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heritageposts · 2 months
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has anyone come across any shareable graphics that show the type of produce (fruits/veggies) that israel exports?
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why-the-heck-not · 3 months
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making a new yearly bullet journal spread is serious business (I drew 72 mini calendar grids and my hand cramped)
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obae-me · 6 months
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He looks at you like artistry. A contemporary piece he's never seen before. Taking in every detail with calculating eyes. Wondering what intentions the skillful hands of the cosmos had in mind when making you.
He wishes to know your story, the happiness that makes the music of your voice, the experiences settled in the sculpt of your frame, the tragedies brushed into the strokes of your irises.
The complexities of your being astound him, mesmerize him. Every new fact he learns about you adds another stanza to your sonnet.
To him, you are art in its purest form. Not one part can exist without the other. The greatest of symphonies would not be complete without their rests. He adores all of you.
How foolish he was at first, to think you were just a simple creature. Oh, the things he has taken for granted. When did he become so blind? Was it his Pride? Or had he simply been breathing for so long, that the sweet orchestra of life became dull to his ears? How long had it been since he stopped to watch people commune in the streets? Or sat a while to watch the trees sway from his window? Or pondered on the meaning of a wonderful word?
Excitement. How many centuries since he's felt like that? Filled with a rather humiliating child-like giddiness. But it's...invigorating. Everything stands out to him fresh, avant-garde. You remind him that there's still so much for him to discover.
A change in the wind, the turning of a page to a whole new chapter, a swelling crescendo, you are enticing. Every second spent with you leaves him craving more.
All he desires is to be in your presence. To see your colors. To hear your melody. To bask in the opus of your existence. It was only a matter of time before you would manage to become his everything, his obsession, his passion. And he wouldn't have it any other way.
For Lucifer is a connoisseur, and to him, you are nothing less than the crown of luxury.
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outer-edges · 4 months
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the way frank and karen have an entire conversation and formulate an entire plan to get her away from lewis without even speaking to each other makes me so insane. like those two are SO in sync that frank can simultaneously talk lewis down while giving karen all the tools and info she needs to get herself away from him without lewis even realizing because it is that subtle. and then the little nods and head shakes when karen is feeling around trying to find the white wire. like they are on the same exact fucking wavelength, and they trust the other person so completely that in frank's mind there is no doubt that karen is going to understand what he's trying to tell her and will be capable of doing it. and in karen's mind there is no doubt that frank will save her.
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missfisherandjack · 6 months
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Jack: “I do know my knots, Miss Fisher. I’m curious as to how you do.”
Phryne: “There was this Portuguese sailor I once knew...”
Jack: “Don’t… Enough.”
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wowa-bublord · 7 days
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heres my idea for a Zack Lives au! i like when people make him a little weird/unnerving hehe. puppy to unsocialized dog pipeline. he bites.
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angelicartemis · 7 months
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The amount of graphite I get on my hand while drawing is crazy 😁
BUT I DO IT FOR HIM 🙏💕💕💕
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donutdrawsthings · 7 months
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Autism on autism violence can be really mild from a neurotypical person's perspective but outright psychological horror from an autistic perspective and it's so funny to explain... 😭
Autism 1: You said something rude to me that's made me really angry, so I've hidden your fork.
Neurotypical: ...Really? ...Is that all?
Autism 2, who can only eat with a specific kind of fork or else they die:
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anton-morrow · 11 days
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You are the flesh that maggots crave... Concept art for Blessed be the wicked, a slenderverse web series hosted on YouTube, Written by Myself and @official-locke-writing
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carnivalcarrion · 4 months
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hi. here's a little over 5k words for the modern human au! entirely unedited, as usual! you'd think this is a full oneshot... ha... no... i actually have some warnings for this one - hospitals, panic attacks, major character injury / discussion of death / clinical description of injury.
in short, my writing comfort zone <3
~
The dial tone plays, and Barnaby looks down at his phone. Call ended stares back at him under Wally’s cheerful profile picture.
“He hung up on me,” Barnaby states. His lips twist and he tosses the phone onto the couch with a snarl of, “That little bastard.”
“Hey now,” Howdy says sharply, frowning at him. “That’s our friend you’re talking about.”
“Like he doesn’t deserve it! All I do is be supportive, understanding, and worry about his damn well being. And then he goes and acts like my very much well-founded concern is an attack!”
Howdy’s frown softens as he watches Barnaby pace, gesturing wildly.
“I love that RV. Maybe not as much as Wally, obviously, but it pains me that it needs to go. And it does need to go! Thing’s becoming a damn deathtrap.” Barnaby pushes his hair back and huffs. He glances at Howdy. “Right? I’m making the right call, here?”
“Of course you are,” Howdy says. “But-”
Barnaby cuts him off. “I tried to be nice about it. I tried to warm him up to the idea of retiring Home, yaknow? And what does he do instead of handling it - he revs up the tin can and runs. Home shouldn’t be started, let alone driven. It’s dangerous.”
It’s extremely dangerous. Wally is skilled at driving it, but no amount of skill will save him if it breaks in the middle of the freeway. What if the engine catches fire? What if a tire pops, or comes loose? Home is old, and wasn’t made to crumple in a crash. Barnaby doesn’t even know if the airbag still works. It’s not safe. 
The thought of Wally bringing Home hurtling down the freeway at ten at night in a - quite honestly - not great mental state turns Barnaby’s stomach. 
“I just wanted him to come back so we could talk about it,” Barnaby says. “I let him keep worming his way out of a serious conversation and now - now he’s -”
“Running away,” Howdy finishes. The point of his pen taps a rhythm against his notepad. 
Barnaby jabs a finger at him. “Exactly. One tough, necessary decision and he turns tail. This isn’t gonna go away if he skips town! Not to mention how he isn’t giving a thought to how this might affect the rest of us.”
“Especially you.”
Barnaby throws his hands up with an indignant look. “Now not only do I have to hunt him down-”
“That would be a we scenario, Barn.”
“But we,” Barnaby concedes, “gotta try to knock some sense into that thick skull ‘a his, and drag him back home - kicking and screaming if we hafta.” 
Howdy’s pen taps faster. “What if he doesn’t want to come back?”
“What if he-” Barnaby stops short and stares at him, wide eyed. 
That’s not. 
That wouldn’t happen, right? Wally would come back in the end. He wouldn’t decide to up and leave entirely, would he? He is in Home… all the essentials he needs are in that RV. Barnaby sits down heavily on Howdy’s threadbare couch. “What if he doesn’t want to come back.”
Wally would have to come back to clear out his studio - he’d never abandon his art. Then they’d have to go through everything inside the house and see what he wants to take, since not all of it is Barnaby’s. A lot of it is shared, so they might have to bargain on who gets what. 
Then they’d all have to watch Wally get into his motorhome and drive away. Possibly for good. 
Barnaby would be alone in that big house with Welcome, knowing that his closest companion is out of his life. Living somewhere else. It's sickening. 
“I’m sure it won’t come to that, Barn,” Howdy says, watching him with furrowed brows and a deep frown - if Barnaby were feeling like himself, he’d crack a joke about him emulating Frank. “I can confidently say that Wally loves you more than that old RV.”
Barnaby snorts. “You sure about that?”
“Unflinchingly. Believe you me, he’s going to wallow for a day or so, and then Home will come rumbling back down your driveway like it never left.”
“I wish I could have your faith,” Barnaby mumbles. He exhales and picks up his phone. No missed calls, no messages. “Maybe if I call him and ask him to just come back, no strings attached, he will.”
“That’s the spirit! Save the talk for another day - tell you what, I’ll help you corrall him so he can’t escape the conversation. I’ll tie him to a chair and bar the door if needed!”
“Good luck with that. Kid’s slippery.” Still, Barnaby hits call again. It rings only a couple of times before a robotic automated message states the caller as unavailable. Barnaby doesn’t enjoy being upset with Wally. However, it feels like his blood is simmering, and the wall is starting to look like great target practice for his phone. He grits his teeth. “He turned off his phone.”
From the corner of his eye he sees Howdy’s eyebrows shoot up as the man turns back to his paperwork. He exhales a controlled breath and writes something down. “I have to say, I’ve never known him to be such a-”
“Pain in the neck?” Barnaby offers.
Howdy clicks his tongue. “You said it, not me.”
“Yeah, well, he’s full of surprises.” Barnaby lets out a frustrated huff. He’s half tempted to run Wally down right now, but he wouldn’t even know where to start. There’s only one freeway out of town, but it goes both ways, and it branches. Wally would have hit one of those branches by now, and who knows which he took. North, south, east, west. Deeper into the woods, or towards the city? To the coast? Somewhere else entirely?
He has to face the facts - there’s nothing to do. He just has to wait until Wally pulls his head out of his ass and realizes how stupid and insensitive he’s being. Those are two words Barnaby would never normally use to describe Wally, but after tonight? They seem fitting. 
Barnaby can’t even muster up guilt for thinking such harsh things. He tried to be nice. He was patient. He’s always kept a lid on it whenever Wally frustrated him, which doesn’t happen often, but it does happen. And what does he get for caring? For being tactful and careful about a shitty situation? 
Avoidance, a shove, and a cut call. Wally left Barnaby’s been left to stew in his own anger and worry. Right now, he’s inclined to lock up that worry in a tiny box in the back of his mind. 
Barnaby pushes himself up with a grumbled, “I’m makin’ some coffee, want some?”
“If you’re offering then I will not decline.”
Barnaby pretends not to feel Howdy’s eyes following him to the apartment’s tiny kitchen. It’s hell to maneuver around in, and the frustration of bumping into something every five seconds only makes Barnaby’s mood worse. By the time the coffee is brewing, he’s ready to punch the cabinets. He won’t, but he wants to. He’d regret it immediately, but he stares at the chipped paint and fantasizes. 
The coffee machine breaks after brewing a whopping single mug. Barnaby stares at it for a long moment, and tallies up the consequences of taking a hammer to it. In the end, he just clenches his fists for a long moment and counts to ten. He takes the mug and sets it in front of Howdy, then goes to the window to brood. Thankfully Howdy is too reabsorbed in his work to notice beyond a mumbled thanks.
For the next hour, Barnaby’s thoughts are entirely composed of Wally. Different scenarios of what might happen next, how Barnaby might handle those situations without shaking Wally for doing something so needlessly reckless, and cruel daydreams of setting Home on fire. Barnaby wants to feel bad about that. He doesn’t. That damn RV has caused two different rifts between Barnaby and Wally - and Barnaby was the one to fix both of them, because both times Wally just left. 
He gets it. He really does - for a time Home was all that Wally had. It’s been with him since Wally was thirteen, and if the thought of retiring it to a dump makes Barnaby sad, he can only imagine how much it distresses Wally. Well, he can do more than make an educated guess. Wally practically told him tonight, if not with words than with actions.
Still. They’re adults - Wally is older than him, if only by a handful of months. When does Barnaby ever ask something of him? When does Barnaby ever push? Why can’t Wally see that Home is becoming a liability, and why won’t he listen? Barnaby can’t make it make sense. 
Wally has always been more inclined to avoid conflict, but this is too far. Barnaby swears, when he tracks Wally down he’s going wring that scrawny little-
His phone is ringing. 
Barnaby lunges for it, relief dousing his anger. He picks it up, ready to give Wally a piece of his mind and then beg him to come back-
“It’s an unknown number,” he says, shoulders slumping. Of course it’s an unknown number. Wally wouldn’t change on a dime and decide to be considerate for once. He exchanges an exasperated look with Howdy and declines. He goes to set the phone down - the number calls back.
“That’s one determined scammer,” Howdy says. He leans back in his chair and holds out a hand. “I’ll deal with ‘em.”
Barnaby is all too happy to hand it over. Let the poor sap on the other end of the line deal with a master swindler. 
“Howdy-hi, how can I help?” Howdy starts with a mischievous grin thrown Barnaby’s way? He leans back in the chair and hums. “Who, may I query, is asking?”
All at once, the ease drains out of Howdy and he stops fidgeting. He sits up, already looking at Barnaby with a paled expression that has something cold slithering down Barnaby’s spine. Something is wrong.
“He’s right here.” Howdy holds out the phone. His throat works uselessly for a moment before he plainly states the obvious, “It’s for you.”
Barnaby takes it, his mouth abruptly dry. Howdy is already up and moving - grabbing his coat, his keys. “Hello?”
“Is this Barnaby Beagle?” a professional feminine voice asks, tinny through the phone.
“B. Beagle, yeah.”
The woman introduces herself as the nearest city’s hospital, and Barnaby’s heart drops through the floor. She asks him to confirm that he’s Wally Darling’s emergency contact. He confirms, his voice sounding distant to his own ears. Howdy takes his arm and gestures to his shoes by the door, spurring Barnaby into motion.
“Is he okay?” Barnaby manages to say. He puts the wrong shoe on the wrong foot and almost curses aloud as he switches it. 
“Mr. Darling was involved in an automobile accident,” is all the hospital employee says. “He was brought in a few minutes ago.”
Barnaby steadies himself against the doorjamb, choking on a whispered, “Oh, god.” 
Keys jingle as Howdy opens the door and pulls Barnaby through, then locks the door behind them.
“But is he okay?” Barnaby asks again as they hurry down the short hallway to the stairs. 
“I’m not at liberty to disclose that information at present.”
It’s bad. It has to be bad if they won’t say anything over the phone. He must be silent for too long, because Howdy takes the phone, tells her they’ll be there soon, and hangs up. He tucks the phone into Barnaby’s pocket before opening the door to the store’s back lot. 
The frigid air slaps the shock out of Barnaby, and sensation comes flooding back in. He grabs the keys out of Howdy’s hand and strides to the car with long, powerful strides that would leave anyone shorter than Howdy in the dust.
“Are you sure-”
“I’m driving,” Barnaby growls, cutting Howdy off.
Howdy makes a disapproving noise, but relents. They get in and Barnaby adjusts his seat with harsh movements, jabs the key into the ignition because Howdy’s car is a dated hunk of junk, and peels out of the parking space before Howdy even has his seatbelt all the way on. 
Howdy clings to the ceiling handle as the car tears down the mostly empty street, going at least ten miles over the speed limit. Barnaby doesn’t know exactly where the hospital is, but he knows how to get to the city. They can figure it out from there. Several people honk as Barnaby brings them flying onto the freeway. 
“Holy Marilyn marmalade!” Howdy screeches as they narrowly avoid side-swiping a minivan. 
Barnaby ignores him and cuts off a pickup to get into the right lane for the interchange. Howdy whispers a string of something high pitched and strained and clings to the handle with both hands. 
It takes him a moment to parse out the constant ramble as, “-pull over pull over pull over pull over-” Two honks and a squeal of tires as Barnaby almost causes an accident, and Howdy yells in a louder and deeper tone than Barnaby has ever heard from him, “PULL OVER!”
Barnaby clenches his jaw and cuts across the carpool lane’s double whites. It only takes a moment to reach the shoulder. Howdy leaps out of the passenger seat as soon as the car stops, marches to Barnaby’s side, and wrenches the door open.
“Out,” he snaps, breathing hard. “Barnaby, I swear to all things priceless, get out. “
Barnaby meets his steely gaze for all of a second before unbuckling and getting out. Cars whip by. Howdy huffs at him and slips into the driver’s seat, muttering about recklessness and disasters and if you would wait to try and kill us until we’re right outside the hospital, if only to save us the ambulance fee-
When Barnaby gets into the passenger seat, Howdy waits for him to buckle in with fingertips drumming on the steering wheel. He merges onto the freeway smoothly and carefully. They go slower than the speed Barnaby had them flying down the asphalt at, and it makes something deeply impatient itch in him, but it’s safer. 
“I know you’re upset,” Howdy says, eyes still fixed on the road, “and I know that you’re scared. But what in hell’s bells was that, Barn?”
Barnaby side eyes him and grimaces, folding his arms. “I don’t know. I’m sorry - I shouldn’t have put you in danger like that.”
“You put yourself in danger too, you know.” Howdy sighs and relaxes his grip on the steering wheel. “We’re of no use to Wally if we get ourselves in a crash. What would he say?”
“Whatever he’d say would be hypocritical,” Barnaby says before he can think better of it.
Howdy glances sharply at him. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“He..” Barnaby’s voice fails on him, and he swallows hard. “He was in an accident.”
Howdy is silent for a full few seconds before he exhales a thin, pained sound. “Oh, Walls…”
He must not know what else to say, which is good and well, because Barnaby doesn’t either. A long few minutes pass of silence. Headlights of passing cars on the other side of the freeway flash over them before plunging back into darkness. The dials on the dash glow. The check engine light is on. They’ll need to get gas in order to make it home. 
“I’m sure it’s not as bad as you’re thinking,” Howdy says. He’s tapping the steering wheel again. “It’s likely just a few scrapes and bruises, at worst a broken bone. Nothing Wally can’t handle, and certainly nothing to be concerned over.”
Barnaby can’t bring himself to agree. Maybe… maybe if Wally was driving slowly… but that wouldn’t matter if someone crashed into him with enough force. Home is a large, sturdy vehicle, but it isn’t invulnerable. Wally certainly isn’t.
Without the distraction of driving, all Barnaby can think about is the what ifs. Yeah, what if he’s only a little bit hurt, but what if it’s worse? All of the worst images Barnaby can think of roll through his mind like a messed up movie reel.
Wally dead on the scene, caught in a hunk of twisted metal. 
Wally, choking on his own blood in an ambulance, dying en route to the hospital.
Wally flatlining on a metal table. 
Wally’s small body covered with a sheet-
“Almost there,” Howdy says, slowing at a stoplight. It bathes them both in red. Barnaby didn’t notice when they got off the freeway. 
Barnaby squeezes his eyes shut and presses his forehead to the cold window. After a moment, a slender hand rests on his thigh and squeezes. It’s such a small, stupid thing, but Barnaby breathes a little easier. 
Despite the drive down the freeway feeling like it took hours, the drive through city streets to the hospital passes in a blink. Before Barnaby knows it the car is spiraling up to an upper floor of the parking garage. The floor is mostly empty - Howdy pulls into a spot right by glass double doors. 
Barnaby gets out a split seconds before Howdy, staring at the pristine white walls just inside the doors. In a moment he’ll find out if it’s not that bad, or if he’s about to have the worst night of his life. He’s been to a hospital twice. The last time was for Howdy, but he went with the knowledge that it was only a precaution. The other time was for Mama’s health scare. 
That had been terrifying. The waiting, the wondering, the too-bright hallways and the staff’s rigid smiles. It ended well, but it had still been horrible, and hospitals took center stage in some of his recurring nightmares. Barnaby never wanted to see another loved one in a hospital bed again.
Looks like he doesn’t have a choice. 
Howdy comes around from the driver’s side and lays a hand on Barnaby’s shoulder. “If you need a moment to-”
“Nah,” Barnaby says, his voice rough. He nods and adjusts his sleeves. “Better rip the bandaid off.”
They go into the sterile maze. The bright overhead lights dazzle Barnaby’s eyes after being in the dim parking garage, and he grimaces at the strong odor of antiseptic and floor polish. Howdy makes a beeline for the nearest receptionist and talks to her in rushed, low tones. 
Barnaby shuffles after him, rubbing his shaking hands together and eyeing every person in scrubs that walks past. Something beeps somewhere. He thinks he hears someone crying. This is a place without color, art, or happiness. 
“This way,” Howdy says, walking past him and tilting his head at the elevator. Barnaby follows, feeling like a lost puppy dropped at the side of the road. 
A nurse gets into the elevator with them and politely smiles before staring at the floor counter and pretending they don’t exist. It’s fine with Barnaby. If he has to make small talk right now, he might actually snap. The man’s pink scrubs are almost an eyesore in the harsh lighting. 
The elevator dings, and they all get out on the same floor. Howdy reads door plaques and wall signs like a hawk, his head turning on a swivel as he reads everything at lightning speed. Barnaby nearly has to jog to keep up with his hurried pace. 
Howdy changes direction without warning and heads straight for a door at the end of a short offshoot hallway. Barnaby reads the sign next to the door.
[can’t remember if it’s icu or the other thing, research later]
It’s bad.
The waiting room is small - longer than it is wide, and there’s a woman sleeping in a chair in the corner. It looks nicer than the emergency room, or where Barnaby waited to see his mama. The benches have colorful cushions, and the walls are a pastel green instead of white. There’s an abstract geometric painting on the wall next to the woman. 
Barnaby slowly takes a seat on stiff cushions, watching Howdy talk to the receptionist from afar. He nods and pats the counter before joining Barnaby. He sits close enough that their legs press together.
“Someone will get us up to speed as soon as there’s news,” Howdy says. “I tried to pry some more out of him, but he wouldn’t give up another word.”
Barnaby nods, staring down at his hands. His nail polish is already chipping, despite Julie painting them only last weekend. Barnaby picks at the bright red on his pinkie until Howdy pulls his hand away and enfolds it in both of his own. 
When Howdy takes a deep breath, Barnaby finds himself mimicking him. Their gazes meet - Howdy’s is unflinching, and steady. He smiles and runs his thumb over Barnaby’s knuckles, soothing the nervous trembling, and Barnaby is struck by how darn grateful he is to have Howdy with him. 
If he had to do all of this alone… Barnaby doesn’t think he could. Either he’d have gotten himself into a crash to join Wally, or he would still be sitting in his car, staring at the hospital doors. He doesn’t have the courage. But Howdy does, and Barnaby loves him for it. 
For once, Howdy lets the time pass in silence, though after a long stretch of indeterminable time he gets up to pace. The bench cushions are high quality, but they start to feel uncomfortable. Barnaby doesn’t dare go for a walk. At least they’re not the usual waiting room chairs - he’d rather stand than try to fit into those plastic, narrow things. 
At some point the woman in the corner wakes up. She startles seeing two strangers in the room with her, but quickly ignores them. Barely a few minutes pass before she leaves, mumbling something about coffee. She doesn’t come back. Barnaby spends a while wondering why - did she go home, or wait somewhere else, or did she receive news in the halls?
Howdy sits down again and starts typing furiously on his phone. When Barnaby gives him a curious nudge, he quietly explains that he’s texting the group chat. Barnaby feels a twinge of guilt at that. He completely forgot to let everyone know that there’s a… situation. Who knows if any of them will see it until morning. 
Message sent, Howdy gets up to pace some more. His rhythmic gait gives Barnaby something to focus on, seeing as the clock on the wall is silent, and the receptionist seems to be sleeping. Barnaby could probably pass time on his own phone, but every second spent distracted is a second he might miss someone coming to tell them…
What? Tell them what, exactly? That Wally is okay? That he can receive visitors? 
That he didn’t make it?
The door opens, startling Barnaby to his feet. Howdy scurries over from the far side of the room and rests a steadying hand on Barnaby’s lower back. A woman clad in blue scrubs enters, reading something on a clipboard. There are shadows under her eyes, and she looks beyond exhausted. Barnaby can sympathize.
“Mr. Beagle?” the doctor asks, looking between them. When Barnaby nods, she smiles thinly, gaze flicking briefly to Howdy. “Hi. I’m Dr. Allen. Before I disclose any sensitive information, I’d like to confirm what your relation to the patient is.”
The question gives Barnaby pause. He’s always had a difficult time putting his and Wally’s relationship into simple terms, because it’s anything but. Wally is his best friend, his dearest companion, the man he lives with and can’t imagine being without. 
“He’s my partner,” Barnaby settles on, because it’s a good umbrella term. Partner can mean a lot of things, and people don’t usually pry for specifics. “We’re as good as family.”
Dr. Allen writes something down on her clipboard. “No worries, I’m not going to kick you out if you’re not - you’re his emergency contact for a reason, after all. It’s just basic information that I’d like to have on hand.”
“Course - so how is he?” Barnaby cuts straight to the chase. He’s not in the mood for niceties. 
“Well, Mr. Darling is certainly giving us a run for our money,” Allen sighs. “He’s not out of the woods yet, but I believe he’s gotten through the worst of it.”
“He’ll make it?”
Allen offers another tight lipped smile. “We’re doing our best.”
Barnaby has seen enough hospital dramas to know that we’re doing our best means no promises, prepare for the worst. Howdy must feel the tension gripping him like a vice, because his hand slips from Barnaby’s back to his hand. 
“What are his injuries, if I may?” Howdy asks. 
“I’m not sure-”
“Please. We’d rather know than wonder.” 
Allen looks between them and sighs again. She flips a page on her clipboard. “Unfortunately, there was a bit of time between the crash and when emergency services were called. Between blood loss and the near-freezing temperatures, Mr. Darling developed mild hypothermia.”
Wally was dying, cold and alone in the wreckage of his home for who knows how long before anyone came to help. Barnaby sways in place, and Howdy helps him sit down on a bench instead of the floor. Allen looks apprehensive.
“Keep going,” Barnaby rasps. He needs to know.
Allen doesn’t look happy about it, but she continues. “Mr. Darling also suffered several low-grade lacerations from shrapnel, some fractured ribs, a compound fracture in his left tibia, and currently unidentified damage to his right hand and lower arm.”
Barnaby swallows a mournful sound. That’s fine, it’s fine. Broken bones heal - Wally will be painting again in no time. 
“He also developed an intracranial hematoma. It’s been treated, but we won’t know the extent of the damage until Mr. Darling wakes up.”
“What is that?” Howdy asks before Barnaby can figure out how to speak again. “Intracranial hematoma - tell me if I’m wrong, but that sounds like a head injury.”
“It is - in layman’s terms, it’s a brain bleed. Head trauma can cause bleeding inside the skull, which puts pressure on the brain. We caught it as quickly as feasibly possible, which should raise his chance of a full recovery.” Allen flips the clipped page back into place. “There may still be lesser complications and injuries we haven’t been able to diagnose or address yet. I’ll be forward with you - this is one of the worst crash cases I’ve seen in some time. Mr. Darling was lucky to be found alive.”
Allen goes on to offer platitudes that Wally is a fighter, and easily answers the flood of questions Howdy has about the mentioned injuries. It all sounds distant. Underwater. The room is too small and the air is stale - are the vents working? Is there a window they can open?
In a blink - and yet the conversation lasts ages - Allen promises to come back with more information as soon as she has it. She smiles one last time and leaves. 
“Barn?” Howdy sounds muffled. “Barn, are you alright?”
What kind of question is that? Of course Barnaby isn’t alright - his best friend is dying, likely on this very floor. There’s a chance he’s already dead. Barnaby might have already lost him, he just doesn’t know it yet. 
Mr. Darling was lucky to be found alive. 
One of the worst crash cases I’ve seen in some time. 
Mild hypothermia - brain bleed - lacerations - fractures.
Lesser complications and injuries we haven’t been able to diagnose or address yet.
We’re doing our best.
“He hung up on me, the little bastard-”
Barnaby is up and out the door before he registers moving. He staggers down the hallways in a blur, everything swirling together into a mess of sight and sound as his lungs struggle to get a full breath. He bypasses the elevator and takes the stairs down to the level they parked on. 
The cold air does nothing to help him breathe. Barnaby chokes on it as he leans against the rough wall grasping at his chest. Howdy is there immediately - he must have been on Barnaby’s heels the whole time. 
“Talk to me, Barn,” Howdy pleads, a hand on the back of his neck and the other over the one Barnaby has on his chest. “What is it - you’re not having a heart attack, are you? Tell me you aren’t, I can’t handle that right now.”
Barnaby doesn’t know. Maybe? He feels like he is. He can’t breathe. He tries to say so, but the ragged gasps his breathing has devolved into doesn’t allow it. Howdy must know something he doesn’t, because he doesn’t run to get a doctor.
“How can I help?” he asks instead.
“Don’t - don’t - know,” Barnaby wheezes. 
“Okay, alright, don’t worry, Barn, I’m here, I’m not going anywhere. Let’s try, ah - what were the steps? I didn’t exactly write them down, though in hindsight I should’ve - that’s not the point! It was… what a time to take after Eddie’s memory-”
It shouldn’t be helping, but Howdy’s constant stream of words grabs Barnaby’s attention. He manages to inhale nearly a full breath before it stutters back out and he’s struggling again.
“Breathing!” Howdy says. “Yes, that was it - Barnaby, I need you to focus on me. Copy my breathing.”
He sucks in a slow, dramatic breath through his nose and exhales just as slowly through his mouth. Barnaby catches on and tries to mimic him, but-
“Can’t, I ca-an’t,” Barnaby says. His chest hurts. 
Howdy presses their foreheads together. “Yes, you can. Come now, Barn, in… out. Simplest thing in the world.”
It doesn’t feel simple, but Barnaby tries. It feels like forever before he manages a full inhale. He butchers the exhale, but Howdy praises the minor win before launching right back into measured breathing. 
Barnaby finally manages a slow inhale and exhale, and suddenly it feels like the pressure filling his chest has vanished. He slumps against the wall, worn out. He puts his hand over Howdy’s mouth in the middle of another dramatic demonstration.
“You’re alright now?” Howdy says, peeling his hand off. Barnaby nods, and Howdy leans next to him with a whoosh. “Thank the stock market - I was starting to get light headed.”
It takes another few minutes for them to catch their breath. Barnaby straightens enough to rest his head on Howdy’s shoulder, breathing in his cheap cologne and homemade laundry detergent. Howdy cups the back of his neck and massages the tense muscle there. 
“This will all turn out okay,” Howdy promises. “Wally is stubborn - I think we both know that well enough. By this time tomorrow we’ll be moving forward.”
Barnaby wants to be that optimistic, but this is real life. For all they know, moving forward means making funeral arrangements. His breathing stutters and he forces it to even out before he can start hyperventilating again. 
A car pulls into a parking space with a gravelly sound. Barnaby pays it no mind until Howdy makes a surprised noise - Barnaby looks up, and his stomach churns.
Frank, Eddie, and Julie are all getting out of Frank’s car. They’re all in various states of dishevelment. Frank’s hair is a mess, and he has what looks like Eddie’s company jacket thrown on over his pajamas. Eddie is in little more than a shirt that says male? lol, more like mail! and boxers - he’s even wearing slippers instead of shoes, and his hair flops over his forehead in soft tufts. Julie’s hair is still in curlers, and though she’s wearing shoes, she’s in a too-long shirt over sweats that don’t belong to her. They’re paint-stained. 
They rush across the parking lot, all worried faces and tired eyes. They’re already asking what happened, is Wally okay, Sally is getting Poppy, they should be here soon, has there been any news-
Barnaby lunges at the nearest trash can and vomits.
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yanbre · 9 months
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Sharing the major stuff that happened during six hour slender man stream
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filia-floris · 1 year
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vintagepresley · 1 year
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The Doctor Will See You Now
Pairing: John Carpenter x Reader
Word Count: 3,237
Warnings: SMUTSMUTSMUT 18+ Just some good ol’ unprotected sex, tiny bit fingering, use of the word whore, breeding kink. Implied age gap.
Authors Notes: I don’t even know what to say about this. But it was inspired by those wonderful anon messages. Thank you because it truly gave me the motivation to write something. I hope you enjoy besties.
Part Two Part Three
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“Are you a good girl?”
Dr. John Carpenter had been your doctor for quite some time now and each visit your crush on him grew more and more, that you started making up illnesses and reasons to visit his office. At first he was naive to your little game until he began to realize what was actually going on. He was no saint and had a bit of a wandering eye when it came to some of the young women that came through his office and you were one of them. So, when he noticed you in his office more than usual he decided to play your little games and he’d bring you back to one of the rooms and exam where you said it hurt. He’d take full advantage to touch you a little longer than he should have when he’d do his exams. The touch of his big hands touching various parts of your body made you feel the naughtiest things and one time you actually let out a soft moan, which you were so embarrassed about. But Dr. Carpenter loved it. There was an unspoken tension between the two of you. He was fully aware you were nearly half his age, but he didn’t care. This was like foreplay for the two of you and when it was all over, he’d see you on your way out with a clean bill of health. You’d giggle and flash him a cute smile as you said your goodbyes. He’d be left watching you walk away with a pleasing grin playing on his lips. 
A few days had gone by and since your last encounter with the doctor you couldn’t stop thinking about him and the way his hands felt all over you. You desperately needed to see him again and today you wanted things to take a step further beyond the cute foreplay. You were sporting a rather more daring look today, wearing a powder pink mini skirt with a white blouse that you had left two buttons at the top undone to show off a bit of your cleavage and paired it with some white kitten heels. You happily made your way to Dr. Carpenter’s office. Some of the nurses had noticed how many times a week you had come into the office and they assumed you must have been a very sick girl if you constantly had the doctor’s office. Dr. Carpenter never let anyone suspect that anything was going on when he’d take you back to the exam room. You were both always so careful even though there was nothing but some innocent touching and some light kissing going on behind those closed doors. You held your hands against your stomach groaning in pain hoping the nurse would see that it was urgent that you see the doctor. The nurse hopped out of her seat and over to help you and she called out to one of the other nurses to hurry and get the doctor. “What’s the matter, sweetheart?” the nurse said kindly. 
“I.. I have a terrible pain in my stomach.” you groaned softly as the lie left your lips. Dr. Carpenter came rushing out of the office thinking they were an actual patient in need and when he saw you he smirked to himself and for a moment his teeth grazed his bottom lip as he noticed your outfit. He cleared his throat as he approached you. 
“I’ll take it from here, nurse. Thank you.” he said firmly. You glanced up to see the handsome doctor before you dressed in a dark blue dress shirt and white slacks. The nurse handed you over to the doctor and the moment you felt his grasp on you, your body tingled from his very touch. “Let’s get ya back to the exam room, honey. What seems to be the problem?” his voice rang out as he walked you back to the room with him trying to be professional as possible in front of everyone. The moment you two got into the room and that door closed behind you both you both shared a smirk with one another. Your big doe eyes stared up at him, giggling softly as you watched his eyes examining your outfit. “You’re gonna get me into some trouble, honey.” he hummed. 
“But doctor, I really am in pain..” you purred as you walked over to the exam table and plopped yourself down on it and he followed behind you shaking his head with a smirk. 
“Mm, where does the pain seem to be today?” he responded as he watched the way your mini skirt rose as you sat down. He tried to keep his composure. You captured your bottom lip between your teeth as you stared up at him innocently, twirling your fingers between strands of your hair. 
“Um.. The pain.. It’s.. It’s..” You were too embarrassed to say out loud. So you looked down and then back up at him hoping he’d catch on to what you were trying to tell him. He furrowed his brow a bit as he watched you. But he still wasn’t picking up what you were putting down and you cleared your throat and pointed down to your skirt. “The pain is down there, doctor.. I think it really needs to be looked at..” you hummed as a smirk formed on your lips and you slowly parted your legs. You watched as his expression softened and he gazed down at your parted legs and he swallowed harshly as he stared between your thighs. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about it when he was alone with his thoughts and you’d start creeping into his head. The thought of fucking you on his examination table like the little slut you were. “Doctor?” you said softly. He inhaled sharply as you shook him out of his dirty thoughts. 
He cleared his throat. “Well.. Uh.. What does the pain feel like, honey?” he asked knowing he would regret that question as his eyes wandered back down to your parted legs. You parted your legs further as you noticed him staring and the further you spread them open the more your skirt lifted and your white panties peeking through just enough for him to see them. 
“It’s throbbing doctor.” you said in an airy tone. 
“Oh? D-Does this throbbin’ sensation happen often?” he responded with a hum.
“Oh yes, quite often.. I can’t seem to make it stop..” you cooed. You watched as he licked his lips and his breathing grew a bit heavy as he just stared at the teasing glimpse of your panties. “Will look at it, Dr. Carpenter?” you asked innocently. 
He could hardly focus with the thought of seeing your pussy on his mind and he cleared his throat once more and nodded at your words. “Yes, honey. I’ll have a look and see what the problem is.” he said in almost a whisper. He walked over to grab you a hospital gown and handed it to you. “Get undressed for me and put this on and I’ll be right back.” he said firmly. You nodded at his words, chewing at the inside of your cheek nervously as you watched him make his way out of the room. You hopped off the table, stripped your clothes off and slipped on the hospital gown leaving the back loosely tied as you sat back on the cold table patiently waiting for him to come back into the room. Dr. Carpenter had never done anything like this with any of the other girls that he had flirted with from time to time. He was nervous because he knew exactly where this was going. He didn’t want to get caught fucking his patient. But he knew no matter how much he wanted to resist that he wouldn’t be able to resist. He gave it another minute before he came waltzing back into the room and locking the door behind him. You both stared at one another for a moment knowing what was going to transpiry in this very room. 
Dr. Carpenter slowly walked over to you and he cupped your face in his hands and he leaned down to kiss your lips softly and you felt like you were floating the moment your lips touched and you kissed him back with such desperation until he pulled back. He decided to keep up the little game the both of you were playing.  “Lie back for me, honey.” he mumbled. You nodded in response to him and you slowly and carefully laid back against the cold metal table and bent your legs as you spread them open. You took a deep breath feeling your face grow hot because he was now staring at your pussy and had you in a very vulnerable position. You gasped softly when you felt him spread your legs open wider for him, Dr. Carpenter bit his bottom lip at the sight of your beautiful pussy and he stared at it examining every inch and every crevice. “Scoot closer to me, darlin’. I ain’t gonna bite ya.” he said with a smirk. You slowly inched yourself closer toward him. You stared down at him to see him so mesmerized with your pussy. The very sight of him staring at it turned you on, that you could feel yourself becoming wet in that moment. You felt so embarrassed that you started to blush. He watched as your cunt dripped in your sweet nectar and he could feel his pants getting tight from the semi you had given him. 
“Now, honey, I’m gonna touch ya and you tell me where the pain is.” he said with a smirk. 
“Yes, doctor.” you responded obediently, biting your lip with anticipation of his touch. 
You felt the warmth of his hands grasp your thighs and they moved up and down slowly that it brought a shiver down your spine. You caught your breath in your throat as you felt his hands between your thighs now tracing light circles against your soft supple skin. His touch was driving you mad and causing the heat between your legs to become even wetter by the minute that you couldn’t help but let a soft whine escape your lips. “Does it hurt here, baby?” he mumbled between bated breaths. You shook your head at his words, wanting and needing him to move his hand down further to where it needed his attention the most. He smirked and he guided his hand closer toward your aching pussy and a loud gasp escaped your lips when you felt his thumb run along the wet folds of your pussy, brushing teasingly against your clit that your body jolted at the feeling and a soft moan escaping you. “Hm.. I think I’ve found where that throbbin’ was comin’ from, honey.” he hummed. 
“Y-You found the exact spot.. Doctor…” you said shakily as you tried to compose yourself. 
Before you could even form another sentence the pad of his thumb parted your soaked pussy lips and delicately began to rub your clit. He worked the sensitive bud in slow circles as he kept his touch light. Your eyes rolled back and you inhaled deeply before exhaling sharply and a whimper soon followed. Dr. Carpenter rubbed his other hand soothingly along your right thigh. “I know exactly what ya need to cure this pesky throbbin’ of yours..” the doctor said under his breath. Your ears were ringing and your face felt hot from the sensation you were feeling between your legs as he pressed his thumb harder against your clit and his movements a bit faster and now a string of moans were leaving your lips softly. You knew you had to be quiet because anyone could hear what was going on. But there were no promises that you’d be quiet for long. The more he rubbed your clit the wetter you became and he watched as his thumb was completely covered in your slick and dripping down onto his hand. You suddenly felt his thumb circling around your tight hole and then two of his fingers circled around it until he slowly pushed them inside of you and you let out a crying whimpering. “Are you a good girl? You've been with a lot of men?” he uttered softly as he slipped his fingers out of your wet cunt.  
“I-I’m a good girl.. No.. I’ve only had one boyfriend..” you said shakily as your eyes followed the doctor as he stood up from his chair and towered above you. 
He smirked. “This pussy of yours belongs to me now.” he hummed as he unlatched the buckle of his belt and slowly began to unbutton his slacks. “Do ya want babies, Y/N?” he asked curiously as he tugged his pants down and cock sprang out fully erect. You chewed on your bottom lip nervously as your eyes widened at the sight of his erection. Then you glanced back up at him to answer his question. 
“Y-Yes.. Of course.” you responded. One of his hands reached up to cup your face and his fingertips caressed your cheek slowly. He smirked hearing all he needed and he grasped your hospital gown in his hand and he yanked it off you and tossed it to the floor and the room was so cold that your nipples grew hard from the harsh air as you laid there naked and exposed for the handsome doctor. He grabbed your thighs and tugged you forward wrapping them around his waist and his big erect cock forced its way inside of your tight cunt. You cried out in soft whimpers and moans. He didn’t even give you a chance to adjust to him before he started thrusting inside of you until he completely bottomed out inside of you. Your eyes rolled back and your back arched against the metal table feeling his cock so deep inside of you, penetrating your tight walls and forcing them open just for him as if your pussy was made for his cock. His strong hands grabbed a hold of your hips as he started slamming his cock inside of you at a steady pace, his groans leaving him long and low. 
“Goddamn.. Such a tight fuckin’ pussy..” he grunted as his cock wrecked you with each swift hard thrust he made. Your hands gripped tight onto the metal table as your body bounced with each of his movements and you moaned loudly forgetting that others could possibly hear, but you no longer cared and neither did he as he groaned and grunted louder as your bodies moved in unison together. You whimpered his name on your pouty lips each word coming out more sultry and nearly pornographic from the sounds that followed each word. You suddenly felt empty when he pulled out of you without warning and grabbed you and forced you around onto all fours and you felt him climb up onto the table behind you, his wet cock slapping against your ass and he guided his cock back inside of your warm wet pussy and he tilted his head back as he moaned with pleasure feeling his cock sink back into you. You nearly squealed, feeling his cock slip deep inside of you again. 
“Oh, doctor..” you moaned. 
You weren’t able to form any kind of sentence as he fucked you rough forcing your face to rest against the cold examining table as he took complete control of your ever move as his hands grasped a handful of your ass, the sound of both of your pleasuring sounds and his hips slapping against your ass filled the quiet echoey room. “Ah fuck.. This pussy feels so damn good ‘round my cock. Gonna make me put a damn baby in ya, honey. Would ya like that? Hm? Have me fuckin’ breed ya like a good whore.” he said between soft groans. 
“Yes! P-Please.. I’m yours!” You cried as his cock slammed against your walls stretching your sore cunt wide open. He was going to make sure you knew exactly who owned your pussy now. You belonged to him now. Completely. He was going to make sure you wouldn’t forget it when you walk out of his office today. 
He smirked at your obedience. “Atta girl.. Gonna make ya my good little breedin’ whore and give you so many damn babies..” he grunted between his heavy breaths. You didn’t know how much longer you could hold on or how much more you could take. You could feel your orgasm building in the pit of your stomach rising to the surface viciously as your body felt almost lifeless and tired. He was reaching his own orgasm as his grunting became louder and his breathing heavier that you could hardly hear his groans between them. His hips bucked and his body grew numb as he was getting closer to cumming. “Oh god, baby.. Gonna make me cum so hard inside ya..” he mewled. His cock throbbed and twitched inside of you as his hips convulsed against your ass and before he realized it he was cumming deep inside of you, painting your walls white with his warm cum that filled you up. The very feeling of that sweet warmth pushed you over the edge that your orgasm hit like freight train and you came hard all over his aching cock. You both moved slowly against one another until you rode out your high. You fell against the metal table nearly exhausted as you felt his cock slip out of your leaking cunt and he climbed off the table. Your body jolted when you felt his fingers pushing his cum back into your pussy. 
He already knew that the whole office probably heard what was going on and he helped you off the table and turned you to face him and he kissed you deeply. “You should go, baby..” he mumbled. You kissed him back and let out a soft whimper against his lips, not wanting to leave him after what you just did together, but you nodded at his words. He handed you your clothes and the both of you quickly got dressed. You could feel drops of his cum seeping out of you and into your panties as the two of you composed yourselves and before you could head out the door, he grabbed your arm and pulled you toward him and he kissed you so passionately that you felt like you could’ve melted in his arms as you kissed him back deeply. He pulled back and his eyes so piercing and blue stared into your eyes. “You come and see me and I’ll check and see if I made you a mama.. If not, I’ll have to examine you thoroughly again until it takes..” he whispered. You bite your bottom lip at his words, knowing exactly what he meant. 
“Yes, Dr. Carpenter.” you responded softly. 
He walked you to the door and he cleared his throat when he opened it. He could see that his staff and other patients knew exactly what went on when they saw the two of you. But he ignored it. “Goodbye, Y/N.” he said sternly. You flashed him a smile and giggled softly as you went on your way, glancing back to see him staring at you as he usually did before you disappeared from his sight.
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Tagging: @generoustreemystic @arianatheangel-girl @kendralavon7 @be-my-ally @prompted-wordsmith @samfangirls @airyx0x0 @astralheart21 @galaxygirl453 @prayerstopresley
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lunzi0 · 2 months
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Revisited Nightmares Chapter 1 Part 2
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WOOP okay yes part 2 is finally out…we are getting somewhere guys WOOOO
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missfisherandjack · 18 days
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2x12 Unnatural Habits
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chickenoptyrx · 9 months
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Its 1am, so I am once again posting a wip/preview thing of a comic im physically fighting myself to just finish up
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