#chicagobranchreport

[manicpanicaddict]

ʀᴏɴ ᴀʟᴇxᴀɴᴅᴇʀ and ᴇᴅᴜᴀʀᴅᴏ ʀɪᴠᴇʀᴀ find themselves on an underground dock. The large, open cave is illuminated only by the setting or rising sun through the opening on the opposite side and several oil lanterns strung around the work equipment. There are a dozen old crates that hadn’t been brought up to the main property before the island had sunk. There’s unintelligible writing on some of them.

starter for @chicagobranchreport & @manicpanicaddict

[worldoftheskeptic]

@chicagobranchreport

"One more remark about my face, just one. Go ahead. I'll punch his lights out." Peter adjusted the pack on his shoulders, just to be sure he'd have full range of motion to make good on his threat.

[wingdingsandbrokenstrings]

Could I get ‘that’s cute’ or ‘wow gross’ for Ron? (Chicagobranchreport)

Meme Me Up

I’m so fucking sorry. You deserve better than this. 

[manfromtheepa]

@chicagobranchreport

“...Ron, I swear to god, if you’re the reason why Maddie hasn’t answered the phone..”

[heartoftheteam-a]

(chicago, maddie) "Hey ray!" she had a basket on one arm, and it was mewing and squeaking "one of the mama cats had a litter. wanna help me with them?"

Ray’s eyes went wide in surprise at the sight of the basket. “Sure! How many of them are there?” 

[manicpanicaddict]

ᴊᴀᴄᴋ ʜᴀʀᴅᴇᴍᴇʏᴇʀ and ᴍᴀᴅᴅɪᴇ ʀᴏᴏᴋ find themselves in a courtyard. Or what could barely be considered one. There is a fountain in the center and ornate cement columns. There are stone benches and relief sculptures on the walls. There is no grass or plant life to be seen in this area. What might’ve once been a garden surrounding the fountain is now a complex mosaic.

starter for @chicagobranchreport & @manfromtheepa

[worldoftheskeptic]

Milk Cartons and Closet Doors with @chicagobranchreport

He was happier. This was a proven fact in the five days, six months, and two years since Aurelia was born. Egon had made a chart, pointing out the sharp increase in Venkman’s mood, only faltering in the face of an impending divorce, then continuing on unaltered until this particular afternoon.

Peter was late for work.

Later than usual (25.6 percent later than average, usually indicating a bad hangover, or more recently, difficulty finding Aurelia’s shoes for preschool). Today’s lateness was highlighted by the manner in which Peter entered the building: in a panic.

“I can’t find her!” He promptly collapsed against Janine, who stood awkwardly as he sobbed, incoherent, into her shoulder.

She pressed the intercom button on the desk. “Attention Egon, Winston, Ray, et cet-ra, it looks like we got a crisis down here.”

[worldoftheskeptic]

Standing At The Crossroads with @chicagobranchreport

"Thanks for waiting." Peter stepped out of a taxi he'd somehow managed to wave down at the airport and onto hot pavement. The hallmarks of construction work, gravel, yellow tape and orange markers stood at the edges of the blacktop where the forest still stood. If Peter was paying attention, he would have seen the remains of a rope bridge in the distance.

"I thought you guys were supposed to pick me up?"