#thicc daddy brian

[bugspervemind]

What is the hottest thing you have ever imagined about Coach Patterson that isn't just sex?

I throw a pool party and GP is one of the guests, as well as all the coaches I like (Gary Patterson, Sonny Dykes, Mack Brown, Gregg Popovich, Brian Kelly, Barry Hinson, Mike Scioscia, Chip Kelly, Kevin Wilson, Mike Elko, Pat Narduzzi, Mark Stoops, John Fields, Mike McCarthy). All the coaches are in the backyard, eating barbeque and drinking beers, shirtless and only wearing sheer shorts of varying light pastel colors, blues, pinks, yellows, and whites, with GP wearing white. We get to watch him dive into the pool and come out like Phoebe Cates, from “Fast Times at Ridgemont High,” and that pool scene. Instead of showing him from the waist up, like her, we get to see him in all his thicc daddy-bear gorgeousness. We watch him walk a bit, wet chest hair stuck down to his thick pecs and belly, his package, swaying side to side, clearly visible through his sheer white shorts before he slowly removes them and tosses them aside... Mmm... 

[blueevelv3t]

Simsie meme legacy challenge

Google doc here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1DatI1DhRgCx1ScTLdJEFAh_ysXMGUzfYn9OJNcPN5Z4/edit?usp=sharing

                    Rules

1: No ridiculas money cheats. You can freerealestate your first house if you desire.

2: (optional) Since this is a lilsimsie legacy, you need lilsimsie (Aka Kayla) in your household at all times, you may cheat to make her a young adult with mc command center by clicking sim commands, set age, young adult. Also, you can find her simself on the gallery, her origin ID is lilsimsie, or you can just make her in create a sim. (She’ll be put into every story somehow, not just randomly in your house lol)

(Also this is my first time writing a legacy so plz be nice <3)

Btw, whenever you see this font it's me! (Riley)

                                        Gen one

                    Susan

Your entire life you’ve had everything you wanted at your fingertips You have zero insecurities. You also, don't have many friends (Cuz you're kinda the worst). You constantly picked innocent girls from your school, and attempted to ruin their lives. Until one day the entire school finds out what you have been doing, and turns on you. Your parents find out, and are so disappointed that after you finished college you have to move into a garbage apartment in the city and work your way to the top.

(Optional) It got worse. One of the girls you tortured in high school is now your roommate. Truthfully, you were always just jealous on how gorgeous, intelligent, and loved she was. She has tried to make amends with you, but you just reject her.

Career: Your choice

Aspiration: Fabulously wealthy

Traits: Jealous, Self-assured,  perfectionist.

Rules: You can’t have any good friends until you finish the first part of your aspiration.

When you find the love of your life, you have to cheat on them, then reunite when you finish your aspiration. If you find them after you finish your aspiration, you have to reunite when you are an elder.

Must finish your aspiration and career before death. If you die before you finish them, then you can revive yourself with mc command center.

When you’re an adult you must become bffs with your roommate.

Master logic skill.

Have 1 child.

                    Gen 2

                    Edna

                Your entire life you’ve been a meme. (Relatable) Ever since you showed up to that wedding when you were a toddler people have been saying “Actually it's Edna.” Nobody really knows why.  That's just the way it is. You have been getting into youtube, and twitch lately. You want to start your own channel, but know you’d never get big. You dream of having a family of your own. Even though you’re young, you’ve always loved kids. Probably because, you don’t really have a relationship with your parents.

(Optional) Ever since you were little you have had a nanny. (Which would be Kayla)  She is the only one that gets you. You’re not sure why she’s been around so long since you can take care of yourself just fine. You don’t mind though since your mom is always out trying to make more money, and your dad clearly doesn’t care about you.

Career: Social Media

Aspiration: Super parent

Traits; Ambitious, family-oriented, geek

Rules:  Must be bffs with Kayak. (The nanny)

Must get A's in school before you age up.

Master super parent aspiration and social media career before death. If you die before you finish them, then you can revive yourself with mc command center.

Have 3+ kids. (Adoption is fine)

Name one of the kids after Kayla. (This will make more sense later)

Mater parenting and charisma skills.

                        Gen 3

            Thicc mommy/daddy brian/brianna

    Your entire life you’ve been the most attractive person in any situation ever. Since you’re not on that whole have 428641749198147465524 boyfriend/Girlfriends train you’ve never had a partner. You’re extremely confident (Can’t relate) due to your parents telling you how perfect you are your entire life. But deep down you’re very insecure. You do have a girl you’ve got your eye on. But of course shes taken. You spend your days listing to (Insert favorite musical here) and dream of going into theatre. The thing is, you’ve got terrible stage fright, and anxiety. But your sister Kayla (See I told you it would make more sense <3) pushes you to make your dreams come true, while your other siblings don’t care that much.

Career: Entertainer (Musician branch)

Aspiration: Musical genius

Traits: Music lover, romantic, self-assured

Rules: Marry a woman named Marissa

Master aspiration and career before death. If you die before you finish them, then you can revive yourself with mc command center.

Master singing, piano, and guitar skills.

Have at least 1 child,

Be bffs with your sister Kayla.

Have at least 1 male baby.

                    Gen 4

                    Steve

    Your entire life you’ve always been artsy, you even have a chest tattoo about how much you love art. You eventually went off to art school when you met this random girl who you see literally everywhere. In your second semester she even introduced herself as Kayla. You told her that's your sisters name then it was awkward silence. That's really all you can remember about her. Sometimes you wonder what she did after she graduated. It's really whatever you just focus on your art. Your parents keep telling you to not focus on it so much, and get a “real job” Pshh,  what do they know? In reality your art career isn’t going so well. You’ll get there eventually though.

Sorry Kelpy isn’t in this gen. I thought it’d be creepy if I made them fall in love or something.

Career:  Painter

Aspiration: Painter extraordinaire

Traits: Art lover, Creative, Goofball    

Rules: Master aspiration and career before death. If you die before you finish them, then you can revive yourself with mc command center.

Master painting skill.

Must be a male

Have triplets & more kids if you desire

Choose a painting to leave for your legacy.

                    Gen 5

                The snacc pacc

Your entire life you’ve constantly been compared to your other fellow triplets. (Idk how to refer to them lol) You hate it! You just want to be your own person. Other than that you desire to be a famous author. You stay up day and night writing stories. Of course your sibling could care less. Its not like you have dreams or anything. You don’t really get any support from your parents either since your dad has a new girlfriend every month, and your mom is somewhere in the world, but certainly not in your life. You do have one fan though, your grandmother/father.

Career: Writer (Like from the computer)

Aspiration: Best selling author

Traits: Loner, bookworm, clumsy

Rules: Get married as a young adult

Don’t have a good relationship with your fellow triplets until grandparent dies.

Master writing skill

Have as many kids as you want.

Master aspiration and career before death. If you die before you finish them, then you can revive yourself with mc command center.

                Okay, so I only came up with 5 gens so far, I’ll for sure add more in the future. If you have any ideas let me know! -Riley <3

[slashnatic]

i will fight anyone who says brian van holt is not 100% daddy material. look at this delicious piece of man

[amalthea9]

Brian Cox and the blessing his thicc self is to my vagina. UNF 👀🥵👀🥵

[7thousesun]

Y’all ever see that Vine where the girl is singing and someone yells “SHUT UP” in the background and she just goes “...Yes!” Bc that’s me @ this picture

[crispyduckpatrol]

Obey Me! Characters as things me and my friends have said (and very out of context) Part 6:

Asmo: you don't need to be so loud about it.

Solomon: i will fold you like i folded joe biden.

Simeon: himbos are the best.

Levi: it's like choosing between oikawa from haikyuu and brian from dream daddy.

Mammon: it's my daddy issues, i promise. i'm not a masochist.

Lucifer: i'll beat you with a propel bottle.

Beel: i'm always a slut for dori– i really need to stop quoting vine.

Belphie: did i sleep well? bitch, my sleep schedule practically jumped from the forty-fucking-fifth story window. it's gone. never to be seen again.

Satan: prepare to die.

Diavolo: bitches really be dummy thicc... it's me. i'm bitches.

Barbatos: i made brownies for everybody but my dumbass kid sister ate them before i even took them out of the oven.

Luke: i swear to the holy chicken nuggets above if you call me short one more time, i will consume your neko neko kneecaps.

[sylvebea]

brian

thicc thighs = thicc heart

[pedros-mustache-main]

back to the hedgerows

summary: every relationship has its difficulties, you know that. but it just so happens that the first significant problem in your marriage to gwilym is more of a mountain than a molehill. 

word count: 6k+ (oof she thicc-ish)

warnings: angst to the gods!, language, innuendo, assumed infidelity, allusion to child abuse, did i mention angst? like there is literally nothing but angst here and i’m absolutely living for it

a/n: hi, lovelies! super super excited to be sharing this collab fic i wrote with @almightygwil​! as i am the self-proclaimed Queen of Angst, i’ve written the first part and ellie wrote the second (which is amazing), which will be coming out soon. we hope you enjoy and sorry in advance. :)

(side note: i do want to make it really clear that this is simply fiction. i don’t believe gwilym would do some of the things outlined in the fic below in real life. just fiction, y’all, and makes for good make-up smut a la ellie!) 

you blame hulu for ruining your marriage. 

unless it’s gwilym’s fault; maybe it’s yours. perhaps even charlie’s. whoever is ultimately at fault, you do know that if it hadn’t been for hulu, if it hadn’t been for ‘the great’, you wouldn’t be hastily packing your bags, shouting through tears for your son to gather his belongings and put them in the damn suitcase. 

if it hadn’t been for hulu, you wouldn’t be on the verge of losing your husband for good.

“mama?” 

you turn at the sound of charlie’s voice, small and shy, filled with concern. he stands in the doorway of your room, clutching his raggedy teddybear. the poor animal is threadbare and stiff around the edges. it is worn with seven and a half years of love, and try as you might to wean him off it, he won’t let go. so you don’t push the matter anymore. after all, a boy who has endured as much as he has deserves to love a stuffed animal for as long as he wishes.

“yeah, baby?” you hope your face isn’t as red and splotchy as it feels. but god you’re tired, tired of waiting by the phone like a fool when you know he won’t call, tired of wondering, tired of crying into your sleeve.

“is daddy gonna meet us at grandma’s?” his question is innocent enough, but it stirs the fire in your belly. your fists clench around the shirt in your hand, and you shake your head.

“no, he’s not.” you switch the subject, afraid that if you continue further, you will lose control. “have you packed your things?”

charlie nods. “come see!”

with a sigh, you drop the clothing in hand and follow. your legs are weary, as is your heart. it’s been a long week. if you’re being honest, it’s been a long few weeks. ever since you kissed gwilym goodbye at the airport, the days have grown longer and your loneliness has only increased. it’s rather sad, how much you depend on him, but he’s your husband, and you love him. 

even this week, some part of you loves him still.

charlie’s room could be photographed and used in the dictionary as a reference photo for ‘pigsty’. in an effort to pack his suitcase, he’s unearthed everything in his possession and scattered it across the floor. you’d smile, but you’re too tired. instead, you pick a pair of trousers off the lampshade and step over a mountain of toys. 

“i don’t know who you think is gonna be cleaning all this up,” you say, dropping the trousers in the suitcase, which is empty of clothes and full of toys and books. “also, i think you’ll need at least one pair of clean clothes at grandma’s. something besides these books.” you lift the first book you see, and a fresh bout of tears prick the corner of yours eyes. 

brian’s first gift to charlie: a book on stars. the pages are dogeared and stained with food. memories—memories of brian and gwilym and charlie in the back garden, stargazing like a trio of schoolboys—fill each page. you set the book down, sure that if you open it and reread the heartfelt note from brian on the inside cover, you will burst.

“here, we’ll take this.” haphazardly, charlie lifts a pile of clothes from the floor and dumps them unceremoniously in the suitcase. for extra measure, he adds his favorite pajamas—a dinosaur onesie, given by joe. “we need to leave most of the room for toys.”

for the time first in days, your face softens. you reach out to cup your son’s freckled cheek. he truly is the light of your life. if you had to go back and do it over again, you would still say yes. even if it eventually led to losing gwil, you would always pick charlie.

“i’m sure grandma has toys waiting for you.”

“but not these toys.”

“no, not these ones.” you glance around the room and search for the muster to tell him to clean before going to bed, but the muster isn’t there. you don’t even have the heart to properly fold the clothes in his suitcase. “brush your teeth and get in bed. we have an early morning.”

charlie pouts and slumps against the bed frame. “but i can’t brush my teeth without daddy,” he whines.

“you’ve had to brush your teeth with him for weeks now, charlie.” your voice is tight, on the edge of rage, so you clear your throat and nod toward the bathroom. “hop to it.”

he drags his feet, but soon you hear the water running and the buzz of his electric toothbrush.

for a moment, you stand in the center of his room. you can still remember the day you moved in two years prior—newly married, newly a mother, everything so exciting and raw with potential. 

charlie had stood in awe of the empty space, his teddybear tight against his neck. you’d watched him from the doorway, heart in your throat, and leaned against gwilym’s chest when he held your shoulder.

“i don’t think he’s ever had a room this big,” you’d whispered. “or one to himself.”

“how do you want to decorate it, charlie?”

at gwil’s question, charlie spun on his heel. his eyes narrowed, still wary of his new father. his gaze had slid to you, and you’d nodded in encouragement.

finally, speaking only to his shoes, he’d said, “i want planets.”

gwilym had laughed, shaking his head. “he’s gonna fit in just fine.”

you can still feel gwil’s hand on his shoulder and his breath on the curve of your neck. you can still feel the way his love for charlie in that moment made you marvel. no other man would be so willing to marry his girlfriend of seven months and adopted her former student three months later. but he’d been willing, and he’d been excited to start a new chapter.

father, mother, and son.

but perhaps now your worst fears have come true. perhaps gwil’s woken from the dream, realized his mistake in marrying you so fast, in agreeing to father a child not his own. perhaps that’s why he hasn’t called or reached out in four days.

you can only assume that’s why. assuming anything else might kill you.

when charlie reenters the room, toothbrush in hand, you palm at your wet cheeks and smooth a hand across your twisting stomach. you force a smile and take the toothbrush.

“i’ll put this in my bag,” you say. “where it’s safe from all the dinos.”

“mama,” charlie chides as he crawls into bed. “dinos need to brush their teeth too.”

“oh, of course! i just mean you don’t want to share dino germs. it’s bad for you.”

charlie rolls his eyes and tugs his comforter to his chin. “how do you know? have you read my books?”

“only a hundred times.” sitting by his side, you tuck the covers around his small frame. you release a slow sigh and study his face. “grandma is going to be so excited to see you,” you say.

“is she nice?”

“always.”

“why haven’t i met her before? i’ve met daddy’s parents, and grandpa brian and grandma anita. why not your mummy and daddy?”

you shrug. “life’s been crazy, and they live very far away. but they’re bursting to finally meet you.”

“but daddy’s not coming?”

you snap before you can stop it. “i wish you’d stop asking that! daddy is not going to be there!”

when you open your eyes, charlie’s are filled with tears and his lower lip quivers. it’s rare that you lose your temper. months of counseling before and after adopting him taught you to control your anger—however justified it may be. his home before yours had not been kind, and any hint of unhappiness sets him on edge.

cursing under your breath, you lean forward, pressing your hands to his shoulders. “i’m sorry, baby.” the pools of tears in your own eyes match his, and you wonder if it is possible for tears to run dry completely. “i’m sorry. i’m not mad at you, sweetheart.”

a fat tear rolls down his cheek, and you brush it away, swallowing past the lump in your throat.

“daddy’s at work,” you say. “he can’t come. but i bet—i bet he’s missing you right now and wishing he could be there.” the words taste like a lie, bitter and sinful. still, you say them, hoping they will ease charlie’s fears.

“well, maybe he’ll surprise us.”

clenching your jaw, you nod. “maybe he will.” rising, you kiss his forehead and ruffle his sandy hair. “goodnight. fall asleep fast because before you know it we’ll be leaving.”

with a yawn, he curls onto his side. “i’ve never been on a plane before,” he whispers.

“there’s a first time for everything.” you kiss his temple again and tiptoe out of the room, but not before tripping on a mislaid firetruck.

in the solace of your bedroom, you drop to the carpet beside your bed. your head falls against the firm mattress. your fingers itch to reach for your phone but you stop yourself. it’s a bad habit, always has been. you check your phone too often because the worrier in you is convinced if you aren’t attached at the hip, something dreadful will happen and you’ll miss it. this past week, it’s gotten worse. every few seconds you flip your phone over and wait for the screen to light up. the photo of gwilym and charlie—charlie on gwil’s shoulders, ice-cream smeared all over his cheeks—is always devoid of any new messages. well, any new messages from gwilym, and that’s all you’re looking for.

you knew keeping in close contact would be difficult; you weren’t that naive. you’d expected periods of silence on either end. charlie was a handful and, with school ending for the summer, your full-time job became keeping him out of trouble. gwil was thousands of miles away in a different timezone, not to mention working odd hours. you could handle a day, maybe two, with simple texts—a short good morning or hasty i love u written as you run out the door—but it had been four full days since you’d last heard even a murmur. and that wasn’t counting the week before when day by day his responses grew shorter and his calls more infrequent. 

god, you hate him.

aside from your mother, your reason for leaving the country remains secret. you’d tell your cousin, katie, but she’d get too worked up. hell, she’d probably board the next flight and rough gwil up herself. you’d tell joe, ask if you could crash in his apartment with charlie on your layover in new york, but you’d rather not subject him to your marital issues. you’d ask anita for advice, but you can’t stomach the idea of crushing the good image she has of gwilym. 

so, you stay quiet. suffer in silence. it’s easier for everyone else that way.

just as you’re about to stand, shower off the layer of disgust forming on your skin, your phone pings. the way you dive toward the bedside table is pathetic. your fingers scrabble, shaking, as you lift the phone. flipping it over, the screen lights up, that stubborn sliver of hope in your heart coming to life as you wait.

a text from the airline. confirmation of boarding numbers.

your eyes flutter shut. you should feel disappointed, but you aren’t. it’s what you’ve come to expect. you’d given up two days earlier, finally decided that if gwilym wasn’t going to answer any of your voicemails or texts, then you’d simply stop nagging him. clearly, he wasn’t interested in being a husband or a father at the moment.

dropping the phone to your bed, you head for the shower. the water is too hot, scalding your skin, but it feels good. it feels like something. you press your hand to the steamed glass and allow the water to run down your face, fill your eyelashes, stream off your nose. you breathe hard against the pain in your chest.

an image—your wedding day—flickers to mind: katie’s backyard, covered in string lights; your gown, hastily bought from the local dressers; the night sky, alive with stars. aside from your cousin and gwilym’s family, the ceremony had been next to empty. you needed to get married fast in order to speed the adoption papers along, and you didn’t mind the small gathering. charlie had sat on katie’s lap the entire time, rolling the ring cushion between his hands. he’d been so small then—five years old and already so scarred by the world. but gwilym had held out his hand, beckoning charlie over during the vows; he’d crouched, looked deep into charlie’s eyes, and promised to love and care for him as his own—the memory made you choke on a sob, the sound echoing around the shower walls.

god, you hate him.

you slip into bed, hair wet and unbrushed, with a groan. travel to prince edward island and your parent’s retirement home will be long and exhausting. an eight hour flight from heathrow to jfk, a six hour layover in new york, and then another flight to charlottetown. your head already aches, and you haven’t even reached the airport.

despite everything in you screaming don’t do it, you check your phone one last time. it’s blank, but you pull up gwil’s name in your messages anyway. as quickly as you can, averting your eyes from the long line of unanswered texts, you type your message: 

headed to pei. taking charlie. don’t have a return date yet.

message sent, stomach churning, you fall into a restless sleep.

you’re antsy. after eight hours on a plane, your legs are tight and you long for fresh air. charlie’s in much the same state. though he’d enjoyed the novelty of a plane ride for the first hour, for the remaining seven it was a chore just to get him to sit still. now, he’s bouncing on his heels, teddybear in hand, humming a nonsensical tune far too loud in the line to the toilet.

“charlie.” you squeeze his hand tight. “shush.”

the line inches forward, and charlie blows a raspberry with his tongue. “i’m tired, and i’m hungry.”

you sigh. “i’ve just got to go to the loo and then we’ll find something to eat.”

“are we going to go into the city?”

“no, i don’t think we have the time.” it’s a lie—you have six hours to kill—but you can’t think of anything you’d do that wouldn’t make you pine for gwilym. it’s easier to stay in the cool airport, plug charlie in with a movie, and read your book.

“doesn’t uncle joe live here?”

“yes, he does.”

leading charlie into the bathroom, you corral him to the nearest open stall. he pushes his forehead against the stall door, his back turned to you as you relieve yourself. 

“we should go see him.” his voice is muffled against the door, and you try not to think of all the new germs crawling over his face. 

“i told you, baby, we don’t have the time.”

after washing your hands and exiting the bathroom, you find an empty table and sit down. charlie sits next to you, his legs swinging back and forth. he watches the people passing by, and you wonder if he’s picked the trait up from gwilym. 

he looks so much like gwil it’s startling. maybe it’s because you’ve watched them side by side the last two years, but charlie truly does look like gwilym’s natural born son. it’s in his face: the soft eyes, strong nose, full lips. it’s in his mannerisms: his easy smile, soft voice, eagerness to listen. not for the first time, you wonder if you’ll have any more children and if they will take after their father. you used to hope so; now you’re not so sure.

shaking your head, you clear your throat and reach for your phone. you’d left london to get away from the house so full of memories and sweet times together. you’d left london to have a moment of peace, cry in the arms of your mother, and figure out what to do next. you didn’t leave home just to have it all follow you.

sliding open the phone, you search for joe’s name in your contacts list. you dial the number, glancing at your son as the phone rings in your ear. some part of you hopes he won’t answer, so you don’t have to answer any questions. another part of you wants—needs—a familiar face.

he picks up on the third ring. “[y/n]! to what do i owe this great honor?”

you find yourself smiling at the genuine happiness in his voice. “well, it’s short notice, but charlie and i are currently sitting in jfk. we’ve got a six hour layover...” you let the implication hang in the air, knowing full well he’ll pounce.

you can already hear his keys jangling on the other end. “i’ll be there asap.”

an hour later, you’re sat in a restaurant overlooking times square. you hadn’t planned on going into the city, but joe insisted. he wanted to show his nephew the sights—as many as he could in a few hours time—but charlie insisted he be fed first. now, sitting across from your son and joe, plates laden with overpriced food, you notice a lightness in your chest you haven’t felt for some time. it’s nice to see someone you care about, and joe is unusually tactful in his conversation. he’s tiptoed around the topic of gwilym and ‘the great’ and for that, you’re thankful.

“so, charlie’s told me all about school, which, apparently, rocks,” joe says between bites of a burger. “what’s up with you, [y/n]? how’s married life treatin’ you?”

you know it’s partly a jest—he’s asked the same question nearly every time you’ve spoken since you married gwilym—but there’s also a level of true interest in his query. but you shift in your chair, wincing as you turn to look at the busy street below. and perhaps he notices because he hurries to say instead:

“seen brian lately?”

this you can answer without crying or shouting or slumping low in your seat. nodding, you look to charlie. “we went over for dinner a few nights ago, didn’t we? tell joe what grandpa bri said.”

charlie keeps his focus on his mac & cheese as he speaks. “he said if i tried really hard i could have hair like his, but i told him i don’t want to look like a poodle.”

joe laughs, his head tossed back, his hands clapping together in sheer joy. you laugh, too, despite remembering the utter embarrassment you’d felt at brian and anita’s dining room table. 

charlie grins, his eyes darting back and forth between each adult’s reaction. he’s pleased with himself, the pride on his face all too real. “mama made me say sorry.”

“i hope she did,” joe says with a chuckle. “that’s brutal, charlie.”

charlie’s forehead puckers in a frown. “daddy says always tell the truth.”

“yeah, but you gotta...” joe waves his hand, shaking his head. “never mind.”

a moment of quiet falls over the table. you’ve barely touched your salad, finding that, although your stomach growls with hunger, you don’t have the energy to eat. joe’s looking at you with open curiosity, and it makes you squirm. he knows something’s up, but now is not the time to unburden yourself. not with charlie sitting so close, not with your heart as tender as it is. one wrong move and you knew you’d fall into joe’s arms, a sobbing mess in the middle of the restaurant. 

what dignity you have left, you’d like to preserve.

“what do you think about going to the park?”

joe’s eyes narrow across the table. “central park?”

“you said you want to show charlie the sights.”

joe glances at your unfinished food then your face. still, he says nothing. instead, he pays for the meal, even though you try and slide your card over his when the waiter comes by. you leave your salad and grab charlie’s hand as you exit the restaurant. you’re possessive that way—always needing to hold on to some part of your son; you’re the same with gwilym. neither seem to mind, so whenever you’re able, you hold charlie’s hand while crossing the street or you run your nails gently over the back of gwil’s neck as he likes it. you suppose, with charlie, it’s a mother thing. one day he won’t lean into your shoulder when you wrap an arm around him, so you take every chance to hold him that you can. you suppose, with gwil, it’s a wife thing. though you aren’t a huge fan of pda, you like letting others know he’s yours.

you hope he still is.

the day is warm, sticky with humidity. as you walk the few blocks to central park, joe points out his favorite landmarks. charlie seems interested enough, though he’s much more concerned with pointing out every pigeon than he is responding to joe’s explanations of the buildings around him. a fine pool of sweat gathers under your arms, and you soon shed your cardigan. the frigid air conditioning of the airport will be a welcome feeling once you’ve returned to jfk.

joe leads you to a playground, tucked away behind overgrown hedges. charlie drops your hand and rushes for the jungle gym, his faithful teddybear flinging in the wind behind him. with a soft smile, you collapse on the nearest bench and reach for your water bottle. after a sip, you offer it to joe, who shakes his head.

you know what’s coming. he’s going to ask about gwilym, and you’re going to have to come up with a suitable answer. you don’t have a suitable answer, not one that would keep your issues private but at least clue him in somewhat. finally, when the silence is overbearing, you give a short sigh.

“well, out with it, mazzello.”

he feigns shock. “out with what? i’m enjoying the sound of the birds.”

“you’ve been studying me all through lunch. tell me what you’re thinking before i scream.” you know you sound petulant, but it’s hot and eight hours on a plane with a wiggly child was hard. more than anything, you want to be home—not in london. the last two weeks have been hell, walking through the halls, visibly watching gwilym slip away, and having no clue what to do. no, you want your mother, and her home—whether it be prince edward island or the ridiculous summer home in lyon—is your home.

joe glances sidelong at you, his face drawn tight. when he speaks, his tone is serious, one you don’t hear from him often. “is there something going on? between you and gwil?”

despite knowing it was coming, the question still makes you want to wretch. you look away, curling your hands around the water bottle. it cracks between your fingers. 

you decide to lie. it’s easier that way.

“no... no, not really.”

joe tries, but fails to catch your eye. “it’s just that... you seem really depressed. i thought maybe with him being gone...”

he’s given you an excuse—maybe on purpose, maybe on accident—but you jump for it, cursing yourself for not thinking of it on your own. “i mean, yeah, it’s been hard. it’s been—fuck—nearly two months now.”

“that’s a long time.”

you nod and return your attention to charlie, who is swinging on the monkey bars with ease. “yeah, it is, but he should be due for a few days off soon. he might be able to come back for a long weekend.” you grit your teeth against the words. they taste sour, and you take another sip of water to wash away the bad taste.

“[y/n]—”

twisting on the bench, you give joe a look that shuts his mouth with a snap. “we’re fine, joe,” you say, though, now more than even, it is clear you are not fine. you hold his gaze, daring him to push further.

he doesn’t. he just stands, hands in his pockets, and shuffles over to charlie with a nod. 

wrinkling your nose against the sudden sting of tears, you lean back against the bench. a branch from the bush behind you digs into the skin of your shoulders, and any breeze which drifts your way smells vaguely of piss. that’s new york, you suppose: people as prickly as branches and the persistent smell of bodily functions. altogether, not terribly different from london.

your phone pings, but for once, you hold still, your tongue clamped between your teeth. your heart tells you it’s gwilym, finally woken from whatever slumber he’s been under, apologetic and eager to make amends. your mind tells you otherwise; it’s likely the airlines or your mother or katie. never gwilym; not anymore.

the message on your screen is from instagram, and you ignore the traitorous twinge of disappointment in your chest. frowning, you open the app, certain you’d turned notifications off long ago. what loads first in your timeline is a series of five photos. days off in pompeii, gwil’s caption reads. you don’t bother to swipe through the photos. you exit the app, delete it for good measure, and slide the phone back into your purse.

rising from the bench, you find joe and charlie hunkered beneath a slide. they’re imagining dinosaurs and jeeps and dangerous missions in the forest. with a smile, you drop to your hands and knees and join them, intent on enjoying what time you have left.

joe drops you off at the airport with plenty of time to spare. in the cell phone parking lot, you gather around the hood of his car for a final goodbye. joe slips charlie a fresh five dollar bill for the snack machine when he thinks you aren’t looking, and it’s the most uncle move you’ve ever seen. it warms your frigid heart, so much so, you nod to the back of the car. 

“make sure you haven’t forgotten anything, love. we don’t know when we’ll be back if you’ve left something.”

charlie ambles his way behind the car, inspecting his new money, and when he’s out of earshot, you turn to joe.

“i’m going to talk,” you say. “and you’re going to listen and say nothing when i’ve finished. is that understood?”

his eyes are wide as he nods.

“i haven’t heard from gwil in nearly five days now. last week, his texts got shorter and more infrequent and he stopped calling. this week, he hasn’t responded to any of my messages, voicemails, or otherwise. so two days ago, i gave up and i stopped reaching out. it’s been radio silent since, and i don’t know why. so, that’s what’s going on, and why i’m so goddamn depressed. but if i find out that you’ve called him and tried to make him see sense, i will never forgive you, joseph. do you understand me?”

his only response is a shocked blink, but it satisfies. 

“it’s my marriage,” you continue. “i have absolutely no idea what i’m doing, but it’s my marriage, and i’ll figure it out whatever way i can.”

there’s a pause then joe crushes you against his chest before you can stop him. his hug is painful. your left arm is caught between his chest and yours, your right shoved across his shoulders awkwardly. his arms tighten the strap of your purse against your neck, and you’re sure there will be a harsh red line when you pull back. but you don’t care. you let joe hug you. there’s pity in the embrace, but more than that, there’s love, and you feel it. love for you, for gwil, for charlie.

charlie’s voice breaks the moment, for which you’re glad. a second longer and you’d have started crying. “i didn’t leave anything but i found a dollar.” 

wiping the underside of your eyes, you push away from joe and turn to your son with a smile. “wow—six dollars in one day! what are you going to do with all that cash?”

charlie shrugs and shoves the bill in his pocket. “i dunno. maybe buy my own plane.”

“so fiscally responsible. i’m proud.” joe ruffles charlie’s hair, grinning. “will you let me take a ride for free?”

charlie looks joe up and down then nods. “i guess. you did buy me lunch, so it seems like a fair trade.”

“we’d better go.” you reach for charlie’s shoulder. “thank you, joe,” you say, hand curling around the handle of your suitcase. 

his smile fades around the edges, and you see a sigh lift his shoulders. “take care of yourself, [y/n].”

“i always do.”

he rolls his eyes. “you know what i mean.”

you look away, but nod. “tell your family we said hi.”

joe sticks his hand out to charlie, who shakes it with some trepidation. “look after your mom, charlie.”

“yeah, okay.”

you leave, bags dragging behind you, slamming against your ankles, with a wave. it hurts to watch joe stand there, hands in his pockets, ratty baseball hat on his head, looking so forlorn. you know that, if you asked it, he’d find gwilym and make him set things right. but this is your fight. no one else’s. 

an hour and a half later, you’re strapped in your assigned seat, charlie’s head on your lap. his cheek is hot against your thigh, his chest rising and falling to the gentle rhythm of sleep. as the plane takes off, you glance out the window and watch as the world fades from view. you can’t help but think that somewhere below is a family much like yours. 

you imagine them sitting down to dinner, laughing, catching up on the day, looks of love shared across the table. you imagine the mother and father, finding a moment of stolen passion against the pantry door as the son settles down for an evening movie. you imagine her laugh as he mumbles filthy things against the skin of her neck, things that set her heart ablaze. you imagine the way his hand strokes over her leg throughout the movie, his eyes meeting hers every now and then over their son’s head. and you imagine him laying her down on the bed, caressing, loving, worshipping her until they are spent.

some time ago, your life had looked similar. it doesn’t anymore, and you aren’t sure why or what you’ve done wrong.

the flight attendant pulls you from your thoughts. “can i get you anything, ma’am?” she asks.

a flood of answers rise to your chest. a phone call, an answer to prayers, my husband. instead, you shake your head. “no, but thank you.”

your parent’s home is picture perfect, like something out of a magazine: the long, winding drive framed by lush trees, the pale stonework crawling with ivy, the faded green shutters, and chipped picket fence. you’ve come once since it was bought. your parents, ever the world travelers, surprised you when they announced their move to their maritime provinces, and due to your teaching job, new relationship with gwilym, and concern for your student charlie, you’d only had the chance to visit for a short weekend. 

as your father pulls up the drive, you nudge your mother with your shoulder. “if i didn’t know any better, i’d say you were trying to be anne shirley, mother.”

your mother tosses her head back with a laugh. her sunglasses are overly large, but you can still see the laugh lines around her eyes. “of course i am, dear. much to your father’s chagrin.”

from the driver’s seat, your father merely huffs. he makes a face at charlie who, buckled tight in the passenger seat for the last few miles of the journey, giggles behind his hand.

your mother slides her hand across the bench. her fingers tap the bone of your wrist, and you look away from the window. she’s pushed her sunglasses over her hair, and her painted lips are drawn light.

“we’re so glad you’re here, sweetheart.” her tone is soft, apologetic.

the corner of your mouth twitches into something close to a smile. “me too.”

“okay, last stop. everybody out.” your father parks the car and pops the trunk.

you follow your parents to the front door as charlie races around your legs, babbling questions and comments as if he’s never spoken a word in his life. your father, who bears the brunt of charlie’s attention, takes it all in stride. tim, your brother—god help him—blessed your parents with eight grandchildren before you managed to give them one of your own. anything charlie has to throw at your parents, they will surely be able to handle.

after a light supper, charlie convinces his new grandfather to take him to to the river at the base of the property. he’s eager to find worms and, if your father can get free labor in return for fish bate, he’ll take it. they walk off, the sun dipping closer to the horizon as the day draws to a close. your mother stands in the doorway and nods her head toward the garden.

“come help me.” her request is more of a command, but you listen, grabbing a watering can from the back stoop as you trail after her.

the air on the island is fresh, slightly salty but sweet. you breathe deep, reveling beneath the open sky, unobscured by wires or skyscrapers or aircraft. your mother’s garden sprawls across the backyard. a ladder rests against the apple tree in the corner, heavy with fruit. raised flowerbeds with soft brown dirt sprout with tomatoes and snap-pea vines and peppers. a strawberry patch, struggling but alive, stands on its own. there’s a foam pad on the ground, and your mother kneels on it, reaching for her gardening tools.

“there should be some grape tomatoes ready,” she says, pointing to the plant. “gather what you can in this.” she passes you a paper container, and you set to work.

the birds twittering and the unhurried breeze work to soothe the ache in your soul. you could get used to this, a simple life here. the thought startles you, and you drop the tomato in your hand. it lands on your foot with a splat, covering your toes in sticky juice.

coming here, leaving london, you never thought for a moment it would be permanent. you just needed a change of scenery, a place to clear your thoughts. you have no intention of leaving gwilym. god, though he’d ripped your heart out, until he said the words, you’ll stay by his side forever.

“sweetheart? [y/n]?”

you look up. “huh?”

your mother frowns. “you’re just standing there.”

“am i? oh, sorry.” you turn back to the tomato plant and rip whatever red bubble crosses your eyeline. the tomatoes drop to your container with a muted thud, echoing the fragile beat of your heart.

“do you want to talk about it?”

you meet her gaze, and the worry, the concern, the love there nearly drives you to your knees. for days on end, you’ve been shoving it down—the fear. it’s not helpful, not to you or charlie or anyone else. for days on end, you’ve been choking back your anxiety, telling yourself it’s all just a misunderstanding. now, in your mother’s garden, with the weight of the world bearing down on your shoulders, you break.

the tomato container falls to the ground as your hands clamp against your mouth. you cannot stop the sobs which shake your frame, but you can at least muffle them against your fingers. the world becomes hazy, a blurry mess as your tears flow free and steady. vaguely, you’re aware of your mother’s arms around you, holding you tight; her hands rub soothing circles over your back. she smells of vanilla and shampoo.

you don’t know how long you cry, but when you finally step back, the sky is a dark red. you wonder if charlie’s come back from the creek, if he’s seen you in such a state. you pray to god he hasn’t. gently, your mother leads you to a wooden bench tucked against the fence. you sit together, your head cradled between her chin and shoulder. she smoothes your hair with one hand and holds your other.

“i’m so afraid, mum,” you breathe. your throat is clogged with emotion, your nose, too. 

“of what?”

sniffing, you wipe your nose. “that he’s gone and met someone else. that he’s forgotten us.”

you feel her shrug against you. “well, i’ve only met the lad once, but he doesn’t seem like the type.”

“he’s not,” you say, stronger, clearer. “he’s not. but it’s been five fucking days. five days! and he’s been half-there for longer.”

“i don’t know what to tell you, love.” she twists to look at your face. “your father and i... we’ve had a good run of it, but that doesn’t mean we’ve not had our own issues. sometimes—sometimes people hurt those they love most.”

“did dad ever disappear on you?”

“no, i can’t say he did.” she sighs. “but he did shag my best mate cheri.” 

“aunt cheri?”

nodding, your mother looks into the distance. “i nearly chopped his balls off.”

“why didn’t you?”

“because we love each other. we worked it out.”

with a scoff, you look away. “you’re in the minority.”

“you can be in that minority, too.” she grabs your hand. “your relationship... everything you’ve had with him has been so much so fast—”

“i know.” your head drops as a fresh flurry of tears rise. “that’s what i’m afraid of.” 

“you didn’t let me finish.” your eyes lift to see her watching you, a faint glow of motherly pride on her cheeks. “everything you’ve had with gwilym has been so much so fast, but every time i see your photos or your videos, he looks like he’s about to fall over because he loves you so much. i don’t pretend to know what’s going on in his head; i’d reckon he doesn’t know either. but you have something worth fighting for, [y/n]. i’d hate to see you give that up.”

“i don’t want to,” you whisper.

“then don’t.”

you kiss charlie’s forehead and slip out of the guest room, shutting the door behind you. the house is quiet, asleep before ten thanks to the excitement of the day and the weariness of travel. you find your bedroom, cozy, tucked away in the third floor attic. your mother claims she had it redone just for your visits. the window seat framed by bookshelves and the wrought-iron bed frame remind you of your childhood room, yet there is an elegance here your room lacked as a child. 

after readying yourself for bed, you glance about the room. the rug beneath your feet is soft to the touch, and the upholstered chair in the corner has a fresh set of bath towels. there’s an exposed brick wall with three photos nailed to it. you step closer to inspect. 

three photos. 

a family photo from age nine, your parents side-by-side, your brother’s arm slung around your shoulder. much of your childhood consisted of moving from country to country, always following your father’s job. you’d been happy, though, and looking at the photo now, you feel a surge of gratitude. 

a photo of your first classroom, the students sat at your feet. charlie stands directly to your left, his face leaning into your hip. you hadn’t known then, what he would mean to you know. you run your finger across his face, still pudgy with baby fat. 

the third and final photo, a picture from your honeymoon. the austrian mountains tower over you in the background, the sky effortlessly blue and picturesque. gwilym is well-dressed and handsome, smiling down at you, his arm curved around your waist. you’re looking up at him, laughing, holding the straw hat against your head as a gust of wind attempts to whisk it away.

your chest expands with love, for your family, your son, even your husband.

you aren’t sure how things will turn out. for all you know, gwilym very well could have met someone else; he could be making plans to leave you as you slide under the covers. yet something tells you—maybe it’s hope, maybe it’s foolishness—that’s not the case. 

you check your phone. empty, as per the usual. this time it doesn’t fill you with as much dread as normal. he’ll come around. one way or another, things will get sorted. you’re willing to fight for that.

[amalthea9]

UNF seriously I am SO thirsty for this DELICIOUS Daddy!!! He's my top right now 💜💜💜

Posting this one for @mysticaltimemachinewench, @amalthea9 and I because apparently there's a Brian Cox Thirsty Hoes Club too and we're founding members 😏😍❤

Seriously, I want him to cuddle with me under cosy blankets with hot tea, stories and then make love to me all night long while spooning 😩💕❤

[plasticbile-moved]

Why won't Robert love me I want to whittle and listen to Tom Waits together

[multiverseofimagines]

Request Rules

hey guys! just juicing up my profile so I’m making this and a masterlist! If you see this in any of the tags I have down, please feel free to request!

What Can You Request?

Imagines 

Blurbs

Headcanons 

Inspired by; songs

Ships ( you need to let me know what fandom(s)

Moodboards 

What Will I Write?

Smut (Everything but pure Incest.) 

Fluff ( Everything but extremely pregnant/ or specifically children.)

Angst ( Everything but abortion ) 

Mental Health Trope ( Not for Actors.)

Specific Reader Characteristics ( thicc! skinny!) 

What I Won't Write 

Nothing about children. It makes me feel extremely uncomfortable. Unless it's a domestic blurb or imagines where I mention you having children with said person, I will not write specifically about giving birth/ being extremely pregnant nor about just hanging out with your children. 

Incest this does not include ddlg, daddy kink, nor step daddy tropes. only actual incest is forbidden. anything else is fine. 

I do not write for stranger things anymore, due to experience on here with hate and toxicity.

Will only write for Elton under platonic, male x male or specific standards, such as before he came out, and or before his career/meeting John Reid.

Abortion

Self-harm  (not including anorexia or binge eating.) 

Who I Write For

anyone who is highlighted is who I mostly enjoy writing for.

Rocketman

Taron Egerton (incl. All of his Characters.)

Richard Madden (incl. All of his Characters .)

Charlie Rowe (As Himself and Ray Williams.)

Jamie Bell ( As Himself and Bernie Taupin.)

Kingsman

Colin Firth ( As Himself and Harry Hart)

Merlin

Eggsy

Roxy

The Beatles

John Lennon

Paul Mcartney

Ringo Star

George Harrison

Yesterday

Himesh Patel ( As Himself and Jack Malik)

Gavin

Rocky

Crüe & The Dirt

Nikki Sixx ( booth! Or not.)

Vince Neil ( webber! Or not.)

Mick Mars ( iwan! Or not.)

Tommy Lee ( MGK! or not.)

Queen & Borhap

Freddie Mercury (borhap! Or not.)

Brian May (borhap! Or not.)

Roger Taylor (borhap! Or not.)

John Deacon ( borhap! Or not.)

Rami Malek ( incld. All Characters.)

Joe Mazzello ( incl. All Characters.)

Gwilym Lee

Ben Hardy

Lucy Boynton

Other

David Bowie ( plus king Jareth.)

Elton John ( rockt! or not)

[the-ohiobutthole-ticklingbandit]

The prisoners screamed. Quickly your hot assistant (Satanic child, also a past prisoner) runs down the stairs into the basement then into the cellar carrying a whip. You could always count on her. Instantly she came back out and Gregory(The demon you pretend is a dog) came rushing in from the outside of the decaying house.

You make your sexy assistant some food while she and Gregory kill ants. You make her favourite, cigarettes and glitter glue on bread! But on this particular day you ran out of ciggies. You decide to take a trip down to the weed farm to go see weed cat. You both jump into your white van and head off. When you get to the weed farm you feel something wiggling in your pants. You check and see marinated chicken! Satanic child’s lost pet fish! What on earth was he doing wiggling in your pussy!

You go to see weed cat and then jump into the lake you keep the dead prisoners in! You teach Satanic child how to drown someone and how to snap their neck. After that you got back into the van and drove off. “Can we go to KFC?” She said. “Ok but we have to be quick with killing them, your father will be home soon” (a/n you kidnapped satanic child when she was a baby, she was so mean to the other prisoners that you traumatised her and she became your assistant/daughter).

When you got home your husband, Dr. Brian May(aka Thiccc daddy) greeted you with his delicious long skinny fingers. Satanic child went into her room. And you and THICC daddy had sexxx on the coffeee table(a/n this true story is set in London)

The end. You thicc sexy bitches let me know if you want a sequel to this. 👁👄👁

[nots0shy]

You see this. Yes the photo on top. It looks completely Normal. Ok. Ok. put down the torches and Pitchforks, let me explain. As you can see, it is the infamous genderbend of the dads of dream daddy, it looks normal, but someone on the lovely internet had to be a prick and tweet the photo and on the tweet they said "good morning to everyone except this person", so they are stating their opinion, that's cool, its fine, but they go on calling the fanartist transphobic, because Damian, one of the dateable dads, is a female to male transgender. Wait what? How is it transphobic, it's a genderbend, meaning that it can be reversed as a male to female transgender, and people were supporting that person, sending them hate, and death threats. Yes you saw it, death threats. they were also complaining on how Brian, another dad in the game, that the genderbend had big breasts and is "skinny". How? What? The genderbend clearly has a stomach, and she is T H I C C, like a good thicc, a heathly Thicc, and on some cases the fat in the food can go to the breast and butt area. Don't believe me? There is a Guinness world record for biggest natural breasts, who holds it, Miss Annie Hawkins-Turner, Otherwise known as Norma stitz, her bra size was 102ZZZ, basically she's big breasted, so that clears Brian's genderbend. Now back to Damian, like I said before, the artist got called transphobic and recived death threats, they were saying that the genderbend would be a reminder of Damian's dysphoria, and the person themselves that started it said "it literally cost zero cents not to be transphobic" um mtf transgenders exist, and some transgenders are even okay with the fanart and didn't see nothing wrong about it. And it was so bad,the death threats, that the creators of the game stepped in to try and stop it. And the artist is not racist. I'm just clarifying for the Brian genderbend and it kinda went into a rant and sorry if I missed anything

[amalthea9]

Since @tats-kisses-and-horror did one I need to because this man has become my obsession and he used to be just a small crush. It usually happens this way to me though. I'll be minding my goddamn business, and then a minor crush hits me with a 2 x 4, yelling, "I AM ALL YOU DESIRE FOR HOWEVER LONG I WISH."

So that's what happened with Brian Cox and I'm just constantly thirsty for this handsome, charming, and funny Daddy 😍🥰🥵💜

[draconicroyalty]

A Squad Isn’t a Squad Without a ChatRoom

My excuse for this is that I love chat room fanfics. Also, huge crossover and massive oc x canon.-

Fandoms: DMC, Bayonetta, Inuyasha

Genre: Crack, with a side of romance

Chapter One - Furries, Monster Fuckers and Dinner

                                     [BALDER created Group Chat]

[BALDER changed the name Group Chat to Fucking Insomnia]

[BALDER added SPARDA]

[BALDER added TOUGA]

[Balder added DANIYAL]

DANIYAL: who tf is creating group chats at 4am BALDER: me, dipshit, i can't sleep DANIYAL: well boo hoo, suck it up and bang your head against somethin BALDER: why are u so cranky DANIYAL: it's 4am and my first class tomorrow is maths do you really wanna ask me why tf i'm mad BALDER: fair enough BALDER: is sparda awake DANIYAL: nah DANIYAL: has been snoring for a good 5 hours BALDER: wait, he snores?? DANIYAL: ya BALDER: omg DANIYAL: what about dog boy BALDER: playing dating simulators DANIYAL: you're kidding BALDER: i wish i was DANIYAL: YO DOG BOY WTF TOUGA: TF U WANT DANIYAL: STOP TRYING TO GET INTO A BISHIE'S PANTS U WEEB, GO TO SLEEP FFS TOUGA: why are u awake BALDER: yeah nice question DANIYAL: um DANIYAL: studying? TOUGA: bullshit BALDER: bet you're playing lol again and mad cuz of the trolls DANIYAL: IT'S 4AM, TROLLS AREN'T SUPPOSED TO BE HERE, WHY DO I ONLY GET YASUOS IN MY TEAM BALDER: there there, baby, there there SPARDA: Dafuck is all this noise DANIYAL: u r awake??? SPARDA: yah, someone mutters what they type a bit too loud DANIYAL: srry bae SPARDA: np bby TOUGA: stop DANIYAL: why BALDER: you're reminding him he's single DANIYAL: that's cuz he's a furry SPARDA: LOOOOOL DANIYAL: before anyone asks spar actually laughed while typing that TOUGA: ASHFKDSKGHKSJAHL BALDER: touga, words. not keysmashes. TOUGA: IMF NSOT A FURRTY DANIYAL: what??? SPARDA: i think the poor furry is trying to type he ain't a furry

[DANIYAL changed the name Fucking Insomnia to FURRY CONFIRMED]

BALDER: lol BALDER: dan u r aware that he will try to kill you tomorrow DANIYAL: np i got a spray bottle TOUGA: KLHAFDSHGKGH FUCK U DANIYAL: MY PARTNERS DO THAT BALDER: sometimes i forget our boy's poly DANIYAL: i love all my boyfriends, girlfriends and significant others equally and if anyone hurts them i'll pull their guts out and eat them TOUGA: ew BALDER: scary SPARDA: i say him throwing a guy that was harassing one of his classmates into the trash once DANIYAL: i was practicing slam dunks and he looked like a basketball TOUGA: how does a guy look like a basketball DANIYAl: he was wearing orange and black BALDER: fair enough SPARDA: like this is fun but SPARDA: it's 4:22 am SPARDA: we should sleep TOUGA: alright mom BALDER: goodnight mom SPARDA: mom?? pretty sure i didn't conceive such ugly children DANIYAl: OH SNAP BALDER: SPARDA WE'RE LITERALLY TWINS?? SPARDA: LOOK AT ME, I'M THE PRETTY ONE BALDER: BEAUTY MARKS DON'T AUTOMATICALLY MAKE U THE PRETTY ONE TOUGA: aaaand there they go DANIYAL: babe stop angrily typing SPARDA: he started BALDER: NO I DIDNT??? DANIYAL: i know babe i know BALDER: HE LITERALLY STARTED THIS??? TOUGA: give up bal it's better BALDER: jsfslghjhg im going to bed TOUGA: nighty night BALDER: stop playing dream daddy and go to sleep too TOUGA: make me DANIYAL: WAIT U PLAY DREAM DADDY??? TOUGA: YA DANIYAL: favorite dad? TOUGA: brian DANIYAL: ....your fave's the bear. u furry. TOUGA: shUT UP TOUGA: who's your fave?? DANIYAL: matt TOUGA: why am i not surprised DANIYAL: he's a cINNAMON ROLL AND I WILL PROTECT HIM WITH MY LIFE SPARDA: babe log off lol DANIYAL: but babe...the IP.... SPARDA: tomorrow, babe, tomorrow DANIYAL: fine...night, u furry TOUGA: aadlkfjsghAHJSGHSKJ NOT A FURRY BALDER: furry [BALDER is OFFLINE]

[SPARDA is OFFLINE]

[DANIYAL is OFFLINE]

TOUGA: fuck y'all [TOUGA is OFFLINE]

[DANIYAL is ONLINE]

[DANIYAL added EVA]

[DANIYAL added AMASIS]

[DANIYAL added MAALIK]

[DANIYAL added JUURAH]

[DANIYAL added NATHANIEL]

[DANIYAL added LUKAH]

EVA: baby! DANIYAL: babe! AMASIS: what tf is this DANIYAL: balder couldn't sleep and created a group chat DANIYAL: so since i liked the idea and was super supportive when he created it i thought about adding more people AMASIS: oh JUURAH: LMAO IS THE NAME OF THE GROUP CHAT ABOUT TOUGA DANIYAL: scroll up bro JUURAH: omg that furry MAALIK: why tf were you all awake at 4am DANIYAL: balder had insomnia, i was playing league, touga was seducing daddies and i woke up spar MAALIK: that game's not good for u, i'm tellin ya DANIYAL: too bad i don't give a fuck MAALIK: ow DANIYAL: where's my baby boy? NATHANIEL: for the last time i'm 2 MINUTES YOUNGER THAN U DANIYAL: baby boy <3 EVA: (*^_^*) thats cute DANIYAL: you're cute

[SPARDA is ONLINE]

SPARDA: you're both cute AMASIS: sparda is summoned as soon as eva and dan start being cute, wow SPARDA: you do it too AMASIS: not with eva AMASIS: no offense darling EVA: it's ok (*´∀`*) DANIYAL: so pure MAALIK: if we're talkin about being cute and stuff MAALIK: i have some baby dan pics DANIYAL: *softly* dont MAALIK: don't try to meme your way out of this LUKAH: give them to us EVA: Lukah, you're here! (*^.^*) LUKAH: ...pure maiden LUKAH: i mean hi love LUKAH: anyways SPARDA: pics now AMASIS: i demand pics DANIYAL: pls no [MAALIK sent chubbycheeks.png] EVA: AWWWWWWWWWWW JUURAH: omg is that his old bib??? that thing was so cute SPARDA: brb dying cuz of cute AMASIS: i'm saving that and nobody can stop me LUKAH: !!! LUKAH: baby freckles LUKAH: omg

[TOUGA is ONLINE]

TOUGA: i'm saving it as future blackmail potential DANIYAL: fuck u SPARDA: dog boy don't lie SPARDA: u also think he was cute af TOUGA: nah TOUGA: maybe a little TOUGA: ok look he has really chubby cheeks and he's hugging a dog plushie, I AM WEAK EVA: Daniyal never lost his cuteness over the years ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ DANIYAL: aghgihrhgrih that'snottrue SPARDA: oh he's blushing AMASIS: you're his roommate, pinch his cheeks for me LUKAH: and for me EVA: for me too!! ʕ￫ᴥ￩ʔ JUURAH: why do you like those emojis so much eva EVA: they're adorable DANIYAL: ow ow ow SPARDA MY CHEEKS SPARDA: they're so soft omg AMASIS: now kiss them better SPARDA: done AMASIS: u know what i'm going there EVA: count me in! LUKAH: im on my way rn

[BALDER is ONLINE]

BALDER: y'all really love him don't you SPARDA: balder. brother. good friend of mine. he's literally a ray of sunshine that covers anything that's evil and putrid in this world AMASIS: he's the personification of a cool breeze in a warm summer day EVA: he's huggable like a teddy! LUKAH: ... LUKAH: thicc. LUKAH: jk, he's literally a mix of everything that's good and sweet DANIYAL: ASFJKGSHG STOP IM CRYING I LOVE U ALL SO MUCH TOUGA: SOME OF US ARE STILL SINGLE DANIYAL: that's cuz you're a furry TOUGA: stop DANIYAL: i saw your internet browser history bruh TOUGA: I DIDN'T KNOW WHAT A FURRY WAS DANIYAL: SO U RESEARCH IT ON TUMBLR 2 TIMES A DAY?? DANIYAL: yeah right bro TOUGA: im pulling out the receipts Dan DANIYAL: do not TOUGA: i may be a furry, but have you seen the amount of times you're in the terato tag?? TOUGA: u monster fucker

[Touga changed the name FURRY CONFIRMED to DAN WANTS MONSTER D]

DANIYAL: hOW DARE SPARDA: tbh, unsurprised AMASIS: like, he blushes when there's big creepy monsters in movies EVA: i heard him saying a monster lady could break him in half and he'd thank her LUKAH: ya dan's always been a monster fucker JUURAH: i can confirm that MAALIK: wait so all those trips to find big foot were due to Dan's horny ass NATHANIEL: nah that was me NATHANIEL: he's more of a loch ness monster guy DANIYAL: Nessie is a beautiful independent lady and also gay af so we're just besties MAALIK: i'm kinkshaming DANIYAL: u can't kinkshame if kinksame MAALIK: what DANIYAL: one word. actually, one cryptid DANIYAL: mothman MAALIK: ASDFGHJKL SHUT UP BALDER: honestly BALDER: i think being a furry is worse TOUGA: thanks for the damn support bro, wait til i kill you while u sleep SPARDA: did u just confirm you're a furry TOUGA: fUCK JUURAH: i always knew it NATHANIEL: i mean why would he nickname himself dog boy BALDER: lmao do u have a fursona touga?? TOUGA: fuck off TOUGA: why not tease Dan for being a monster fucker?? AMASIS: if u dated him you'd know he's into even kinkier stuff SPARDA: yah EVA: yah LUKAH: yah TOUGA: wait what DANIYAL: qwertyuiioponfds save m BALDER: what is going on over there AMASIS: we're drowning him in affection and i think he broke LUKAH: bara machine broke BALDER: tf's a bara TOUGA: urban dictionary says it's a person (usually male) with a large, somewhat muscular, and fairly hairy body type NATHANIEL: lol JUURAH: if there's something Dan ain't, it's hairy EVA: tru SPARDA: never caught him shaving tbh DANIYAL: i'll never reveal my secrets TOUGA: late bloomer DANIYAL: iM NOT DANIYAL: i simply dislike body hair on me TOUGA: what about other people DANIYAL: it's their body and they can do whatever they want and honestly?? cute. BALDER: why not apply that concept to yourself DANIYAL: never MAALIK: i know we are all having fun chatting and stuff MAALIK: but like MAALIK: it's almost dinner time MAALIK: so go get somethin to eat DANIYAL: but daaaad MAALIK: im not dad. dad is straight. NATHANIEL: lmao, right JUURAH: our family is so gay i sometimes forget that DANIYAL: mom's bi af tho JUURAH: i took after her DANIYAL: anyway if u don't mind im getting my lovely gfs and bfs something to eat AMASIS: we could eat u AMASIS: out DANIYAL: thank god u said out cuz if not i would kick u DANIYAL: this is a vore free chat SPARDA: vore is strictly banned TOUGA: kinkshamers BALDER: ... DANIYAL: touga wtf

[TOUGA is OFFLINE]

DANIYAL: ...

[DANIYAL changed the name DAN WANTS MONSTER D to TOUGA: CONFIRMED FURRY AND INTO VORE]

BALDER: tbh?? he deserves this EVA: what's vore LUKAH: such a pure innocent soul SPARDA: don't tell her DANIYAL: guys. eva's anything but a pure innocent soul. DANIYAL: at least when it comes to stuff LUKAH: ok, tru SPARDA: u woke the femdom monster in her DANIYAL: and you're grateful for that SPARDA: can't say i'm not AMASIS: can we go eat now DANIYAL: actual dinner or ( ͡~ ͜ʖ ͡°) BALDER: is your lenny face winking MAALIK: that is extremely concerning NATHANIEL: welp, people, im outtie JUURAH: same, wanna eat MAALIK: im escaping before this gets anymore sexual

[NATHANIEL is OFFLINE]

[JUURAH is OFFLINE]

[MAALIK is OFFLINE]

BALDER: im going to find touga and kinkshame him

[BALDER is OFFLINE]

AMASIS: so SPARDA: hm EVA: mcdonalds or subway? (´∀`) LUKAH: i'm in the mood for mcdonalds DANIYAL: yeah same SPARDA: can we watch a movie too?? since we're going to the mall AMASIS: sounds like fun DANIYAL: im paying LUKAH: no ur not wtf DANIYAL: I PAY

[DANIYAL is OFFLINE]

SPARDA: STOP HIM BEFORE HE GETS HIS WALLET

[SPARDA is OFFLINE]

[EVA is OFFLINE]

[LUKAH is OFFLINE]

[AMASIS is OFFLINE]

[officialbugsposts]

Love Brian Kelly! Never afraid to show what he's got! Blond hair, green eyes, thick build, so sexy and handsome! Let's Geaux, BK!