Archive of Our Own ^beta

His house is a maze which is carved out of DIY labs and the cheapest tools that he could find on Amazon. Even from the exterior, the house seems unapproachable. Windows are grimy, like the hands of someone who’d just eaten a packet of crisps. Walls have turned brown, turned to mud. No one can be seen coming in and no one can be seen coming out. Unless you’re awake at midnight. 

He has a part time job working in a hot dog van; something born out of bad grades and no ambition. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t like his work, though. The places he frequents in the vehicle usually score him a halfway decent line of customers, the majority of them leaving with aggressively chewing mouths and lips gushing praise. In his eyes, they’re just like puppies; naive and eating anything given to them. 

Soon, reviews of his hot dog van reach a wider audience, meaning that more cutomers come and more leave to shit out a part of them. The popularity forces him into a busier work schedule, which, in return, makes his night work take place later and later. 

A job gone bad and a close call means that the supply for his hot dog van runs short, resulting in early closing and extra preparation for that night’s catch. This time he makes sure that nothing could make some sirens corner him into a kerb and that everything he uses is bleached over twice.