#man in a hurry rp

[barry-swift-in-a-hurry]

Gary has been on my mind a lot.

[whyisstarkidfollowingmeshoo]

AMA Barry Swift He is in a hurry to answer your questions. Ask them now!! Here or on Reddit.

[thathatchetfieldconspiracist]

Hatchetfield investigation log, Entry #1

Today I visited The Birdhouse in an attempt to strike up conversation with some of the clientele. For some reason, I get the impression that regular customers of the Birdhouse would be rather informed about the strange happenings here in Hatchetfield.

I spoke to whoever would talk back to me: person who stunk of weed; a man with brightly coloured hair and an obnoxiously loud voice; and a rather rude man who seemed to be in a hurry.

Here is a brief recount of each of their statements when asked about the strange things happening in Hatchetfield (to the best of my memory):

The stoner: "Hatchetfield? Yeah, Hatchetfield is about as weird as it gets, dude. Like, I work this side job at this farm - a little place called Perky's Buds, you might have heard of it - and it just got... weird one day. Like, there were magic telekinetic birds who enslaved us and made us grow weed for them. Freaky as fuck, man."

Yeah, this statement was... strange. Telekinetic weed birds? Yeah, um, I don't think I'll be investigating this one much further.

The loud man: "Hatchetfield? Nah nerd, Hatchetfield isn't what's crazy. It's what's below Hatchetfield that's totally awesome! Hell is real man, I've seen it!! I sold my soul to the fuckin' devil, y'know-!"

I soon stopped listening to the man (which resulted in him shouting a string of profanities in my general direction).

The man in a hurry: "Get out of my way, I'm in a hurry! I'm meeting with Miss Sheila Young, I can't be late!"

Ughhh, I guess I had no luck today. I suppose there really are no strange happenings in the Birdhouse. None that I could uncover today, anyway.

I'll try a new approach tomorrow, perhaps. I won't give up yet.

[babygirlismpersonified]

Hatchetfield roleplayers I have a question for you all

considering making a roleplay blog, so you shits are gonna help me decide who to be >:3

yeah

[thesleaziestlawyer]

Hi gary!! Are you 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂? :33

Uh… freaky? Well, that’s… uh… I mean, I’ve had my moments, I mean WHAT.

If Barry or Linda asks, I didn’t answer this question.

-Gary Goldstein, Attorney at Law

[thesleaziestlawyer]

I can neither confirm nor deny.

Husbands, your honour.

[spiderled]

"if you have something to say, say it. i don't have time to sit around waiting for you. apurate o vete." miguel barely looks at them, tired scarlet eyes focused on his work. there are times where he's more open to having company or chatting in general, but today is not one of those times.

[rina-teatia]

Food and porn (18+)

Gallagher is a humble London bartender with a rich martial arts background. Boothill is a master criminal and scoundrel. They can't seem to have anything in common... except kinks.

these are not my arts, but my friend's with whom we had rp by this story! you can subscribe to his social networks (a friend has agreed to publish the art)

X: https://x.com/ahhswan

DA: https://www.deviantart.com/drasterod

tg: https://t.me/drisnyastanOD

Pairing: Boothill x Gallagher

Tags: Human Boothill, Dom Boothill, Weight Gain, Food Kink, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Food Sex, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Fat Fetish, Fat all

Words: 2,619

The sky over London was habitually covered with clouds. It was evening, about seven o'clock, but the bad weather had made it dark outside. The first tentative drops hit the cobblestones of the streets before the downpour hit the roofs.

Gallagher grimaced at the spectacle through the small window of his bar. He lit a cigar and muttered something like an old man's `huuuuʼ though he wasn't old enough for that yet. A downpour is a shitty thing. Usually even the most avid drinkers in the rain prefer to drink at home rather than drag themselves to a bar. In short, there was nothing economically advantageous about this situation.

His leg, wounded in an old battle, had started whimpering a couple hours ago, heralding rain, and still didn't want to settle down. Gallagher smoked and read the papers. Scotland Yard was reporting again on a mysterious burglar who had already robbed several pawnshops and jewelry stores. The message was terribly familiar, moreover, Gallagher even knew the criminal personally, but he was in no hurry to write letters to the police. After all, the robber was...

“What a weather, partner!” A large figure wrapped in a red, worn poncho walked into the bar. A wide black hat was pulled over his eyes, and half his face was hidden by a red handkerchief. The man's mud-splattered boots shuffled across the floor, sticking out of chaps that were equally muddy near the end of his pants. The man tossed his long black-and-white hair back and grinned, pulling off his handkerchief. “You weren't expecting me?”

“God, why aren't you home?” Gallagher sighed heavily, setting aside the newspaper and slowly standing up.

“The rain washes away the odors! No bloodhound can smell me. By the way, this is for you.” The man chuckled and put into Gallagher's hands a handmade gold watch on a chain with a cover inlaid with small stones. The man grimaced as he looked at the gift. “Pour me a bourbon, dear.”

“Boothill, you're insufferable. Lock the door, damn it.” Gallagher stood behind the bar and pulled out a bottle of bourbon with a heavy sigh. Boothill removed his hat and poncho, spreading them out on a nearby stool, and adjusted his vest, which was tight against his round belly.

Well, they were notorious old lovers who never seemed to be able to be together. Gallagher had worked for Scotland Yard as a detective in the past, before the leg injury that had forced him into early retirement, he'd been a top-notch bloodhound. Now the old dog was working in a bar and trying to forget his past glorious life.

Boothill, on the other hand, was a hardened criminal. He had come from the New World to good old England for a new life, but his language was sharper than his nine-millimeter ammunition, and no one was in a hurry to hire a foreigner with a nasty American accent. He could have written a book called `Why Men Killʼ but it would have had all the pages written in the short and succinct `MASSACREʼ in big letters.

Gallagher happened to own Boothill's secret when he almost turned him in to the constables. The old policeman still had his powder in the bottle, and perhaps if it hadn't been for Boothill's eloquence, he'd be hanging from the gallows right now....

“Your bourbon, as usual, is the worst stuff I've ever tasted.” Boothill smiled and squinted one green eye that was visible from beneath his bangs.

“Why do you drink it?”

“Hell if I know... I could drink diesel or kerosene if I wanted to.” He wiped his mouth with his hand and grinned through his shark teeth, glaring at Gallagher. “We really haven't seen each other in a long time. You've gotten even fatter, I see.”

Boothill reached across the bar and playfully poked the bartender in the belly. Gallagher rolled his eyes.

“I could say the same about you, Mr. Robber. At this rate, you won't fit through any bank window or sewer manhole.”

Boothill chuckled, slapping himself on the thigh. He grabbed the bottle of bourbon and tipped more liquid into his glass before greedily chugging it down.

“Son of a bitch! You're damn right I am! How about a bet?!” The cowboy held out his hand for Gallagher to shake. “You win, I become your pet kitty and never rob anyone again, just like you always wanted. And if I win – you'll like it too. But that's later. Agreed?!”

“What's it gonna take?” Gallagher put his hand to his cheek. He wasn't in a hurry to agree to shady deals.

“Shoot that deer in the eye.” Boothill drew his heavy American revolver and twirled it playfully in the air. “Don't you think so, Mr. Sherlock Holmes? Have you forgotten how to hold a gun yet?”

Gallagher followed his gaze. It was about the trophy deer head on the far wall of the bar. The room was elongated in length, and the end of the room extended quite far from the bar. Gallagher calculated the distance and the target. Not an easy task, of course... But he had a better chance than Boothill, sober as he was. He was on his third glass of bourbon. The idea of making him stay home was very appealing. Normally, Boothill lived with him on a raiding basis, like an ancient Viking - looted and gone on his way. In their case, though, he fucked and ate all the food. That's why he'd been blown up to the size of a medium-sized boar. Gallagher offered to move in with him a long time ago, but Boothill apparently liked living in a basement with rats and fighting in a dump with raccoons for half a hot dog.

“All right. Go ahead and shoot.” Gallagher snorted and turned his eyes to Boothill. He burped and shoved the revolver into his lover's hand.

“Ladies first!”

It was foolish to argue with him, so, rolling his eyes, Gallagher accepted the weapon. The revolver was indeed heavy, with a carved wooden handle and a graceful, thin barrel. Gallagher remembered how constables were taught to shoot. You take aim, point the muzzle straight at the point - the eye of a deer, freeze, hold your breath, pull the trigger without jerking your hand, and!..

There was a loud pop of gunfire in the bar. When the small cloud of smoke and powder cleared, Gallagher looked at his target. The bullet had entered the deer's forehead.

He missed.

“Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!” Boothill laughed when he saw the result of the shooting. “Is that what they taught you at Scotland Yard?! No wonder I'm still alive! Those sons of bitches are total assholes!” He resolutely took his revolver and slid in next to Gallagher. “Out of my way, senior citizen. Daddy's in the building. I'll show you how to handle my gun.”

“Yeah, go ahead.” Gallagher grimaced and crossed his arms over his chest. While Boothill took aim, he picked up his glass and took a sip. Boothill was right-it was nasty. At that moment a shot rang out. Gallagher shuddered with surprise: he was sure the tipsy Boothill would take fifteen minutes to aim. The bullet stuck out proudly in place of the deer's eye.

“Ha! Well, snatch?” Boothill shoved Gallagher in the side, chuckling happily. “You lost me a wish!”

“What?! How did you do that?!” Gallagher even stepped closer, not believing his eyes. How does Boothill do that?! Sick bastard.

“You can't beat talent.” The cowboy smirked smugly, took the unfinished glass of bourbon from him and ʼclinkʼ with his revolver.

“What do you want?” Gallagher sourly returned to the bar and propped his arms on his chest, leaning against it. He watched Boothill grimly. He glared at him. Gallagher stood up so well that his thick chest was literally poking out of his shirt, forming a lush cleavage. Boothill yanked at his half-unfastened tie and grinned.

“I want those fat tits first. Them, and also to feed you to your heart's content.” He rose from his seat and licked his lips. He pulled his tie back on, tightening it around the stranger's neck in a tight loop. Gallagher gritted his teeth, but made no attempt to resist. His cheeks, overgrown with dark stubble, trembled in a blush. Boothill swung easily over the bar and got right up to the man. One of the cowboy's palms slapped him hard across his stomach, pushing his shirt up cheekily. Boothill gagged him with a wet kiss, wrapping his tie around his hand and nearly strangling Gallagher with it.

“You asshole. Wandering around, and now you think I'm going to give it to you like an obedient whore?” The bartender breathed heavily, his hands loosening the pressure of his tie a little.

“'Come on, sweetheart. You're not a whore, you're my dear partner. You didn't like the watch? You know, you got off easy on that bet! I can already feel how hungry you are for... everything.” Boothill kissed him again and gave him a little distance. “Come on, be a good girl, sit tight, I'll be quick. I hope your pantries are stocked with snacks as usual?” He laughed and opened one of the doors to the staff room. This wasn't the first time Boothill had been here, so he felt right at home. “Wow! Damn you're a hoarding old bear!”

Gallagher slumped weakly in his chair as he watched Boothill rummage through the pantry and rattle dishes. The bar did indeed offer not only booze, but quite a few appetizers as well. Gallagher was never in a hurry to cook during his shift, so he kept his own convenience foods in the freezers; mostly meat, but some freezable meals as well. It was easy enough to heat them up on the fire or throw them in hot oil, and then serve them immediately to guests. The quality didn't suffer much, though, so for the unsophisticated average person, it was fine. People came to the bar to drink, not to eat, so no one turned up their noses.

Boothill had gutted the stock almost completely. To be honest, Gallagher was afraid to go in there, because the pantry and the adjoining kitchen were rattling, hissing and clinking with metal and plates. Gallagher was well aware that he was about to be thoroughly fed. It was another unusual aspect of their relationship. The bartender lowered his gaze to his stomach, resting softly on his lap and pulling up the buttons of his vest. In his youth, he'd been a slender and muscularly handsome constable, the rare sort of man. But after his injury and retirement... Well, he'd let himself relax, sought solace in food and drink, hence the slight fullness. And he never thought anyone would like it. What's more; he'd like it on someone else, too. However, Boothill always knew how to surprise him. In fighting, shooting, appetite, sex; the cowboy's possibilities were endless.

“Waiting?” Boothill returned to the bar, purring something under his breath and carrying a cart full of greasy appetizers. His only visible eye gleamed predatorily, as did his sharp teeth. Gallagher's stomach rumbled-not from hunger, but rather from excitement.

“Who's going to pay for all this?” Gallagher asked sourly.

“You. Or me. We'll figure it out later.” Boothill shrugged nonchalantly, sitting down on the bartender's lap. His palms gently squeezed his tiits before pushing the fragrant-smelling cart closer. “Come on, get on it. I bet you've missed this since the last time we met.”

Gallagher knew what that meant; he was being offered to eat until he burst. Boothill had some pretty perverted fetishes, and it seemed Gallagher did too, because he obediently took a bite of the hot, spicy steak. There was much more in the cart: roast beef, reheated pork pies, apple pies, lots of fried sausages in a thin film that burst in the mouth, spilling hot juice into it; fish and chips, sandwiches and some of today's puddings. Under Buthill's watchful eye, all this splendor began to be slowly eaten.

“If you end up getting caught, I'll personally go and report you for violence.” Gallagher exhaled heavily, finishing one of the pies. He was already feeling quite full! It had only taken a few meals to reach the line that separated satisfying hunger and excessive satiety. But that was the line Boothill wasn't interested in. He was pushing Gallagher further, to the line of "horrible gluttony."

“If that's what you wanted, Mr. Detective, I wouldn't be here a long time ago. What's to stop you from dialing Inspector Argenti right now and telling him all about me?” Boothill gently poured some beer into his mouth to wash it down. Gallagher exhaled, feeling his belly gradually rounding into a full sphere.

“Idiot…” Gallagher wiped his lips. He was beginning to breathe heavier. Boothill, sitting on his lap, unbuttoned first the man's vest and then his shirt. Gallagher realized wistfully that he would not button it again today.

“Is your tummy bothering you?” Butkhill grinned playfully, wrapping both hands around the man's heavy belly and kissing it slowly a few times. He leaned down to Gallagher's ear and whispered with an almost manic tenderness: “Keep it up, and I'll show you how good I am with your shaft, too.”

“I hate you…” Gallagher grumbled as deft hands fed him another sandwich. He felt stuffed almost to the brim, but Boothill wasn't done with him yet, forcing him to eat without interruption.

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

The belt of his pants was starting to dig painfully into his lower abdomen, and his pants creaked threateningly. It wasn't just Gallagher's growing girth, but also his growing erection. His belly was big enough to put a little weight on the rising bump with his weight, and when Gallagher moved a little, rubbing himself and it caused a whole flurry of sensation. God, he's getting so fat...!

Boothill, as always, was the epitome of attentiveness. His deft hands undid the belt and fly of his pants before they could burst. Gallagher seriously feared this might happen, for his belly was as round and taut as a ball, and it protruded proudly forward and wide, offset by his broad love handles. Boothill was frankly enjoying his lover's helpless position, stroking him, caressing every crease and beginning to rub his aroused cock as well. Gallagher was breathing heavily; the pressure inside his belly was almost unbearable, so much so that it converted itself into arousal. He wanted to cum excruciatingly badly. Boothill was slowing him down, torturing him, squeezing all his juices, squeezing out the presperm drop by drop. The cowboy himself was squirming impatiently on Gallagher's lap, from which he was slightly displaced by his impressive belly.

“Ha... Shit... Ha-ah!” Gallagher gave a low shriek, collapsing back in his chair as Boothill's hand became damp with whitish liquid. He grinned.

“You should see your face when you cum... I'd paint a picture like that and hang it in my room above the frame.” He stood up slowly, giving Gallagher one last pat on the belly. “'I've got to go, sweetheart. You know, the constables are already out hunting for my head. Don't get bored in here.”

He climbed back over the bar, put on his poncho and hat. The red handkerchief returned to the bottom of his face. Boothill walked over to Gallagher one last time to smack the bartender, completely exhausted from gluttony and orgasm, on the cheek.

“I'll come by again tonight. Don't forget to leave the window open!” With those words he disappeared into the night, as he always did, leaving Gallagher alone with the consequences of their games.

haha im sorry guys english isnt my native language btw i hope u enjoed it!

[fumifooms]

Marchil crumbs Part 4

Part 1 - Part 2 - part 3 - part 5 - part 6 - part 7

Broskis remember when while madly blushing Chilchuck said he’d introduce his family to Marcille, and she madly blushed back thinking she really really wanted to meet them. Marchil W today

Dreams do come true girl!!

The full double page spread has the rest of the Laios party at the table too but i think having the whole picture distracts from the one just this section tells. Marcille is so happy to finally meet them!! Flushing with joy and awe! And chilchuck flushing right back with self-consciousness!!! Desperately trying to keep it casual. Tsundere man probably going "Ok so... This is Marcille my ex-coworker, and here are my daughters... She was really looking forward to meeting you guys but don’t read too much into it girls". The daughters being all dressed up and Puckpatti even bringing flowers and correcting Meijack hehe <3 I know it's because they're at the castle but omg, meeting the extended family energy. You knowww Marcille is gonna ask them so many questions, and try and get to know them…

Also I have remembered TODAY that Marcille has a stepdad… She prob has so many thoughts on being a stepmom then. Leaving it open as to what that could mean for marchil. She certainly acts enthusiastic about families and kids so doesn’t seem like there’s a complex there at least~

How it all started… Not very shippy I just think it’s funny and easy to miss. Her curiosity is PIQUED and what she thought she knew about Chilchuck is shattered. The bicorn chapter is really not long after this one so she must have thought so hard about how his home dynamic was like if she cooked up that ‘if I was Chilchuck’s wife’ rp so soon after & so effortlessly

Hm, you know how snooping into ppl’s personal lives is Marcille’s thing?? Isn’t that like… Not that true outside of Chilchuck though? Like, she never asked about Senshi’s backstory or really asked much of Laios either. We do see her asking their types in romance for example, but from remembrance that’s sort of where it ends. So she concentrates her focus on the nut toughest to crack, the most private and mysterious party member huh (no not Senshi obviously, Chilchuck!!)… Little ‘puzzle to crack’ guy, ‘resistant to being known deeper’ guy. I’m not over how she was salty that he opened up to Senshi more than with her lol

I think I’ve talked about it in the previous crumbs part but I think the bircorn chapter truly is the marchil chapter, and I wanna point out how Chilchuck reallyyyy fell from her esteem because "he cheated on his wife", leading to her being snippy with him during the chapter, BUT when push comes to shove she still hurried to his aid and worried for him and all. This might sound surprising, but I really like this! I think it’s great that Marcille wouldn’t coddle him if he fucked up and showed him a taste of consequences™️, but also not dropping him fully y’know, sticking through thick and thin even if she would not let shit fly. Seems like a healthy sort of devotion or companionship to me! Also her arc through the manga with Chilchuck is warping who he really is with idealization or preconceived notions mostly with his age and whatnot, so this feels like an important turning point of assessing him coldly as an adult who is not innocent at all… Before going right back to seeing him favorably and idealizing him as a great virtuous husband heh. It’s ok he’s harsh on himself he needs at least one person that believes in him hardcore let’s go <3 I’m going into really debatable grounds about morality and healthy vs unhealthy behavior lmao but yeah!! He recovered in her esteem, but she will not just give up on and leave behind this cringefail ass of a man even if he digs his hole so deep and so hard. He already got divorced once his partner would need some… Strong determination~ More on that right away

Which, what is this "I don’t want to look incompetent and I’ll even claim I’ve done things that make me look terrible to avoid it" because uuuuh, they both do it

Let's finally dig into the shapeshifters chapter! Lots of fun stuff to observe in there. Let's start with Marcille's side. There’s how, of course, Chilchuck's shapeshifter of her has her with sparkly hair with detailled shading, and how the reason she got eleminated was because of the spells in her spellbook don't match at all; Which means that personality wise, she was pretty convincing! We don't see just how well Chilchuck's vision of her match though since it didn't get much far. As we see with Laios’ shapeshifter clones, having an accurate shapeshifter is harder than one could think!

Easier to miss and more interesting though!! "It seems like Marcille B has awfully weak determination hmmm" implying Chilchuck thinks Marcille has a strong will. I think it’s especially telling when hand in hand with Chilchuck in an early chapter going "Oops not good I missed [that taking dead Kabru’s party’s wet food wasn’t the best moral decision], that’s Marcille for you." and such, where it seems like Chil sees her as someone who has strong convictions and admires/relies on her for it in some ways.

Funnily enough Chilchuck’s not the only one being flattering about the other's hair, because Marcille's shapeshifter of him's hair is... Fluffier? Throughout the whole chapter too so not just a one-off or a coincidence. Tempting to pat and carress perhaps? It's confirmed to be her shapeshifter of him with the page about it in the adventurer's bible, and it's the one that gets the furthest in the elimination! The lockpicking tools are, surprisingly, convincing enough, and the attitude is also convincing if not for the true Chilchuck being "nastier" lmao. It's idealization due to the fact she has a hard time stopping thinking of him as young, but in a way she both knows him well enough to be very convincing and idealizes him as being nicer than he actually is, not the worst I’ll take it. "Our Chilchuck is a lot nicer! 🥰" help

Have some more of Marcille praising Chilchuck

Defending her honor part 2

Ok now look at the Nightmares extra… Chilchuck would watch her series with her!! He enjoys her type of stories!! They’re on the same page even about plot points and the emotions each scenes inspire!! They would chat during watch parties!! Also this is something Marcille conjured up in her dreams so like, tbh very impressive. Chilchuck enjoying Marcille’s dream fiction isn’t something I ever expected but it sure happened

This is what a movie date would look like

I now declare lasagna the marchil dish. Seriously though I’m so curious as to what else Chilchuck’s pastas could be here. She’s fantasy italian it works out

What is that look Chilchuck… Is this life advice, love advice or what. Like it’s not just me he’s being a little suggestive right, he’s drawing a comparison to womanizers right- Okok so you, Chilchuck, say exactly what reward you want, so that makes you trustworthy ok got it. Lesson learned and she respects his professional boundaries & reassures him so he doesn’t feel as self-conscious/judged from then on.

Being on the same page and acting in perfect synchrony part 566

Looking out for the other part 307, featuring them panicking out of their minds lol (Chil is better at stress management it seems)

& Keeping the other in check part 255

I truly love how casually they treat dungeon lord Marcille. You may be under mind corruption magic and a boundless beacon of destruction at your whims right not but you’re still our cringefail Marcille and we need to look after you

Look at his smug-ass face at having successfully comforted and soothed her in the team effort

What’chu looking at loverboy. What’s up, is her face too close to you for your comfort?

Alright part 5 presumably NOT coming soon, i finally ran out of stuff to put on these hehe. Maybe the anime is gonna change that though

… And then the anime arrived and I already have stuff for a part 5. See you soon!!

part 5 is here broskis

[rottenpumpkin13]

More Highlights From the SOLDIER Group Chat

• Every time someone makes a grammatical mistake and butchers the English language, Genesis sends a copy of the Rosetta stone.

• Kunsel changing the group chat name to The Bad Bitch Brigade™

• Angeal's phone and microphone are broken as hell, but he refused to buy a new phone while his still works, so all of his audio messages make him sound like a chipmunk.

• Roche accidentally sent his "most to least attractive" list to the group chat. Genesis was at the very bottom. Genesis didn't shut up for six hours.

• Every time Sephiroth is questioned about something uncomfortable he responds with a model-esque selfie.

Lazard: Sephiroth did you break the training room again???

Sephiroth: *sends a picture perfect selfie of himself basking in the sunlight*

• Zack using the group chat as his personal journal until Lazard told him to stop because "No one wants to hear about the sweet potato shaped like a penis you had for lunch, Zackary, nor do we want to hear about the life advice the drunkard in sector 7 keeps giving you"

• On a similar note, Genesis uses the group chat as his personal to-do list. Lazard also had him stop after the items started getting more and more concerning. The last straw was:

1) Buy fireworks

2) Buy enough duct tape to hold a grown man

3) Summon Sephiroth to the rooftop at midnight

• Director Lazard thought the "😂" emoji meant a sad crying face, so he sent "I regret to inform you all that Mrs. Helen Thompson from the finance office has passed away 😂 💀"

• The day Genesis changed the group chat name to "LOVELESS study club" and began sending his LOVELESS analysis. Everyone left the group chat immediately. Including Lazard.

• The morning everyone hurried to the group chat to see why there were 5K messages. It turns out Kunsel and Zack were RP-ing.

• Sephiroth not knowing that "I'm dying" means the person is laughing. He twice sent paramedics to Genesis's office.

• Angeal, the admin, getting drunk and changing everyone's screen names to something ridiculous.

Sephiroth, Genesis and Zack became Mommy Issues, Used To Eat Chalk When We Were Six, and Hedgehog On Crack.

• Upon figuring out how to change the group chat name, Sephiroth changed it to The Mystery Penis™ Is [Redacted] and then turned his phone off.

• Zack sending a joke picture of him and Kunsel holding hands. Kunsel has hairy fingers so Angeal immediately responds with "WHAT DID YOU DO TO AERITH?"

• Sephiroth learns he doesn't need to respond to every messages and can instead use the reaction feature. This leads to gems such as:

Sephiroth reacted to - Genesis: SEPHIROTH, YOU LIMP DICK, DID YOU TELL LAZARD THAT I STOLE THE POPCORN MACHINE IN THE BREAK ROOM???: 👍

• Angeal changing the group chat name to "Dr. Phil audition tapes"

• Roche selling a used hair dryer and advertising it on the group chat as "USED HAIR, GOOD CONDITION, $20 GIL FREE SHIPPING

• That of course is followed by a mass advertisment spam where everyone is trying to sell their used products. Genesis in particular gets removed from the group chat for "ASSORTED TOYS, NEVER USED, SOLD TO ADULTS ONLY, $ 50 GIL A PIECE + AUTOGRAPH

• Genesis being removed allows Zack to advertise "BOX OF RANDOM SHIT I STOLE FROM GENESIS'S APARTMENT"

• Cloud, an infantryman who's secretly been a part of the group this whole time, finally outs himself the day Reno is discovered to be hiding in the group chat undercover.

• He sent this image:

[starman-john-tracy]

Garden Party Gale [RP]

@socialitesleuth:

Penelope had since risen from her armchair and repositioned herself by the window, as if her taking a proper look herself would change matters. Lips purse in consideration. Abandon plans...? But so much effort had already gone into the event. It seemed unfair to be beaten by a little rain, but Penelope knew when to listen. Especially when it was John, and especially when he sounded so concerned. She flicks a strand of blonde from her face, noting with her own eyes the car that has now arrived. "I suppose we could bring the party indoors, though I'm not sure how well Parker will take it. He's spent the last couple of days organising and setting it up. Still, it is better to be safe than sorry." After all, Creighton-Wards never quit, unless they absolutely had to, and this situation most definitely fell under the banner of what was an acceptable defeat. "Parker!" She calls out briefly over her shoulder, and as far away from the communicator to avoid possibly defeaning her friend, before replying directly to John again. "It was a good few years ago. I believe they signed us off as fine, but... Well, Parker has been expressing concern over the East Wing these last few months. He wanted to bring some surveyors in, but I'm afraid we haven't had the chance. Work has kept us rather... tied up, on occasion." As nice as it had been to visit Southern France last month, Penelope hadn't been appreciative of the criminal she and Parker had been tracking down. The lack of manners was astonishing, to say the least. Realising this probably wouldn't help John in feeling less worried, Penelope offers a quick, soft, reassuring smile in an attempt to lessen his concern. "We'll make sure we bunker down somewhere safe, John."

A strong gust of wind buffets the wall outside, rattling the window panes violently in their frames. It must be loud enough for John to hear over the comm because his eyes flick to the side, ginger brows furrowing. The sky outside the window is black with thick, heavy storm clouds. The darkness hangs threateningly over the manor - the air seems just about ready to burst.

"You’ll have to pass my apologies on to Parker.” John says, which is rather charming considering he has no control over the weather. “I'm not talking just a little British rain, Penelope. Upwards of sixty three miles per hour," John shakes his head, clearly trying to convey the severity of her situation, “we're looking at flying gazebos.” And the straight face the man keeps, saying things like that, is genuinely impressive. “Let him know to hurry. I’d hate for anyone to get caught out there… and speaking of, you better get your guests inside. How many people were on your invite list this time anyway?”

He thinks he could probably call anyone else in transit and warn them to return home or, if the rain and wind is about to get as bad as his meteorological predictions suggest, to take shelter. John turns to the side and swipes the weather map, with its rolling red of oncoming inclement weather, up to the top of his periphery and expands his palms to open a new window as another thought hits him.

“And keep away from that East Wing.” He’s pulled up a perhaps-not-entirely-legal three dimensional satellite map of her estate, and is busy examining the building.

“Eos, could you run a structural analysis on these segments of the manor for me?” He earmarks something Penny can't see with a few quick, short taps.

There’s a chirpy little FAB John, before the information begins to cascade into his hands. 

On the ground, the first few drops of rain fall, bursting against Penny's antique glass windows like tiny, wet grenades. It's going to be, what they call in England, a bloody great storm.

[barry-swift-in-a-hurry]

”I’m in a hurry!”

Welcome I was told I should use this site i have to do this quickly, I’m Barry I’m a cis male and use he/him pronouns

OOC!

I’m Issac He/Him

main - @whoisinmyhousehelp

Ships!

As long as it’s legal! And once a ship becomes canon on this blog I will only use that ship

Anon markers taken - 🍄, 🌌

[sxskavrp]

Hello! I'm looking for some long term rp partners for Drarry. I'm 31 F, in the EST timezone. I try to be active, definitely literate, but not a stickler on length. I'm okay playing either character, I'm okay with NSFW but it's not required. Please no ABO, mpreg, or dark characters.

I have a couple of prompts I can share to see if you're interested. If you like the idea of one but want to play the opposite character, I'm totally fine with switching it up! If you don't like any of these, we can always come up with something together!

((Prince and Knight AU))

Harry kicked at the dirt with his boot as he waited idly for the Prince to arrive. He wasn't sure how well this was going to go, based on the stories he'd heard from his fellow knights. According to them, the Prince was even more of a spoiled weakling than he appeared when on the throne, and he'd already gone through five tutors so far. This was bound to be a ^^long^^ afternoon, but Harry was going to do his best to be patient. After all, he'd trained plenty of men he'd thought were hopeless, only for them to become great warriors. Surely he could teach the Prince at least some basic moves. He glanced up when he heard footsteps approaching, the very young man he'd been thinking of walking his way, the sun gleaming off his white-blonde hair.

((8th year))

So far, coming back to Hogwarts for a make up year had been unpleasant to say the least. No one wanted Draco here besides Pansy and Blaise. Even some of the professors were giving him a wide berth because of his involvement in the war. Unfortunately, he hadn't been given a choice in the matter, as finishing his education was part of his deal to avoid Azkaban. That didn’t mean he had to be happy about it. He'd done his best to lay low, but today the universe had other plans. The new Defense professor, who clearly didn't have any idea about certain social histories between the students, had just decided to pair him with Potter of all people for a project. Of course, Draco didn't hold ill feelings towards him anymore. After all, if it wasn't for him, he would be dead or imprisoned right now. But there was no way to avoid attention when someone went anywhere near Potter, and by the way the rest of the class hushed when their names were announced together, he knew this was only going to cause problems. Reluctantly, he moved to sit next to the Gryffindor so that they could start discussing their project, feeling rather awkward as they’d barely spoken a word to each other all term.

((8th year))

Harry had mixed feelings about being back at Hogwarts. On one hand, Hogwarts was his true home, and the place where he'd had some of the best times of his life, so going back was always a comfort. But it was also where he'd experienced some of his worst memories, and was the site where so many people he knew had died. Not to mention that it wasn't the same without Dumbledore, or even Professor Snape. Yet he came anyway, because Hermione and Ron were going, and he didn't know what else to do with himself. All his plans had gone topsy-turvy when he'd actually managed to survive the war, and now he was just kind of…existing, trying to figure out his next step.

It was a few weeks into term now, and he was going between classes when he spotted a group of 6th years crowding around something. No, ^^someone^^, and they were making quite a racket. He hurried over to see what was happening when he caught a glimpse of platinum blonde hair between two sets of legs. “Hey!” Harry ripped the boys away, revealing Malfoy on the ground, bruised and bleeding. Blood boiling, he put himself between the group and Malfoy protectively. “Get back, all of you!” he snapped, pulling out his wand. He knew there were a lot of people that weren’t happy Malfoy was back at Hogwarts with them, but he hadn’t realized it was this bad.

((Professors AU))

It had taken several years and a lot of soul searching, but Harry had finally realized that he was tired of fighting for a living. It was a major shock to the world, plastered on every front page. ‘The Savior Saves No More: Potter Quits the Aurors’. But Harry stuck to his guns. He wasn't going to try and fit the world's perfect vision for him anymore, and of course his friends had been more than supportive. Turns out the timing couldn't have been better because the position of DADA professor opened up at Hogwarts a few weeks later. He was quick to put in an application, and McGonagall was even quicker to bring him on. Sometimes he wondered if maybe that was a little too coincidental. Either way, he was excited to get started. There was just one caveat; Draco Malfoy was the Potions professor.

He hadn't seen Malfoy since the trials, where they'd parted on a civil but awkward note. He had no idea how it was going to be having to work with him, seeing him every day. Could they get along or would their old rivalry rear its ugly head? Needless to say, he was anxious when September 1st came around. He had decided to take the train in, for nostalgia’s sake, and so he entered with the students, finding most of the Head Table was already full. Of course there was only one seat left. And of course it had to be next to Malfoy himself.

((6th year, TW attempted suicide))

Draco took a deep inhale of the cool night air as he leaned over the railing of the Astronomy Tower. He felt like a shell of himself, as more stress piled on top of him in the transition from winter to spring. Not that it mattered, or that anyone cared. His grades were in the shitter, he barely spoke to anyone anymore, and he had no idea if his mother was alright, trapped in the Manor with his psychotic aunt and ^^him^^. His feeble attempts to kill Dumbeldore indirectly had all been thwarted. As days passed and the end of term approached, he knew he wasn’t going to finish the Vanishing Cabinet in time. It was over. The second he stepped off that train in King’s Cross, he was a dead man. Maybe he should just let Dumbledore kill him. He’d certainly make it quick and as painless as possible compared to the likely torture he’d endure from the Dark Lord. Or maybe it would be better just to get it over with himself. He knew he didn’t have to jump from this high, but he’d always had a fondness for the Astronomy Tower, the way he could see the entire grounds and the Forbidden Forest going on for miles. He could pretend he was flying for a moment, one last time, before the ground reached up to meet him. All he had to do was tip forward just a little more…

If you're interested, like this or message me 😁 I usually rp over discord.

[lovethatmakingcoffee]

Man, have I ever felt so burned by a fictional rp character idk????? I love him and am so mad at the same time, and I just know that Forever is lapping up all of our tears and relishing in our unionized agony because if it was me I would be doing the exact same thing >:(

He's probably so proud of himself that he is making us all cry and begging for him to come back. Well fine! Be proud! And hurry back!

Please....... :,(

[thesleaziestlawyer]

GARUHELPTHISISBARRYIVELOCKEDMYSELFINTHECLOSETANDINEEDYOURHELPGETYINGOITIMINAHURRYINEEDTOLEAVEHURRYHURRYHURRY

Barry, what the—how did you manage that? Hang tight, I’m coming! Just don’t touch anything, and try to stay calm. I’ll get you out of there!

-Gary Goldstein, Attorney at Law

[jannwrites]

film ask meme : HELLBOY (2004) directed by GUILLERMO DEL TORO.

a selection of lines from the 2004 film hellboy. modified slightly for rp purposes.

what is it that makes a man a man?

are you a catholic?

that’s hardly the point.

i abhor the use of violence.

you're wasting our time. 

if he's here, this is worse than i thought.

what i will do tonight can never be undone.

you do that again and i’ll carve you a new one.

do you understand? we have to stop them.

something may have come through.

do you really, really believe in hell?

there is a place, a dark place, where ancient evil slumbers and waits to return.

come on. come on. it’s safe.

this is a sacred place.

turn the pages, please, if you don't mind.

how does he know so much about me?

there are things that go bump in the night. make no mistake about that.

well, come on in. meet the rest of the family.

i hate those comic books. they never get the eyes right.

who’s the squirt?

try not to stare. he hates it when people stare.

they’re playing our song.

look at them ugly suckers.

don’t get psychic with me, fella.

i thought we checked this place.

you better hit the books, [name]. we'll definitely need more info on this one.

so, what do you say we work this out in a nice, peaceful — oh, crap.

see … i don’t like that.

cut to the end. how do i kill it?

it was the first lullaby you ever heard.

yeah, my arm’s fine.

i brought beer.

i wanted to see you.

i’m running out of lies, [name].

show me what happened here.

all right, don't move! put that down.

for the first time in my life, i’m not afraid.

looks like your ride is here.

listen. i’ve got a chance out here.

i gotta go too. lot’s to do.

i’m lucky that way.

well, i won’t be around forever, you know.

damn! could you please be a little careful?

did you ever lose track of him?

look, i am not pure of heart.

what i ask of you is to have the courage to stand by him when i am gone.

are you sure you want to go in?

we lead a charmed life.

remind me why i keep doing this.

be honest, [name]. what do you think?

didn't i kill you already?

you can do better than that, big monster like you.

i stopped that thing, didn’t i?

it’s what you do. it’s why we need you.

you have an insight. you know monsters.

what are you trying to say?

is there something you'd like me to hear?

the blood in his veins dried up decades ago. only dust remains.

what horrible will could keep such a creature as this alive?

there's hardly a day that goes by that he's not in my mind.

hey, we all have a side that we try to hide.

i see the puppet, but where is the puppeteer?

but then, how could you have known?

your god chooses to remain silent.

listen, i'm not much of a problem solver.

i understand what you don't like about me.

i wish could do something about this.

i can promise you two things: one, i'll always look this good. and two, i’ll never give up on you.

you better be right about this.

if i had legs i’d kick your ass!

your ass is mine!

could you hurry up? because it's a little spooky in here.

I'm coming for you, kid!

you should be running.

and i looked and beheld an angel. and in his right hand, the key to the bottomless pit.

you cannot break them no matter how strong you are.

believe me, i have lived long enough to know not a tear will be shed for this world.

i'll just have to find a way to live with that.

hell will hold no surprises for us.

whatever happens, don't leave her alone.

are you going to be okay alone?

oh, this is gonna hurt.