mistconduct | Issue #60

Issue #60

[Locked from Cassel]

So say you're planning a trip to meet your boyfriend's family.

And said boyfriend's mom is complete and total psychopath who can fuck with your mind if she touches you.

And you think maybe you should actually try to get along with these complete strangers because maybe, someday in the far, far off future you might actually see yourself getting together with this fucking idiot with stupid hair.

What kind of gift do you bring?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Nah, I give shitty advice. Consider it a personal anecdote.

Yeah, I don't think any father whose kid you were dating would look at you and go "Welcome to the family, son."

Not any smart one, no.

Fortunately for me, I'm not really a dating kinda guy. Saves me a lot of those awkward dinners.

Kind of a love-em-and-leave-em thing you've got going?

Considering I got an ex-wife who wants my balls in a vice and/or mounted.

[Ha ha not that he really holds the latest batch of resentment against her. At all.]

Kinda got turned off the whole thing.

I'm shocked you even have balls to mount.

You want, I can shove 'em down your throat and prove it to you.

[He LOOKS 1000% serious about this suggestion, right down to the hands drifting towards his belt and the shift in his chair towards the camera, even if the smirk that accompanies is a little more vicious than Chris might be entirely comfortable with.]

[Chris immediately squirms in his seat, struggling madly to decide whether Tig was serious or not. Holy shit.]

Holy shit, you're fucked up.

I've got a gun. Come near me, I'll shoot them off.

[He was the sergeant at arms, of course he's fucked up.

But he only laughs, smirk widening into a proper grin as hands just rest at his belt, thumbs tucked behind leather. He leans back.]

You do that, you will get 'em shoved down your throat. Far enough you choke, instead of just sputter a little.

[Chris scowls back, unimpressed and disturbed]

Fuck you. You can't choke me when you're bleeding to death. I'm an amazing shot.

Kinda doubt it. Granted, they're huge, I'll give you that, but if your big bad warden skills are anything to go by, pretty sure you won't.

And I'm not gonna be lyin' on the ground crying like a pussy either. All I need's a couple minutes anyway.

That's only because you have testicular cancer.

Because you have so much experience with losing your balls.

And you do?

I've totally had amputation experience. Dickless.

[Aaaaand this face. Is practically horrified. Oh god you poor thing. He reaches down reflexively to cup himself in sympathy. As if it's contagious.]

Shit. Sorry, man. That sucks.

[And then, because he's Tig and therefore incapable of shutting his mouth when he should:]

Must be rough on the boyfriend. What, you get one who went Lorena Bobbitt on you or somethin'?

Wait, what?

No. God, no, shut up, asshole. No, I was calling you dickless. I mean my legs. Not my balls.

Ass.

Nah, see that don't make sense because I got mine right here.

[He grabs it again, more deliberately this time. See. There is a dick in there.]

Pretty sure you don't have any balls either. But that's a separate issue. Why not just say legs, why bring dicks into it. Geez. Scare a guy, why don't you.

[HE HAS SEEN INFECTED BALLS OKAY. IT IS PRETTY BAD.]

[Chris makes a disgusted noise in the back of his throat.]

Jesus, man, stop doing that!

Fucking asshole. No. No, I still have my fucking...parts. Jesus.

[Chris, you DO realize the more uncomfortable it seems to make you the more he's going to want to push that particular button, right?]

What. This?

[Case in point. He even takes a deep breath and shifts his weight, like it's actually getting him somewhere and he has to adjust.]

Like you don't like a good palmful of sack.

[Frustrated, brimming mad, and practically hysterical, Chris grabs a fistful of his own crotch]

What do you call this, then?! Asshole!

[Tig only laughs.]

Fuck if I know. Somebody feeling left out? Pretty sure I said it was somethin' you enjoyed, yeah, didn't mean you needed to participate.

[Chris lets go of the grab, dropping down in a chair with a scowl]

You're such a prick. You know that?

God. I'm going to train my dog to go after that thing of yours.

Yeah, somebody mighta told me once or twice.

[His own grip eases up too, or at least backs off to its usual place at the buckle.]

Better fucking not; you know how many scars I got in my ass already?

Tell him to stop grabbing his goddamn nuts in front of me.

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cw: rape as humor

cw: rape as humor

cw: rape as humor

cw: rape as humor

cw: rape as humor

cw: rape as humor

cw: rape as humor

cw: rape as humor

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cw: I don't even know. Tig's urge to be inappropriate always. borderline nsfw.

cw: borderline nsfw over here too. just. no one read this.

cw: borderline nsfw. just. no one read this.

cw: borderline nsfw. just. no one read this.

cw: borderline nsfw. just. no one read this.

another helpful threadjack

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