Tyler Parker

( Application )

[How Self Sufficent Are You?]

“Fuuuuuuuuck” Ty screams at the top of his lungs. Fuck this stoic shit. It’s for pussies and cowards who aren’t comfortable with mind numbing pain. “SON OF A FUCKING BITCH!” His head slams back against the wall and that dull, sudden pain is his focus because compared to everything else, it’s a god damn orgasm.

He can feel the sting of a claw traveling up his spine, bumping on every-single-vertebrae. It scratches at bone and he’s pretty sure there’s some sort of fucking runes or something being etched on the bone. You know so that the demon, clawed bitch can torture him later from a distance. Holy god this hurts and now the demonized insect thing is digging its claws in deeper, one at a time, latching into his shoulder. He can feel it’s hot breath on the back of his neck and the smell makes him gag. Something wet slides down his skin toward his back and he shudders.

“Okay. That’s fucking it. I’m god damn tired of this. I don’t even let Jo drool on me.” The threat would have a lot more punch if his voice didn’t grate with pain. Something that sounds a little like a guttural chuckle makes its way out of the belly of the beast and the claws dig in deeper. Ty screams again because there are some things that just can’t be helped. Apparently it’s so terribly worthy of a B Movie Scream Queen that the demon praying mantis thing makes that chuckling noise again and Ty feels the claws loosen the tiniest bit. He takes advantage of it. He’s tied to the chair so when he stands up at quickly and forcibly as possible the legs of the chair are shoved up into the torso of the thing. He screams, back arching and throat aching because demonic insect’s claws are ripped the fuck out of his skin. The Monster makes a high pitched, pissed off noise and Ty tries not to be entirely too proud of himself for pissing the thing off. It takes a swing at him and he stumbles backwards, tripping over his own feet and falling on the concrete floor. The chair shatters under his weight and his hands tangle in the now loose rope. His fingers curl around one of the shattered legs as he scuttles backwards. The thing (he still hasn’t figured out what the fuck it is. It looks a little like the predator thing in Alien vs Predator.) bends over him, claws clicking excitedly and some kind of chittering, high pitched noises coming from within it. A claw sinks into his thigh and he nearly loses his hold on the broken chair leg. The rope slips from his hands finally and as the predator bitch is crawling up his body he swings his fist in a huge, fucking arc, all his weight, anger and pain behind it. The chair leg sinks deep into the monster’s chest where either her heart or her lungs should be. There’s a great deal of flailing, both on Ty’s part and the bitch’s part. Claws slice at his skin and the floor gets slick with blood. His and the monsters. Finally the thing on top of him goes limp. He lays there a moment, gasping for breath then rolls, dumping the monster on its side. He gets up gingerly and kicks at the corpse.

“Buffy the fucking vampire slayer would be green with fucking envy,” he growls as he limps toward his bike. He’d like to go home, crawl in bed and let Jo play naughty nurse but he has a feeling he’s just going to go home and crawl in bed.

[Only after disaster can we be resurrected]

In reference to this

Jo crying scares him. Sobbing women are an easy touch and he knows exactly what to do with them but a sobbing Jo is another story entirely. Turns out, surprisingly, she ain’t that different from any other sobbing woman. Her walls break down and she’s finally let him take care of her so when her apology tumbles out from between her lips, he knows exactly what to do with her. He bundles her up, picks her up off her feet and cradles her against his chest. She’s tiny and vulnerable and he can feel her whole damn body shake with her tears and he’s never met Dean Winchester but he’d like to give him a piece of his mind for dying like that.

He tucks them both into bed, pulling blankets and his body around her so that she’s cocooned in safety and warmth. His shirt is soaked and his arm prickles with pins and needles before it goes completely numb. She’s got him resting his head at an odd angle so there’s a crick in his neck but he doesn’t move until her breathing evens out, steady as a metronome.

She sleeps for hours, exhausted with tears and grief but when she does wake up he’s sitting next to her on the bed, back against the wall, reading a book. There’s a bowl of chicken noodle soup next to the bed, a glass of OJ and some crackers in case soup just isn’t going to do it. She looks up at him like she’s puzzled and he rolls his eyes.

“Princess, I do know how to work a fucking microwave.”

[Talk about the one event in your life that has affected you the most.]

It was over a fucking year ago and no I’m not going to keep dates or anniversaries or shit like that. Do I looking like a fucking Hallmark store? Yeah, didn’t think so. Anyway, I’m heading back from a job, feisty mother fucking demon bitch and I pull into this bar. My bike is giving me some trouble, stuttering a little and I know she’s gonna need some attention. I figure I’ll work on her in the parking lot, get some beer and find a place to relax later. It’s broad fucking daylight when I pull her into the gravel parking lot, go off in the corner where I won’t be bothering anyone and strip down so I can get to work. It’s ‘bout this time a year, little earlier but still hot as sin.

So I’m out there working on my bike, grease all over the place and I’ve just about got her figured out when this little blonde walks out. She looks pissed off, at least I thought she was pissed off. How the fuck was I supposed to know that’s Jo Harvelle’s normal look? Y’know? Anyway, she walks out there like she’s got a stick up her ass ‘bout something and I figure it’s me using her parking lot as a garage. She coming at me like some kind of natural disaster and I stand up, grab a rag to wipe my hands on and I give her this little grin I’ve got. It’s like a guran-fucking-teed panty remover. Thing is Jo’s panties don’t come off that easy. She sees me and she gets this little look on her face.

Swear to fucking God I heard the crunch of gravel when my knees hit I fell so fucking hard for her.

[I’m here because]

Jo threatened to withhold sex and nail my dick to a wall? Most people would think she’s joking. Hell, most of the time I think she’s joking but she’s got this set to her jaw that makes you think just maybe she’s serious. She’s never actually tried to nail my dick to a wall and her willpower for withholding sex usually fails right about the time I go outside and start working on my baby. She’s got a weakness for a man smudged in grease, working on a bike.

Some people might think I never tell Jo no. Thing is, I tell her no all the time. We fight like crazy and most of the time she makes me crazy. She tells me to leave and she’s got steel in her voice and up her spine. It pisses me the hell off more than anyone or anything I know and considering the people I know that’s saying something. About half the time she’ll come get me before I’ve gotten halfway across the bar. Other half of the time she lets me get away and I’ll stay gone for days. I come back and she’s still acting all pissy but I can tell by the way she looks at me with those big brown eyes that she’s glad to see me. I don’t stay gone for long because there’s something in the way her bottom lip trembles just a little that tells me she was afraid I wasn’t coming back. Fear doesn’t look good on the girl and if you’ve seen her you know it’s a fucking sin to make her look anything but good.

So yeah, I’m here because of Jo. And if you’ve got a problem with that I really don’t fucking care.