He was always expecting the worst, like a kidnapping or a murder, “was he going to torture you, or?” he asked with a frown.

Though Matthew’s situation wasn’t the best to be in, it probably seemed like a more okay thing to others because he laughed about it so much. He’s sure if he took Jason J’s stunts to hearts he’d be like, super depressed about it or something. He grins at the other, trying to show them it wasn’t as big of a deal to him. “It’s okay to laugh. It’s a pretty odd position to be in.” However, as the other continued to appraise the situation, Matthew only offered a frown.

“Well, yeah. I mean I get it, I think.” He says with a shrug, speech patterns trucking along with direct hang gestures. “You masturbate on a sandwich someone’s eating in front of their friends and their ego is shattered a little bit.” This is where he grins again, “--the male ego is a fragile thing. It naturally would take years to get over something like that. Not holding a grudge would be like telling the world, ‘hey, look! I’m okay with people masturbating on my sandwiches’ and no popular middle schooler wants that. The only option is to give the kid hell.” His eyes momentarily widen when the other implies torture. “Oh, no. Jason J’s going through this phase where instead of beating me up physically, he’s going to just get me in lots of trouble all the time. Which is hard, because Jason J’s kind of dumb.” The other guy’s genuine-seeming concern makes him feel all warm and fuzzy inside, like as if people on this planet actually cared about other people. “You’re kinda in-there, guy. I’m Matthew. Matthew Treadwell. Thanks for helping me out, officially.” 

[mtreadwell-blog]

tristonscollfyld:

Whoever this person was, he was clearly a lot more expressive than Triston was. That, or he had been genuinely fearing for his life, because his reaction to being let out of the chair seemed a little too energetic to be ordinary. Luckily for Triston, however, that meant he wasn’t paying much attention to detail, and so didn’t see the unraveled rope that was clearly caused by pulling it apart, not cutting it in half. The guy made Triston chuckle when he continued talking, speaking about consent and all that, and he simply shook his head as he smiled. “Right, no need to kiss me, just.. Glad I could help,” he replied simply. 

When the signal of police sirens came through, Triston cursed under his breath. A vampire getting noticed on police radars was, using a euphemism, not good. When the guy he’d just helped up kept talking instead of started to run, Triston grew impatient. He’d have to run at human speed, so they really didn’t have any time to loose. Finally, he started moving, and Triston quickly followed behind him, disappearing in the maze of alleyways that led through New York. Triston kept his ears open, listening to possible running feet, and he didn’t stop running until the police was completely out of hearing distance. “Alright,” he said to the guy running in front of him, “I think we’re good,” he went on as he came to a halt. He could hear the other guy panting, his heart beating fast, so it was probably a good idea to stop running. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

Admittedly, he was mostly happy he wouldn’t be dropped off at his house in a police car. Then he’d have to explain the whole thing to his mom, and she’d get all up in arms about Jason J being a ‘menace,’ and it’d be a whole thing. Yes, being saved was much better, he thinks with a nod as he ran, trying his best to help the grin that urged itself on his features. The grin didn’t last too long, because in all actuality, Matthew wasn’t that fit. Like, at all. He tried to keep his heavy breathing on the down-low but honestly? It was sort of like Area 51 meets the senior residence hall down the street. 

He pulls out his inhaler and breathes in the light steroid, taking a second to catch his breath before he answers the other’s questions, finally. It’s not like he was trying to avoid the topic or anything. Seriously, his being bullied was something he wore on his sleeve. It was like his army stripes, or whatever. “Uh, okay. Sorry about that. It wouldn’t have ended well if we stuck around.” He frowns, taking a seat on a nearby box to further ease himself. “In middle school, there was this guy named Jason J who took my lunches a lot. I, being who I am, naturally tried to use my brain to get him to stop. One day I packed two lunches, one with my sandwich, and the other with Jason’s. It just so happened that I, uh... masturbated in Jason’s sandwich before packing it. So now he wants to kill me, or something. Cute, right?”

[12cd12c-deactivated20220922]

[elijahmontague-blog]

From Zero to Hero|| Open

[mtreadwell-blog]

elijahmontague:

Elijah was not known for standing in the “moral high ground” in regards to just about anything. This was not an insult to him, he knew what he was capable of. Seduction, manipulation, and persuasion were his second nature, and he used them often in the many games he played. His view on this was that as a vampire it would be ridiculous to stick to human morals and ethics, since he was not actually a human. However, he could never escape the small nagging feelings he got whenever he stumbled into a “human ethical dilemma”.

And this is where he found himself.

The shadowy figures were wrestling in an alley, one easily out maneuvering and overpowering the other. Elijah was attempting to ignore it. Fighting was a natural thing, although one he preferred to substitute for other more enjoyable and physically taxing activities.

But that trickling desire to help began to run up his spine as he took a step into the alley. An alley that seemed all to familiar to the one that he had been killed in so many centuries ago. Is that why he was marching forward? With his interest piqued he spoke up.

“Hey.” he shouted, whistling to get their attention as he approached.

Well, admittedly, it was less of a fight and more of a jump. There’s math to be done. On one side, you have Matthew. Good kid, but a little bit on the scrawny side. He coded computer programs for fun. He did a pull up once, though, if that’s any consolation. He was about five-eight, and weighed like, 130 pounds, max. Then on the opposing side, you had Jason J and squad. All three around 6′ something, football players, 200lbs, probably have athlete’s foot, 2.7 GPA, etc. 

One of the main reasons Matthew was able to hold his own thus far was because the alleyway was just a little bit too narrow for two of them to fit in at the same time, so they had to line up single-file like kindergarteners. That could minimize the beatdown, probably. Hopefully. He’d also manage to grab a tin garbage can lid to use as a shield. The jocks were currently in the midst of trying to get in away from them. Matthew thinks they realized their punches hurt when it came to solid metal. 

He wasn’t sure if the others heard the man’s yell and whistle, but if they did, they definitely didn’t care. They kept trying to get past his only defense as usual. “Sorry about -- agh! -- all the noise!” He exclaims, ducking out of the way of a quick jab. “They’re too busy fuckin’ me up to be considerate!” 

[mtreadwell-blog]

acosmicmind:

Nathan kept staring with a baffled look. It took him a few seconds to process this image before he decided to take action. He sighed glumly as he came nearer and finally reached for the ropes to untie the other boy. He wasn’t very good at burning things so he just decided to do it as a human would. After struggling a little, he freed the other from his unfortunate situation. Nathan was really curious to find out why someone would be tied to a chair and why no one else had seen it and helped him already. Maybe they thought it was some sort of twisted game. It didn’t make too much sense.

His eyebrows went up as he spoke, “So.. tell me, what the hell happened to you dude?” His voice sounded harsh this time, he was losing patience with him. “I bet you ain’t paying for that either?” He pointed to the broken window then crossed his arms around his chest.  

Matthew could tell the other’s patience was wearing thin. Honestly, his would be too, if there was some random teenager strapped to a chair in front of his house, along with one of his windows smashed in. Yeah, he wouldn’t be the happiest of campers. But, still, he wishes the other was just a little bit more lighthearted. He lets out a small sigh before even trying to explain. “In middle school Jason J kept taking my lunches, so one day I brought two lunches to school. In one of the lunches, I masturbated in one of the sandwich. Now he kind of wants to kill me, so he tied me to this chair, broke your window, then left. I think he was trying to frame me, maybe. I’m sorry, guy.” He says, frowning a little bit. “I can pay you in bad jokes?” He offers with an odd sort of sympathetic smile.

After a brief pause of kicking at the concrete beneath his feet, he shrugs. “And -- yeah. My mom is a member of the council. How could you tell I was her son? Oh my god, did she show you baby pictures?”

[mtreadwell-blog]

kevin-darden:

Admittedly, Kevin had been asleep for most of the day, so he had entirely missed the sound of glass shattering in one of the houses across the street from him. He lived in the shady apartment complex across from some pretty nice homes, and he had heard from the neighbours that the residents had been trying to get his building torn down for years. Luckily for him though, the cheap piece of crap had remained standing. It was upon opening his really unstable window that he finally noticed the guy tied to the chair.

Okay, so Kevin might have released a small chuckle at the scene, but he couldn’t help but wonder how stupid the people who had left them there must be. How could the guy tied to the chair have possibly smashed the window? Ridiculous. And then the guy fell over. And Kevin threw his head back laughing.

Shaking his head, he reached for his keys and headed down on to the street. He might have gotten a good laugh over him, but he wasn’t about to leave him out there. “Hey.” Kevin responded, coming up behind him from the road. “Having some trouble?” Not that he bothered to try, but he just couldn’t keep the amusement from his tone.

Part of him was extraordinarily surprised he didn’t fall asleep in that chair. The only thing keeping him awake was the possibility of the owner of the house coming back and chewing him out. He guessed if he was asleep when that happened, things wouldn’t look that good for him. There’s a half assed attempt at wriggling out of the bonds, but the action was noncommittal from the start, so it doesn’t really get him anywhere. It wasn’t until he hears footsteps that his hopes for being released from these cruel binds get raised any higher.

He offers a bit of an outward groan, mostly directed at the amusement woven into the other’s voice, but he supposes it a lot of it had to do with someone seeing him like this before he could figure out how to escape. “I dunno, man. You’d be surprised how entertaining this concrete could be,” he says, his sarcasm sounding more defeated than snarky. “It’s almost as entertaining as HBO. Or Lifetime.” He pauses, swallowing thickly as he feels the binds rubbing deep into his wrists. “Do you, uh, have anything to cut these with? They’re -- really tight. Starting to think Jason J’s got some hidden kinks.”

[mtreadwell-blog]

tristonscollfyld:

Looking at the stranger on the floor, Triston wondered what was going out on the street. He looked around and saw the smashed window, and while his mind was racing to find out what was happening, he looked back at the guy on the ground. “Right, don’t worry, you’ll be fine,” he said as he crouched down at the back of the guy’s hands. He could easily undo the rope without a knife, but the guy on the floor couldn’t know about that. Triston didn’t mind helping out, and there were more supernatural vampires in New York than he thought there were, but he could never be careful enough. “Just- Hold still,” he said, hoping that would prevent the guy from turning his head and seeing Triston pull apart the rope with his bare hands. “There you go, stand up,” he said once the rope fell on the floor. He extended his hand to help out and then put the chair back on its legs.

“So, uh… What exactly is going on in there?” he inquired, putting his hands on his hips as he looked at the house. “You’re not–  You’re not involved, are you?” he didn’t think that this wimp, as he called himself, was actually involved in whatever the hell was going on here. “I mean, there’s nothing illegal going on in there or anything, is there?”

Once his hands were free and he was up on his feet, Matthew threw his hands up, shouting a cheer of victory into the skies above. “Thank you!” He exclaims, grinning as he looks back to the one who saved him from eventual death via boredom. “Aw, man. I could kiss you right now! Except -- I won’t. Because I respect you as a human, and consent is very important.” He says, talking more to himself at this point than the guy in front of him. Matthew had... essentially no filter. Which also explains the whole lack-of-friends thing. Cue sad_violin.mp3. 

Matthew was on the brink of answering the other’s questions, when he heard faint police sirens down the block. Upon leaning over, he could even see the blue and red flashing lights. “Oo, nope. This isn’t gonna be cute.” He says, before glancing around, feeling a little bit of panic bubbling in his gut. “Unless you really like tiny prison cells, follow me! I know the alleyways around these parts like the back of my hand.” He pauses, scratching a bit at his jawline. “Not to say that I know the back of my hand that well, cos I don’t think I do but --” He cut himself off, shaking his head as he begins his sprint into the alley next to the apartment with the shattered window.

[mtreadwell-blog]

carpenterbar:

she always shows up early to the bar, even on nights she’s not technically on duty. call it being overprotective, but whatever. this thing is her baby now, in lieu of having a pack or actual family. so it’s understandable when, at the sound of one of her baby’s windows being smashed into, she almost loses control of the Shift, eyes blazing gold and teeth morphing into vicious fangs. she struggles for a few minutes to get back under control, stuffs the rage into a box to be unpacked later, and heads to the front door. 

jaime isn’t sure what to expect when she moves into the main room of the bar, but a brick on the floor and the scent of magic wafting through the hole in the window definitely weren’t on the list. she picks the brick up and makes her way outside, only to be greeted by the sight of some young warlock on the ground, tied to a chair, no less. it’s obvious to her that the kid probably wasn’t the one to throw the brick– what kind of dumbass would throw a brick, tie himself up, tip himself over, and then yell out for help?

this is seeming more and more like an elaborate prank. 

“Do I even want to know why you’re tied to a chair?” jaime doesn’t move to help him, not yet at least. call her petty, but she’s still pissed off that there’s a hole in her window. 

He was working on it! He was definitely working on it. Though he just recently learned he’s able to summon some magic from within himself, he’s already memorized a few string of words from some books his mother told him to read, so as he rubs his hands together, tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth, he’s really hoping that his family lineage has got his back. “C’mon, c’mon...” he murmurs, feeling his hands warm up. There was a moment right before the lady comes up to him and starts talking -- like a tugging feeling in his gut, as if the spell was actually going to work, but he completely lost focus. 

A small hint of irritation bubbled from within him, but he supposes he can’t really be outwardly upset about this one coming up to say hello. There was a brick through her window. Maybe she’ll go easy if he’s nice? He thinks for a moment about his response, then does his best to shrug his shoulders. “Once I masturbated on a sandwich and gave it to Johnny J., which may have ticked him off.” He pauses, before adding on, “--to be fair though, he was taking my lunch for at least a week before I did that, so I am most definitely not in the wrong.” 

He angles himself to get a better look at the other, wincing as he accidentally puts some weight on his elbow against the concrete. “Was that your window?”

[kadenquinn]

Polarize || Matthew&Kaden

[mtreadwell-blog]

kadenkingsman:

“Or one of his,” Kaden answered quickly as she nodded towards the door of the building that the man with the crazy chocolate coffee had just exited out of. It was her way of trying to deter the situation away from what he just said, about the fact that she probably wasn’t crazy, and about how internally that absolutely terrified her. She had never thought she would be one to hope she was insane, and yet here she was wishing for that right now. “That’s good advice though,” she offered back, a smile on her lips, “I’ll need to remember that.”

“‘V’ true, ‘v’ true.” He says with a short nod, somehow withdrawing himself to such a state of hip post-modernism he’s able to confidently transfer text slang into spoken language. “Though something tells me if anybody other than that guy had that, they’d obtain diabetes on the spot and quickly enter a state of Kussmaul breathing. Death by espresso -- was it Shakespeare who wrote that?” He listens to her compliment how good he was at advice (which again -- never happens), and he shrugs, taking another bite of his hash browns. After he’s chewed enough to speak without resembling a volcanic eruption, he replies. “That’s about as deep as I get for such an early morning interaction. It’s not like one of those ‘pay a quarter to hear your fortune’ type of deals--”

[mtreadwell-blog]

tristonscollfyld:

One of the things that Triston had learned he loved was taking a walk through the city when nighttime was just about to fall. The saying was right– The city never sleeps, but as the sun was setting, most people were either at home or inside a restaurant to get dinner, which made the sidewalks walkable without having to force himself through the sea of tourists and citizens. 

Turning a corner, he could hear a voice far away, just a faint sound reaching his ears, but penetrant enough to make him stop in his tracks. He usually just ignored all the sounds he could hear but shouldn’t, but this particular one seemed to call out to anyone, no one specific, and the tone just sounded a little too defeated for Triston to ignore. He turned back on his heels, following the source of the voice, until he came across a boy laying down on the street, bound to a chair that had been tipped over. 

“Oh my–” Triston said as he walked closer and knelt down. “Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

Alright, so it was fairly evident that there was virtually no way he could get out of these binds. Either they were enchanted with very light magic, or he was just plain dumb. With this in mind, Matthew has come up with a list of possible ways to kill himself in this moment, because if he had to lay down here for one more second his attention deficit disorder ass was going to go fucking crazy. Alright, option number one: wriggle into traffic just a yard or so away. Option number two: hit his head on the pavement really hard. Many times. Option number three: use the conveniently placed glass shrapnels from the broken window, and bleed out. Slowly, painfully, but enough to kill him, hopefully. With an irritated sigh, he makes one attempt at rolling over before quitting, feeling tight ropes rub against bruising, raw wrists. “Ouch...” he murmurs quietly to himself.

He isn’t like this for long, though. It just seems like a long time because he’s... well, he’s him. He’s built for multitasking and free will -- It’s America! But instead he’s forced to watch concrete cool down in the setting sun. But once he hears the footsteps nearing, he tries his best to angle himself to see the other, a big dumb grin on his face. “Hey! Hey, oh my god. Uh, emotionally? Yes. Physically? Maybe a little bit. I’m a wimp, though. Do you have like, a knife or something? These are really tight.” 

[mtreadwell-blog]

me: i'm not drunk

me: *stands up*

me: holy shit i'm fucking wasted

[zacharykingsman-blog-blog-blog]

New York || Open

Zachary looked out the window of the cab, the worried feeling in his stomach knitting his eyebrows together and causing him to chew on his bottom lip out of habit. ‘What was he doing here?’ he thought to himself as the cab made its incredibly slow progress through the city traffic to his new job office. This wasn’t his city anymore. He had worked so hard to distance himself from this place and yet here he was again. Zachary tore his eyes from the window and back to the driver, “Can you go any faster” Zachary said with a slightly apologetic tone, “I’m going to be late, I’m not used to so much traffic.” The driver just replied with a look to which Zachary internally grumbled. 

Unfortunately this long ride was giving him time to think; to think about why he was here and what he was going to do now that he was back. The real reason was his job. But he couldn’t avoid that phone call. That call from Derek Summers, of all people whom he had heard Kaden talk about when she was younger, but not since before he left. He tried to shake it from his mind. He would go after work to see if he could even find Kaden since he didn’t know where she was anymore, although he knew he would probably find one of his siblings at their old family home. 

The cab finally pulled up to the building where he new office was apparently. “Thank you,” he said to the driver handing over the necessary bills, “sorry about rushing you” he added sheepishly to which the driver didn’t reply. Zachary exited the car as it sped back into the ever-flowing stream of traffic. Well, he said, he was back in New York, so he might as well readjust. He took maybe three steps before he was ran into by someone in the crowd causing him to bump into someone else in turn. “I’m sorry!” he said excitedly, turning first to the person whom he had bumped into and then to the person who had ran into him. “Sorry,” he added although it was redundant. 

[mtreadwell-blog]

It was dumb. This whole thing was dumb. This city was dumb. Irritation bubbled under his skin like a hotel jacuzzi. His shoulders got tense as he relived what caused the anger in his head, imagination playing those few short seconds over and over. “Ugh!” He exclaimed as he walked with the two hot drinks, mumbling things about ‘being the bigger person,’ and ‘acting like they’re so above it.’ It was as if his mom didn’t even care! Now, simply for expressing his feelings of distaste, he had to go out and buy hot chocolate for his younger cousin just as a form of apology. What was he even apologizing for?! If anything, they should be apologizing to him!

After he arrives at the house, he shoots a text to his cousin, thanks to Siri’s voice control, shoutout to Siri. He’s gotten a text back, but he can’t exactly read it since his phone is in his pocket. He’s just going to hope for the best and wait outside their apartment with the cups. It all seemed like a fantastic idea, until he was being pushed over by some unknown force. Both coffee cups end up on the floor, their contents spilled across the concrete. 

“Augh!” He blurts, turning towards the one who had bumped into him as he threw his hands into the air. “It’s a computer, dude! --And I’m supposed to be the bigger person about this. I’m alll-waayy-sss the bigger person!” His hand gestures were explosive by now, practically dictating his thoughts more than his words were. “Well not this time. Not. About. This.” He pauses for a moment, fists clenching as he allows his arms to fall to his sides. “Why does she always have to act like I’m being ridiculous -- just because she wants to pretend... that she doesn’t have feelings --” Man, this guy really set off a whole flurry of sparks.

[kadenquinn]

Polarize || Matthew&Kaden

[mtreadwell-blog]

kadenkingsman:

Kaden stayed silent for a moment, taking a sip of her drink as he addressed the fact that what she had originally mentioned wasn’t the same thing that he had suggested an answer to. Did she own up to it, or did she ignore it and play it off? She didn’t necessarily enjoy lying, but she was used to it, and she was willing to lie even more now since she felt like her entire life was falling to pieces. “It wasn’t,” she admitted slowly, taking a drink once again even though she knew it was probably obvious she was trying to buy herself time, “I’ve also been a bit paranoid though,” she admitted, “So I was probably just imagining it.” Kaden hoped that was the truth. She would much rather be crazy than have it be anything else.

There was a moment where Matthew had opened his mouth to speak, but they called his order. Which for, by the way, he’d have to DM God to thank him later. If it weren’t for that little interruption, he’d probably say something stupid. After getting his coffee and order of hash browns, he shifts his gaze back to the other. “I wouldn’t shrug off paranoia so easily,” he says with a shake of his head, restating something his mom as told him many times in the past, “--the intuitive spirits are wisest, and generally the ones that last longest in the mortal realm.” He offers a small grin. “You’re probably not crazy. Unless you’ve had more than a few of those,” he nods towards her coffee, “I wouldn’t dismiss such instinctual feelings.” 

[mtreadwell-blog]

acosmicmind:

Heavy steps and sighing every five seconds were part of his coming home routine. He could have taken the car and be back to his comfortable bed in five minutes, but no. He told himself he needed the exercise so he might as well stop whining about it. Well he was going to stop, but then he found a perfect reason to whine. The closer he got to his place, the clearer the picture became. That window was really broken and it was his window. He squinted his eyes to check if he was really seeing what he thought it was a kid tied to a chair. 

As he approached, the kid seemed to free himself from the ropes. “Hey I know you. Your parents are in the council right? What the hell happened here?” He asked showing concern for the other instead of freaking out about a dumb piece of glass.

Matthew muttered a quick curse under his breath as he wriggled about, hoping his extreme state of emotional clarity (ha-ha) would aid in his escape. But, as if life were playing jokes on him today, the tips of his fingers suddenly felt very warm, and he could feel gentle flames licking the ropes that bound his arms together. It wasn’t too long before --snap! Matthew lets out a quick exclaim of joy, perhaps a little bit too soon, though. His thighs and lower legs were still roped to the chair, and the flames on his fingers had dissipated. He was also already feeling a little bit drained power-wise. 

The voice from above sent tingles scampering up his spine, and he twists his upper body to get a good look at the other. “They might be. I can neither confirm nor deny until these ropes are off. Mind helping a brother out?” 

[kadenquinn]

Polarize || Matthew&Kaden

[mtreadwell-blog]

kadenkingsman:

“True that,” she replied with a dramatic nod of agreement. Even as the male she was talking to repeated the order she couldn’t help but feel a bit sick to her stomach. She liked chocolate as much as the next person, but there was a difference between enjoying some chocolate and just begging for diabetes. “I wonder how he’s even functioning if he orders the same thing everyday.”

Matthew’s weight shifted between his two feet. It was weird for someone to agree with him, honestly. Usually he got a dismissive eye roll, or a quick thwack! on the back of the head. He Kanye-shrugs through it, and offers a glance at them, the small grin that tugged at his features fading just a little bit. “That wasn’t what you were talking about, though. Was it?”

[kadenquinn]

Polarize || Open

[mtreadwell-blog]

kadenkingsman:

“Did you feel that?” Kaden questioned absentmindedly to the person next to her as she grabbed her coffee from the barista. She wasn’t sure what it was, she wasn’t sure she could even describe what she had felt, but it had been there, and she wanted to make sure that she wasn’t the only one that had noticed it. Anything to make her feel more normal and less…. witch

“Feel what?” He asks, an eyebrow quick to quirk upwards at the other’s momentary sensory high. “If you’re talking about Mr. Double Mocha feat. Choco Whipped Cream’s investment choice, yes. I did feel that. It hit hard, too.” He shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest as he continues to wait for his order to finish. “I didn’t think so much chocolate was possible in one drink. Fuck that noise.”

[mtreadwell-blog]

Naturally he wasn’t the most popular kid in high school (scrawny, nerdy, generally bad at taking social cues), but even now in college he was having a hard time dealing with his high school bullies (dropouts.) Now they were just a little bigger, a little stronger, and even, dare he say, a little smarter. He was sitting tied to a chair in the middle of the sidewalk, right in front of the house with a broken window. Broken not at the fault of himself, but of his offenders, he’d swear on it! They were framing him of all things. They’d thrown a brick into the window of some random house, and were trying to get him in trouble for it. 

After a few good seconds of wriggling within his binds,  he... falls over, onto his side. With dusk approaching, it’d only get dangerous as the night moves on. “Hello...?” He calls out, voice sounding defeated and just a little bit monotone, as if he were used to these kinds of things. “Hell-llll-oooo?”