#coolleatherjacket

[thecoolminister]

@coolleatherjacket​ | continues from here

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

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

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

[margaritaxz0ne-blog]

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

Oh no. He’d been caught.

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

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

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

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

[exitiumparit]

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

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

[jxmmybuffett]

@coolleatherjacket​

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

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

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

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

[bonhcmme]

@coolleatherjacket gets a SPOOKY STARTER

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

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

[walriding]

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

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

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

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

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

sdgfhjdysg

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

[losingself]

(starter for @coolleatherjacket)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What country’s that?”

With no other option: “Mallin.”

“That in Europe or something?”

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

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

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

[margaritasinner-blog]

      (starter for @coolleatherjacket)

       Unless it is in the name of God.

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

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

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

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