accidentally indulged in too much ‘me time’, turns out i’ve been reported missing for over six months and presumed dead by most local and national authorities
Hey, I wanted to let you know that you're not alone and things will get better in no time. I'm going through a burnout and it's a long recovery but there's a light at the end of the tunnel. Hang on, you got this!
I saw you’re going through a lot right now and I wanted to tell you that you can do this. Stay strong, think positive and remember there’s always a bright light at the end of that dusty tunnel!
Hey there! Sorry I’m just now seeing these. Hope you don’t mind me combining your two asks together.
Thank you so much for taking the time to send these! I’m doing just fine so no worries there, friendo. :) If I’m not burnt out writing-wise, I’m off writing for another, fresher muse, but I don’t plan on ever abandoning Josh 100%, even if I’m only here once in a blue moon. He’s too nostalgic and means too much to me.
Anyway, again, thank you for sending these messages! They’re so sweet and I’m gonna keep them saved in my positivity tag to look at again for a rainy day. ♥ Hope you’re doing well!
Josh quirked a brow and waited for Bezi to get himself situated, amused at the trouble he was going to just to cuddle. There were easier ways to do this, he was sure.
“You too,” he chuckled. “A lot. Are you okay? What’s the whinin’ about?”
His eyes stung and his throat was tight.
“I just love you so much,” he answered unsteadily, nuzzling closer as tears threatened to wet his husband’s shirt. I don’t want to lose you. I won’t survive it. but I know it’s going to happen.
He felt so helpless.
“Heyyy, heyyy…” Josh smoothed his palm over Bezi’s back. “What’s this about, darlin’? Tell me what’s wrong.”
He knew what was wrong. It was what was always wrong. Beziar was immortal, and he wasn’t. Simple as that. One day he’d die, and his husband would be alone. To put it so plainly made the decision sound cruel, but Josh couldn’t see it any other way. To die wasn’t something to fear, it was to rest, to see his loved ones again. His mama, his pa, Boone…
Was it selfish to want that?
“Lookit me, honey.” Josh kissed his forehead. “I’m here.”
“I’m from the future~” Klaus wriggled his fingers, making sound effects. - @bastardswxrd
“Unhh-huh…” Oh boy, Randall, you got yourself a real wild one. “And I’m President Grant.”
Josh shook his head. He couldn’t make heads nor tails of this boy. This boy with the wild look in his eyes, the one who wore heavier eye-make up than any woman he’d seen,
the one who spoke of ghosts and cried out in the dead of night)
but Josh was fond of him. In his own way, Klaus was a charming young man, full of life and promise. Yet there were many times when he wondered just how disturbed the fellow was.
“The future ever teach you anything about guns?” Josh asked. He took the hunting rifle from its scabbard on Ringo’s saddle and tossed it to Klaus. “Come on. Hills’r full of rabbit.”
Klaus squeaked as he caught the firearm, holding it with ginger caution. His green eyes flicked down to it before returning to Josh, brimming with skepticism.
“Uh, guns were always more Dad and Five’s thing,” he said, pressing the weapon back towards the bounty hunter. “I prefer to microwave my food.”
Josh was beyond asking Klaus what he means; the kid (who wasn’t such a kid, really, youthful face be deceiving) said a whole lot of strange things, he’d found. At first, he’d thought they were the ravings of a man suffering of too much sun, but now he believed that it was simply Klaus.
And he very well may just be crazy, plain and simple.
“You gonna travel with me, boy,” Josh said, “you’re gonna want t’ get familiar with one of these real fast. For food,” he winked and promptly returned the gun to Klaus, “and for protection.”
Not waiting to see if Klaus heeded his advice, or even for him to follow, Josh gave Ringo a final pat and started away from camp. The land here was wide and open enough that it should be safe to leave camp unattended; if anyone tried to steal anything, Josh would see them a mile away. Unfortunately, that also made hunting a little more difficult.
“H'lo.” Josh tips his hat to Klaus, blue eyes narrowed into a curious squint. It’s been a long while since anyone has looked at him. But then it’s been a while since he’s seen anyone venture this close to the canyon where he died. “You lost, son?"
“Oh my Gooood.”
Klaus turns in his palms and raises them in a gesture of unbridled enthusiasm.
“You’re a REAL-LIFE cowboy! Can I just say, sir, I absolutely worship your people’s fashion sense?”
The Seance groups around the poor blood-smothered specter like an adolescent at sight of their most cherished film star.
“You need anything? Wanna manifest and ride on a horse again, feel the breeze in your hair an’ shit? Oh my GOSH, you want a spittoon? I bet I can rastle one up, tar-nation!”
He attempts a (sort of alarmingly excellent) Texan accent, pumping a fist. He pauses, and then jolts with sudden realization.
“Oh! Oh shit! Sorry man, sorry, Klaus! I’m Klaus.” He offers Josh a glowing hand to shake, manifesting the ghost’s own form enough that it can become solid. “You seem pretty even-keel for a ghost so I’m guessin’ you already know you’re dead, right? Oooor do we need to, y’know, sit down, take a deep breath, ‘n process? No judgment here.”
There’s a lot to address here—one being that he’d never herded cattle in his life, and two why anyone would assume he’d want a spittoon, just to start—but then the young man is holding out his hand and Josh decides it’s best to let it slide. People haven’t changed much fundamentally, he’s learned, but they’ve changed enough.
“Dead long ‘nuff,” he agrees. There’s a moment’s hesitation before Josh reaches out and gives his hand a strong shake. A flicker of something sad and longing passes over his face; the handshake lasts a beat longer than necessary and ends with a squeeze. “It’s Josh. At least, I think it is. Seems I’ve forgotten a lot since…” He doesn’t gesture to himself, but the silence is loud enough. “Well.”
♥ this and I will send you a meme or something random in your askbox! capping at 6ish
👈 Sneakily smacks ass.
The town candlestick maker must have made a small fortune. The taproom of the hotel had all the lamps doused, with curtains drawn to filter out any such light from the street, and every spare surface had candles burning instead. It looked like they might have jumped back half a century or so, and it amused Thera a little that their ‘atmosphere’ now had been pretty much everyday back then.
A half-barrel filled with water was tucked in a corner with apples floating in it, there was an assortment of odd attire among the guests, and a painted banner (that had once been one of the bedsheets) reading ‘Happy All Hallows!’ in big red letters above the bar. None of the costumes were very elaborate, the townsfolk having made up what they could with what they had (and yes, there were a couple more bedsheets floating around going ‘boo!’).
Thera herself had settled on one of her better party dresses and a small mask cut from spare fabric with a bit of lace tacked on - not much but it was, dare she say, in the spirit. She was standing by one of the side tables, trying to figure out by smell just what was in the glass bowl labelled ‘punch’, when a voice by her ear murmured ‘Evenin’, Miss’ - and just after she felt the quick, stealthy pat-pat of a hand on her rear.
“Why, Mr Randall!” Her voice pretended shock, but she only smirked and set about pouring them each a drink from the bowl, “Is there a bounty on that and nobody’s let me know?”
O K AY
I’m legit never coming back here if I don’t make my draft count less stressful. For the moment, with the exception of a few with @caterva who I’ve written and plotted with extensively for years, I’m probably going to drop most if not all non-plotted threads in my drafts.
This isn’t a reflection of whether or not I want to write with you guys, I promise. We can start fresh stuff once I find my groove here again, but until then I’m gonna have to be extremely selective, which I’m absolutely terrible at because I always want to write with everyone all the time lol
I’m also probably going to be digging through my headcanon and wishlist posts and reblogging some stuff to (hopefully) spark my muse and get Josh fully awake.
Bezi develops a bit of a drinking problem after Josh(@bountyman)’s death; he handles grief poorly, and he’s never loved anyone quite like he loved Josh, which is saying something with how freely and intensely he loves.
Every day, Zeke finds ways to hurt me.
I have such muse for this man just now, please let it stay omg
I miss my dusty boy so so so much.
oh… i do miss this man.
Are you ever going to go back to Hercules?
Hey, nonnie! Wow, sorry, this is probably super old.
I’d love to go back to Herc, but I can’t see it happening anytime in the near future. I have a couple other muses that are hogging my attention right now and Hercules hasn’t been one of them for a while (neither has this one for that matter, unfortunately).
I’m sorry that I’m so sporadic about which muses I give my attention to and a serial blog-hopper, but that’s how I enjoy roleplaying. If I could be able to write all of them at once and give each blog equal attention, I would haha
hello! i’m zeke and i write an old as balls vampire warrior, a 45 year old vampire trucker, griffin o’conner, klaus hargreeves, and a 20-something delinquent, and others. give this post a like or a reblog and check out my blog if you want to hang out with any of them!!
A sweet reminder to give other families you see on the trail plenty of space! Take it from Grizzly 399, the safest way to hike in bear country is with groups of 3 or more. We also recommend making noise, carrying bear spray, and knowing how to use it. Photo of grizzly bear 399 with her four cubs at Grand Teton National Park in Wyoming, courtesy of Daniel Ewert.