#don't know whats going on with joey and that dog thing though

[billthedrake]

DAD'S HABIT

It had become a birthday tradition. Ever since my parents' divorce, Dad would treat me each year to a guys' night in the city. I was a hockey player, and my father the textbook hockey dad, and we were both big Rangers fans. So every year, Dad would drive me to New York, where we'd spend two nights and catch a home game.

I think Dad thought I'd outgrow it as I got closer to graduation, but I enjoyed the father-son bonding time as much as he did. My father is a brash, blue-collar kind of guy. Very heart on his sleeve, but also not good at talking about emotional stuff. The divorce made him even more closed off, but I knew he always looked forward to his custody weekends with me. Even at the pissiest, moodiest points of my teenage years, I got it.

I could tell Dad was surprised after I went off to college - on a hockey scholarship at a New England college - when I asked if we were still doing my birthday trip.

"You bet, buddy," he beamed with barely contained excitement in his voice. "Though I guess we'll need to wait till your season's over."

So that's what we did. A few days later he got back to me wondering if I'd want to catch an away series in Boston later that spring. That's how a new tradition got started, going to different cities each April.... Chicago, Montreal, and now that I'm 22 this year the trip is in DC.

The first night, Dad and I found a sports bar, where we watched a couple of games, but mostly caught up. About school, life, and just boring stuff. Dad seemed to be in a good mood, chattier than normal, and just happier with life. His contracting work was going well, and he promised that he'd take me out for a nice steak dinner the next night.

I asked him if he was dating any one, but he just cocked a grin and shook his head. "Nothing serious," he said with an uncharacteristic blush. "I mean, your old man gets out there for a little fun now and then, but I don't know if I'm ready to date."

"Dad!" I objected with a laugh. The man had given me the birds and bees talk and had checked in with me a couple of times. I'd admitted to him that I'd become sexually active, though I made up more experience with women than I really had. But we weren't the kind of family who talked much about sex.

"Goddamnit, Joey," he chuckled. "You're not a kid any more. I figure you know the score."

"Yeah, I guess," I said, pressing my leg against my father's next to the bar. "Guess you don't get used to the idea of your parents having a life."

"Could probably use a little more of one, to be honest," Dad chimed. God, he was really opening up this evening. "What about you, son? I thought you'd be going steady with someone by now."

"Nah," I hemmed and hawed, trying to hide my embarrassment. I'd gotten real good at bullshitting with my buddies and my teammates but for some reason had a harder time lying to Dad.

My father's hand clasped on my shoulder. "s' OK, I'm not gonna pester you like your mother does," he said. "I guess I wouldn't be a good Dad if I didn't want to know what's going on in your life."

Looking into his gruffly handsome face and his puppy dog brown eyes, I was THIS close to telling him. About the gay thing, about my doubts, about how I wanted to tell everyone but was too fucking scared. How I seemed to be putting my life off until after college.

Instead I gave a silent nod of acknowledgment and turned my head back up to the big TV screen behind the bar. Dad followed suit.

***

We were three beers in when Dad said the day was catching up with him. "It's early though, you should stay out," he urged. "Have some fun."

I almost said no, but it was barely 9 o'clock, and a part of me wanted to take advantage of some independent time. I told Dad I'd maybe stay out for a while longer.

"You got the spare room key, right?"

I told him I did. "I won't be out long," I said.

"I hope you are," he chuckled. "Seriously, enjoy yourself, Joey," he said as he got up from his bar stool. I try to not to perv on my old man but seeing him in his casual jeans and sweatshirt, it was hard not to admire his sturdy body. I mean, Dad's got a beer belly but otherwise is pretty damn solid. I felt his strength as he gave my shoulder one last squeeze before bidding me good night.

I gave it maybe five minutes after he left, then I downed my drink and found my way to the Metro to Dupont Circle. I'd only been to a gay bar twice before, and each time was nerve wracking as hell. But something about being in a different city made me feel anonymous. I felt giddy and excited as I walked the blocks to some bar I found on Google.

Maybe I picked the wrong place, or maybe it was too early, but the bar was dead. I may have been anonymous, but I stuck out in the place, the only dude under 40 in a place of older man. That would have been fine. I mean, I kind of get turned on by men in their late 30s, or 40s and 50s. But a couple of obnoxious guys made a beeline for me in turn, as soon as I got my beer. I tried to do the thanks but no thanks, thing but they wouldn't fucking let up. It brought out my whole anxiety about being in the place to begin with. I didn't even finish my beer, I just bolted out of there.

The whole way back to the hotel, I was frustrated and maybe a little mad at myself. I maybe should have tried another bar, but at this point I wasn't in the mood.

I tried to be quiet when I got back to the hotel room. There was the click of the key card, but other than that I slipped into the room silently, so I wouldn't wake Dad. It took me a second to realize that the light was on, and that Dad was hardly asleep. I was a few steps in the room, far enough to see half of the beds, when I realized what the fuck was happening.

"You like that cock, Daddy?" the voice was youthful and masculine, and it seemed to match the very attractive athletic younger guy who was boning my father doggy style.

My beefy bodied old man was bracing himself on all fours and actually bucking his meaty ass back against every hard thrust. If I wasn't hard yet, that sight alone made my cock feel more rigid than I'd ever felt.

"You know it, buddy," my father growled in that deep, loud voice of his. "Pound my fucking hole." God, Dad was being really loud and his sex talk seemed to echo off the walls. I hoped to God there was soundproofing, then realized I hadn't heard anything before stepping into the room.

The young dude just gripped Dad's waist and used the leverage to pull my father's body back and forth onto his shaft. "You wanna do the scene we talked about, man?" the guys asked, quiet in his voice now.

Dad nodded and blushed beet red. "Yeah, let's go for it."

The top's chest seemed to puff proudly. I couldn't believe they'd not noticed me. Hell, I couldn't believe I had the balls or the stupidity to just stand there and watch them. But they were so caught up in their mating. The man's hips now slowed to a slow sexy grind and he leaned forward and kissed along Dad's thick shoulder and neck. "I've wanted to do this for so long, Dad," he growled. "After every hockey practice."

"Oh god, yeah, Joey!" my father hissed, not as loud this time.

WHAT THE FUCK!?!

My heart pounded and my dick throbbed, but my mind was in a major head-fuck place now. I was actually hyperventilating, and the voyeurism had gone from a sexual turnon to a sense of invading Dad's privacy, or seeing something I shouldn't have seen. I backed out as quietly as I entered, and let the door open and shut as silently as I could.

"Fuck!" I hissed to myself as I stood in the hallway, feeling my heart race. I tried to gather my thoughts to something that would get my dick to go down. It half worked, but not fully. I thought of going somewhere else for a while, even the hotel lobby. But I had to know. Know who'd been fucking Dad. Probably not a boyfriend, cause Dad never came to DC. Maybe some dude from Grindr, I don't know.

It took ten minutes, maybe a little more. I waited down the hall, by the elevator bank, and when I heard the click of the door, I peered out. The first one was a different room, but the second, a minute later, was from ours. I pretended like I was I just coming from the elevators and walked slowly down the hall. The dude was busy with his phone as he walked, texting or something so I could get a good look at him. I'd seen his body in profile, but now that I saw him head on, wearing joggers and a zip up pullover, I could make out that he was almost a dead ringer for me! Blue eyes to my brown, and higher cheekbones, but otherwise there was so much similar. Same height, same athletic build, same dark brown hair, same jockish demeanor.

"Hey," he grunted in acknowledgement as we passed. Bro to bro.

"Hey," I said, nervously, trying to pass it off as a normal exchange. He kept on his way, and I paused at the room door, wondering if he'd look back. He never did.

I wasn't quiet this time. I wanted to give Dad time notice. I shut the door loudly and called out, "Hey Dad."

"Hey, buddy," he called out. He was lying back in bed, watching some sports news on the TV with the volume turned down. Wearing only a thin pair of gym shorts, his body was relaxed and I got a good chance to admire his muscle. Big bulging arms, rounded shoulders, and full hard pecs. Dad's surprisingly smooth for a guy his age, but there was a dusting of hair on his chest and torso... finer and lighter colored than my own body hair. Below his pecs there was some extra weight... more than middle aged spread, I guess, though his beer belly was shy of a full gut. On Dad it looked hot. The thin fabric didn't leave too much to the imagination, but my father's genitals were soft so didn't form too much of a package. And in some ways those thighs stole the show, with a rounded curve and palpable meatiness. They were hairier than his upper body but not outright furry.

I couldn't believe this man, my father, had just taken dick like a porn star.

I snapped out of my perving reverie and rifled though my bag for my own pair of shorts. No way was I sleeping in just underwear tonight. I even pulled out some compression to layer underneath, to keep any boner in check.

I ducked into the bathroom to piss, change, brush my teeth, and just collect myself. When I got out, bare chested as Dad, he was still on the other bed, absorbed in whatever boring sports talk program was on. I couldn't believe how nonchalant he was being. Then again, maybe getting laid puts you in that kind of mood.

I settled onto the other double bed and pretended to be interested in the TV. I'd sneak glanced over at my father, to get a look at his half naked body but also to imagine that forbidden spot between his legs, deep in his ass. No way did he have the chance to shower off after sex, and I just knew that cleft and hole were still wet with lube.... and if the guy didn't put on a condom, then cum as well.

I had to lift my leg and surreptitiously reach down to pinch the base of my cock to tame the hardon. Compression would only do so much.

"Have fun tonight?" Dad finally asked. "I thought you'd be out longer."

The messed up thing was that I felt guilty for coming back too early, of not giving my father enough time to hook up with a dude. "It was all right," I said. "Just wasn't feeling it."

He looked over at me, his brown eyes filled with normal fatherly concern. "Yeah, buddy? I figured a good looking dude like you would be able to score a hot girl for the night."

"Dad!" I objected.

"What?" he asked. As if his concern were just a normal dad's male bonding with his son. In another instance it might be, but I knew now that Dad got off on the idea of me fucking. That's why he was always asking me about girls.

I had every intention of playing dumb. Of just filing this evening back into my memory bank for stroke sessions. Because this was potentially explosive stuff.

Instead I picked up that stick of emotional TNT. "I, um, saw you guys... just now... earlier," I eked out through a shaky voice.

Dad's relaxed, happy go lucky face turned dead serious. "Oh," he said. "I thought I head the door click." He looked at me and I just knew what he was thinking. He was trying to figure out just how much I'd seen. "Sorry you had to see that Joey."

"Guess I should have picked up the hint you wanted some alone time," I said. Trying to pass it off like Dad was my dorm roommate needing to get laid. I even forced a chuckle to make light of the weirdness.

Dad turned off the TV and turned toward me. God, I wished he wasn't looking so hot just then. Chest and arm muscle bulging as his body pivoted toward me. "I'm serious, Joe... I didn't mean.... Damnit... I guess you know now... your old man likes to have a little fun now and then."

It was none of my business, but curiosity won out. "He wasn't your boyfriend or anything, was he?" I mean, it didn't seem likely but I had to know if I was getting a step dad my age.

He shook his head. "Nothing like that, son," he said, pausing before adding, "It's just, well, sometimes I splurge on a hustler."

It was a weird first reaction, but I was a little mad that Dad paid that dude when any number of men would be lucky to fuck him. But as the memory of that primal scene flashed in my head, I was getting rock hard again. "Dad, I'm pretty sure you don't need to pay anyone."

Dad's eyes were on me intently now. Deciding how to take my comment. "Sometimes I want someone who's not gonna pass judgment," he said quietly. Damn he was making himself vulnerable now, for sure.

I was too. Meeting his gaze, I said, less quietly now, "I'm not gonna pass judgment, Dad."

"No?" he asked. I could hear his voice catch in his throat.

"Nope. And I hope you don't pass judgment on me," I replied.

"What would I...?" Dad started to ask before he let out a surprised, "oh!"

I'd pulled my legs out and was revealing my hardon to dad. Even beneath the shorts and through the compression, my ridge of college-jock cock was visible. My heart raced nervously but I also sat up proudly in bed and spread my legs further to show my dick off to my father.

"Fuck, you're big, Joey," he gapsed, without thinking before he took his eyes off my crotch and looked back up at me. "How long?"

"I dunno, Dad," I said. "Maybe 7 and a half inches. Almost eight."

"Shit," he grunted. Then shook his head. "But I meant how long have you had a thing for me?"

"Honest, Dad?" I replied. "I don't know. Maybe longer than I realized."

He nodded, taking in the information.

I looked over at my father and could see his dick firming up to a spike again in those shorts. "How long have you had a thing for me, Dad?"

"Maybe longer than I realized, too," he shot back, now sitting up on the bed, facing me. "I swear Joey, I tried not to go there, but you grew into such a hot fucking stud."

I'd had sex with men a couple of times before, and I'd enjoyed the naughty thrill of it. But this just seemed to click, the mutual sexual attraction. The fact Dad was as boned for me as I was for him made me wish we weren't father and son.

Then again, that was the thrill of it, too.

With a playful grin, I hooked my thumbs in my shorts and pulled them up over my boner. Dad was silent and his attention fixated watching this simple, taboo act. I slid off the shorts and the compression and let my long, thick cock ride up. It was fully engorged and stood up from my treasure trail at a rigid angle.

Dad gulped again and looked up at me. "We doing this, son?"

"Yeah, Dad," I hissed, scooting off the bed and standing up. Horniness winning out over my nerves. "We're fucking doing this."

I heard a low rumble as my butch father scooted over and with one hand on my leg to guide me, he took me into his mouth.

"Holy fuck!" I gasped. At first it was just the sheer forbidden fact that my own father was licking and now sucking my bone. But quickly I was going wild at realizing how frickin' good Dad was at this. Not going for the kill, he gave slow, sensual head that seemed to be worshipful and did the trick of working me up to a boil without sending me over the edge.

I'd had guys suck my dick a couple of times, but I'd never fully gotten a blowjob, not for real. Dad was giving me my first.

"Dad," I hissed, spreading my legs to brace my body and running my fingers softly through his light-brown hair to encourage him. I rode out the incredible incestuous pleasure, then had to put on the breaks. "Dad..." I urged, using my fingers to nudge his skull back off me. "I don't wanna cum yet."

My father let out a soft, deep growl as my wet thick prick cleared his lips. And just as quickly as he'd taken me into his mouth, his face dove down to start tonguing and kissing my balls.

"You've turned into such a stud, all right," I heard him say between kisses. "Big fucking balls, too."

I'd had two hookups with older men. Men Dad's age. One was fun, the other I felt a little skeeved out by the man's lecherous fixation on my youth. But with Dad, I responded instantly to his worshipful lust for me. Something about it brought out both my loving and aggressive side. Holding the back of his head, I pulled him roughly into my crotch, then relaxed my grip and patted his head affectionately. Dad seemed to love that.

"I wanna fuck you, Dad," I let out. As I said the words, I knew they were a messed up thing to think, much less say. I was so horny, though, and after seeing Dad practically slut out earlier, my dick was doing the thinking for me.

Dad pulled back, spit on his lips and excitement in his brown eyes. "Yeah, Joey?"

If I didn't know before, I had a pretty good confirmation that Dad had thought a LOT about that very idea. His hand stroked my spit-wet prick, as if he was sizing up how much he'd feel my size.

A nagging doubt hit me. Not incest, but my inexperience. "I might not have the moves that hustler did, but I wanna bone you, Dad."

Dad leaned back, his burly body on display for me, with its hard blue-collar muscle and that extra bulk. He was beautiful and my cock twitched seeing his masculine build offered before me. "How you want me? On all fours?"

I stepped back for a better view, shaking my head. "Face to face," I growled, feeling my cock twitch. I'd had my experiences with men and a hell of a lot of self time with porn. This was better than both combined. "I wanna make out with my dad while I fuck him."

"Joey," Dad grunted, scrambling up to lie back on the bed. I was following him, already greedily tugging at the waist band of his shorts. The elastic snagged on his erection, but he helped me work it over and off his thighs, before I pulled the shorts off and tossed them aside. "This is SO fucking wrong, son," he hissed, and I knew we were on the same wavelength. Riding that taboo.

"Fuck yeah, it's wrong," I growled, the words almost catching in my throat I was so turned on. "A son shouldn't wanna fuck his father."

Dad honest to god whimpered at that. Or maybe it was the feel of my hardon nudging along his thigh as I leaned down and claimed a kiss.

This itself was a line crossed, more than the cocksucking, more than the sex talk. I was French kissing my own father and he was sucking my tongue into his mouth before battling it with his own. We grunted into our kiss, humping our heated bodies and feeling that incredible flesh-on-flesh contact.

This desire had been bottled up so deep inside me, but this evening had brought it out so quickly, I knew it was always there. Knew my father had been deep in my psyche as I masturbated all these years. Knew he was an implicit comparison for any man I went for.

I'd have to ask Dad where I fit into his fantasies, or if there were other men, young men, in his life. All I knew now was how hungrily he held me and felt up my hockey-jock body and spread his legs, inviting me in, then wrapping those feet around to guide me to enter him.

I wasn't hustler-skilled, so I had to reach down and guide my rigid cock to root around for his entrance. But that escort had left a good amount of lube there, and as I nudged my father's recently-fucked pucker, I could tell there was a good deal of cum, too. The idea excited me and made me jealous at the same time. That fucker should have been paying Dad for the privilege...

I thrust inside my old man. Between the suddenness and my size, it was a LOT for Dad to take. Turns out the man liked it that way. He growled into our kiss and used his heels against my strong ass to urge me on.

I didn't need my invitation engraved. I let my body and my hormonal need take over. I fucked Dad, maybe just shy of rough, but definitely hard. And the faster and deeper I went the more the big man's body responded beneath me.

"Fuck me, Joe," he grunted as I broke the kiss and leaned up to get a good look at the man I was shafting, the man who made me.

"You love your son's cock in you?" I prodded.

"Fuck yeah," Dad replied. "Hot fucking incest."

That alone about got me to cum. My hips were a blur of motion and I was THIS close to orgasm.

"Open your mouth, Dad," I urged. I don't know what possessed me to do this, but I think I'd seen it a porn video and something about Dad's need made me wanna try it.

My father opened his mouth and I did it. I spit right into it, hitting the back of his throat like a bullseye target.

Dad actually fucking whimpered once I did.

I hawked some more spit and let it fly once more. And that did it, I was cumming HARD. Harder than I ever had in my life. My hips were now longer thrusting madly but giving a couple of deep jerks into my dad's guts to add my seed to that hustler's.

Dad was rock hard against my abs as we made out and held each other. Holding on to each other and not wanting this father-son fuck to end.

After a couple of minutes I realized I didn't have to end. Dad hadn't gotten off, and I was still rock hard. I could probably go for another... yeah, I could definitely go for another. My hips began a soft, shallow thrust, enough for Dad to feel it inside him.

"You going for another, Joey?" he asked, surprised and excited.

I nodded, smiling down on my father. His hair was matted down with sweat and he had a vulnerable edge to his handsome looks. I felt a strange sexual domination over my old man, but a hell a lot of love, too. It was all in the mix.

"You ever been fucked all night, Dad?" I asked, putting on my deepest, sternest voice I could manage. Yeah, maybe it was a boast, but at that point I felt I had it in me. In any case, I wanted to try.

"God, Joe," Dad hissed. His hands openly massaged my arm muscle, not as big and round as his guns but still with that athletic harness from sports and working out regularly.

I grinned, feeling playful as hell. "Is that a 'God, Joe,' I can't handle that? Or a 'God, Joe, please fuck me all night, Joe'?" I teased.

I felt Dad's heels on my ass cheeks again. "God, Joe, please fuck me all night, Joe.... son."

"You got it... Dad."

#drakestories

[babybluebex]

italy calling: part three | joseph quinn x fem!reader

summary: part three of three! your time with joe in livorno comes to a tearful end, but, when you return home to london, can you be trusted not to find joe? and can he be trusted not to find you? pairing: joseph quinn x fem!reader (rpf - don't like, don't read) tags: ANGST, lots of crying, but it's sweet, i promise, brief mention of smut word count: 3.4k author's note: since @icallhimjoey is BULLYING me to post this early, i am. everyone say "thank you joey". thank you all so much for your support on this fic, it truly means the world to me. i love you guys, and enjoy the last part!

The rest of the week passed in the blink of an eye. You spent nearly every second with Joe, either laid up in bed or out exploring the streets, and you adored it. He was gentle and kind, though still a cheeky little bloke— at dinner, his hand would teasingly slide between your thighs, only to stay there and not progress, or he would kiss you hard and grin at you when you chased him back into another kiss. You maintained the rules, stopping yourself from texting Lily or Googling him multiple times, abstaining in favor of cuddling and talking. He had so many stories, and he could have regaled you all day if you let him, and you often did. 

All too soon, though, Friday came. You sat in Joe’s bed as you watched him pack— you had offered to help him, but he declined, saying that it was something that he needed to do for himself. He seemed to be taking it hard, his brow drawn and mumbling under his breath as he gathered up his things. He scratched his head and sighed, and he looked at you sort of helplessly. 

“What’s wrong?” you asked. He had a habit of employing big, wet puppy-dog eyes on you when he wanted something, usually a bite of your pasta or a kiss, but you could tell that this was something different. “Joe?” 

He came to you and laid down, settling his head in your lap, and your fingers started to card through his curls. “This has been the best week of my life,” he whispered. “I don’t want it to end.” 

“Me neither,” you admitted. “I… I’m gonna miss you.” 

“I’ll miss you so much,” Joe whispered. He took your hand into his and gently stroked your palm with his thumb, and he added, “This just isn’t fair. I find the perfect girl, and I have to leave her in Italy.” 

“You don’t have to leave me,” you offered. “We could keep in touch after you get home.” 

“No, no,” Joe whispered quickly. “It’s better if we keep it like this. I couldn’t ask you to join me and… My life is messy, love, and you wouldn’t want any part of it.” 

“Yes, I do,” you said, hot tears pricking at your eyes and threatening to spill. You sniffled, and you said, “If it meant I had you.” 

“It’s constant, with me,” Joe said. “You’d constantly be scrutinized, everyone would have an eye on you at all times, everything that’s private suddenly isn’t anymore. Is that the sort of life you want?” 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” you asked. “Why would any of that happen? Joseph, darling, I’d do anything for you, but where in the world did you get that?” 

Joe sat up, his puppy-dog eyes locked on yours with a new intensity, one that made your skin crawl uncomfortably. “I have to tell you something,” he said. “After everything, you deserve to know who I am.” 

“I know who you are,” you told him, taking his hands into yours. “You’re Joe. You like cheesy bread and long walks at sunset and smoking after I blow you, and you hate when people are rude and when I get picky about olives. You have a brother and a sister, your best friend’s name is Wesley, you only smoke Camels and use a pink lighter, you’re ticklish on your left side, you’re insecure about your stomach— Joseph, I know you.” 

“But that’s not enough,” Joe said. “I’m more than that, there’s more important stuff to know about me.” 

“I don’t care,” you told him. “You said at the start of this that you didn’t want me to know, and I'm not going to break that promise, and I’m… I’m okay with that. It’s like you said, we wouldn’t work at home, we only work here.” 

Joe pressed his lips together as he thought, and he finally said, “Alright. I guess this is it, then. Give me your phone.” 

“Why?” you asked, though you fished your phone out of the bedsheets and passed it to him anyway. 

“I’m deleting myself,” Joe told you. He tapped at your phone, swiping and deleting the text conversation, then went to your phone app and deleted every call that you had made to him from your call history. Then, he went to the contacts folder, found himself (still listed under Italy Joe), and deleted it. “No chance of you finding me now. No trace of me left.” 

“Give me yours,” you said, and Joe did the same, pulling his phone from his jacket pocket and handing it to you, and you went through the same motions, deleting your texts and calls and contact. Your heart ached at the sight of your name in his phone— your name with a heart next to it— but, before you gave him his phone back, you opened up the camera, and you tugged Joe close to you. “Maybe you can’t contact me,” you started, snapping a picture of both of you. “But you can remember me.” 

Joe turned and kissed you without a second thought, and you snapped another picture before you set down his phone and kissed him back. You finally let your tears fall, and you whimpered as Joe broke the kiss. He softly kissed your cheeks and eyelids, collecting your tears on his lips, and you tugged him close and held him tightly. “I’ll never forget you,” he told you. “I love you.” 

You shook your head, your frown growing. “No, you don’t,” you told him. “You love me in Italy. At home, I’m messy and boring, and I don’t do anything except watch television and go to bed early.” 

“Then, I’d love nothing more than to be messy and boring with you,” Joe chuckled lightly. “I love you, darling, and location won’t change that.” 

“It’s your rule, my love,” you told him. “No finding each other. We obeyed every other rule, please just… Don’t ruin this. Don’t let this be tarnished by the end. Everything was beautiful, and it’ll end when you leave in a few minutes, and-and that part of our lives will be over, and we’ll be okay with it. Because we have no other choice.” 

Joe nodded gently, and he said, “One more kiss, love.” 

You indulged him, softly pressing your lips to his, and he kissed you with all of the love and softness that he had in his body. This man loved you, and you loved him, and you were about to lose him. And you were okay with that. He was only meant for the short time you were in Livorno, and now that was over. But it broke your heart so thoroughly that you actually felt pain in your chest. When you broke the kiss, you only had one request: “Tell me your name.” 

“Quinn,” he said in an instant. “My name is Joseph Anthony Francis Quinn.” He would give you the shirt off of his back on a regular day, but it seemed as if your parting had broken his will down to nothing. Before, he had faffed about and not given you even his surname, but now… 

“Joseph,” you sniffled. “Joey… Your flight leaves soon.” 

“I can get another one,” Joe whispered. “I can stay here for another day or so.” 

“Darling, you have to go,” you told him. “Your life awaits.” 

Joe kissed you one last time, and he took his phone from your hand, moving to zip up his luggage. He didn’t say much as he led you out of the hotel room, letting the door close softly behind you, and he gave you a tight hug, breathing into your neck and having your scent one last time. “I guess this is goodbye,” you whispered, and Joe gave a shaky breath. 

“Not ‘goodbye’,” he said. “‘See you later’, maybe. We’ll see each other again.” 

“But not on purpose,” you reminded him. “No finding me.” 

“As long as you don’t find me,” Joe said, and you nodded. 

When you got back to your hotel room, you felt empty. You were hungry, but you didn’t feel like eating. You were tired, but the bed was too big and lonely. You had hardly been in your hotel room all week, and it looked sad and deserted. Joe’s light was gone. You needed to go home. 

But first, you called Lily. “Babe!” she exclaimed as she answered the phone. “Oh my God, how is Italy? I’ve hardly heard from you!” 

“It’s fine,” you said. “I met a guy.” 

“Ooh!” Lily said. “Tell me about him.” 

“I…” you started. “I think I know him. His name sounded familiar, and I think maybe we know each other somehow.” 

“What’s his name?” Lily asked. “Let me Google him, maybe I can find his LinkedIn or something—“

“No, no,” you said quickly. “Part of the deal of the fling was that we don’t find each other afterwards. Googling is forbidden.” 

“Oh,” Lily sighed. “That sucks. Why did you agree to that?” 

“Because I didn’t realize how I would feel at the end,” you said. “Lil, I had a-a whirlwind romance, one of those kinds you only read about. I love him and he loves me, but that’s over now. We were only meant to work in Italy, and I’m okay with that.” 

“Your voice is all shaky,” Lily noted. “You don’t seem okay with it.” 

You sighed, and your throat tightened as your tears fell. “I’m coming home,” you whispered. 

“What?” Lily asked. “Your flight doesn’t leave until Sunday night.” 

“I’m coming home now,” you said. “I can’t be here without him. I’ll cancel that flight and get the next flight back to London.” 

“If that’s what you want,” Lily whispered. “Pop ‘round my place when you get back, I need to hear all about your guy.” 

The weeks passed slowly. After coming home from Italy, nothing seemed right anymore. Your flat was sad too, not even having been touched by Joe’s presence and still feeling the effects of his withdrawal. Your plants were wilting, your bed was too hard, everything was skewed and wrong. Where you used to be content going to work and coming home and watching TV, you suddenly found yourself searching for more. 

You started going to coffee shops after work, sitting and reading and trying to enjoy the bustle of people and tourists around you. You had gotten a copy of Joe’s favorite book and tried to read the poetry, but every word made you think of him. Everything reminded you of him. You couldn’t believe that you had been so stupid as to send him away home without so much as getting a picture for yourself. Even three weeks out, already, the image of him in your mind was beginning to fade— everything but his eyes. 

You tried to enjoy yourself more, the way Joe would have wanted you to. You dressed up with Lily and went to girl’s night and you went to nightclubs, but none of it was the same. You remembered in Italy, how, one night, Joe had taken you back to the nightclub where you met and danced with you. He was an awful dancer and it had made you laugh endlessly, though you weren’t much better, but you had found your rhythm with his arms around you, swaying to the music. That night had ended with room service ravioli and cigarettes on his balcony, wrapped in bedsheets and trying to keep quiet as he knelt down and ate your cunt, and you frowned as you remembered it. There was nobody like your Joe. 

Somehow, you resisted the urge to look for him. You hadn’t told Lily his name so that she couldn’t do it either, but you remembered it: Joseph Anthony Francis Quinn. Every day, you wanted to Google that and see what would come up, but you never did, and you were thankful that you didn’t. Even if you found him, there was nothing that said that he would want to see you. Even though he had said that he loved you, that meant nothing. He easily could have had a million reasons why he didn’t want to expand your relationship past Italy. Maybe he didn’t want to fool with long-distance either. Maybe he even had a girlfriend waiting for him at home. There was no telling why he had made that rule, and, even though you tried to pretend that it was blasé and you didn’t care, you cared immensely. 

You held your chin in your hand as you gazed out the window of the coffee shop, watching the London afternoon go by. It was rainy, and umbrellas passed by every second, but your eyes went past them, unfocused as you thought. The next day was a deadline, and you weren’t quite finished with your load of work yet, but you knew that you could finish it tomorrow before noon, before that deadline, but you still sat and worried about it. You chewed on your thumbnail and played with a bit of skin on your lip, and you watched as a man in a suit walked by. 

You saw plenty of men in suits in London, but this one was different. The suit was a sort of warm beige-brown color, and his pants didn’t fit quite right, a little too long and brushing the rain-slick pavement. He wore a white shirt underneath, unbuttoned two buttons down, silver chain on his freckled neck. He had his phone in his hand, looking down as his wired headphones jumped and clacked with each step, and he finally stopped and looked up at the sign of the coffee shop. 

Your heart stopped in your chest, and you jumped in shock. Joe. There was no way. It was impossible. Joe could not be standing in front of you right now. How did the universe orchestrate this? His hair was styled now, pushed back off of his forehead with product, golden-brown curls that you couldn’t help but adore, and his eyes scanned the sign before dropping back down to look through the window. It took him a moment, but those dark eyes found you, and he stood still, his chest heaving as you locked eyes. Slowly, he tugged his other earbud out and held them in his fist, and he gave you a gentle little wave. 

You shot out of your seat and gathered up your bag, and you hurried out to meet him. The world flew by you, and your chest tightened as you stepped out into the drizzle and into Joseph’s warm arms, mashing your face into his neck. He smelled good, like expensive cologne, and you laughed as Joe held you tightly, rocking back and forth with the might of his embrace. “How…?” you started, your voice cracking, and you pressed your cheek harder into his skin, clawing at his back to get him closer. “How did you—“ 

“I couldn’t help myself,” Joe told you. “I went into my data carrier’s call log and found your number, and I Googled it, and I found you. I really just did it so I could see your face again, I really didn’t intend to come find you, but then I found your Instagram, and I saw your post about this place, and-and this cafe really isn’t that far from my flat, and I thought maybe being near you would be enough, and—” 

“I can’t believe it’s you,” you whimpered. “Joe!” 

“Are you mad?” Joe asked, his lips touching your ear. 

“No,” you told him. “So, wait, you mean to tell me that you’re from London? You’ve been right under my nose this whole time?” 

“Born and raised,” Joe chuckled. He pulled out of the embrace, smoothing his hand across his hair, and he said, “I could hardly believe my luck when I saw that you lived here too. I mean, London is huge, but also incredibly small, I can’t believe we haven’t run into each other before— Whatever. Do you… Erm… Did you keep up your end of the bargain?” 

You nodded. “And I really wanted to Google you too,” you whined. “My friend wanted me to so badly, she wanted to find your LinkedIn profile or whatever.” 

“So, you have no idea who I am?” Joe asked. 

“And I don’t care who you are,” you told him. “You could be the King of England, and you’d still be my sweet boy.”

Joe chuckled. “You might want to sit down,” he said nervously. 

“You’re not royalty, are you?” you asked. Without a thought, you sat down at one of the little wire tables, drenched in rain water, and Joe knelt down next to you, taking your hand into his. “Because I don’t think that I can handle being, like, a prince’s consort or whatever.” 

“I’m not royalty,” Joe chuckled softly. “I… If I just tell you, you’ll never believe me. Google my name.” 

Slowly, you pulled out your phone and did as he asked you. You couldn’t even begin to type his last name before it was autofilled for you, and you looked at him with wide eyes before you clicked on it with a shaking finger. 

Articles. Interviews. Pictures of him on red carpets. Modeling campaigns. Dior. Valentino. GQ Man of the Year. Netflix. HBO. Your head began to swim, and you set your phone down. “Okay,” you started. “So, you’re, like, super famous.” 

“To my chagrin,” Joe joked softly, although you got the impression that it wasn’t much of a joke. “But you see why I didn’t want you to know.” 

“Yeah, I get it,” you said hazily. 

“I’m lucky that no fans wanted a picture when we were out together,” Joe said softly. “That would have ruined my whole anonymity thing.” 

“Why did you hide that?” you asked. “This is— Joseph. This is a huge thing to keep secret. Why didn’t you just tell me?” 

“You remember my ex?” Joe asked. “The one I told you about, the one who used me? I needed to be sure that you wouldn’t do the same, and you proved to me that that sort of thing doesn’t matter to you. You’re not superficial or shallow, you don’t care about fame or status, you liked me for me. You were happy with regular old Joe, and I don’t get people like that anymore. You were— you are— a breath of fresh air, and I wanted to keep breathing you. So, you can leave me be, if you want, you can turn away from all of that and keep living the life that you have. I wouldn’t blame you, I wish I still had this sort of life, but… Darling, I’ve been suffering without you. Life just isn’t the same. I come home from set, and I imagine what it would be like to come home to you, and I… Fuck. I want you so bad, but it’s your decision to make.”

It certainly was a big decision. But you knew your answer. You had known it since the moment you met Joe, all those weeks ago, in that nightclub in Livorno. You tugged Joe close to you and kissed him, tasting cigarettes on his lips. Italy Joe was no more— now, he was just Joe. “We can make it work,” you told him. “I’ll do whatever it takes to make it work.” 

“Good,” Joe smiled. “Cool. Awesome. Erm, do you— Would you like to come—”

“If you’re asking me to come home with you, the answer is yes,” you chuckled. “A million times yes.”

Joe smiled, the sort of smile only movie stars could give, and he stood up, taking your hand in his. “I’m just glad you’re not mad at me,” he said. “I thought you’d be upset about me breaking our rule.”

“We’re about to break all of our rules,” you smiled, and Joe grinned at the insinuation. “I’m not mad at all. I’m just relieved that I wasn’t the one who did it first.” 

Joe pulled you into his body as he laughed, and you hugged him tightly, your heart opening up inside your chest. Joe. Your Joe was here, and he wasn’t going to leave. “I love you,” you told him, and Joe kissed you hard, his hands sliding down your body and grabbing your hips, tugging you up on him. It reminded you of your first kiss on the beach, and Joe couldn’t help his smile as he broke the kiss and pressed his forehead against yours. 

“I love you too,” Joe whispered. “I really do.” 

“You know this means that we can, like, vacation exclusively in Italy now, right?” you laughed, and Joe did his laugh that you loved, the hearty chuckle from his chest. 

“Of course,” Joe said. “I’d want nothing else.”

-

taglist: @wordscomehither @aol19 @sadbitchfangirl @cluelesslilsharkie @emma77645 @zestychili @aysheashea @ali-r3n @ace-harrington

#joseph quinn x reader #joe quinn x reader #joseph quinn x you #joe quinn x you #joseph quinn rpf

[gallusrostromegalus]

Whats your favorite lore in the fic thats not likely to ever come up?

I'm picturing this fic as an animated series in my head and there are certain visual elements I can only sort of work into the text (because a veiwer of an anime would notice but someone living in-universe would not) but:

-Anubis and the other Gods are always portrayed with only one side visible to the viewer, and flat/without shading, like they're hieroglyphics. At least until they decide to affect the Material plane and suddenly they become much better rendered and 3-Dimensional.

-Funny Bunny is animated relative to Pegasus *exactly* the same way Rodger Rabbit is relative to Detective Valentine.

-It's mentioned a bit but Ammit is constantly shape-shifting which parts of her are Lioness, crocodile, or hippopotamus. Anubis and Thoth both Shift from Dog/Bird to Human-With-Animal-Head formats as needed for DRAMA. [REDACTED FOR SPOILERS] who also has appeared on page changes sizes based on how much trouble they think their Votary is in.

-TK is animated at a higher frame rate than everyone else, because he's had 5,000 years of practice being a ghost, and Yami is animated at a lower frame rate than everyone else for a while while he learns. Both of them ignore conservation of mass and shape when they're ghosts, mostly manifesting in "wearing what their host is, but longer/floatier and trailing off into aesthetically pleasing shapes, rather than anything fabric would realistically do" and "Floating along with minimal effort like they're kites being dragged along by the Items."

-Yugi literally has to take two steps for every one of Seto's.

-Both Shadis have extremely symmetrical faces. Like. Uncannily symmetrical. But they don't have the same face, because each is a mirror image of the half a face they grew back from.

-People do the Himuro Arakawa thing where they turn into minimalist blobs when something stupid happens, and the JJBA thing where their faces suddenly over-render when the situation gets serious.

-Everyone else has Black pupils but Bakura's are always extremely dark blue-green because even in normal lighting his tapetum lucidum are always a bit visible.

-Odion's face markings are white/pale pink because they're the result of ritual scarification (like Marik's back markings), not tattoos. Even though they're in Hawai'i right now, Marik always keeps his back and shoulders covered, and Odion always keeps his arms, legs and upper back covered as well.

-All three Ishtar siblings have substantial crimp to their hair. Odion and Ishizu braid theirs- Odion has thicker braids with beaded caps at the ends and Ishizu has thinner ones with spiraled ends. Marik wears his hair in twists most of the time.

-Tristan's hair looks like a thicker, brunette version of TinTin's from the 3-D animated movie. Téa has a Phyrne Fisher 1920's bob. Joey has somehow developed a reverse mullet in much the same way one develops a septic infection. Bakura has what the kids are calling a "Wolf Cut" but it's really a "tried to trim the split ends and bangs out of his face in the bathroom mirror at 3 AM with kitchen scissors and NO instructions" cut.

-Yugi's hair is straight-up anime bullshit where I've decided that humans have mutated a new type of stiff guard hair follicle like you find on bears and boars. It's very stiff but smooth and weirdly pettable.

-I don't know how this deviated into hairstyles but there you go.

#TPOFATGIF #The Power Of Friendship (And This Gun I Found!) #Yugioh #Yugioh fanfic

[mhbcaps]

I got tagged again for this by @chevvy-yates :3 thank you!

OC INTERVIEW: Sanctuary Zelenko & Joey Armas

▪ NICKNAME:

"Named myself Sanctuary after my favorite cologne, back when I was twenty. Company went under a year later, and then someone drank the rest of the only bottle I had. You remember Axis, baby?"

"That dumb piece of shit? Wait, that why you scrapped with him? Over the cologne?"

"Yeah. That's how I ended up with this. Couple people called me Zipperface for months."

"I 'member that. Won't lie, I thought it was pretty funny."

"'Course you did. Answer the question."

"Oh, my mama prob'ly named me Joseph or John or something but I've been Joey all my life."

▪ GENDER:

"I want you to guess."

"C'mon, I don't wanna be here forever. I'm a boy, and they're Sanctuary. 'f you try to make it make sense, your little head'll explode."

▪ ORIENTATION:

"I'm a man of many tastes."

"Nah, he likes anybody who looks like they'd grab his hips and make him beg. Isn't that right, baby?"

"Ain't denying. Hey, what're you squirming for? You asked the question, choom. We're just bein' honest."

▪ NATIONALITY/ETHNICITY:

"Born and raised here, but my parents both came from Ukraine. Don't really know what that makes me."

"You know more than me. Which is fuck-all, honestly. Whole family is dead now, though, so what's it matter? Sorry, 'm I makin' you uncomfortable again? Don't feel bad. Not like you killed 'em. Fuckers who did were taken care of years ago, don't worry."

▪ HEIGHT:

"Depends on what boots I'm wearin'."

"Flat, he's five-nine. And I'm five-eleven. I like to wear heels, though, so people look at me. Nothing gets someone's attention like a nice pair of heels. Or a big fucking knife."

"Yeah, I got the big fucking knife covered."

▪ STAR SIGN:

"Scorpio."

"I ain't even sure what my actual birthdate is. My citizen record says March twentieth but Mom always said she was just guessing. So that's, what, Aries or somethin'?"

"Not like it matters."

"Yeah, don't believe in that shit anyway."

▪ FAVE FRUIT:

"Ate a banana once. Real one. That shit was good."

"Where the hell'd you get a real banana?"

"Got a donor once who had a suite at the Highcourt, years back. Dub did her copycat thing and got in pretending she was a girlfriend experience or something. Stole everything she could carry. Not much, bitch had scrawny arms, but she got the fruit and some sweet threads."

"Don't remember that."

"Nah, it was right before we met. I remember, 'cause I was wearing the guy's underwear when we did meet."

"Do you still have the underwear?"

"No. Had to toss 'em after I got stabbed one time. Would've kept them 'cept that the bloodstain looked like I shit myself."

▪ FAVE SEASON:

"You think the twenty-degree flux we get counts as seasons? Well, it's winter, anyway. Shorter days, less sun."

"Fall. I make good money in the fall. Everyone's done partying for the summer, got their new implants, lookin' for glory on the streets."

▪ FAVE FLOWER:

"I dunno dick about flowers. I don't even know what kinds I got tattooed on me. Guess those would be my favorite, 'f I knew what they were called."

"I don't pay much attention to flowers, either."

▪ FAVE SCENT:

"Sanctuary. ...You didn't like it when we were talkin' about my "orientation" or whatever. Gonna really hate it if I go into detail about scent."

"I use pomegranate shampoo."

"Yeah, that's part of it."

▪ COFFEE, TEA, HOT CHOCOLATE:

"Don't like hot drinks. I'll drink lemonade, though."

"I used to drink coffee, but these days caffeine just fucks me up. I have enough headaches without it."

▪ AVERAGE HOURS OF SLEEP:

"Who keeps track? I'm a night owl, anyway."

"I try to get a reasonable amount in so I don't kill my patients."

▪ DOG OR CAT PERSON:

"I've never met a dog. Friend of mine has a cat, though, and I like her well enough, so that's one-zero in cats' favor."

"I like 'em both. Hunters and survivors, in their own ways."

▪ DREAM TRIP:

"Somewhere with a lotta trees. Grew up in the concrete jungle - a little more green'd be nice, y'know?"

"Yeah. I wouldn't mind visiting Ukraine. I don't know how much green is left, though - anywhere."

▪ NUMBER OF BLANKETS THEY SLEEP WITH:

"Two, so we each have our own and nobody's stealing it - baby, what are you doing?"

"Fuuuuuuuuck! My fuckin' fries are cold. 'Cause I've been sittin' here answering stupid questions. Are we done now?"

"We're done now."

▪ RANDOM FACT:

"I'm fucking hungry and now I gotta eat cold fries, that's a fact for you."

#sanctuary #joey #long post #mhbcaps

[deans-baby-momma]

Law & Love Chapter 10

A/N: This chapter and the next might be triggering to some so here's my warning. READ WITH CAUTION! I don't know how to warn against what's in this chapter without giving away what's in this chapter.

THEN

"Wait," I jump up, in shock at the surprising turn of events. "What the hell is going on?"

NOW

Jenny takes pity on my and once Deb is secured in a pair of cuffs and seated, she explains her accusation.

“Joey Bryant is the estranged son of  Debra Wilhawks. He came back into her life about, what 2 years ago?” Jenny looked to her prisoner for confirmation but got silence.  “A year ago, they got into a big disagreement about her dog because Joey’s girlfriend, at the time, was allergic. He filed a petition to have the animal removed from the premises.

“Of course, with Ms. Wilhawks being the owner of the residence the petition wasn’t granted. That’s when it was discovered that Mr. Bryant was her son. Say, whatever happened to the girlfriend?”

Once again Deb is reticent. Y/N can’t help but look at her former friend in disbelief.

“Why? Why did he think he and I were a thing?”

At that, Deb smirks. She fucking smiles like the cat who caught the canary. “Because the sex was great.  When I would talk about you he would fuck me like a wild man. I would give him fantasies of the two of you together….with me. It made him maniacal.”

The cackle that Deb lets out puts chills on Y/N’s whole body. She is deranged, psychotic! Deb had been using her as a means to fuck her own son?!  Y/N is mortified. 

“You know, I’ll tell you what I’m going to miss,” Deb says. “I’m going to miss that dick. Fuck, if it wasn’t a good dick. Thick, a little on the shorter side but it got the job done. Boy knew how to use what I gifted him with. He loved putting it in his mommy’s pussy. Would tell me all the time.”

Seems that now Deb has begun to talk, she apparently isn’t going to shut up.

“He’d say ‘Mommy, your pussy is so good I could live in it’ ‘Mommy’s tight pussy loves her son’s dick in it’. Oh, but when I started talking about you, sweetheart……oh, he would pound me wide open. I’d walk funny for days. Didn’t you ever notice?

“No, I guess not because that new Sheriff caught your attention pretty quick. I can tell you this, daarlin’” she drawls it out, mocking Beau’s nickname for me. “He’ll never be able to make you feel as good as Joey would have.”

“Okay, that’s enough!” Jenny announces as she picks Deb up by the armpit and pushes her out the diner door.

Y/N sits in the same spot, dazed. She had liked Deb. Deb seemed to be a nice person, taking Y/N under her wing when she got the job and training her. They were friends, or so Y/N thought. 

All this time, Deb had been grooming her for some lewd liaison with her son. How gross!

"Are you alright?" The voice is barely above a whisper but it still makes Y/N jump. "Sorry, girl. Didn't mean to scare ya."

Y/N turns to see Pops standing at the kitchen door. He looks concerned and uneasy. Pops isn't a big talker, though, so Y/N understands the anxiety. 

"Did you know?" she asks instead of answering his inquiry. "About Deb and-" 

"Had an inkling," Pops tells her. "I see and hear a lot that no one realizes. I'd hear her on the phone out back sometimes. Put two and two together."

"It's disgusting," Y/N says with a shiver. "She was…..you know, with her son. And was going to try to bring me into it?"

"Everyone has secrets, lil one," Pops says and then disappears into the kitchen, the swinging door swaying.

Beau is all smiles as they drive back off the mountain. Emily had actually been happy to see him. She hugged him and told him she misses him. His dad heart was elated.

As soon as he turns the truck onto the paved road, heading into town, his phone starts going crazy.  He pulls it off the dash to investigate.

*3 missed calls from J. Hoyt 

*2 texts from J. Hoyt 

*1 message from Deputy Harris

*3 Voicemails

"Someone's popular," Cassie states as her own phone begins ringing. "It's Jen. Hello?"

Beau can hear her voice but can't make out exactly what she's saying.

"Yea. Yea. Okay. No shit! Really? Oh my god! Eww. Yeaha, I'll tell him. We're headed back now. See you in a few."

Cassie hangs up and puts her phone on her lap. "Seems we missed some excitement. It involves Y/N, so you might wanna step on it; sounds like she may need you."

Beau doesn't ask any questions, just pushes the pedal to the floor and speeds across the asphalt toward town. 

As soon as they enter the city limits, Cassie tells the Sheriff to drop her at the  station and for him to go to the diner, so that's exactly what he does.

Pulling up in the parking lot, Beau is surprised to see the spaces are all empty and there is a sign on the door announcing the diner is "Temporarily Closed".

He parks right in front and jumps out of the vehicle, foregoing his signature Stetson. The door is locked but not long after he knocks, the old man that Beau recognizes as the cook wanders over and lets him in.

"Where's Y/N?"

"Over here," he hears her say as Pops points toward the darkened corner of the restaurant.  That's when Beau notices the lights are off.

As he steps to the right to head toward Y/N, he sees it- a huge blood stain on the floor. 'What the hell happened while I was gone?' he thinks to himself but lets that thought go so he can go comfort his girlfriend. 

Is she his girlfriend, though? They had just decided to date so does that warrant the title of girlfriend/boyfriend? He didn't have a definitive answer so he just goes with it. For all intentions and purposes, Y/N Y/L/N was his girlfriend. 

"Hey," he says as he reaches her. "Everything okay? What happened?"

Y/N doesn't answer. She just wraps her arms around his waist and cries into his chest. Deep, body-shaking sobs; sobs that he has no idea how to quell so he holds her and allows her to get it out. The questions can wait.

Beau is seeing red! The more he listens and watches this man admit to stalking Y/N and how he talks of the two of them being a couple completely pisses him off. 

"Who is this asshat?" he asks Jenny, who is sitting across the desk. 

"Joseph Paul Bryant. He came to live here about 2 years ago."

"And any reason why he honed in on Y/N?"

"It's, uuh….it's in my report."

Beau quirks an eyebrow at his associate. "Okay?"

Beau feels Hoyt's eyes on him as he begins reading her account of the crime.

Halfway through reading, he stops and sits the paperwork on his desk. "What the hell? He was her son? She was sleeping with her son?"

"Oh, it gets better," Hoyt states. " Keep reading."

@spnbaby-67 @sea040561 @delightfullykrispypeach @larajadeschmidt13 @atc74 @vicariouslythruspn @squirrelnotsam  @sandlee44 @blacktithe7 @hoboal87 @mogaruke @supraveng @deandreamernp @akshi8278 @lyarr24 @kazsrm67 @chriszgirl92 @deanwithscissors @raisinggray @fanfic-n-tabulous @hobby27 @deans-spinster-witchs-favorites @yvonneeeeeeee @tmb510 @fallenlilangel99

#law & love #jensen ackles #big sky #beau arlen #beau x reader

[highwaywhump]

Would you be up for writing a little piece about kill shelters, from the pet’s POV? I saw that you said you wouldn’t write about pets actually being PTS - completely understandable! - what if someone were to come in at the last second with the news that the pet’s original owner had been found? I’m so curious on what the process would be for the shelter handling this- since it would technically be murder, how would it be done in a way to remain ‘legal’? And what would the pet be told? Would they tell them what was going to happen, or just ‘get on with it’? :o

TW/CW: A CHARACTER THAT IDEALIZES DEATH/HAS SUICIDAL THOUGHTS. to be clear, he doesn't die, but another character does (this comes through very vaguely - never voiced outright). brief and vague mention of a gun, talk of scars, low self image, talk of collars and chains and cages/kennels, description of a hit and run victim (still alive), brief description of a dislocated hip, talk of restraints, talk of syringes and needles.

i know our community has suffered these past few days, and i was seriously debating whether i should post this piece or not. in the end, i figure that writing has been my way of overcoming difficult feelings for many years now, and i have been dealing with a lot of them lately, including intense stress and depression. if anyone feels i am doing something wrong in posting this piece, please let me know and i'll see what i'll do about it.

i am also painfully aware this ask was sent over a month ago (in reference to this ask), but i had to sit down and think about how i wanted to go about it. BE AWARE that the following piece features a character that idealizes/wishes for death - please sit this one out if you are struggling with such thoughts. i'm putting everything under a read more so that you can avoid reading a single word if you don't feel comfortable. my dm’s are always open if you want to talk about anything. <3

this character might seem familiar to some. spoiler, this is how poker from this piece ended up. he was about 35 when joey met him and he’s a few years older in this piece. and i'm sorry but there’s just something about men in cages… (also, let’s ignore that i add a bunch of details here that weren’t present in the first piece with him. also also, i don’t know what happened to the verb tenses in this one. it’s the middle of the night. roll with the punches i guess)

-

It might’ve been months since the guard dog saw his owner last. He doesn’t know. He’s stopped counting. 

Well. 

He never really started. 

He doesn’t remember much about him. He’d lost another fight, the last one in a long row of losses. He’d been pulled into the back of a car by his thick collar afterwards, dazed and hot and sputtering blood all over the leather seats. They’d hit him in the ribs for it and he knew he’d deserved it. 

Whoever was driving had been given orders in his owner’s rough voice. 

“Go down to the docks. Get rid of him.” 

He knew there was a lethal piece of metal stuck down the waistband of the driver’s jeans. 

He’d been taken a few hours outside the city instead, deposited on the wet asphalt outside of a brick building and chained to a drainpipe. The driver had gotten back in the car and sped off. 

The guard dog had leaned against the hard brick, watching as the brake lights disappeared. He didn’t think much, other than okay. As if he had anything else to say about his situation. 

His surroundings turned into a shapeless blur from there. Hands touching him, cold and unfeeling and clad in blue rubber. A couple were soft and took their time to stroke his hair, scratch the hard to reach place between his shoulder blades. He savored those moments, and tried to remember the hands and the face they belonged to, but none of it lasted. 

Nothing ever lasted around him, it seemed. He couldn’t keep an owner for more than a few months, never more than a year. Couldn’t keep winning. Couldn’t keep anyone safe, even though that was the thing he was made for. The only thing that kept, were the scars. 

And the fucking tattoo on his wrist. Not even the facility that had made him, wanted him back when the shelter called them about him. Too old. They had no prospects who would want someone like him. 

That was what the visitors said too, few and far between as they were. Too old. Too big, too many scars, too scary, too ugly, too old, too dumb, too old again. They talked about him as if he wasn’t even there, huddled up in a corner just on the other side of the chain link. 

He knew it was his fault. He should be, or at least seem, happier to see them. Smile. Wait at the kennel gate, like all the others did whenever somebody stopped by. 

But to what end? Another owner who would put him in the ring again, just to be angry at him when he loses? Or someone he can take bullets for again, even though he isn’t quick and bright enough to anticipate them anymore? 

He doesn’t dare hope that anyone else would want him, not in his condition. It’s true, what they say. He’s old. Scarred, slow. There are sunshine stories of even the most unwanted of pets, expenses in every way, who somehow end up on the couches of kind people who just want a companion, their head resting in their laps, petted by soft fingers.

Those people get platonics, though. Domestics. Even the occasional romantic can adapt to such a lifestyle. 

But not an old ex guard dog, like him. 

He’s no use to anyone, not anymore. 

They remove him from the kennel one day. For a moment, his heart beats a little faster. He can’t tell if it’s fear or excitement, but it turns out neither is warranted. He’s taken to another room, a chain attached to his collar, the other end pin shackled to a ring in the wall. Another pet, younger and prettier, is put in his kennel. He can see them through the frosted glass on the door. 

He turns away. 

He doesn’t cry. 

Visitors don’t come through this room, he realizes, and for the first few days he’s happy for it. Nobody talks about him now. It’s quiet and the cold linoleum floor is almost comfortable on his joints. The only bad thing about this room is the other pet, chained to the wall opposite of him. The man is curled up, breathing shallowly through dried blood in his nostrils, and the sound is annoying. He’s younger than him, and he was probably very pretty once, but now his face is bruised and swollen, and bloody in the crevices even though they washed him with a damp cloth when he came in. Hit and run, somebody had said in passing.

That was four days ago. The guard dog watches him, mostly because there isn’t much else to look at in here. His leg is in a weird position, he’s noticed. It’s as if the thigh has rotated where it attaches to the hip. He wonders if it’s supposed to be that way. It doesn’t look very comfortable. His stomach is weirdly distended, too. It looks out of place on a body that is otherwise slim and smooth. 

Two workers descend on him one day, kneeling down beside the misshapen figure. They talk to him, sweetly, as they gently lift him over on a gurney and start wheeling him through another door. “You’ll feel a lot better when you wake up,” one of the workers say, a vinyl clad hand patting his shoulder. The one part of him that isn’t broken. 

The guard dog catches the faint smile visible through a swollen cheek as they pass him. The other pet is happy they’re coming for him, making him feel better. Finally. 

Maybe twenty minutes have passed when the workers come back. One of them wipes their hands on their worn jeans. “Glad that’s over,” he mutters. "Should have been done when he came in," the other says. The guard dog meets his gaze as they pass. Neither of them say anything. 

They’d come for him a few days later. They wear the same smiles and the same gloves as they did with the other pet, but he doesn’t need the sweet talking. He goes with them willingly. He’d stopped eating a while back and his muscle tone had disappeared a long time ago, so it was easy for them to help him up to his feet. He’s taller than them, still, and keeps his head down the way he’s always done. 

He’s known cold. Heat, pain, pleasure even, in small stints. Grief, fear. Rage. As he places one bare foot in front of the other on the beige linoleum, obediently following the worker in front, he knows he will soon know death. 

And he isn’t afraid. 

“You won’t feel a thing,” one of them says as they help him sit on the steel table in the next room, as if anyone has ever cared about how he’s feeling. 

“You’ll feel much better after,” the other worker says, without specifying exactly what was supposed to be better, as they gently lay him down. The table has leather straps hanging down the sides, ready to restrain its more unwilling cases, but he doesn’t move and they don’t use the straps. In the corner of his eye he can see two syringes on the counter. One of them is skinny and filled with clear fluid. The needle is small and will slip into him easily. He’s had many needles before. This won’t feel any different, he decides. The other syringe is larger, the needle too big to be used on somebody who was awake feel it. 

It doesn’t matter. He’ll feel better after. The guard dog refocuses his gaze on the bright light overhead. He closes his eyes. 

“Small pinch, now,” one worker says, and he can feel a pinprick at the crook of his elbow, the cold liquid fanning up his arm as it is being pushed in. His heart beats a few more times before the serum reaches it. He can feel his pulse, docile to begin with, calm down even more. He feels sleepy, his body heavy, as if he’s being pushed into the table from above. The hard metal digging into his joints doesn’t matter anymore. He knows he won’t even notice the other syringe. He knows he’ll feel better soon. 

A grating ringtone interrupts his silent mind. One of the workers picks up, speaking in a low voice. Sleep tugs at the edges of his mind, and he wants to follow. Right before he goes under, the sound of hard plastic hitting metal and a few words make it through the fuzzy walls inside his head. 

“No trouble at all. You’re just in time, sir.” 

--

to answer your other questions, anon: in the legal sense it wouldn't be murder, as the pets aren't people anymore, they're only human at the biological level (again, in a legal sense). it's necessary :) and humane :) euthanasia :). the pets aren't told anything/they're gently reassured and told they're going on for surgery, or something similar. i think "you'll feel better when you wake up," is a classic in these circles. i'm sure some understand what is about to happen (hence the restraints on the table), but the majority goes quick and silent. i have no idea what happens to them after though so don't ask me about that :)

#cw idealization of death #cw suicidal thoughts #cw gun mention #cw scar mention #cw low self image #cw collars #cw cage #cw dislocated joint #cw restraints #cw syringes #cw needles #whump #whump story #whump fic #bbu multiverse #boxboy whump #wru boxboy #boxboy #feel free to unfollow/block me if you don't like this type of content #it's new to me too #i don't want to make anyone feel uncomfortable #but writing whump makes me feel better and gives me a handle on difficult feelings #and this piece is the first thing (in general) that i've produced in months that i actually like #so i'm posting it #give me a gentle nudge in the dms if you want me to archive it

[syntheticallymade]

JEROME VOMIT FETISH

Jerome enters Matt's office, his face pale and looking like he's about to vomit any second.

"Matt, sorry to interrupt, but where's the bathroom?" Jerome asks, as he takes a mental note of who all is in the room.

Matt points to the door on his right. "It's right over there, Jerome. You okay?"

"I don't know, man," Jerome says, taking a step back. "I think I'm gonna hurl."

"Go ahead, Jerome. If you need to puke, just do it in front of us. We won't judge," Matt says reassuringly, but Isra looks at him with disgust.

Knowing he has support in Matt, Jerome comes up with a plan and swiftly leaves the boardroom.

"What the hell, Matt? That's disgusting," Isra says, wrinkling her nose.

"What? I'm just being supportive," Matt says defensively. "Jerome's a good guy, and he's always been there for us."

Isra rolls her eyes. "This is getting ridiculous. First sensory nests, now vomit. What's next, free seeing eye dogs for anyone who wants one? Get real.”

"Hey, sensory nests are not ridiculous," Matt says, getting defensive again. "They serve a purpose, and they're important for people with certain conditions."

Just then, Jerome bursts back into the room, looking even more distressed than before.

“I can’t make it to the bathroom," he says, his face pale. "I’m about to blow."

Joey, Matt, Isra, and Evelyn all watched as Jerome made his way to a nearby trash can, breathing heavily as he did so.

He hunched over the bin, his body wracked with dry heaves.

"Go on, Jerome," Joey said, "Let it all out."

Matt nodded in agreement. "We don't judge here. If this is what you need to do, we're here for you."

Isra looked uncomfortable, but she nodded her head as well. "Yeah, man. Do your thing."

Evelyn remained silent, her eyes locked on Jerome. A fury burning within her. She had always known that there was something different about him, something that set him apart from the others. Looking at him now, she saw a gleam in his eyes. Could it be that he was getting pleasure from having a crowd watch him get sick? She knew he was different, but she never suspected that he could be aroused by his own vomit.

Just then, Jerome became violently ill and started to throw up in front of everybody. His vomit covered his clothes and it splashed across Matt’s desk. Matt and Joey gave supportive smiles, while Isra and Evelyn recoiled in disgust.

Jerome couldn’t be happier.

He took a deep breath and straightened up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, trying to conceal his grin.

"Thanks, guys," he said, "That really helped. I’ll never forget this night. Trust me.”

Joey patted him on the back. "Anytime, buddy."

Matt turned his attention back to the blueprints in front of him. "So, let's get back to business, shall we? I believe Isra was comparing sensory nests to concentration camps?”

Isra nodded, but Evelyn spoke up. "Wait a minute. What just happened here? We can't just ignore what we just saw."

Joey looked at her, puzzled. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, we just watched Jerome happily vomit into a trash can, and we're acting like it's no big deal. Why was he so eager to get sick in front of an audience?”

Matt shrugged. "It's not a big deal. It's just Jerome being Jerome."

Evelyn shook her head.

Isra rolled her eyes.

Jerome looks mortified at the suggestion and his face turns a deep shade of red.

He stumbles backwards, tripping over a chair and knocking over a stack of Anti Nest propaganda as he does so.

“No, no, no!” he stammers, “That’s not true at all! I’m not some kind of pervert! I just fantasize about vomiting on people. Surely they would feel badly for me, as I’m the one who is sick. They’d probably insist on cleaning themselves up, even though that takes away from my fantasy. If you consider that to be a fetish of some sort, knock yourself out. I’ll be over here with the rest of the evolved portion of mankind.”

Evelyn is unconvinced, and her eyes narrow as she glares at him. “Oh really?” she retorts, “Then why did you seem to get aroused when you got sick?”

Joey steps forward, trying to diffuse the situation.

“Come on guys,” he says, “Let’s not make a big deal out of this.”

But it’s too late. Evelyn is already on a roll.

“I knew there was something weird about you,” she hisses at Jerome.

“You always act like you’re better than everyone else, but really you’re just a freak!”

Jerome’s face contorts in anger.

“How dare you!” he yells back, “You think you’re so perfect, but you’re just a shallow, judgmental bitch!”

The room falls silent as everyone turns to look at Jerome in shock.

Even Isra, who has been quiet up until this point, seems taken aback.

Evelyn is seething with rage and begins to make stimming noises, a desperate attempt to collect herself. After all, she is still intent on fighting with Isra for her right to have her sensory nests. She needs to be sharp.

“I can’t believe you just said that,” she snaps, “You know what? You’re right. I am shallow. I’m shallow because I care about things like the beauty of nature and the artistry of nest building. But you know what’s really shallow? And, quite frankly, extremely disturbing? Getting off on vomit!”

Jerome looks like he’s about to explode.

“You don’t know anything about me,” he spits, “You don’t know what it’s like to be me.”

He anxiously licks the corners of his mouth, hoping there is at least some residual vomit for him to ingest. That residual vomit would not be found. He had wiped his face too well. “Damn,” he thought to himself.

He began to spiral at the prospect of not having any vomit on hand.

Evelyn notices what Jerome is doing, and what he is looking for. Her voice rises to a fever pitch. “Thank God for that! I don’t want to know what it’s like to be you!” she screams, “You’re disgusting!”

[teslacoils-and-hubris]

For your tf2 ocs, how do they get along with all the mercs and Miss Pauling? Like what kind of relationships do they have?

hehe oh boy :3 gonna go through this merc by merc- also i added the administrator and saxton hale for fun- under the cut cause this got LOONG with 3 ocs x 12 characters-

Soldier

Chemist has a teasing/antagonistic relationship with him, since he's The Definition of a hippy despite being a merc. Whenever soldier calls someone a dirty hippy he's just like 'what, you mean like meeee?' and soldier starts yelling at chemist. it's fine they're friends its like a cat purposely annoying a dog

Soldier has conflicted feelings about the artist- mostly because they're pretty quiet and timid and are scared of guns when they first get the job customizing them so soldier thinks they're a coward(true). But artist is always very respectful of soldiers totally real military rank so they're alright- this continues as artist comes out of their shell and gets more assertive and into weapons

informat doesn't spend much time interacting with the team honestly- he's just a contact of spy's not someone working for the administrator. That said he find's soldier's recklessness and genuine nature a breath of fresh air. Soldier is trying to teach him to rocket jump- but joey isn't hooked up to respawn so doesn't want to take the chance

Scout

scout reminds chemist of his younger brother- despite the pair being the same age- so he wants to give advice to scout. Scout, for his part, usually sees the advice as complete nonsense and doesn't understand why "looking like you're dying of the flu" would help him pick up chicks

him and artist get along pretty well! they sometimes hang out just to draw together. Artist is more than happy to let scout do all the talking, though they're fully capable of cutting in with a good joke now and then

I imagine poor jer had a bit of a crush on the informat when they first met. I think scout is into competent people and joey is very competent at their job. i don't think it lasted too long, but its sort of awkward for scout now.

Pyro

they smoke weed with chemist and sniper. best friend trio who hot box sniper's van

they make artist uneasy. They rely so much on facial expressions and even with how animated pyro is they have a hard time figuring out what they're feeling. It's an anxiety thing artist knows isn't fair to pin on pyro, but they can't really help it. They're working on it!

i dont imagine informat likes them. at least not at first. Pyro is a bit of an inverse of joey's specific Character Type that it's a sort of self recognition in the other kind of moment that joey isn't really equipped to handle. something about pyro wearing a physical mask but being so unabashedly themselves while joey wears metaphorical masks to the point they don't have any real clear sense of self left anymore

Engineer

i dont have much to say for chemist honestly. they're like. chill. idk maybe chemist annoys dell into cooking for him when he gets the munchies

Dell was introduced to this poor wet cat on the verge of tears who was scared of power drills and was forced into a job painting guns and went dammit I cant NOT help them figure out their damn job and they've been inseparable ever since. I imagine them in the crushing stage with dell dropping hints that he likes them and Monty being an idiot like 'haha its perfectly normal for friends to want to make out with their friends what do you mean you think i have a crush on dell???'

Engie doesn't trust joey much at first. he doesn't like the whole information field or how they seem to be always putting up a front. But that distrust waves as Joey slowly lets walls break down

Demoman

magic buddies! they hang out and talk about weird esoteric ideas about the universe and aliens and whatnot. good friends!

I dont really have much for the other two. I think he'd be good for building artists confidence and he'd probably get along well enough with joey but nothing specific jumps to mind

Heavy

for some reason i feel like heavy would adopt an older brother persona with chemist and try to get him to grow up a bit? i have no reasoning for this decision other than the fact that I like big bro heavy

he and artist trade book recommendations. heavy appreichiates the chance to practice his english and his literature degree at the same time

i think Joey's disguised but probing questions would set off alarm bells for heavy that make him shut down the conversation. probably best the two keep their distance lest joey find out something about heavy's family that heavy would rather him not know.

Spy

annoyed at the gross hippy tendancies of chemist. chemist doesn't like that spy works for the Maaan, man.

indifferent to each other. Spy feels a bit bad for them after getting curious and digging into their past and why they got shoved into merc duty.

he's professional partners with the informat. they run on a series of favors promised back and forth. they both have deep respect for the other and sometimes go out drinking together

Medic

on the one hand kind of offput by the human experimentation- on the other medic knows how to get lsd directly into the brain soooo

artist has a weird facsination with medic's work, even if you wouldn't guess that on the surface. medic enjoys having someone who's willing to listen to his ramblings about super baboon hearts or whatever

informat looked up everything he could find on medic after their first meeting. joey is very, Very scared of medic and what he's capable of doing while giggling like a school girl

Sniper

they like to drive into the desert and get stoned and look for ufos together. best friends!

you put two autistic people who are bad at starting conversations in a room together and see what happens. Absolutely nothing they never talk. Artist thinks sniper is scary cause they can't read his expressions and sniper is more than aware that artist is scared of him

Informat saw sniper wrestling a croc, got so horny he nearly passed out, and thought if they banged that would be it. oops turned out sniper's weird bluntness and outdoorsman nature have awoken long suppressed feelings in joey and he's fallen Actually in love and has no idea how to cope. somehow they start dating. sniper calls joey roo

Miss Pauling

is constantly trying to get pauling to calm down and take a break every now and then. it never works. pauling either appreciates the effort or finds it annoying depending how stressed she is

artist can't really get over the idea of her as their boss. they like pauling enough but its a very professional relationship

informat has deep respect for all the shit pauling goes through. shes incredibly good at her job, even if her job sometimes makes his job harder.

Admin

mark chemist down as scared AND horny!

god so scared. why are so many people constantly threatening them please they didn't even finish art school they didn't sign up for this!

knows far more than he should. Very invested in NOT finding out any more. Don't need to be on her radar.

Saxton hale

punching panthers is like, soo uncool man. think about mother nature!

looks up to his confiedence, also very put off by his confidence

Joey keeps a close on him for work. lots of people are interested in finding hale's weakness

#asks #my ocs #woof that took a while!

[basaltdelta]

Asks you about your journalist oc asks you about your journalist oc asks you abo- /pos

YES!! YES!!!! So Bombus 'Buddy' is the journalist, they're chill in a contained anxiety way. and Autism way. They're a grumpus of very little words yet somehow everyone tends to let words spill out around them. Theyre just a comforting person to be around, they're always listening and while they'll have snarky remarks if you start it, its usually something that'll make you reflect on yourself and not close up. Bombus was planning their whole early life to be a veterinarian but something happened that made them spiral into journalism and taking a major career change. This helps when they go to snaktooth island. For their 'current' job they do mostly cryptozoology because its fun and people like it. Bombus likes conspiracies because they're fun to think about not because Bombus believes them- even if they've uncovered a few themselves. Bombus has like another pen name for more serious things they do stories on so they don't get their head blown off. Not that it would, but they're very paranoid about disappearing in the middle of the night. On the island of Snaktooth, Bombus is a little obsessive with documenting absolutely everything (mirroring my 100% playthrough lol). They have multiple journals and they regularly talk to Floofty and Triffany for the more science-y stuff. That's their professional journal though. The journal Beffica gave them is the original they lug around with them everyone and write field notes in along with the issues everyone else has. Because its habit at this point to write down everyone else's issues. Beffica is also a close friend of theirs honestly because Bombus loves loves to gossip and know things. Bombus just considers themselves friends with everyone on the island!! Maybe less so Cromdo but hes fun to get into arguments with about haggling and non existent money. Think around a week into their adventures on Bugsnax island they find a unique sort of Bugsnax based off the food Mousse. They don’t have any fun bugsnax name because theyre literally a mouse!! Which is what Bombus calls her, mostly because they didnt know how to pronounce ‘mousse’ before. Theyre a weird sort of bugsnax that genuinely struggles and will attack you if you try to eat it, and Bombus tends to talk to it like she can actually talk back. Mousse is always on or around Bombus and everyone else...is a little uncomfortable with it. Even Gramble. Mousse doesnt like gramble. Gramble doesnt like mousse. She fills him with dread. (This is based on how i had another person in the vc with me helping while I played bugsnax) Bigsnax and ending spoilers after this point btw

Bombus has always been a little paranoid, not as bad as Snorpy is but being an investigator as long as Bombus has will give you the kinda gut instinct that makes the rest of your normal life nerve wracking. When Bombus went to Broken tooth island and found that key in that cave it fucked them up. That shouldnt of been there. at all. It doesnt match the rest of the area in the slightest and the triangle scheme reminds them of the stupid grumpinati thing Snorpy talks about. Bombus doubts it was planted there, but when they find the triplicate space and the tapes it basically sets up what they do from there on out. They document every single fucking inch of that place. Taking books and the tapes and taking so many pictures their camera starts heating up. They also quickly capture Joey Quickbeans and adopt them as their own bugsnax pet along with Mousse. Mostly cause they want to return them to Alegander? Or as like...’plz dont kill me im holding ur dog hostage’ When they leave Snaktooth they take a Small Detour from helping everyone not die to save all of their research, which they’ve painstakingly taken the time to put into easy to transport journals and tapes thank fuck, so it only takes quickly putting it on and bolting. Everyones also very mad when they hear Mousse. Because they just learned Bugsnax are parasites and suck. Bombus Also has Joey and Sprout in their bag but the others don’t know about it. I like to think a year or two after snaktooth Bombus talks to gramble and mentions Sprout to see if maybe he’d want them back. (He...thinks on it. He might. Hes conflicted. Also a little mad Bombus brought it but also grateful?) The next step of their story is research the Triplicate, Snakolytes and find Alegander. And get distracted for a bit doing a favour and trying to clear Snorpy and Floofty’s names. Skimming over the romance with Floofty cause while I like it, it may not be everyones cup of tea so ill probably talk about it in other posts :-) I am planning on making a fic for it though!!

#pyropost #bugsnax #the journalist #Bombus 'Buddy' Redacted #WOOF I really rambled here!! #If u have any further questions plz ask them #I love love love to talk about my little guys gamers #I also want to make a bugsnax inscryption au..both ways. #As in the bugsnax characters in inscryption #and the inscryption characters in bugsnax

[charley-and-the-swap-machine]

CATSM: REINK'D (Chapter 2: Part 1)

Who is "Sammy Lawrence"?

The Voice Of Thomas Connor

It's dark and it's cold and it's stuck in behind every single wall now. In some places, I swear this godforsaken ink is clear up to my knees!

Whoever thought that these crummy pipes could hold up under this kind of strain either knows something about pressure I don't, or he's some kind of idiot.

But the real worst part about all this... are them noises the system makes. Like a dying dog on its last legs.

Make no mistake, this place... this... machine... heck, this whole darn thing... it just isn't natural.

You can bet, I won't be doing any more repair jobs for Mister Joey Drew.

-------------------------------------

"Ugh, my head....what happened?"

Henry came to his senses, and found half of his face squished against a pentagram, surrounded by candles. What the hell is this? How did I-

Soon, every memory came flowing back to him, and he went to one conclusion. Well, I guess there's only one thing left to do...press on. See if I can find a way out.

He staggered to his feet and looked around for his axe, soon finding it propped against a coffin of some sorts. As he picked it up, that same, strange curiosity came though him once more.

No, Henry, you are NOT opening that thing. He thought to himself, turning away from it before turning his head back.

....Well, maybe a small peek wouldn't hurt.....right?

Putting down his axe, he ever so carefully opened the coffin.

.....Henry then felt a wave of disgust go through him.

Inside lay a rotting cadaver, covered with the black substance found everywhere in the studio. It hugged the body loosely, but was just tight enough to expose a grotesque figure, mouth agape and hands in an unnatural position. Rigor Mortis. The teeth had rotted already, and the body itself gave a stench putrid enough to make Henry gag. This is a dead body. Joey used this to do something....horrible. Oh, god.....Joey, what the hell were you doing......?

Henry quickly shut the coffin, shutting the nauseating scent of rotting flesh and ink back inside. Keep pushing forward. He thought, as he blinked a few times and turned away, grabbing his axe again.

He hacked through the doorway before him, before finding himself before a staircase. Goin' down again, huh?

And so, he descended downwards....

-

-

-

-

-

-

.....Hey, Joey. Again, what the fuck?

Everywhere were......shrines. Shrines littered with writing, candles, maybe a few bowls and cans of that soup he found everywhere. Bacon soup? How would you even do that? Put bacon in salty water and throw in a few bits of vegetables? Shrines containing that same, grinning face he saw everywhere. Charley. What was Joey doing? Running a cult? Turning this....what is he even? Some oversized cat? A monkey? Some guy with a horribly deformed nose? I'm the one who designed him, what was he again...? Was he trying to turn this oversized whatever-the-fuck into the next Jesus or something? He was just discovering more and more things as he went on....

A larger shrine caught his eye, with words in dark scribbled letters. 'He Will Set Us Free' Who the fuck is 'he'?

He pressed play on the tape recorder, and stepped back.

---------------------------------------

The Voice Of Sammy Lawrence

He appears from the shadows to rain his sweet blessings upon me.

The figure of ink that shines in the darkness.

I see you, my savior. I pray you hear me.

Those old songs, yes, I still sing them.

For I know you are coming to save me.

And I will be swept into your final loving embrace.

But, love requires sacrifice.

Can I get an amen?

--------------------------------

The tape shut off with a click. Henry stood there, dazed. He sounded familiar...but I can't put my finger on it. Who was he..?

"I said, CAN I GET AN AMEN?" A voice echoed out of nowhere, and Henry turned around wildly to search for the source. "Oh, FUCK OFF!" He shouted in response.

No reply followed. ....Either he shut up, or I'm finally going crazy. I'm hungry.

Going over two one of the shrines, he grabbed a can of bacon soup, searching for a pull tab. ....Oh. No can openers here, guess I'll have to improvise.

Switching the axe upside down, he awkwardly pried opened the can, tearing off an uneven chunk of metal. He then gulped down the contents like soda pop, expecting something rotten, but...

Oh. That's actually....decent? When did this.....'expires in'....oh, that is a long time ago. Well, it certainly doesn't taste rotten, so I guess that's fine.

Tossing the can away, he continued onwards.

Making his way to a hallway, he soon found that it was flooded with ink. I need new shoes anyways.

He trudged through the dark fluid for a while, before noticing a figure pass by and freezing up.

"OH! Hello! Excuse me! Can you help me? Hello?" He called after the figure, as they stared at him with glowing eyes, before turning back around and walking away.

"Hey, come back!" He continued, rushing through the ink, before turning the corner and realizing they were gone.

"Where the hell did he go?" He muttered, staring at the Charley cutout in their place, giving that toothy grin to Henry.

He was sure he'd gotten himself into a bigger mess now as he looked around...

#batim au #bendy and the ink machine #batim #batim ask blog #batim charley #henry stein #‟pen to paper‟ 📽️

[hunterwritesstuff]

Can you tell us about all the ocs in ur au? Just like names. Or just the characters in general?

Yeah! Going under the cut bc long, but listing most important stuff about them <3 TWs ahead: Abuse, religious trauma, parent death, death, homophobia mention, grief, and other heavy stuff, PLEASE take care of yourselves! Also, don't worry, I'm doing my research for the things here that I don't have experience with and I'm handling the sensitive stuff with utmost care <3

🧸 Hunter had a dad in the navy, but when Hunter was ten-ish, he died out at sea :(

🧸 He was an animator before the studio fell!

🧸 Before the studio fell, he was probably closest to Tom, Sammy, or Wally!

🧸 The reason he quit working there was due to him getting stressed out due to having to deal with his family AND incredibly short deadlines.

🧸 He has the same thing I do where if I stand for too long, his legs start to hurt :(

🧸 His favorite animals are manatees! :D(He relates to them a bit too much lol)

🧸 He very much so will break out into song at random.

🧸 He sees Tom as a father figure!

🧸 He had a breakdown when he realized he was gay :(

🧸 Sammy helped him through it <3

🧸 He's autistic btw, almost everyone here is aside from the last three-

✝️ Kenneth is an ex-choir boy!

✝️ He used to go to church, but stopped when he just didn't have the time to go anymore. He still practices slightly, like, he prays whenever he sees a carcrash, disaster of some sort where other people are in danger/hurt, or he's stressed, and he has a rosary in his pocket at any given time(as a comfort thing and like, as a fidget thing lol)! :D

✝️ Like many of my other ocs, he's autistic lol

✝️ He's always had a weaker right leg, so that's why he uses the cane :D

✝️ He definitely spends a fair amount of his morning routine choosing which cane to use for the day(It has to MATCH the VIBE of the OUTFIT!!! What's the point if it DOESN'T?!?)

✝️ He started off at JDS as a one-off VA for a character(A radio announcer that Bendy bothered because he said he was "too young to go into the business"), but he was fun to work with, so Joey kept him around for other voicework! :D

✝️ Before he worked at Joey Drew Studios, he was a radio announcer!

✝️ He always sorta. forgets to get food?? But Wally helps with that! :D

✝️ Also like, he's sorta like, a mix of Alastor and very VERY toned down Spamton(The best way to explain it is to show how he speaks, so like, he'll deadass just speak like this: "Weather got ya down? No worries! Get some HUGS from YOURS TRULY to help youR SOUL ASCEND to GREAT HEIGHTS!!!!!", his ass does NOT know volume control unless he's working-)

✝️ Also his last name is lowkey a reference to a musical artist I used to listen to a lot when I was younger-

🐕‍🦺 John is an. interesting fella!

🐕‍🦺 He looks average as shit on first glance, maybe you'd think he's like. a little sexist? But nope! He's actually quite sweet, in reality!

🐕‍🦺 He can't really handle excitement too much though :(

🐕‍🦺 Most times, he has his service dog, Wily with him(Wily is a Newfoundland :3), but he can't really bring that to the studio, so he threw together a device that detects his pulse, and if it goes too fast, it beeps at him(I KNOW THIS IS THE THIRTIES BUT LET ME HAVE THIS PLSSS)

🐕‍🦺 Overtime, Norman catches onto this and warns him whenever like. something might be too exciting for him.

🐕‍🦺 His family(thankfully) was in the rare percent of people who were chill with gay people :)

🐕‍🦺 They always felt so bad he had to hide such an, in their words "amazing and beautiful part of yourself" :(

🐕‍🦺 He's one of the few OCs I have who has a good relationship with his parents :]

🐕‍🦺 He's such a shithead in the like, /affectionate way, I love him.

🐕‍🦺 He works at GENT btw lol

🐙 This is Barley!(His name was chosen on purpose lol) He's Hunter's bio dad!

🐙 We love him! He's like, the best dad one could ask for!

🐙 He's the kinda dad to hand out full size candy bars during halloween and compliment EVERY SINGLE COSTUME, and like?? NOT COMMENT ON ANYONE WHO DOESN'T DRESS UP?? AND IF SOMEONE SAYS "Oh, I didn't dress up because I couldn't think of anything... :(" HE IMMEDIATELY SAID "That's alright! You went as the best thing you could, after all! Yourself! I'm so glad to have met you!"

🐙 He gave Hunter a manatee plush when he was like, two.

🐙 He always helped people out if they were having a rough time :)

🐙 Pure of heart, sweet of man <3

🐙 He wasn't a pushover, though! He could still stand up for himself!

🐙 He took Hunter out fishing a lot! Mostly to catch up on what was going on in his kid's life :)

🐙 He loved Hunter with all of his heart, bro, that man treated his son like a Goddamn PRINCE.

🐙 Even if he had a rough day, he'd always either sing Hunter to sleep or read him a bedtime story because "My son being happy makes me happy" :)

🐙 He'd be proud of Hunter...he'd be so proud...

🐙 His ghost still sorta watches over Hunter, man. HE JUST WANTS TO TELL HIM HOW FUCKING PROUD HE IS OF HIMMMM

🐙 BARLEY MAKES ME FUCKING CRY BRO

🪼 This is Marcy, Barley's wife!(And someone else's now, BUT WE'LL FUCKING GET TO HIM.)

🪼 Before Barley passed, she was the typical housewife! Heart of gold!

🪼 She always made sure to make extra bacon for breakfast because it was Barley's favorite and he'd always eat almost all of it :)

🪼 She's a seamstress! :D

🪼 Before Barley died, she always made sure to fix Hunter's manatee if it ever needed it :)

🪼 She was just...so sweet before everything happened...

🪼 Then she got the ill-fated letter. Barley was dead.

🪼 Their once happy, life-filled home now felt...empty. Soulless.

🪼 The day Barley died, a part of Marcy died too.

🪼 The loneliness was too much for her, so after a few months, to try to cope with the loneliness, she found someone and married him.(Again, WE'LL GET TO HIM. DON'T WORRY.)

🪼 Hunter was now just...another person in the house at this point. Marcy still loved him, but she couldn't handle spending much time with him because he acted too much like Barley for her to be able to stand it for too long. The wound was still too fresh.

🪼 She turns a blind eye to how her husband acts because...well...she doesn't want to be lonely anymore.

🪼 The house has a husband in it now, but it feels even more soulless now. There's a new husband and stepdaughter, but the life almost feels even MORE drained out of it.

🪼 Also like, now, anytime Hunter gets home, she measures him to keep track of how big he is. This is why Hunter doesn't really like hugs unless he trusts the person.

🦋 Rebecca. Ooh, Rebecca, Rebecca, Rebecca, where do I start with her?

🦋 She's Hunter's stepsister. Typical fare for stepsisters in fiction. Bratty, nosy, all of that.

🦋 She doesn't understand privacy too well. She'll just randomly walk into Hunter's room to whine about the latest drama she's had to deal with.

🦋 She's just...exhausting for Hunter to deal with.

🦋 She's younger than Hunter, so she gets pampered a fair amount.

🦋 She gets Hunter to do shit he doesn't want to by saying "Well, if you don't do this for me, I could always tell dad about how you're...well...y'know."

🦋 We don't LIKE HER in this FUCKING HOUSE!!! 🗣️🗣️🗣️

🦋 Very Rarity-like in the worst possible way.

🦋 Very particular about how everything goes.

🦋 She doesn't understand Hunter's attachment to his manatee plush. It's old, stained, and just overall sorta icky looking(It is covered in years of love and Hunter doesn't want to wash it because it means so much to him and it still sorta has the comforting smell of his bio dad on it so he doesn't want to lose that)

🦋 Trying to decide if I want her to get the Anastasia from the Cinderella sequels treatment or not lmao

🦋 Her dad treats her like a princess. She's very spoiled.

🦋 Speaking of the bitch...

⛓️ This is Bruce. Hunter's stepdad. I hate him so fucking much.

⛓️ He's practically the exact opposite of Barley.

⛓️ He's cold, callous, cruel, uncaring...

⛓️ Y'know that one song someone on youtube made of like. the three disney villains singing about their woes with their daughters?

⛓️ This one? He's basically just Lady Tremaine's verse.

⛓️ He tells everyone that "Hunter just stays in his room all the time because he's a recluse who doesn't love his family.", but he basically gives Hunter no real...reason to come out of his room, even going so far as to make the like, "Look who's finally come out of his room." comments whenever Hunter tries to come out.

⛓️ He basically only pays attention to Rebecca and Marcy, honestly.

⛓️ Holier than thou attitude basically.

⛓️ Unfortunately, unlike Barley, he's. actually REALLY FUCKING HOMOPHOBIC.

⛓️ Anytime Hunter has any friends over, he shoots him a suspicious look. Like, he always assumes Hunter brings them over to either open up about how he's treated or for like, sexual shit.

⛓️ SPEAKING OF HUNTER'S FRIENDS, HE DOESN'T HAVE FUCKING MANY DUE TO THIS BITCH. He vets every person Hunter seems interested in and nine times out of ten doesn't really let Hunter talk with them.

⛓️ He's such a piece of shit, I ACTUALLY HATE HIM SO FUCKING MUCH.

⛓️ He literally doesn't allow Hunter to make ANY mistakes. If any are made, he reacts VERY FUCKING POORLY.

⛓️ HE'S WHY HUNTER HATES SURPRISE HIGH-FIVES.

⛓️ I FUCKING HATE HIM.

⛓️ I WANT HIS ASS DEAD.

⛓️ He literally just sees Hunter as a smudge on the family name.

⛓️ I WANT TO TEAR HIM APARTTTT RAHHHHH 🦅🦅🦅🔥🔥🦅🦅🔥🔥

⛓️ If the law didn't exist, the INSTANT TOM HEARD ABOUT HOW THIS MF TREATS HUNTER, IT WOULD BE ON FUCKING SIGHT.

⛓️ Whenever Hunter stands up to him, he just laughs, knowing that it won't last long.

⛓️ Whenever Hunter gets more like...dead in personality in the story before he gets inked, THIS MF IS TO BLAME, RAAAAAGGHHH

This is who and what I have so far lol OKAY NOW I NEED TO POST THIS AND GO SHOWER IT'S ALREADY 2:38 PM RAAAHHH /silly

#batim ocs #hunter's ocs #my art #hunter's art #oh boy here comes tagging #hunter cruz #kenneth st. james #john roe #barley cruz #marcy cruz #bruce cruz #rebecca cruz #tw: abuse mention #ask to tag #tw: scars #tw: death #tw: abuse #tw: religious trauma #tw: parent death #tw: grief #tw: loss #tw: parental death #oc x canon #batim oc x canon #self insert #canon x oc #self insert oc #fan character

[truffledtoad]

This quick recommendation is canon.

Just finished this game, please go play it. Barkley Shut Up And Jam Gaiden is a game that I had heard a lot about before I played it myself, a few peers said that it was definitely foundational to a lot of people's humor and yeah, it definitely feels like a trailblazer. The game's writing is probably the biggest highlight. This is the game with "I believe ghosts are like dogs and they just sort of do things arbitrarily" and "I love animals so much I even love hunting animals (nicely though)!". However the general character writing is solid throughout, it's consistently good. I especially love the dynamic Charles has with the world. He's generally abrasive throughout and will regularly balk at the more eccentric NPCs, and yet take basketball entirely seriously, with genuine pathos. I really commend that the game goes so far on such a dumb concept. Sometimes one of the best and funniest bits is seeing how far someone can go on a silly premise, and taking it as seriously as it can. The game never outright tries to undermine itself, it WILL pull some stupid shit with it's main premise, and it WILL treat it no differently than how many early SNES RPGs treated their premises. Hell even if you don't like RPGs, there's some decent battle mechanics, way above the bar of most RPG Maker stuff. And it's not TOO long either, took me about 5 and a half hours to complete across 2 days. Oh and the music. GOD: the old spalding song sucked, arhwetoiahretio, falling down, and what the hell is on joeys head, and i think jonathan taylor thomas ESPECIALLY speaks for itself.

But yeah go play this game. It's aged remarkably well and is highly regarded for a reason: https://talesofgames.com/related_game/barkley-shut-up-jam-gaiden

Also on Barkley 2, haven't played what was released, and I know little about it other than it's development troubles. I'll definitely check out what was finished for the game though sometime.

#barkley #barkley shut up and jam gaiden #video game recommendation #canon #whoa #wow

[theorist-influencer-untitled]

1.22.24 Monday

1:43 am

Done, streaming on "Meetme" app,it is like Tagged, dating app and live streaming.

I invited my classmate in Conduent for my trial live stream, I don't know if they are interested or not at all...

Anyways, I still have windblow... I wanna find a Daddy-Bf material....

8:43 am

Still,have windblow... Yeah! I have a job later night at 9pm... I don't know if it is truly the last day of Boss Sho with us.... Last week before the transition he told us that on Monday, which is today will be his last day with us... Coz he will train the next batch and we will go to our TL's...

I chose to be with Joey the tomboy or any nice TL's.... Boss Sho told me that he will just check us every now and then...

I still need to keep a job and I need money and I need progress in time... Mastery of our job will take time...

By the way angels, I'm on chat group now... It is not that toxic but still you have to really find the answers for the client's inquiries using the document on their tool. The tool it is somehow cute... The nature of job is not that easy at the beginning, but you just need to master the flow of the client's inquiries and mastery of our product which will take time, of course... I mean if you will stay or can be there for 6 months or more then you can master the product...

Your enemy in chat group is the "sleepy feeling" coz that is the toxic angle of chat group, you have to fight the feeling of being sleepy coz your entire soul will be sleeping that you need to read and comprehend the client's inquiry. It is difficult if your soul is already sleeping then you still need to read and entertain your client's issues... In chat group the usual thing it is so quiet, that you have to be matured with your workmates, help each other not to fall asleep... If you fall asleep probably Jason will get you in your dreams or was it Fredie Krueger??? Or the Hell Raiser??

Me? I really wanna know where is that black american guy that I saw last week,that I hope for a "Subway Love" coz he was the first man that I saw in Conduent that I really like. A flesh and a human being passed by in the pantry which I don't know if he likes me...

9:18 am

I still have windblow... I need to diet....I need to diet... I need to keep a job and I need money...

I wanna remove my "deep smile lines"...

9:43 pm

Done, watching "The Crown" season 6... Waiting for season 7...

I really love the story of Kate and William... It is supposed to be an inspiration here, my angels knew what I'm pointing out... Kate is so lucky to have a very supportive biological mother and family and friends as well... There on season 6 there was an episode that Kate and her biological mother talked about William that Kate's mom said you like William, right? I forgot the exact thing but the flow of the story showed the Kate's mother will do everything just for Kate to have William. There was a point that Kate's mother said William will go there so, you will go there as well Kate for them to have a link or to be connected in a way within the same circle. Gets my point? So,Kate and William had encountered with each other before they became an item and as husband and wife.

What a lucky Kate! I love happy ending, love story.... What a lucky Kate!!! She is accepted and her timing were all good...

I also remember, I read a story titled "Love Story" by Erich Segal... Wait will check the author...

Yeah! Yeah! It is by Erich Segal... It is a good story but the girl died there that is the sad ending though they fulfilled to be with each other but the girl died. But the flow of the story is really good.... It is just weird that the girl died...

They said "In love, you never have to say your sorry" something like that....

It is just sad the girl died...

12:50 noon

Done,eating lunch with my son-dog and other dog and the rest here...

Will rest coz I have duty tonight at 9pm...

Hope to get a Daddy-bf hahaha yeah! Seriously.... I know I still need to keep a job.... But having Daddy in life is much better than being alone...

1:24 pm

I have windblow....I have a problem, I badly need to wash Snoopy... Hmm.... I'm really thinking...

7:59 pm

Here already in Conduent, eating my dinner with Mr Turtle...

#Youtube

[catrose13]

Chapter 8 A Stranger in Paradise, this Chapters "Brought to You By" had so many good ones but I suppose if I had to pick just one it would be "They're Stupid Your Honor"

Yami giving getting lost in your thoughts new meaning

Oof pulling a push door

Tristan what are you teaching him!?

...Self-awareness about the weirdness of their hair

..."Making out with your lover"...Yami Téa's mentally referring to you guys as 2-in-1, I don't think she or Yugi minds

The past six months have been a trip for Yugi

...did Yugi have Depression? On top of all the bullying bullshit that was going on with him?

"Magical Hell Games" that is one name for them... possibly more accurate than Shadow Games

...Look at Yugi go! A Girlfriend and a Boyfriend all in one evening

"Girls. Boys. Bakura" A special gender just for them

Cards Against Humanity Duel Monsters

Fuck that Gym Teacher too

Having a conversation only to look out the window and realise your Partners Mind and Soul are Immense and Unfathomable

"Ah in the Intimacy you Hear my Fearful heart" "Nah dude that's a helicopter"

Oh dear he's still tipsy...

"Water does not crumple" Good to know

Well I'm glad one of them is confident...even if it is "unwarranted"

He's enjoying the freefalling... I don't think he's going to enjoy the landing part though

Well you jinxed yourself there Seto

"Little Calico man"....

...Seto are you beginning to have... stirrings?

Seto how many dog jokes are you going to make about Joey?

Honestly I'm unsure why they're surprised he has a tracker on his brother, all things considered it seems rather tame to me

Lol Seto's not the only brother to consider it either

...Seto is discovering undiscovered depths in both himself and Yugi

Téa's ready to beat his ass

Mai taking charge. She is the only Competant Adult around

Aww Seto's rediscovering his conscience

Bakura's inner DM taking notes from Seto's murder house

Ah Yugi uses Logic. It's Super Effective

The Thief!! "Sanguine Robed" Sanguine is a word for red!

Also he talks in Ren Faire!!!!

The Thief is Bound by Divine Providence to the House of Blackwood...Does he know the Rabbit?

"Devilry! Alchemy! Bullshit!" Brilliant

He's very Proud of himself isn't he?

...Is he negotiating with a Goddess? Negotiating and not getting Smote. Well done Thief King

"The Great Beast"

Op well at least this Spirit likes Bakura?

And knows things about Bakura's family

The Three Conspiracy Theorists are back...attempting to identify Ammit's species. Good luck boys

...Mokuba is too small to kick Pegasus' butt so he's going to have to satisfy himself with his shins

All that effort Seto put in to not swearing around him had now been proven useless

..."Mr Zbones" with a silent Z....Shadi...

The Iron Giant...I cried watching that movie, why would you remind me of it

...First the Foxes and now Ammit... I don't think there's going to be any marshmallows left on the island by the time they leave

...The Marshmallows count as sacrifices in her honour?

"A Very Strange River" that's one word for it

Aw Mokuba's making friends

And Shadi's learning that Pegasus is possibly not who he's looking for, or rather he is but Shadi thought he was looking for someone else

Mokuba is aware of how dumb people can be

The first time ever Shadi's phone has received a phone call

Aw Brotherly Reunion...via phone

Welp Seto need new pants

Bandit Keith impresses Yugi with his Sly and Sneaky Skills

Keith has very good instincts...If only the other people on the island shared even a hint of them

Seto is unaware that Yugi can and will removed Pegasus' soul from his body

Shadi demonstrating Dad Instincts

The Divorce

Mokuba sneaking more S'mores

...Oxford again...hmmm

Grandpa that is certainly a Subject Line

Thoth....New God just dropped

"The fun version of Obsession" hmm I think most people would call that a crush Seto

Joey is ...summarising? Goodness

Again Grandpa why are you adding crimes? Is it to annoy the people who actually did those crimes? To cover for them? For the lolz? WHY?!

...Chupacabra again

I'm glad he's aware that he deserved to be chased with a knife after that pun

I love that he has time to slip in how awesome and sexy he finds Mai's skill with first aid

"Téa's scary good at Duel monsters if you ever want to lose again"

"Bestie Committed A Clown Murder" I don't know why but I feel like that would be a hilarious therapy session

My question exactly Seto

Well he's displaying self preservation instincts for possibly the first time in this entire fic

Aw Mai protecting Baby Seto's innocence

Seto and Bakura are bonding...nice?

...Definitely a good thing they weren't friend before

Téa's goal is to Fist Fight a Ghost?

"YUGI IT'S TIME TO DUEL" No Seto it's time to sleep

Well done on making things accessible Seto!

Bakura... blood is important yes but not typically one of the things you list when someone is talking about good stuff that's red

...This scene caused me to make my first meme :

He unintentionally dyed his hair green. Poor boy

Yugi you really don't have grounds to call anyone's life weird

Aww Rex and Weevils 'Honeymoon'

"She's cute"... I'm sure many other people have thought that of Marik only to later regret it. Deeply.

"Funerary Potatoes"

Rex trying to remember which of the Ishtar's in adopted

Aww they're so loyal

So jealous... I wanna boop the snoot

Venomous animals are Marik's inspiration in life

Weevils so touched

Rex on the other hand is practical

Well Odions at least honest with himself

Poor Marik thinks his brothers still a virgin. Odion busy congratulating himself on his poker face

Seto trying so hard to deny his crush

Seto also trying to deny Yami's arrival?

"I wanna put you in my Virtual Reality Simulator" ...That's one way to proposition someone I guess, if you're a complete dork

"Two Yugi's per Yugi" I think that's about the same as Téa's 2-in-1 comment/thoughts

...Another god? Maybe Ammit? Or is it in fact a Chupacabra?

...Bakura are you Shakespeareanly flirting?

...The Thief flirts back...this could throw off my polycule ponderings

Shadi....The Thief just told Bakura to run from you

Did Shadi have something to do with the Parasite being in the Ring?

Well these two have almost instantly fallen into some sort of rapport

Bakura Ancient Egyptian Hellraiser... hmm I wonder who that could have been?

Lol The Thief's historical stories

Oh no, the Thief's been being digested since possibly before the Blackwoods got cursed by the Skull Bunny, he doesn't know!!

Well at least Bakura can somewhat catch him up, at least on what he knows

Albion! The one who Fucked Up!

OHHHH He's the Retrieval Specialist Anubis was talking about

Aw Romantic Chapter Art

#fanfiction #rereading #review-ish #tpofatgif #The Power of Friendship (And This Gun I Found!) #gallusrostromegalus #spoilers #YuGiOh #ygo #Chapter Eight

[dreamingincerulean]

I took two walks today. Meant for just one walk, but road construction and traffic deterred me. I was like "Ok. Jen? You can do this!" and then I went home and I didn't do this. I went the other way, later on....and I'm trying not to beat myself up over all my anxiety today.

I stayed home (what's left of it) (not that it's dilapidated or something... we're just moving out so...it's not the same).....I could have went with my boyfriend's mom and his uncle to go see him....but I'd be there all day, and I'd have made her come home when she didn't want to come home.....and she wasn't planning on me coming up with her. . . so I allowed my anxiety to say "Oh I'll just stay home with the dogs."

AND I AGREED TO SIT WITH HER NASTY DUMB JUNK AT SOME POINT NEXT WEEK FOR A ILL-FATED YARD SALE.

I don't know why!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Other than I can't say no to people, especially if I'm two seconds to an anxiety attack.

I learned some things about myself, though: I hate crossing the street when a car is waiting for me (or NOT waiting, just inching their way into the crosswalk) ....and I hate other pedestrians.

Not that I hate them, I just get really frazzled when they're around.

It is Friday night, I guess. Foot traffic was high, road traffic was wild...and my anxiety was soaring with the eagles.

BUT...I did it. I didn't mess up and I looked the cashier in his eyes sooooo...I did it, in a way. But it wasn't with some struggle. I did beat myself up a little bit, too.

I think when I am alone like I have been this week, it allows my anxiety to be around others grow exponentially.

Blew my money on some pop and ciggies. Secret Ciggies, because I'm meant to have quit, this year.

This year, of all years!?!?! Yeah...back in like February or March.

It's not going to be an every day thing. It never was. I never smoked a pack a day. It was more like a pack in three days. Not that that was great, either. But I digress....ciggies cause anxiety. Or elevate it, I should say. Exacerbate it.

I haven't sat and thought out anything, in these days of no interaction with others. I've checked out via Sims 4 and HBOMax.

Full House makes me extremely sad. The adults always prioritize making the kids' fears go away, as much as anyone can...and though no one's perfect, they're examples of good parenting and responsibility left and right. As an adult, I also realized how exploited the twins were. It's no wonder they bowed out of the limelight. Everyone used them to further their careers. (Maybe not the castmates, but the folks behind the scenes seemed to love to do it)

I wish they'd make new movies and tv shows and stop remaking things. Honestly...we need to stop existing in nostalgic clouds of wonder and wanting.

If Full House was real, if those were real characters, it wouldn't look like that at all.

Joey would be high on coke most nights, Jesse would probably die of a drug overdose and Danny would take to drinking. DJ would develop an eating disorder and Stephanie would become a prostitute....and Michelle would move away to college with Comet and wonder why everyone couldn't just get along like they used to, back when they were younger.

Maybe I've just been exposed to too many dysfunctional people in my lifetime and have yet to see someone genuinely kind, caring and considerate as much as the three adults seemed to be in Full House.

I don't think I want to watch any more of it.

I did rewatch most of The Nanny. Who kept a running gag of fatshaming everyone around her that wasn't a size two.

About the time the rich broadway dude began toying with his nanny's emotions in a prolonged fashion, I lost interest. There were no sharp barbs from the butler that could keep me interested.

I feel like I'm here, alone, essentially because I'm an unfun kind of depressive person. I have Major Depressive Disorder.....though none of the depression seems to ebb or ease in any way ever, these days. I have two anxiety disorders. (Social and General, so basically everything)....this doesn't win me anything, in life but rapid heartrates and sitting in a room surrounded by dogs and only dogs, wondering how people maintain their relationships with others and finding out that they don't, they just pretend they do, these days. I don't see anyone communicating much beyond their immediate vicinity. "If I can't sit in a room with you as I scroll through Tiktok for hours on end, in my pjs, I don't want your high maintenance friendship!" They meme that up something fierce, on all my social media.

I watched a few episodes of Friends. I never really got into that show.

You see my conundrum? I guess I should have been reading books or something. But my head was spinning, and I needed noise to break the looming silence.

I wish life was different.

[internalsealpanic]

Cookie Heist

Summary: Never ever listen to a 9-year-old about ideas on grand larceny.  

a/n: So this is fic was sort of based on a comment @more-cardigan-than-woman on a different fic about getting to know merc reader's family. This is technically filling that request but since it's me, not exactly. This is the Earth-3 version where it's basically the mirror verse. This series is based on the movie Justice League: Crisis on Two Earths. Thank you for @littleredwing89 for proofreading!

Warnings: just nonsensical fluff

Joey looks up at you with pretty big, green puppy eyes—a look that he clearly never got from you. He probably got it from the dog. Or Grant neglected to teach you this weird secret weapon. You’re going to kick him. 

You give Joey a withering look as you continue to type. "I don't negotiate with terrorists." You say flatly then turn back to your screen trying to avoid Joey's gaze. 

Joey crawls up into your lap, pushing the pillow in your lap away.  "You do all the time!" He protests, jutting his bottom lip out more and making his eyes impossibly wide. 

You want to point out that that's not what diplomats do (not that you are one yet).  "No, I don't," you say because trying to explain the intricacies of international politics to a 9-year-old sounds like a chore.  Explaining it to an adult is no better though.  "I have standards." 

Joey pouts up at you clearly unconvinced. 

Mussing up his bouncy curls, you purse your lips, your lips deciding that it wasn't worth a try.

"Stooooooooop!" He whines as he tries to push your hand away from his hair. You snicker then pause as if heeding his request before giving him a noogie and tickling his stomach for good measure. 

You know, nonexcessive force. Like a true diplomat. 

Joey flails, trying to fight you off. His voice is high and shrill from laughter. It echoes in the living room. It's a lovely sound and you find it infectious enough to break your usual stoic demeanor you have when working on projects.

"Stohp!" Joey slurs between giggles. 

You sigh, slouching into the couch. "Killjoy." You huff. 

Joey twists on your lap, still pouting as he wraps his arms around your waist. He buries his face in your stomach and starts up the whole kicked puppy act once again.

You groan, knowing you're not gonna get back to your project until Joey gets what he wants. 

"Pleeeeeease, (Y/n). Please." The little bastard even quivers his bottom lip. 

"What do you want, squirt? World Peace? The moon? The--"

"Mom's cookies!" He chirps.

And there it is. 

You peek one eye to look down at him and on his cute face lies your doom. You sigh, ruffling your own hair. Addie's going to kill you and you won't even be able to taste the lasagna you requested. 

"Tell ya what, squirt," you say, booping his nose. Joey scrunches his face adorably which just makes him look even more like a puppy. "I'll help you if... you somehow rope Grant into it, deal?"

"But he'll just eat all the cookies!" He protests tugging on your sweater. 

You squish his cheeks and roll your eyes. "That's why you have me," you say as if you weren't more likely to fleece him of sweets.

After a long moment, you let go of his cheeks and shoo him off to find Grant.

You side-eye Grant. "How'd he get you?"

"Guess," he scoffs, trying to pick at the second padlock because who the fuck puts five padlocks on the pantry door. Addeline Wilson. Ok, you can't blame her. Considering all three of her children are fairly decent with lock picking (because Slade insisted that it was an essential life skill), no one can blame her. 

"Hnnn, sucker. You better not be that dumb when you go back to West Point," you say, picking at the bottom-most lock.  She just had to use an Abloy Protec lock. You fucking hated these things and so did Grant. You glare at him. He definitely told you to get the bottom ones just because he knew which ones were the worst.

Grant rolls his eyes irritably. "How 'bout you?"

"Tch," you hiss, not hearing the tumblers click. You're going to have to start over. 

"You gonna answer my question or what?"

"Unlike you, I know how to plead the fifth."

"Mhmm, sure. Oooh got it!" 

You elbow Grant. "Shush! Do you want to get caught?"

"It's reelection season and Joey's up there. No one's gonna notice us-- Shit."

You let a loud undignified snort but yanno, quiet-like because one of you knows how stealth and covert operations work. "Wait," you pull away from the locks. "Should we really have let Joey be the distraction?"

You both pause. 

"Would you rather it be you?"

"No, but are we--"

"GRANT WILSON! (Y/N)  WILSON!"

You both grow pale. 

Like you were 12 and 10 years old again, you and Grant both make a break for it. You're so screwed. You're so so screwed, you think as you hear your mother's shrill screech.

"I expected better from the two of you. Using your poor little brother."

Said poor little brother was sitting on the kitchen counter, swinging his legs as he happily munched on cookies fresh from the cookie jar. You glare at him. 

"(Y/n), look at me when I'm talking to you."

You look past her, specifically over her shoulder where your dad was also eating a cookie and grinning like an asshole. Without even looking to your side, you know Grant is doing the exact same thing. 

You raise your hand, all of 10 years old again. "Can I please plead my case?"

"No," Addie says flatly.  She points it at you. "No lasagna and you," she points at Grant, "no pie."

"Wait! What! No!"

"C'mon Addie," Slade drawls. "It's the holidays. Let kids be kids."

"Slade, they're not kids."

Slade lowers his head to Addie's shoulder and presses chocolate-y kiss to her cheek.

Addie huffs pushing him away. "Fine but give them a proper scolding, Mister. I think I heard Jasmine's car."

Addie walks away and all four of you wait in quiet anticipation. When Slade's enhanced hearing can no longer hear her footsteps, he turns to you and Grant and unleashes the full force of that insufferable grin. 

"Did you really let Joey trick you into trying to get food?"

"I didn't!"

"We did and you would too." Grant protests.

"I at least wouldn't have gotten caught." Slade laughs.

"No, you would have sweet-talked your way out of it." You sigh and by the way his eye glints, you know you're right and he says as much. 

Slade shakes his head, taking Joey in one arm and the jar of cookies in another. "Better luck next time kids."

#joey wilson #joseph wilson #jericho #grant wilson #adeline kane #slade wilson