#aw no jonesy :c

[pfhwrittes]

another one from the prompt list, "how do they deal emotionally after a bad mission".

tw for angst, non-graphic self injury, hurt no comfort (despite kyle's best efforts), and blood mention below the cut.

–

there’s blood under her nails and it won’t come out no matter how much she scrubs. she can still feel it, settling deep into the creases around her knuckles and in the life line on her palm.

a warm palm lands on jonesy’s shoulder and she flinches, wide eyes meet worried brown in the cracked mirror. 

“jonesy, c’mon mate -” jonesy shrugs the hand off and ducks her head and focuses on the bead of blood welling up on her thumb.

“leave it, gaz.” 

pink tinted water slips down the plughole of the basin in the safehouse. 

“he’s fine. barely even a scratch, it’ll take more than a lucky knife to get soap -” 

“i said, leave it.” jonesy’s voice is a whip crack, cutting off pretty soothing words that she knows she doesn’t deserve to hear. a better soldier, a better teammate, a better friend would deserve to hear them. not her. not someone who almost got her friend killed. 

gaz sighs softly and fabric rustles over the sound of running water.

“i’ll be back in a minute, yeah?” he says softly and jonesy ignores him. she scrubs harder at her hands, ignoring the astringent sting of cheap soap against her knuckles. 

the hinges on the bathroom door squeal as gaz retreats. 

there’s blood under her nails and it won’t come out.

[pondslime]

OOF OOF OOF OOF

finally finally got a chance to sit my ass down and read this and OOF?? UMM?? it’s everything to me WTF??? u annihilated me w/this one. 

deranged rambling underneath the cut as always

The town and his brain are maps of each other.

obsessed OBSESSED w/this line. like. how do I get all of FOUR lines into this and you’re ALREADY taking me out w/a sniper shot straight to the solar plexus. MEG.

this fic feels like a vertigo spell. like, ur well aware ur standing still....logically......but somehow it feels like u are wavering five feet to the side. just off balance and dizzy and OOF (again w/the oof’s. but this fic really just has me goin OOF)

“Hey,” he says in a voice like guncotton. The air in your lungs rushes past your lips to meet him with open arms. “Why you cryin’, baby?”

You shake your head no. No, not crying. No, not baby. He puts his hand on your knee and you make a sound like something that is realizing it is dead.

in A VOICE LIKE GUNCOTTON

CANNOT BELIEVE U WROTE THAT I’M FLOATIN IN SPACE

A SOUND LIKE SOMETHING THAT IS REALIZING IT IS DEAD

A CADAVER WHEEZE 

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

throwing up actually. this fic is a migraine and I’m lying in a dark room w/a cold compress over my eyes 

this is so VILE and REPULSIVE but in the best possible way. reader just sobbing on the ground and he’s immediately on his bullshit fsdhhfsdjhfdjshjfds YELLING YELLING @ him droppin a lil “baby mine”. he fuckin WOULD

awful horrendous nightmare man where are u this is not a drill

ur prose is SO fuckin good. I’m eating this w/a spoon like it’s the finest ice cream made of flies corpses and moss. CHOMPING THIS DOWN

Almost. Almost. You whimper. Your heart is flinging itself against the cage of your ribs, desperate to be rid of you, desperate to be clutched in his hand. Your blood belongs under his nails. You picture him with gore streaking his face, the meat of you in his mouth. Handsome.

your PROSE fdhkjdfdhjkhfdskjfdskjfdskjfdskjfds FUCK

He could fix you. You know he could. You’ve watched him fix cars and radios, roofs and windows. Once he pulled a thorn from Jonesy’s paw with all the care of a surgeon. You want him to hold you like that. You want him to mend you. You know he knows how. He took you apart in the first place, slit your belly and dug through your innards for the best parts. Swallowed them whole and raw and salty. Surely he could stitch you back together again.

GAGGED GAGGED CHOKING GAGGED

I can’t believe u’ve done this. I’m wounded I love it so v v much

You are too soft and too strong for this, and that’s always been your problem, and maybe if you were hard and brittle you would have shattered long ago instead of tearing like wet paper again and again.

INCOHERENT OVER THIS

“You been lonely?” he grunts.

Loneliness dogs your steps like a hunched and withered thing. Sometimes you think you are the only one alive in this place. Sometimes you know you are a ghost. Sometimes you wish he’d give you a baby just so you could hear a different person crying. “Yes.”  

Sometimes you wish he’d give you a baby just so you could hear a different person crying. Sometimes you wish he’d give you a baby just so you could hear a different person crying. Sometimes you wish he’d give you a baby just so you could hear a different person crying. Sometimes you wish he’d give you a baby just so you could hear a different person crying. Sometimes you wish he’d give you a baby just so you could hear a different person crying. Sometimes you wish he’d give you a baby just so you could hear a different person crying. Sometimes you wish he’d give you a baby just so you could hear a different person crying. Sometimes you wish he’d give you a baby just so you could hear a different person crying. Sometimes you wish he’d give you a baby just so you could hear a different person crying. Sometimes you wish he’d give you a baby just so you could hear a different person crying.

H U H ???????????????????????????????????????????? HUH ????????

You are dangling by a snare-string, now and always, and you watch it fray and you feel it snap and you fall to the ground and into the sky. You kick so hard you break your own back and feel bliss.

He eats and leaves and leaves a mess. He pulls out and honey seeps into the carpet. You follow it through. You rot beneath the house. You swim into the swamp. The sinkhole swallows you up. You disappear amidst the green.

He says something, but you don’t speak his language.

how I feel reading this slowly losing my grasp on LANGUAGE TOO. I’M THERE GIRL I SPEAK NO LANGUAGE:

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

this is so fucked up and nastyweird and delicious and I am functionally a fuckin squash on the ground growin roots over this fic

MEG

cane-cutter blues

Bo Sinclair x AFAB!Reader

this was originally supposed to be a comfort fic. in reality, this is literally the opposite of a comfort fic. read this only if you want to be discomforted. did you know there is a type of rabbit in Louisiana called a swamp rabbit, or a cane-cutter? they can swim. i hope this information serves you well in the future.

1.9k words. dubcon through-and-through and Bo is an ass. reader is well north of Stockholm. the whole fic is a metaphor for god knows what. dacryphilia, an abundance of prey imagery and some gore. I feel the need to credit @ventiswampwater with the creation of this genre of fic which I like to refer to as fuckweird bc it is fuck weird.

He finds you. He always does. It's not like you were hiding, not really; you've long since given up any hope of that. The town and his brain are maps of each other. You can't hide from him here. 

He walks up to you slow, stands over you. You cannot look at him, or you won’t be able to look away. You curl in on yourself tighter like a grub in the earth. There is a sinkhole, ragged and sucking, cold in your chest. 

He takes a knee in front of you and says nothing. Your sobs are deafening in the silence of his stare but you cannot stop them; your diaphragm kicks below your ribs like a rabbit in a hawk's claws. You press your hands to your mouth and stop breathing, feel your lungs fold. Maybe, if you are still, he'll forget he ever saw you.

"Hey," he says in a voice like guncotton. The air in your lungs rushes past your lips to meet him with open arms. "Why you cryin', baby?"

You shake your head no. No, not crying. No, not baby. He puts his hand on your knee and you make a sound like something that is realizing it is dead. 

"Tell me what's wrong, pretty girl." 

His voice is soothing, solicitous. Your eyes are drawn up to meet his and there is sympathy there, thin and filmy. Behind it there is something else. You cannot look away. He scares you so bad and your whole jaw trembles and you need him to hold you even if he holds too tight. 

His brow draws together. "You hurtin'?" 

Too much. That is too much. You cry out and the hole in you groans and the floor begins to absorb you, you can feel it, feel yourself seeping into the carpet and the cracks of the boards below and the dirt below that, speckled with bones. Someday, you will crawl beneath the foundation of this place to die. 

He coos and gets on both knees, big hands sliding up your thighs. "Ohh, baby mine." 

He forces your legs open and scoots between them and you are exposed, a rotten log eviscerated, and how badly you want him to fill you with warmth and how badly you want to claw at his face until he leaves you alone. 

"Tell me where it hurts," he says, wiping his thumb through the damp on the curve of your cheek. "Is it here?" He draws his finger down the center of your forehead to the bridge of your nose. 

You shake your head. No. The brain doesn't feel pain, you learned once. Before you came here and got lost. Your brain hasn't been the same since the sinkhole. Since the first time you died. But you know better than to run those trails anymore. Nothing lives in that part of the woods.

He leans in to kiss your brow. You squeeze your eyes shut and brace for the impact. He cups your neck in his hand. His thumb can reach all the way around your trachea but he doesn't squeeze this time. His hand melts to the center of your chest. "Is it here?"

Almost. Almost. You whimper. Your heart is flinging itself against the cage of your ribs, desperate to be rid of you, desperate to be clutched in his hand. Your blood belongs under his nails. You picture him with gore streaking his face, the meat of you in his mouth. Handsome. 

He pulls the neckline of your tank top down with one finger and presses a kiss to your breastbone. His hair tickles your chin. His teeth scrape at the skin stretched taut over bone. Fleshless. You have lost so much of yourself, peeled off and dripped out along the back roads, sunk in murky water, tufts of fur scattered to the wind. 

He could fix you. You know he could. You've watched him fix cars and radios, roofs and windows. Once he pulled a thorn from Jonesy's paw with all the care of a surgeon. You want him to hold you like that. You want him to mend you. You know he knows how. He took you apart in the first place, slit your belly and dug through your innards for the best parts. Swallowed them whole and raw and salty. Surely he could stitch you back together again. 

He sighs, shaking his head. "Can't do a thing for ya if y'don't help me out here."

"There," you say hoarsely, pressing your hand to the gap between your ribs. "Right there." You can feel your pulse eddying beneath your palm. You want to take his hand and hold it there until the hurt stops. Until the blood clots. You want him to cradle you like something precious and domestic. A dog. A tool. 

He doesn't seem to hear you. Lately you've been speaking out loud but it's only in your head. Lately he doesn’t speak your language. He pushes your legs further apart and his tongue darts over his lips. 

"Is it here, baby?" He pushes his knuckle into the seam of your shorts, catching against your clit. You moan and it trembles in the air like a snare pulled taut. He’s got you. He’s got you.

An almost-smile skitters across his face. "Right there, huh?"

Your lip quivers. The world shakes. The rabbit thinks it can run. Your rib cage is collapsing like a house that is sick of being everything but a home. He strokes you in a slow circle and the fabric pinches but you nod. "Right there," you whisper, digging deep into the muck of yourself to find the bright side. Twisting your words into sounds he understands. This is how he loves you. This is how he fixes you.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

He grinds his knuckle against you while his free hand works at his belt. Below the pinch there is a spark and you lean your head back against the mattress and choke. A fresh wave of tears brim over your lashes and they are hot as they streak down your cheeks. Your lips are swollen and stuck together. You lift your hips without being asked and he pulls your shorts off. The carpet is rough against your ass. You wait for him to put you where he wants you because that's how he does it. That's how he makes you whole. 

He pulls you onto the floor beneath him and the change in elevation spikes the pressure in your sinuses. "Daddy's gonna fix it, baby," he mutters as he pumps his cock. "Gonna make it better."

He prods at your entrance and you suck the saliva from your tongue and swallow. He burrows into you and you gasp and it hurts. You are too soft and too strong for this, and that's always been your problem, and maybe if you were hard and brittle you would have shattered long ago instead of tearing like wet paper again and again. 

Your nails dig into the carpet as he pistons his hips, groaning as you give way around him. The sting subsides like stings always do. The bloom between your hips is warm and honey-gold. You turn your palms to the ceiling and let his love diffuse through your blood, sigh and hiccup as it spills into the hissing void in your chest. 

He huffs with every snap of his hips. He pushes your knees to your ribs and you see his hands are filthy; he’s been working in the shop. Grease smudges your skin like sorrow. The things he adds to you are never the ones you would have chosen. The things he takes you didn’t know you could live without. 

He fancies himself a hunter, but you know he is a scavenger. He finds your hurt rotting in the undergrowth and skins it, turns it inside-out, pins it to the wall like a trophy. It isn’t his; it doesn’t belong to him. But it is easier to hang on the wall than it is to outrun the hawk.

“You been lonely?” he grunts.

Loneliness dogs your steps like a hunched and withered thing. Sometimes you think you are the only one alive in this place. Sometimes you know you are a ghost. Sometimes you wish he’d give you a baby just so you could hear a different person crying. “Yes.”  

“Been missin’ me, huh?”  

You miss him when he’s right beside you. You miss him when he’s asleep with his arm across your chest, suffocating you without meaning to. You miss him every moment he’s not inside your body and even then you are counting the minutes before he leaves you again. “I always miss you.”  

He cracks a smile. “Always, huh?”  

You miss a version of him you’ve never met. A version who never made it out of the womb alive. A version you dream about, sometimes, in the springtime when he lets you sleep with the windows open. 

The tears begin again. 

He moans. His thrusts pick up speed. “Pretty when you cry, baby. Tuggin’ on my heartstrings.”  His thumb finds your clit again and you whine and buck beneath him. “I know. I know.”  

The joints of your hips are burning. The carpet is scraping your back. You can’t breathe right; air comes in rationed gasps. You are pinned to the dirt and dying. But it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay. You can’t remember why you were upset. The emptiness inside you is full of brown leaves and beehives and covered in vines. He’s too rough and it’s too much and you subsume yourself in it. The water is cool and it lifts you. An animal is screaming in the woods, under the bed, in your throat. The rabbit loves the hawk in a way without words. 

“Let it go, baby. You need this.”  

Your brain is misty and you can’t think backwards. The trail is lost. You don’t remember who you are anymore. You only ever think of him. His hands on your body, his lips on your skin. How many bites remain of your heart?  Is there any left for you?  

Where is his heart, and why can’t you have any?  

You are dangling by a snare-string, now and always, and you watch it fray and you feel it snap and you fall to the ground and into the sky. You kick so hard you break your own back and feel bliss. You feel bliss. He is drowning you in honey and you feel better. You feel better. 

"Yeah,” you hear him purr. “That's what she needs.”

He is always right, and you are something else. 

He fucks you through it. He’s right behind you, crashing through the brush, splashing through the mud, groaning and gripping at your bones. “Fuck…’m close, girl….”  

Your ears are ringing. Your eyes are elsewhere. The hum of the hive. The wind in the trees. Water up to your throat. He will finish, he will leave you. You will hide. He will find you. Sunlight through the canopy. Dirt beneath your paws. Bees in your chest. The view from the mantle above the fireplace. He takes your skin and chews your heart and leaves you to decompose. 

When he cums he claws at your underbelly but there is nothing vital left. You are bones. You are hollow. You are already dead. 

He eats and leaves and leaves a mess. He pulls out and honey seeps into the carpet. You follow it through. You rot beneath the house. You swim into the swamp. The sinkhole swallows you up. You disappear amidst the green. 

He says something, but you don’t speak his language. 

[fancifulwritings]

The Song Remains The Same

after quite a long time (i am so sorry this took so long to anyone that’s been following for a while) here’s chapter 17! i’ll probably start working on the next chapter almost right away, but i’m more than happy to have any recommendations/wants to write next, my ask box is always open!

A small panic fell upon the room. No one said anything, but they all knew the cause. The word, the simple word of problem, didn't sit well with anyone. Things had seemed to be going so well. What could this so called problem be? What had they done?

     One by one, they all looked at Jimmy. Those who had been together at that dinner, the one that seemed so long ago after the concert, knew he liked to push buttons. Bonzo might not have been there, but his head still turned. The dynamic between Robert and Jimmy wasn't lost to him. They fought like cats and dogs, like true brothers. It got on everyone's nerves back in the day. Even Jimmy, for a few moments, wondered if he was the one to blame. He didn't think he had overstepped, not yet at least.

     Calypso, of course, felt the most nervous. She was the less sure of this whole thing. Her footing into their world was weak. She might have been the once to cause this, but that didn't guarantee her a place. One word from Robert and she would be sent packing. An eternity, alone, stuck forever at twenty-one, with her so-called soulmate refusing anything to do with her? It sounded like hell. Her thoughts, after focusing on Jimmy causing this, naturally turned to herself.

     John Paul, like everyone else, thought it was Jimmy. It was where his thought stayed for the longest. But then they turned away from them. Perhaps this was no one's fault. Perhaps it was something to do with Robert. Had he not shared that their stay had a limit? Did he need a few moments to himself? John Paul understood why his house was so far out into the woods. Sometimes a man just needed his time to himself. Was that it? Or did Robert had prior arrangements he needed to uphold?

     The anxiety stayed over the room for a few seconds. Robert noticed this, watched everyone's eyes and heads shift to Jimmy. It was amusing to him. But he didn't let it sit longer for a moment. That felt a bit too cruel to do to them. He burst out laughing before he could talk, though. All of them were too easy to wind up, even all these years later.

     "They're not real problems, not problems like we used to have," he said with a roll of his eyes. A few more chuckles left his body before he could talk again. "Just a few things that need to be taken care of. Physical problems, not social ones, lads. You lot need to calm down just a little bit," he said.

     Once he finished speaking, silence again fell over them. They were waiting for him to announce what these problems were. They were all wracking their brains. No one could think of what was wrong. The few moments of silence, as Robert collected himself from his laughing fit, seemed to be a bit too much for some people.

     "Well, will you spit it out lad!" Bonzo roared with a smile. "I know we technically got forever and all, but I don't wanna sit here that long, waiting for you to find your words," he said. There was a clearly playful tone in his voice. It brought a smile to Calypso's face.

     There interactions seemed so lighthearted. Robert's own face had a smile growing, one that was different from his laughing. It was a fond smile, Calypso realized. He had waited years for this. Robert had gone years and years, likely praying for one more day with his best friend. How many times had Robert dreamed that Bonzo was alive again? It was touching. Calypso counted herself lucky that she got to see this wishes and dreams come true.

     "Well, first, you lot are disgusting. You're absolute pigs!" He said with a smirk. "And while this is partially about the dishes, don't think me and Calypso will be doing them all ourselves, it's actually about how much you eat. Though, Bonz, I do expect a thorough cleaning of your room before you leave, I remember what your hotel rooms looked like," he said. There was a twinkle in his eyes. There was no doubt in anyone's mind that Robert had missed teasing his best friend.

     "And you haven't been eating a grossly inappropriate amount, especially for a bunch of twenty something year olds," he said. Calypso thought for a moment he was getting more comfortable with the whole situation. That was immensely good. It made her feel a bit more at east. "But I hadn't planned for," he paused to count them all off, "five guests plus me. I had just enough or about a week or so," he said.

     His thinking, then, was that it would be enough time to hide out. The people he interacted with on a normal weekly basis of course knew who he was. But they also didn't make a huge fanfare of who he was. The town, no doubt, would be swarmed with Zeppelin fans after the concert. People seeking out him or any of the other two. They would make a huge deal out of who he was. Robert was passed the age, at that point, of wanting people to make a deal out of who he was. So he had wanted to hide away for a week. But now that was all gone out of the window. He hadn't exactly planned for this.

     What was the problem with the food? None of them exactly got it. Surely they all had the funds to go out and get the food. Robert couldn't be that low on cash that he couldn't afford to eat. "Now, mate, you're not telling me you're broke, are ye? Because I think anyone of them," Bonzo pointed to everyone else, "can afford a bit of groceries."

     To that, Robert only tutted and shook his head. Surely everyone else would get it. But even Calypso wasn't piecing together what the food problem was. "Do I need to show everyone a mirror?" He asked with a sigh. "We can't exactly go out like this. Unless someone has enough cash to buy stock in a grocery market, I'm not exactly sure how we can go about getting food," he explained.

     Calypso realized he was right. The one thing that had her in constant awe, she had forgotten. Without any real interaction with the outside world, she had momentarily forgotten it wasn't 1970-something. It was easy to do, being surrounded by all their faces for only twenty-four hours.

     Robert very much was right. They would need a large amount of food, an insane amount so they could stay hidden for a little bit. Six months to feed on just strictly three meals a day was going to be a lot for anyone. Someone who hadn't prepared? Someone who couldn't exactly go out in public like they were? If anyone used their card, they could be found out immediately.    

     A card gave a name, and with the increasingly familiar face, the cashier was bond to recognize them. That was assuming that no one stopped them in the shop because how much they looked like whatever member of Led Zeppelin. The voice, the looks, the everything about them would give them away. There was only so much they could lie their way out of. They still held a bit of popularity. If they didn't, the reunion concert wouldn't have been a big deal, or a deal at all. If they didn't, Calypso never would have fallen in love with the band.

     "I can do it," Maureen piped up after a moment. They all turned to her, a bit confused. How could she do it? To that, she just laughed a bit. "No one knows what I look like, who I am. No one's gonna think twice about me. I might be young again, but I wasn't the famous one, remember?" She said with a grin. "And I think I've got more than enough money in my bank account to cover it. Well, John does, but you all know it's the same difference," she said with yet another laugh.

     In that moment, it was pretty easy to see that Robert felt a fool. All of them did, Calypso included. After a few seconds, Robert busted out laughing. How could that be forgotten? He'd managed to project his problems onto everyone, and not everyone shared them.

     It wasn't like he had forgotten about Mo. If asked about it, he would defend himself. He knew she was here. It was more that he had simply forgotten she wasn't famous. Sure, she had been in that one scene in their movie, ages ago, and a few pictures here and there, but how many people really knew what she looked like? She was the only one in their little group with easy access to a bank account who wouldn't get caught.

     That didn't solve their next problem. As much as Robert would love for the answer to be Mo doing everything, it just wouldn't work. It also wouldn't be fair to her and Jonesy's bank account.

     "The other little problem is a little less life or death, but it'll certainly need to be solved," he said. "None of us have proper clothing. I feel like I'm drowning in my old man's suit whenever I get dressed. And poor Bonz doesn't anything besides what's literally on his back," he paused to chuckle, "it might look like 1973, but we can't wear the same outfit for days on end anymore. He'll reek."

     This was not a problem that had occurred to Calypso. It wasn't even really a problem, more a dilemma they needed to fix. The food issue had been somewhere in the back of her mind. After all, Robert had mentioned last night he didn't have enough food for all of them. The fridge and cupboards were becoming more and more bare as she watched him cook.

     Eventually, she would have voiced her concern about the food to Robert. But he had beat her too it, before it was a truly pressing matter, so she didn't have to think about that. Having four full grown men in a house without food and those same four fully grown men couldn't leave sounded like something out of a nightmare.

     Clothing wasn't something that would have ever crossed her mind. It simply wasn't a problem. She'd packed as much clothing as she could fit into her luggage. Whenever she ran out, she could have just laundry. The rest of them didn't have that sort of luxury. Their clothes didn't fit them anyone. Bonzo had it the worst with the one singular suit he wore that was obviously just a bit too big for him. It had been fitted for a much larger Bonzo.

     Calypso glanced around the table and the clothing issue become more apparent the more she focused on it. Robert sat adjusting himself, no longer comfortable in the casual outfit he had on. With the long curls that cascaded to almost halfway down his back, the button up and slacks combo he had on looked out of place. Once again, he embodied a 1970s rock star but his clothes suggested retired dad.

     Jimmy looked just as equally out of place and simply wrong as Robert did. He'd always been the skinniest out of the band, even now. But the clothes he was currently in ate his small frame. It was almost like his clothes were swallowing him up until nothing was left. The silver locks were gone, placed by his dark mop of hair, and it a startling difference for Calypso.

     Jonesy didn't appear too out of place. His clothes were too big for him, just like the rest of them. But, as far as Calypso was concerned, he'd always dressed rather normally. His build and hairstyle could easily just be a normal, everyday. It was part of the reason he had been able to blend in with a crowd and escape back in the day.

     "I don't need any clothing," Jimmy said after a moment of silence.

     Bonzo scoffed at that idea. "What? You just gonna deal with what ya got until we all see your ass?"

     That was met with an eye roll from Jimmy, barely noticeable underneath his wild fringe. "No, I still have most my stuff from back in the day. It should all fit just fine now. No need to give you the privilege of my bum." Jimmy chuckled as he spoke. "That is, whatever didn't end up in museums or archives."

     That struck Calypso as a bit odd. Why would he bother keeping all of that? It wasn't like he thought he should keep it around so that if he lost the weight he could wear it again. No old man could want to wear his clothing from the 70s, could he? Especially one that probably hadn't taken the best care of himself. What condition would the clothes even be in?

     As Calypso mulled over her thoughts, something clicked inside of Robert. None of the rest of them had kept their clothes. That was what normal people did. Got rid of their clothes as the fashion changed drastically and they out grew things. There was only one answer.

     "You little slimy bastard, you were always ready for this to-" He began, anger apparent in his voice, before he was cut off.

     "Boys, let's not fight right now. We've done enough of that, I think," Maureen said quickly. "It doesn't matter why Jimmy doesn't need anything. Just count it a blessing none of us will witness his bum." She gave a cutting glance to Robert, almost daring him to challenger her.

     "Alright, well, that settles one out of four of us," Robert said. His voice gave away his clear annoyance. "One or two of us might be able to sneak out, but not all of us. That's asking to be recognized, no matter how good we disguise ourselves." At that, Calypso couldn't help but chuckle. How exactly could any of them disguise themselves?

     After a moment, Jonesy spoke up. "I can go for myself and Bonzo," he said. Robert cocked his head a bit quizzically at the statement, as did Calypso. There was something so sure in his statement, in his voice.

     "It's not the first time I've done it," he said with a laugh. The statement might have been meant as clarification, but it didn't seem to clarify anything, at least for Calypso. Robert's head remained cocked as well.

     "Someone, back in the day, liked to under-pack for tours. It was a chronic condition," Jonesy said as he shot a look toward Bonzo. "Whatcha pack for that one American tour? Two briefs, a singular sweater, and maybe three pairs of shorts?"

     "And what was on me back!" Bonzo pointed out.

     "Yes, yes, of course. How could I forget that important detail?" Jonesy asked with a playful smile painted on his face.

     "Not everyone loved life on the road, you know. I had a family!" He replied, seemingly in defense of himself. This apparently was an age old fight, though maybe not started by the issue of clothing.

     Robert rolled his eyes at the comment. "We all had families, my boy, that is besides Jimmy." Bonzo turned a bit red, but didn't bother to respond with anything. It was obvious that this fight was one they had time and time again, and had been settled long before Calypso had come along.

     "But, either way, John Paul will go clothes shopping like the old days," Robert said with a smile. The feeling in the room lightened a little bit at that.

     "Well, I think you should obviously go, Robert," Calypso piped up after another moment. In her mind, who else could go for him? He was too tall for Jonesy to be able to accurately judge what size he might need.

Jonesy and Bonzo had an almost similar sense of style, or Bonzo just put up with Jonesy's clothing choices. That alone told her that Jonesy didn't have practice buying for Robert as well. Robert seemed a bit pickier than that. And Jimmy seemed to have checked out about the clothing problem, not wanting a thing to do with it. He'd probably shame them all for not simply keeping their clothes.

Once it was out of her mouth, though, she regretted it. Everyone turned to look at her. It was as if they had forgotten she was there. Which, she couldn't fully blame them for. That wasn't the reason for her regret, though. With everyone leaving the house, she'd be left with Bonzo and Jimmy.

It wasn't like she didn't like either man. It would just, it was an uncomfortable thought. She didn't know them too well. Bonzo had literally just come back from the dead. If she stayed… She'd feel like she was getting in the way of a long overdue reunion rather than bonding with people she'd be trapped with.

"Well, I suppose you're right on that," Robert said as he looked at her with a smile. "But," he began as he put a hand on her thigh, "I'll only go if you agree to go with me. A pretty girl like you will distract the paparazzi from an old man like me." He had a toothy grin on his face that she couldn't say no to, one that showed off his missing tooth.

Her gut told her to say no. Calypso could already tell exactly what Robert was thinking about. It was a ploy for him to buy her more clothing. That was something that made her a bit uncomfortable. Having things paid for by other people just wasn't something she was used to. Could she really manage to get the word no out of her mouth, though?

"Well, of course I'll go," she said with a bright smile. Her face didn't show a single sign of her internal fight. She'd regret it later, give the look he gave her, but now wasn't the time to worry.

[frostygar]

The Flash S5 Ep4 Thoughts

- There’s always one person who documents the superhero’s as they fight the bad guy lol

- So we know that Iris can’t cook… what kind of pancakes were those 😭😭😭

- In my mind I should have realized the pancakes were supposed to be lightning bolts but all I thought at first were awful music notes...

- I normally hate when people document what they’re eating but Nora’s reasoning is hilarious so she gets a pass lol

- BARRY DOING THE DAD THING AND MAKING IRIS FEEL GOOD ABOUT HER AWFUL PANCAKES. That’s sweet, but you should probably save everyone in the future and tell her that she should take cooking lessons 😬😬😬

- Oof Barry got Nora a phone without consulting Iris… wait… softball…? Barry still trying to be the supportive husband and Iris just being like “no… no it’s awful I’m just going to make you a banana.” low-key that was c*te

- So Sherloque gets mad at Caitlin for her input even though it was a great idea but not two seconds later doesn’t care that Iris jumps in? Okay,,,,,,,,,,,,,

- Ralph bringing in the most obvious question of WHY Cicada wears the mask… ugh we love

- It’s interesting to see the show have this softball thing but it’s sooooo out of place and feels… weird. However Iris in that blue CCPD hat? Yes. It’s so cute fdjsafhjksafhj Also saying that Barry is a superhero who can do a lot of awesome things and saving the world but at the same time can’t play softball? Humbling and really good!!

- NORA SHADING HER MOTHER’S WEBSITE WE LOVE TO SEE IT LMAO AND THE FACES CAITLIN AND CECILE GIVE ONE ANOTHER? GOLD.

- Nora to the rescue even though she’s probably being controlled as some way for that one blogger she saved to make a name for herself on! Poor Jonesy (sp?) though…

- Nora’s “okay” was so sad and cute omg :( AW HER “THANKS, MOM” WAS. SO CUTE TOO OMGGGGG

- So they give up instead of using the list they created?? All you had to do was ask “hey so how many of your workers are men, have daughters, probably had something happen to them,” etc.??? like… really…

- NORA FLIRTING IS THE CUTEST THING. But also how did it not register that she was a meta smh

- “I would never lie to you.” Iris, you have no clue how you are in the future. OH SO SHE SHOWS THE POWER DAMPENING CHIP RIGHT NOW??? Damn… that scene was so intense. Like, Iris would never need to use a power dampening chip like??? What was the reason??

- Iris… trying to force Nora… to accept her calls… on the quantum computer… used for… science… So when is the realization that she’s an awful mom/person going to set in?? Probably never because Iris is catered to and put on a pedestal like Betty Cooper on Riverdale. Still hate to see it.

- I don’t get how Iris can’t see that she typically is not a good human being… like she’s manipulative and controlling and she’s asking how she could do that to her daughter??? I mean this could have been a great plot to make her a better, more liked character (and as a plus taking a break from Barry that’ll end in divorce because they are S T E P S I B L I N G S) and increasing the quality of the show but I watch Riverdale and if it hasn’t happened to Betty, it won’t happen to Iris.

- “I know that anything you do for our family, it’s out of love.” Yes, Barry, but sometimes that idea can become warped so the person inflicting that will THINK it’s what needs to happen because they love them but it’s NOT. There’s no excuse for it.

- I just thought about it but couldn’t Ralph and Sherloque bring that meta-watch thing to the factory to see who was a meta? Boom, they’d catch Cicada…….

- Caitlin Snow is the baddest bitch with a great right hook we stan. Honestly can she punch ME?

- Oh no when they stop the meta who’s name I don’t care to remember is stopped Nora’s gonna feel so bad for trying to kill her dad 🥺🥺 nooo babyyy

- Of course Iris is going to save the day… makes total sense….. OH YEAH I FORGOT NORA KNOWS HOW TO REWINE TIME

- SHERLOQUE GIVING CREDIT TO RALPH AWWWW WE LOVE A SMALL GLOW UP!!!!

- Meta-human tech… interesting.

- They better not spin the craziest bullshit to make it okay for Iris to take away Nora’s powers.

- Nora crying 😭😭😭 Again, this would be the PERFECT time to have Iris take like a couple of steps back and re-evaluate her life and how she is as a person and change for the better but I just know I won’t get that smh

- NOT HER PARENTS, WHO DON’T KNOW WHAT THEIR DAUGHTER HAS GONE THROUGH, TELLING HER THAT SHE’S WRONG….. this is why you don’t have children with your (step) sibling, nor marry them.

- I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to GENUINELY punch the fuck out of Barry until right now.

- “Then I guess I need to rethink what the meaning of family is.” YESSSSSS JOIN CAITLIN’S FAMILY. Also knowing that eventually Nora forgives Iris… this potential for something so good is wasted but this is CW so I’m not really surprised. 

- NORA GOES TO CECILE 🥺🥺🥺 UGHHH JOE AND NORA’S SMALL TLAK FSDHIOFHSDAKHFH

- Is this guy Cicada I can’t tell lol

[fyrapartnersearch]

Cockadoodledoo, (M//M)

Hey! I’m Jonesy! I’ve posted on here before a few months ago, and I spoke with a number of people about starting RPs, and then some shit happened where I was literally unable to get to the computer, thus vanished for a while. For… four months. Yeah. (Anyone want to know what it’s like to wake up from a coma and get in a fist fight with a nurse because you have no idea what’s going on? Just ask.) Anyhoo, if I had something started with you, or even if we were just talking about starting something, and you want to hit me up again, please do! For time’s sake, I’m just gonna copy/paste part of my last advert, because… coughlazycough.

 I’m in my late 20’s and am looking for M// literate (advanced) rp partners, ages 25+ please. I do not fade to black or avoid mature themes. My writing style has a casual feel to it, but I use proper grammar, spelling, and punctuation, and I prefer that you have a good grasp on this, as well. I write third person paragraph style, and am looking for someone who likes world building and writing three dimensional characters. You know what I mean. If our characters walk into a town, I want to know who else is there, how the buildings are painted, what the air smells like. Take me to it. Paint me a worrrrrrddd pictuuuuureeee. If your character has a Maserati, I want to know how he treats it, how he drives it, and if he has that kind of money, why on EARTH would a Maserati be his car of choice?

 Absolute No’s: ….Well crap, I can never think of these until someone asks.

 Things I don’t like so much:

-Winey characters

-Super young characters

-Unrealistically serious characters

-Too much drama

-Posts that don’t move the story along (sometimes this is ok but not EVERY post…)

-Short posts.

-Spanish dudes (HA just kidding I LOVE spanish dudes.)

 Things I like:

-Spanish dudes

-All dudes

-Size differences

-Humor (Didn’t see that coming, did you?)

-Realistic dialogue*

-Open communication

 Genres I like:

-Sci fi

-Urban

-Steampunk

-Apocalyptical

-Dystopian

-Adventure

-Space stuff (This is its own genre, don’t argue with me.)

-Mild horror

 What I’m really craving right now is to use my character Ashby, and to find him a partner. I do have some other plots I’d like to write, or if you got something completely different and you want to run it by me, let me know! Worse that can happen is I’d say no. And then hunt you down and put sugar in your gas tank. (But mostly just say no.)

 So, Ashby. He’s a very complex character, thus kind of hard to explain while keeping it brief. Ashby Thornton Foster is a real strange creature. Not just because he’s very proper and likes to keep a position as the head butler in a household even though he probably has enough resources to never have to work ever. He’s tall, painfully handsome, with round antique glasses, and auburn hair. Sharp tongue, but can be a little daffy if you catch him off guard. He collects frightening tea pots, has been learning how to cook for 9 billion years but his chicken stew will probably send you to the can for the rest of the night, is excellent with mechanics and spends a lot of his free time tinkering, and has read almost every book ever written but can’t remember what happened in the last chapter of the one he’s currently working on. I should mention that this character is not human. He is a specific species of being that I created myself. I’ll go into it if you’re interested, but the basics are that he has handsomely jagged teeth, large amber eyes, and claw like nails that often lead him to be mistaken as a vampire, however when he shifts out of his human form, he looks more like a sphynx cat and a lady got together. That sounds awful, but he’s actually quite exquisite. (NOT a furry. He just looks a tad strange and has interesting legs.) Ashby is very sweet natured but runs a strict household. He is well respected and well loved.

 Ashby has a dark side to him that’s very calculated, very… intentional, if you know what I mean. He has the ability to make you the happiest person alive, but can turn around and cause you a lot of pain and suffering if you give him reason to. Battling with his darker side is a constant struggle. As far as a romantic interest for him, I usually play him as a switch, however he likes pretty masculine men (or beasties) who have the ability to dominate HIM because he doesn’t often run across many who can do so. (And I don’t just mean with sex. He can physically f*ck you up.) I would love to find him someone who can both talk him out of those times when shit gets a little too dark, but can also overpower him if need be.

 Usually, I play Ashby in a steampunk setting, and he’s the head butler of a household he runs pretty tightly, but I can also play him in other settings. He translates well. So if you’d like to Rp him in another setting, let me know! This character comes with an identical twin (Molocai, who prob won’t appear) and a Soul Eater character, who sets up camp in whatever town he settles in due to being promised his soul whenever he shuffles off his mortal coil. They’re best friends. (It’s a long story.)

 Here were some of the other stories I had ideas for, but if none of them tickle your pickle and you think we’d be a good RP match, let me know, anyway and we can do something else!

Made for one another:

Could fall under sci fi, apocalyptical, dystopian, adventure, hell it could fall under all of them. I have a really loose idea for this one. Two characters are genetically made for one another. Not romantically, but as in two parts that make up a whole. Both are genetically engineered to do something different, but both of their abilities need to be combined for whatever final outcome to happen. (The outcome being what they were created for.) Reasoning behind this was that maybe one person having both abilities, or the one ability that the both of them make up, would overload their system and kill them. Or significantly harm them in some way. Thus, two genetically engineered people were created.

The loose plot I had for this was that maybe one character has escaped the facility that created them. (Escaped a long time ago, perhaps.) This facility has some major unethical and downright inhumane practices (like lab growing people.) Character A. we’ll call him, decides to destroy the place, maybe from the inside out. (Perhaps he’s some kind of mercenary or rogue whatnot, living his life in secrecy so no one from said facility finds him, blah blah.) Ever see Alien Resurrection? With that scene where Ripley goes into the lab and finds all the failed experiments?.... No? Just me? Okay. Anyway, so while Character A. is torching the place, he finds Character B, who is the only experiment alive. He can’t just leave him there to die, so he takes him with him. That’s how they meet, but I don’t have much else for a plot for this story, other than that I see Character A as being kind of an asshole so they struggle a lot and much later they discover they’re literally made for one another.

 Mad Max:

This would be sort of based on the Mad Max world (as in the 2015 movie, even though I do so love the originals) though not using any of the characters, places, or… you know, anything. The world is a wasteland, but it’s not oil/gasoline that’s the hot commodity, it’s water. The wasteland is filled with different tribes, none of them very nice unless you belong to one of them. This pairing would be a character that’s kind of like Max, a lone wolf who belongs to no tribe and wanders, and…. I dunno, I guess he would be a POW? He’s a warrior from another tribe that was captured. Character A stops (cautiously) in one of the territories to trade for water and supplies. Character B is pretty roughed up and knows he’ll eventually end up dying if he doesn’t get away somehow, so his main objective is to get Character A to trade for him. Obviously, this eventually happens. Character A discovers that Character B has something that would be useful to him (maybe it’s just knowledge of mechanics and whatnot) so he ends up trading for him. Plot twist! They end up HATING one another. And maybe Character A finds out that Character B was lying all along and can’t really do the thing Character A traded him for, however now they’re stuck together, because they’re crossing the wasteland.

 Space Pirates (Totally not nerdy AT ALL.)

I have a space captain. He’s an alien. He has a super cool space ship and a super cool crew. His species is rarely seen in this part of the galaxy, usually they are a very secretive race living in deep, deep space, that remain secluded, however Janka has been exiled, and now creates a lot of havoc and headaches for anyone he encounters. I have a real old descrip of him from… jesus, like 2010 that I haven’t updated, but I’ll send it if he sounds interesting! Anyway, he’s a sarcastic, lazy sh*tface, kinda pretty gross without meaning to be, but he’s a real loveable character. Likes blowing things up. Kind of clumsy, which isn’t the best thing for someone who’s built like he is. He’s well known in space ports all over, so he sticks to the real shady ones, where he’s somewhat popular. This character comes with an entire crew, and bonus interesting genitalia. He really needs someone to take care of him (emotionally.) Very hard headed when it comes to relationships (“What? No, I didn’t get you anything for your birthday. You said not to get you anything.”) but when he falls for someone, he falls hard.

 *Please note that all of my characters are usually in their late twenties or older with VERY few that are mid-twenties. I also do not play with younger characters, and prefer them to be around the same age category.

 *Let me explain about the realistic dialogue. Two OC’s walk into a bar. My OC walks up to the bartender and says “Ay, Sugartits, I’ll have the usual.” Your OC says “I will have a beer.” Unless your OC is either a.) An android or b.) Two 12 year olds in a big coat, or c.) Horribly constipated, he’d better say something an actual human being would say. “I’ll have a beer.” “Gimme a beer.” “Just whatever you got on tap.” “Uh… Beer’s fine.” Don’t make your character sound like they’re reading a bad script.

 If I haven’t scared you off, shoot me an email at Geisterkommandant@hotmail.com

My RP mediums are usually Skype, Email, and I can be persuaded into Discord.

 And just to clarify. Gay RP. Plot before Porn. Thank you

[survivor-guyana]

Episode 10 - "If the votes aren't Unan1mous, I'm going to die." - Maynor

what the fuck kind of alliance votes out two of my closest allies two rounds in a row, and doesn't even tell me their concerned or trusts me with their opinion.

alyssa and jess. jsyk.

Well, being completely blindsided doesn't feel good. I just want to make sure that I'm safe moving forward, and I'm feeling very upset about how this just went over. I'm so pissed at Jess and Alyssa for not saying anything. And even Aidan. Fucking Aidan said nothing. I need to look at this situation positively, but I honestly don't know what to do right now.

I guess I need to find a way to strike against Jess/Alyssa/Devon because they are the power trio right now... I just hate doing it because I love all three of them, but if I want any chance of winning at all, I kind of need to do that.

I probably need to start by making sure I have Aidan and Dani with me. Chelsea being on the wrong side and talking with me helps, and then I need to solidify my relationship with Jones and Maynor.

Maybe with all of those combined, I have a chance.

So tonight I fucked up harder than I EVER HAVE FUCKED UP IN A GAME BEFORE (and that's saying something). I've been going through a rough patch the last week and have probably gotten a total of 15 hours of sleep since Friday???? When I was on call with Devon/Alyssa I read something out loud Jones sent me and it mentioned the whole alliance with Alyssa/Jones. I'm hoping I fucking mumbled but Alyssa understood me so DEVON KNOWS. I attempted to play it off but I DON'T know. I just don't fucking know. I'm dumb. I feel dumb.

I'm just trying to build trust with people at this point. I feel like my game fell apart fucking HARD this round. I cracked at final 10. FINAL FUCKING 10. I'm not trying to get DOWN on myself but low-key this is probably why I don't win games lmfao.

I told Alyssa about the idol so I'm hoping this is a sign of trust. I don't know how I 1000% feel about telling her but here goes nothing I guess?

I was in a pretty decent position going into this round and then....until I literally set fire to the rain and fucked shit up.

My relationship with TJ took a hit. That's not going to be good in the future. My relationship with Maynor took a hit. That's not going to be good in the future. My relationship with Chelsea is fucked (but did we ever have any type of working relationship, not really). My relationship with Devon probably took a hit because of my own stupidity. My relationship with Alyssa took a hit when I was sipping on dumb bitch juice. My relationship with Jones is still a major question mark? My relationship with JD is as stable as I am currently and that's saying SOMETHING?

THAT'S LITERALLY ALMOST EVERYONE IN THE FUCKING GAME WHO HAS SOME SORT OF ISSUE WITH ME?

Literally the only two people I didn't piss off or give reason to hate me is Dani/Aidan... and that's.... just fucking sad.

I destroyed my game and that's on me.

Time to pick up these pieces somehow and make them FIT.

Here is a Haiku about my game:

My game is a mess. I messed it up real bad. Jumping of a bridge.

okay so,,, I talked to Alyssa and Jess,,,,,,, and I understand,,,,,, like 80% where they're coming from? Jess told me she and Alyssa flipped because they didn't realize TJ and I came to them and said JD said Jess' name?? Jess went to JD and she said that Tim was the one who threw Jess' name out,,,,, and like,, they couldn't take my word for it when I said I trusted Tim, WHICH I UNDERSTAND that they didn't trust tim, but the fact that I told them how i felt and they just didn't listen to me bothers me.

like,, imagine this scenario,, would you take the testimony of someone who's in your alliance (albeit with some ulterior motives, but still in the alliance) and told their alliance (95% of) the truth,,, or someone who is never online and had been stirring up chaos and drama and was spewing shit this entire day just too keep their self safe? just answer that in the comments below thank you xoxo

so now that Alyssa and Jess know what happened on my end, and I know what happened on their end, we're both in agreement that JD has to FUCKING GO!!!! Tim was fucking robbed, i'm so espresso depresso you have no idea i'm so sad that Tim's gone. what a king,,, the creator of Jones' angels,,,,, robbedt,,,,,

we're rebranded as Tim's Angels btw jsyk <3

but ummm this fucking Unan1mous thing???? more like fucking BOOnan1mus amirite ladies hahahahahah ha h hah ah  um,,, hmm that joke sucked i'm so sorry. SO okay yeah,, Alyssa/Jess/TJ/Maynor agreed they'd vote for JD, and that they'd try to get the rest of the numbers to work for JD, BUT the problem is that if ANY ONE PERSON DOESN'T VOTE UNAN1MOUSLY,,,, they're safe. so we gotta get /everyone/ on board with this. hopefully Chelsea won't want to have like,,, revenge against Alyssa/Jess/Devon or anything sksksks

but ummmm let's hope for the best? I gotta get to school at 6:00 am and it's 2:00 am SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO it's snoozeville for me. catch you on the flipside :p

I hashed things out with Devon last night because I was so pissed off about the vote, but I still have a lot of trust to rebuild. When i mentioned my name going around, Devon, Alyssa, and Jess knew that my name wasn't out there and still didn't let me in on the Tim vote. I was completely alone and had to make an alliance with the others out of desperation and tbh, i think I look like an idiot. But anyway, i think Devon and i are on good terms and I hope we can rekindle our old team that i was loyal and comfotable with since the beginning.

This might be a long one Johnny. I am so sad that Tim went home. I was shocked. I thought i was able to trust Jess, Alyssa, Devon but they all lied and now to me personally are dead to me. Like im still going to work with them until i have an opporunity to strike against them. Like Alyssa she’s great but now has to leaving sooner than later. Devon final 2 is dead, i would gladly vote you out but have to time it really well. Dani m Aidan dead even more but seems like they are worried about Alyssa Jess and Devon so might use them to take out Alyssa. But yeah last night was rough. I had this ‘thing’ happened to be that was triggered by this game and my class lab. It wasnt good. There was a dark low moment were i got a negative thought that I should just tell them to vote me out for unanimous week. My friend texted me and told me to think it thru and Im glad i didnt day anything. I still want to play and try to make it to the end. Only person i trust 100% with out a doubt is Jonesy. ❤️ Everyone else can leave. Except i also like TJ amd Jess.

I'm not sure where my vote will land tonight. If I vote JD, I lose a shield in this game. At the same time, if JD goes tonight in a 9-1, we start to build trust among those we previously blindsided.

If I make it an 8-2 or 8-1-1, then I'm worried that people will use the process of elimination to find out I flipped....

Another random note about tonight. If JD stays due to me, the next target becomes Chelsea.

Essentially, I am deciding between playing with Chelsea or JD....

Everyone is saying JD’s name like lets do this. But now everyone is afaid of an idol and i swear if the votes aren’t unanimous, im going to die.

If I get idol'd out in this format I AM FUCKING SUING.

I CAN'T GO OUT ON MY FIRST TUMBLR ORG IN A ROUND BASED ON A ZWOOPER GAME.

HOW FUCKING IRONIC WOULD THAT BE?

YOU WILL BE HEARING FROM MY LAWYER!

In all honesty I'm struggling hard this round. Idol's are so dangerous this fucking round. SO FUCKING DANGEROUS.

The mental gymnastics happening this round is insane.

I'm honestly having PTSD about this god damn format. The ONLY time I've ever cried because of a game was IN THIS FORMAT (thanks JOHNNY).

Today all I've done is try and repair relationships. I've worked harder than a hooker on a Tuesday today. I am exhausted. If I go this has been fun-ish.

I feel fuckig awful i worked too hard in this game to potentially get idoled out and that breaks my heart that that could happen tonight. apparently JD is writing down my name because she thinks i'm "Stubborn" and she wants to save me???? like if you wanna save me then like maybe don't vote for me?????? like i get the intent behind it with like,,,, the idea to save me but this is fuckin wit hme to my c ore . .Jess thinks JD's ly ing ad that she's voting for Jess, I just,,, fuck i really wanna die right noww yk i think i might be getting out there's like a 60% chance JD doensn't have an idol, and if she's comfortable enough then she wont play it. but there's a good chance I'll be going home. fukfalkdsfajsdads don't be surprised if i cry i'm just so upsetti/uncomfortable with the idea of going hope i tried too hard but um yeah

Wellp I’m really close with Aidan and so far I feel like we are doing really good. I feel bad because I lied straight to JDs face about voting jonesy. Instead I voted for her.

I'M DEFINITELY NOT CRYING OR ANYTHIGN FUCK

[olias88]

Mushroomland C-137 - Chapter 5

Guzma walked down the dank, smokey alleys of Carrall and Hastings, passing by junkies with needles in their arms and pipes scattered about the ground while passing by the graffiti littered and piss-stained walls; it started to rain, heavily. The Junkies sought shelter in their make shift plastic bag tents to shield themselves from the rain. One guy was strung out between dumpsters in self defecation and started slamming his arms against the dumpsters in anger and confusion. He approached a fenced area and noticed a button, covered in black marker with a partially melted speaker box.

 “Guzma. We’ve been expecting you.” a male voice announced over the intercom. A loud buzzing noise allowed Guzma access. He slowly walked in, looking around in paranoia. The gate quickly closed behind him.

 Jonesy ran in to a back alley off Richards street and threw his arms against the wall of the Rock Shop to rest his head. Looking to the left he saw police officers rush to the scene of the explosion and people ran by to escape the carnage. He staggered to a nearby dumpster to throw up. Kneeling, he noticed a large green spider, with long black legs and back markings, on his arm. “Fuck!” he shouted, as he brushed the spider off his arm and stepped on it. “Son of a bitch.” he exclaimed, looking at the spider bite immediately ballooning on his arm.

 He took his shirt off, exposing his average looking body and tied the shirt around the bite to try slow the swelling, anything he could think of. Within seconds his arm started twitching uncontrollably and he frantically bent his fingers to see if he felt anything. As he’s trying to feel movement, a car went crashing down to escape the wreckage. Jonesy felt something within seconds of impact and jumped to the side, as the car flew by. Jonesy sighed in relief, but soon realized that he was clinging one-handed on to the wall. He jumped down and stared at his hands. “What’s happening?”

 “What the hell happened here?” Cloud asked, kneeled down, rubbing a piece of rubble together as emergency response shuffled through the rubble. He pulled up a black piece of clothing, a piece resembling a skull and looked down towards the alley.

 “Ladies and gentleman, genders and persons of all ages, welcome to another episode of Rosa Consumes starring yours truly! Today, I have a special quest today, so be sure to hit the like and subscribe button, because she really really needs the money! My friend, my buddy, my guy, Allison!”

 Allison looks dead in to the camera, as it closes up on her amusement face. “Yea, thanks Rosa, it’s so great to be here, as you bury me in front of a million people.” Rosa chuckles awkwardly, “Alli, why don’t you tell our viewers what we’re trying today?” Alli sighs, “These are century eggs, people. You’ve seen other channels do this. These are going to taste like shit and I really don’t want to do this.” Rosa looks as Alli and laughs, “Do you really think I wanna do this to, dude? This egg is FUCKING black, but this is what my fans suggested, so this is what we’re doing. Now, our budget only allows us one bucket…” Alli cuts off Rosa “Wait, wait, are you fuckin kidding me? You’re wearing clothes no one on planet Earth can buy, and you’re telling me that we have to share a bucket? Where’s the logic in that?” Rosa laughs, “You can always puke on the flour and clean it up yourself.” As she’s explaining, Alli sarcastically laughs, “Oh, what if I tackled you down and rubbed your face in my puke you fuck-” the stream cut off, as Alli and Rosa wrestled each other. “You just killed our show you bitch!” Rosa yelled as she collected herself, “Fuck you, I made your stupid show better. Find someone else to stuff fat guys’ salty balls in your mouth.” Alli slammed the door behind her as she left the room.

 Guzma towards a door that opened for him. Inside he found a large office, with a cubicle maze throughout, leading up to the head office that read “CEO Norman Osborn.” Guzma walked in and saw a man, wearing a black suit, staring out the window. The man turned around, revealing himself as a middle aged rough looking man. “It’s amazing what a little chaos in this city man do. He motioned his hand down towards a chait. “Please, have a seat.”

 Guzma took a seat, “What do you want from me?” he asked mildly frightened. Norman smirked as he twirled a glass of white whine, “I’m going to get down to the chase.” Norman placed the glass down on to the table, “My company is going to revolutionize the medicine industry, and I need your help.”Guzma paused, “How can I possible help you?!” he asked, perplexed. Norman took a drink and placed it back down on to the table and looked out the window. “You have an understanding of the people in this city. You ran away from home, wanting to prove yourself worthy of something? Here’s your chance.”

 Guzma stood up and raised his arm in the air, “You don’t know anything about me, buddy!” Norman laugh, and looked over his shoulder, “But I know all aboot you, guy. Your friends, they don’t respect you. They don’t know what you posses, what we possess.” Guzma paused, “Posses?… We?” Norman entered a code and a trap door opened. “Follow me, Guzma. What I’m about to show you will forever shape medicine, for the future.” Guzma followed.

 Cloud ran in to Jonesy in the alley and pinned him against the wall, and held the bandanna to his face. “Jonesy, we’ve been friends for a while. I consider you a friend, so you’re going to tell me about this.” as he held the bandanna piece to Jonesy’s face. Jonesy lowered Cloud’s arm, “This may sound weird, but I believe Guzma’s in trouble. That’s what that is.” Cloud lowered his arm, “Someone must have gotten to him… But the question is… Who would want Guzma?”

 Norman took Guzma to the catacombs of underground Vancouver, to a hidden door. He swiped a key card, and opened a laboratory underneath the city. He walked Guzma through a long hall way to large red double doors and stopped. Norman swiped a card and the door opened to reveal a large, cave-like room with a purple tank in the center. Inside the tank was a glowing purple gas. Guzma looked in awe, as he circled the tank.

 “Amazing, isn’t it?” Norman asked, as he closed the door. “That purple gas you see, is from a company we’ve been working with. They call it Gastly. It’s a poisonous ghost spirit that they’ve been harvesting for its toxins to sell to us for medicine.”

 Guzma looked in awe, “and what’s this medicine do?”

 Norman laughed, “This was never about medicine. It’s not what it does… It’s what it takes. Guzma, you need to understand what we’re really building underneath right now. This little gas cloud, will go a long way for the world economy, and my pipeline will be built, and I’m using every resource I can, including you. Get out of your dead end life, going nowhere with the simpletons above ground, and join me.” Norman extended his hand. Guzma hesitated, thinking about his friendship with Jonesy and the others, but remember the times that he was snubbed. He took Norman’s hand and shook it. They both laugh, looking at the purple cloud in the tank.

[fyrapartnersearch]

M// OC RP (Read my dumb gay post)

Hi! I’m Jonesy (or JJ) and I’m on break from uni so I have a lot of time on my hands to-- lel jk, I’m grown. Anyhoo. I’m in my late 20’s and am looking for M// literate (advanced) rp partners, ages 25+ please. I do not fade to black or avoid mature themes. My writing style has a casual feel to it, but I use proper grammar, spelling, and punctuation, and I prefer that you have a good grasp on this, as well. I write third person paragraph style, and am looking for someone who likes world building and writing three dimensional characters. You know what I mean. If our characters walk into a town, I want to know who else is there, how the buildings are painted, what the air smells like. Take me to it. Paint me a worrrrrrddd pictuuuuureeee. If your character has a Maserati, I want to know how he treats it, how he drives it, and if he has that kind of money, why on EARTH would a Maserati be his car of choice?

  Absolute No’s: ….Well crap, I can never think of these until someone asks.

  Things I don’t like so much:

-Winey characters

-Super young characters

-Unrealistically serious characters

-Too much drama

-Posts that don’t move the story along (sometimes this is ok but not EVERY post…)

-Short posts.

-Spanish dudes (HA just kidding I LOVE spanish dudes.)

  Things I like:

-Spanish dudes

-All dudes

-Size differences

-Humor (Didn’t see that coming, did you?)

-Realistic dialogue*

-Open communication

  Genres I like:

-Sci fi

-Urban

-Steampunk

-Apocalyptical

-Dystopian

-Adventure

-Space stuff (This is its own genre, don’t argue with me.)

-Mild horror

  So what I have is a bunch of ideas for weird couples, some with loose plots, others with none at all. I’m looking for someone to plot with. Even if none of these characters take your fancy, or the stories, but it looks like we think along the same lines and might get a whole new story with new characters together, contact me anyway. I only bite if you have dumb ideas. (Hard.)

  Characters/Plots:

  Made for one another:

Could fall under sci fi, apocalyptical, dystopian, adventure, hell it could fall under all of them. I have a really loose idea for this one. Two characters are genetically made for one another. Not romantically, but as in two parts that make up a whole. Both are genetically engineered to do something different, but both of their abilities need to be combined for whatever final outcome to happen. (The outcome being what they were created for.) Reasoning behind this was that maybe one person having both abilities, or the one ability that the both of them make up, would overload their system and kill them. Or significantly harm them in some way. Thus, two genetically engineered people were created.

The loose plot I had for this was that maybe one character has escaped the facility that created them. (Escaped a long time ago, perhaps.) This facility has some major unethical and downright inhumane practices (like lab growing people.) Character A. we’ll call him, decides to destroy the place, maybe from the inside out. (Perhaps he’s some kind of mercenary or rogue whatnot, living his life in secrecy so no one from said facility finds him, blah blah.) Ever see Alien Resurrection? With that scene where Ripley goes into the lab and finds all the failed experiments?.... No? Just me? Okay. Anyway, so while Character A. is torching the place, he finds Character B, who is the only experiment alive. He can’t just leave him there to die, so he takes him with him. That’s how they meet, but I don’t have much else for a plot for this story, other than that I see Character A as being kind of an asshole so they struggle a lot and much later they discover they’re literally made for one another.

  Mad Max:

This would be sort of based on the Mad Max world (as in the 2015 movie, even though I do so love the originals) though not using any of the characters, places, or… you know, anything. The world is a wasteland, but it’s not oil/gasoline that’s the hot commodity, it’s water. The wasteland is filled with different tribes, none of them very nice unless you belong to one of them. This pairing would be a character that’s kind of like Max, a lone wolf who belongs to no tribe and wanders, and…. I dunno, I guess he would be a POW? He’s a warrior from another tribe that was captured. Character A stops (cautiously) in one of the territories to trade for water and supplies. Character B is pretty roughed up and knows he’ll eventually end up dying if he doesn’t get away somehow, so his main objective is to get Character A to trade for him. Obviously, this eventually happens. Character A discovers that Character B has something that would be useful to him (maybe it’s just knowledge of mechanics and whatnot) so he ends up trading for him. Plot twist! They end up HATING one another. And maybe Character A finds out that Character B was lying all along and can’t really do the thing Character A traded him for, however now they’re stuck together, because they’re crossing the wasteland.

  Space Pirates (Totally not nerdy AT ALL.)

I have a space captain. He’s an alien. He has a super cool space ship and a super cool crew. His species is rarely seen in this part of the galaxy, usually they are a very secretive race living in deep, deep space, that remain secluded, however Janka has been exiled, and now creates a lot of havoc and headaches for anyone he encounters. I have a real old descrip of him from… jesus, like 2010 that I haven’t updated, but I’ll send it if he sounds interesting! Anyway, he’s a sarcastic, lazy sh*tface, kinda pretty gross without meaning to be, but he’s a real loveable character. Likes blowing things up. Kind of clumsy, which isn’t the best thing for someone who’s built like he is. He’s well known in space ports all over, so he sticks to the real shady ones, where he’s somewhat popular. This character comes with an entire crew, and bonus interesting genitalia. He really needs someone to take care of him (emotionally.) Very hard headed when it comes to relationships (“What? No, I didn’t get you anything for your birthday. You said not to get you anything.”) but when he falls for someone, he falls hard.

  Steampunk Whathaveyou:

Ashby Thornton Foster is a real strange creature. Not just because he’s very proper and likes to keep a position as the head butler in a household even though he probably has enough resources to never have to work ever. He’s tall, painfully handsome, with round antique glasses, and auburn hair. Sharp tongue, but can be a little daffy if you catch him off guard. He collects frightening tea pots, has been learning how to cook for 9 billion years but his chicken stew will probably send you to the can for the rest of the night, is excellent with mechanics and spends a lot of his free time tinkering, and has read almost every book ever written but can’t remember what happened in the last chapter of the one he’s currently working on. I should mention that this character is not human. He is a specific species of being that I created myself. I’ll go into it if you’re interested, but the basics are that he has handsomely jagged teeth, large amber eyes, and claw like nails that often lead him to be mistaken as a vampire, however when he shifts out of his human form, he looks more like a sphynx cat and a lady got together. That sounds awful, but he’s actually quite exquisite. (NOT a furry. He just looks a tad strange and has interesting legs.) Ashby is very sweet natured but runs a strict household. He is well respected and well loved. This character comes with an identical twin (Molocai, who prob won’t appear) and a Soul Eater character, who sets up camp in whatever town he settles in due to being promised his soul whenever he shuffles off his mortal coil. They’re best friends. (It’s a long story.)

  *Please note that all of my characters are usually in their late twenties or older with VERY few that are mid-twenties. I also do not play with younger characters, and prefer them to be around the same age category.

  *Let me explain about the realistic dialogue. Two OC’s walk into a bar. My OC walks up to the bartender and says “Ay, Sugartits, I’ll have the usual.” Your OC says “I will have a beer.” Unless your OC is either a.) An android or b.) Two 12 year olds in a big coat, or c.) Horribly constipated, he’d better say something an actual human being would say. “I’ll have a beer.” “Gimme a beer.” “Just whatever you got on tap.” “Uh… Beer’s fine.” Don’t make your character sound like they’re reading a bad script.

  If I haven’t scared you off, shoot me an email at Geisterkommandant@hotmail.com

My RP mediums are usually Skype, Email, and I can be persuaded into Discord.

  And just to clarify. Gay RP. Plot before Porn. Thank you.