#coolleatherjacket

[nihlisticalchemist]

Badges for Halloween Punx #halloween #punx #gangrel #vampirethemasquerade #sabbat #nosferatu #orlock #vapirebat #danispades #teeth #toothandclaw #coolleatherjacket

[thecoolminister]

@coolleatherjacket​ | continues from here

Rob name was flickering on his phone screen and Joseph freezed.

Why is he calling at this hour? He had texted him in the morning and his phone has been silent since then. He was alternately bitter and worried about that, but the moment Robert name appeared on screen he forgets everything. His finger moves on its own, before even checking what Mary was doing, if she was close enough to see who’s calling him.

Hey. How does he dare to sound so casual after he disappeared all the day? And yet it is still the most beautiful sound in the world. He was about to say something when Robert asks if he was alone. Of course he wasn’t. Mary is looking up at him right now from the couch. “No, I’m at home now…” he says, trying to maintain a neutral voice. A difficult task when the next words directly spoken against his ear make his mouth go dry. It’s not exactly the same of having Robert dirty talking him in person…It seems like Robert doesn’t even put a lot of effort in making it sounds seductive, his voice was pretty flat to be honest, but Joseph doesn’t particularly mind it, as long as Robert still wants him. He looks back at his wife and then at the calendar on the wall. “I’m sorry, I tought the meeting was tomorrow. Yes, I got the date wrong. If you’re all still there I get ready and I’ll be there as soon as I can…I’m sorry”, he hangs up before Robert could laugh at him but he really couldn’t think of anything better than that. Joseph calls him back once he’s out of the house “Hey”, it’s his turn to say “I knocked at your backdoor, are you not inside? Where do we meet?”.    

[margaritaxz0ne-blog]

“I saw that. You just checked me out.”

Oh no. He’d been caught.

Suddenly, the half-empty margarita in his hand was the most interesting thing in the room - mostly because Joseph didn’t trust himself to look over at his neighbor again without giving himself away. Maybe he already had. Fuck.

“Can’t a man look at another man without being judged?” he offered, trying to focus over the sudden beating of his heart and how hot his cheeks felt. Probably from the alcohol, he figured, as he was on his third drink of the night already. He felt a little light-headed, a little less restrained than normal. 

Going out for drinks with his very attractive neighbor had been a very, very bad idea.

“Besides,” he tacked on, mentally smacking himself for continuing, for pressing where he shouldn’t have. It was a morbid sort of curiosity, one he couldn’t contain. He’d been checking Robert out for three entire years now. This was just the first time he’d been caught - to his knowledge, at least. “If I was checking you out, what’s it to you?”

[exitiumparit]

Val, a poodle: majestic, luxurious, legs for days, fabulous, regal, 10/10 intimidating, would die for

Robert, a chihuahua: 1 ounce force bite, drunk, vibrating from nerves, is he asleep, is he dead, who knows, gonna bite, 10/10 hot mess

[jxmmybuffett]

@coolleatherjacket​

Joseph didn’t like to make a habit of drinking, God knows there was enough of it in his family as it was. However, tonight was a special exception. He was never one for kids, despite his love for his own and his choice of profession. Priest had been the position he had been going for, but the oldest and mind numbingly dullest man was already wasting away in that spot. One day perhaps, but for now he was left to read watered down scripture to ungrateful squirmy delinquents.

The bar was quiet as he pushed open the front door, a steady murmur of conversation from the back booths continuing as he entered. A radio placed on a bar stool behind the counter played some faint generic jazz, and Joseph hated the way he felt at home in the filthy establishment. 

It didn’t take more than a glance to spot him, hunched over the bar with a drink in his hand, neon lights lighting up the right side of his face as he knocked back whatever liver killing liquid the glass held. He swore it wasn't on purpose when he found himself sitting next to the man, blue eyes more prying than friendly. 

“Robert Small, in a bar? I’m shocked, neighbor.” 

[bonhcmme]

@coolleatherjacket gets a SPOOKY STARTER

A rustle of leaves, the parting of shadows like the Red Sea, and the noise’s source was revealed. Not quite as reassuring as a wet-eyed poodle, but not perhaps the terrifying vision conjured up in the imagination by the moonless night. Except, of course, for the spot of blood drying at one corner of the man’s lips.

“Good evening.” Those lips were curved into an enigmatic smile. The words they released were delivered with the faint remains of a French accent. “Out taking a midnight stroll, were you? In the cemetery?” Somehow his tone suggested that was not the strangest thing in the world. In fact, he was intrigued.

[walriding]

thewhistleblowingtechie replied to your post: thewhistleblowingtechie replied to your post: ...

But the Walrider is a separate entity. Does that mean if the Walrider is possessing him and it masturbates using Miles’ body, does that not count as sex? And it’s just the Walrider pleasuring itself through a human medium?

okay on a slightly more serious note (as if that’s really possible given the context), it’s not so much the Walrider pleasuring itself as it is the Walrider just... straight up fucking Miles. that’s what goes on. yes it’s sex but Miles would rather phrase it some other way just to make himself feel better about the whole situation. granted, the Walrider is only partially a separate entity, as it does largely reflect the mind of its Host as well as depend on it for survival, but that’s another matter entirely.

Miles Upshur is a chronic demon fucker is what I’m trying to say, here

coolleatherjacket replied to your post: thewhistleblowingtechie replied to your post: ...

sdgfhjdysg

and this comment reeks of hypocrisy bc I can name at least one other leather jacket wearing asshole who would also fuck a cryptid if given the chance, so laugh it up

[caficionado]

❝ Inject caffeine directly into my veins, please. ❞

“I don’t think that’s a thing I should do- I don’t have the medical expertise or the required medical equipment.But I can get you a cup of coffee or two, maybe that’ll be just as satisfying?”@coolleatherjacket

[losingself]

(starter for @coolleatherjacket)

This was the most obviously not his world that he’d encountered so far. There were no dramatic signs of it, really, but that was the thing. There was nothing that he would have expected to see to signal him one way or another.

Certainly there were no space craft to take him from this planet. It was landlocked. So if Andir existed here... well, he certainly wasn’t the same Andir he was looking for.

Which meant that Kieran didn’t even want to try.

He arrived in the evening and took no time at all to find a local watering hole. He recognized the sight and sound of a bar. At least that was similar enough.

He marched up the counter and ordered “Something strong, I don’t care what.” It was only when the man returned with the drink and an expectant hand that Kieran had a problem.

He passed over the only currency he had on him--standard universal tokens--and was met with a disapproving stare.

“What is this? Toy money?” the bartender asked.

Figuring he had no other shot, Kieran tried one in the dark. “It’s currency from my country.” Though he knew it was rare that planets divided currencies up by region, it was all he could think of.

“What country’s that?”

With no other option: “Mallin.”

“That in Europe or something?”

“Yes.” Kieran hoped that was good enough to win the barkeep over.

It evidently wasn’t: “Well we don’t accept it here. Come back when you have American money.”

Frustrated, Kieran pushed off the bar and looked around. Saw a man drinking alone and thought it didn’t hurt to ask. He marched up to the guy (even though he looked like he’d rather be alone, but mostly because he was alone) and tried his hand. “You willing to do a currency exchange?”

[thecoolminister]

@coolleatherjacket

“How about this one, then: don’t fucking call me Rob.”

It’s an immediate response and Robert is all sharp edges when he shoots Joseph a glare.

Look, here’s the thing about Joseph: he wouldn’t listen to Robert’s advice even if he wanted it and Robert actually had anything worthwhile to say to him. Go fuck yourself is at the forefront of his mind every single time he looks at the man. Taking that away doesn’t leave Robert with a whole lot of options.

And here’s the thing about Robert: he’s not very interested in trying to find any. 

The harsh reply doesn’t work properly as a deterrent since Joseph huffs a laugh - even if it sounds half forced- and takes his sit next to him with little respect for the concept of personal space.  “Alright Robert” he puts a lot of emphasis on the full name “that was a good one. I know you will say you didn’t ask me but I want to reciprocate: the whole brooding thing makes you look way older.”

[exitiumparit]

hold @ val

@coolleatherjacket || send ‘hold’ to hug my muse during a difficult time || selectively accepting

“I can’t go in there right now.”

Her voice is hard to listen to in her own ears. It’s dry and hoarse and her eyes are still red and itchy from crying and crying and crying because her mom is dead. 

It was just an ordinary afternoon that turned into a worrying afternoon that turned into some sort of late night hour where all of a sudden her favorite person in the world….wasn’t there. 

Her dad took her home and they are sitting in his old and rusted truck, staring at the house. Their house. No, it was her house more than it was his, because he was never fucking there. But, he’s here now. And she’s sitting in his truck.

And she can’t go inside and see her mom’s stuff and look at her mom’s room and think about how they were supposed to go have a day trip on Saturday to the beach and–

“Okay.”

Her dad cannot deal with much, but he’s enough of an idiot to know how to run, so he does.

He backs out of the driveway and heads out of Maple Bay, and she’s thankful, but her hands are still shaking. Because she’d spent hours alone in the hospital. Because her mom had gotten in a car accident. Because she was dead. It’s something achingly true and achingly unable to be real. She can’t conceptualize not going to the beach with her mom, and not coming home and hearing 80s music blasting through the house, or ever hearing her and her dad fight and–

Some amount of time later that passes in more of a blur than she can process, he parks in the woods. She gets out, practically throws herself out of the car. Cars are evil. Cars killed her mom.;

Her mom.

She’s eighteen.

Fuck, this sucks.

She continues to walk away from the truck, forces herself to continue to put distance between herself and anything that associates itself with her mother. So she takes her long legs through the trees and the noise of her dad behind her is something she can recognize but she forces it out, because hey, if she walks long enough, she might walk into a world where her mom is alive.

A vine catches her sneaker clad foot and she tumbles. Her dad calls her name, because she can barely hear it, because she’s crying so hard she can barely hear her own thoughts.

He wraps his arms around her on the ground. He hugs her close and he smells like cigarette smoke and old leather and wood polish and how is there something of Mom’s perfume if he’s never around?

She hates him. Resents him. He abandoned her and he abandoned her mom and he’s the last person left in the world of her family.

But, he’s her dad and he’s the one who would move branches for her old photographs and carry her out of the truck when she fell asleep on the drives home and told her scary stories and told her to paint or photograph whatever the fuck she wanted. There’s a part of him, a memory of him, that’s a good father. It’s the memory of that past that she lets comfort her.

[jxmmybuffett]

@coolleatherjacket​

“Amen.” 

Faint light drifted lazily through the dusty shades, strips of white stark against the man’s black robes. The rattle of the ceiling fan seemed to bounce of the walls, putting a few more creases on the preacher’s forehead as his eyes stayed squeezed shut. Joseph was silent as he leaned against the doorframe, watching, waiting. He knew he was there. 

“Be home for dinner tonight.” The man’s eyes stayed shut, dimly lit bedspread weighed down by a Bible and a belt. “You miss confessional again and there will be consequences.”

A pause. “Are you listening to me, Joseph?”

He disguised his sigh with a cough. “Yes, minister.” Finally, the man nodded, turning back to the cross mounted on the wallpaper. It wasn’t a minute before the front door slammed, sending the crucifix crashing to the floor.

The morning air was crisp and chilling sending something sweet rushing through the boy’s veins. Gravel crunched under his sneakers, the road in front of him holding only a few passerby. As luck would have it, however, his target was only yards away. 

“Hey, Small!” Joseph smiled wide as he sprinted to catch up with the boy, throwing a none-too-gentle arm around his shoulders, using his spare hand to ruffle his hair. “It is so funny that you’re going this way, y’know? Cause I remember telling you just last week if the student council caught you skipping again, I’d kick your ass. What’s up with that Robert, you deaf now?” 

[margaritasinner-blog]

      (starter for @coolleatherjacket)

       Unless it is in the name of God.

       It was this statement, and an unrelenting dedication to righteousness in the name of the lord, that brought about this scene on a night that would have laid out as most nights do -- no turn of the head, no blink of the eye -- if Joseph hadn’t stormed into the bar, sweat threatening to drip down his forehead and his chest heaving with every struggle for breath. The name “Mary” escaped his lips on a trembling exhale as his eyes scanned the place, searching for his wife, who he knew wasn’t there (she had left almost exactly ten minutes beforehand). 

       In fact, if it weren’t for the need of an alibi, Joseph wouldn’t have been there either, faking the worry in his eyes and the desperation in his movements. 

      But, here he was, pretending for anyone who would listen, editing the ninth commandment to precede ‘unless it is in the name of God.’ Unfortunately, there were not many in the bar that would be able to place him, save two -- one he found hard to converse with (without any kind of negative tenor) and another filling up the drink of the one he found hard to converse with. Though, with his hands forced, he quickly approached the bar, where Robert sat and the bartender stood.

       “Have you seen Mary?” His words were a beautiful illusion, spoken to both parties at the same time as every part of his body worked to make his story believable, to make them take the forbidden fruit; though, even with the strongest deception, there were some who could not be tempted. “Crish is sick, and I can’t get ahold of her cell.”

[walriding]

@coolleatherjacket​

     “So what does anyone do in this town for fun?”

     Thus far, Maple Bay seems to be serving as Miles’ personal version of Hell. Nothing happens. Everyone is nice. It’s 100% suburban fucking paradise, and he hates it. At first he’d been suspicious, convinced that the town’s cheery facade was a cover-up for something seriously twisted.

     Now he just believes that the town’s residents are just genuinely that middle-aged and boring.

     “Y’ever see anything weird around here?” Something. Anything. “Anything... suspicious?” At this point, Miles would take some petty neighborhood drama about who was shirking their PTA duties.

     Who knew laying low could be so fucking dull.

[welcome-you-got-dads-blog]

@coolleatherjacket

A soft exhale comes from Mat’s lips as he slowly places a cup of black coffee down on the table. Taking a seat across from Robert, He’d found Robert lingering outside just before the Coffee Spoon opened up. He was looking kind of rough, “Bad night?”. He gave him a sympathetic look as he leaned back in his seat. He wondered if perhaps Robert was having one of those nights. 

[youthministered-blog]

“I just blew you. Could you look a little happier about it?”

Joseph huffed out a small laugh, opening one blue eye to examine Robert. Post-climax always made him lazy and sleepy, but usually he tried to be more attentive. 

“I did tell you I was tired,” he mumbled, running a hand through his mussed hair as he kicked his pants off and away from his ankles. “I’ll make it up to you in a few minutes.”