#six fucktons of cash

[angelholme]

So the Tory government gave out six fucktons of our money to people who scammed them, and decided not to investigate the people they gave it to.

And as a result The Tory Government have only managed to recoup about half a fuckton of our money. The rest is gone -- taken by fraud, scam artists and other such people.

It does kind of make sense -- if the Tory government had investigated the people that they were giving the money to then there are good odds that those investigations would have revealed that the people that six fucktons of our money were given to were friends of Ministers, friends of MPs, friends of MPs' families, friends of Minister's family's and Tory donors.

Which would not have been a good look for the Tory government, for Johnson, for Truss or for Sunak.

So if the Tory government doesn't investigate, they can -- at least -- maintain plausible deniability about where the money that they gave out to fraudsters, scam artists and so forth went.

Of course the Tory government still has to explain why they gave six fucktons of our money to people with checking who it was they were giving vast amounts of cash to. Because that does kind of call into question their ability to run the country.

One would think.

[contentment-of-cats]

Monday blues

Spent a good part of yesterday with a nasty stomach bug, but am not sure where it came from. I'm on the mend but have zero appetite and the pain was amazing.

The kitties are settling in. Dusty's chill and there was silly-chasing with her and Mochi. Beanie is resistant. She is a tiny, dainty little 8 bound ball of fuzz. He is a giant, sleek boy who keeps trying to tell her that he's a kitten. He speaks to them in 'baby' meows. He walks on me, but is not up to cuddles yet. One thing, I am going to be going through a fuckton more cat food.

Mom's birthday is coming. Last year, I was strapped in for the long haul, or as long as I could stay in remission. I did not expect that she would go that fast. She did not remember her birthday, or note that the holidays had passed. I stopped telling her when her friends died, or that I had cancer. She lived in the moment in a very literal sense, but was also delusional. She would have been pissed to have been outlived by Kissinger - she had a visceral hate for him.

Memories of her are surfacing, stuffed between the couch cushions of my mind for so long. Yes, there are good memories, but overall not. She was a snob, to put it bluntly. She was a disordered eater, proud to have been a size six all her life and hated people who didn't conform to her aesthetic standards. Imagine being her curly-headed daughter, built like a potato digging peasant with broad hips, thick thighs, broad shoulders and big boobs. It still makes me shudder.

It's complex. She loved me, but her love was the love you have for something you own. When I became something more than an accessory, something with thoughts, feelings, and dreams, that's when things got bad. She hated me, too, because getting pregnant with me derailed the life she wanted to live. I've always wondered if she trapped my father, though she certainly divorced him for the right reasons. She was admirable in many ways, but with that came plenty of bad - hypocrisy, classism, avarice, gossiping, badmouthing, triangulating. It's hard to reconcile the good point with the bad points.

Which, by the way, included looting my college trust fund, pocketing a cash life insurance policy where I was the beneficiary but was under age, and cheating me out of a share in familial real estate. She selected her boyfriends with an eye to nipping up their house and property after they passed, too. It backfired twice in a spectacular way. There was a lot wrong with her (and her sisters) and most of it was was on the Cluster B spectrum. My grandparents were lovely - how the hell did they get these maladjusted, malicious adults?

Sorting out your family after they've gone is like panning for gold, only now you're panning for understanding with 50 years of living under the bridge. I do not exactly miss her, which sounds terrible, and I do not exactly love her. I think I just miss the mother I could have had, should have had, and didn't. I can say that I did my job, and she was cared for, comfortable, and had dignity to the very end. Go me, I guess?

There's no such thing as closure. Closure is a thing that happens outside of you. Resolution is when you close that book and put it on the shelf.

[tangentmoth]

It’s all you’ve got inside your head; you better get up and leave instead...

(Hey cool, I managed to make another lyric from 30 Seconds to Mars’ Echelon fit for a tagline.  Rad!)

Greetings, fellow Stalkers!  Tangentmoth is back with another chapter of Scorch the Skies, which fills in the gap between Clear Sky and Shadow of Chernobyl (from the POV of the various NPCs we met along the way).  Man I am KILLING IT this week.

Where we last left off, the stragglers back at the Clear Sky base were not having a great day.  But what about our valiant men of Duty?  Deadly anomalies, dangerous mutants, anarchists and bandits: none will stop Duty on its triumphant march toward saving the planet!

...right?

Chapter 2: The Bad Death of General Krylov

As told by Gormov, Duty technician.

Same old Hundred Rads.

Place never changes, and thank God for it.  Whole Zone’s going to pizdetz faster’n ever, blowouts firin’ off like the end of the fuckin’ world, took out all our power and most of our comms for three whole days.  The Loners all fucked off back to wherever like they always do, told us there wasn’t any deal with the General now on account of he was dead.  Good riddance to ‘em, far as I’m concerned, you can’t trust them for anything, no discipline whatsoever.  We lost at least six of our men to bandits sniping us from the rocks while we tried to to cut around their shithole base on our way to the main road and another twelve because all the anomalies on our maps aren’t where we marked ‘em anymore.  But we came through and will you look at this place?  Power’s on, same old Big Lander metal on the radio, same old shitty static on Barkeep’s TV, Barkeep’s trying to get you to side-hustle for him just like always, even that fucking Bandit’s still in the same corner trying to sell people his bullshit intel.  I’d shoot that fuck if he wasn’t, like, practically the Hundred Rads Mascot.  Same old place alright. 

Fuck it’s good to be back in Rostok.

Anyway, yeah, you heard right.  Colonel Voronin’s taking over, though I guess it’s General Voronin now.  But Krylov’s as dead as it gets.  Most fucked up thing I ever saw.  

We were holding a base at the old Agroprom Research Institute complex, down in the Garbage.  Been down there?  Yeah, it lives up to the name.  Nothing but rocks, bandits, and ARS in those hills.  And shit tons of anomalies, can’t forget those.  No place anyone in their right mind’d choose for a base, but the General had a thing going with the military way further south in the Cordon, and they won’t come up as far north as Rostok unless they’re airdropping Spetznaz in.  Besides, we’re Duty.  It’s our job to take on the worst places and put ‘em to order.  

Agroprom looked good on the surface.  Fortified, all the walls mostly intact, there’s live utility lines to hook into, plenty of towers to set sniper watch from.  Once we swept the Bandit rats out we had a pretty solid setup.  Only trouble was, there was this bigshot Loner, Father Valerian, who had an idea he was gonna organize all the Loners into an actual faction.  How the fuck do you organize Loners?  It’s like herding cats.  Anyway, he’s got eyes on Agroprom too.  The General was a good man, though, knew how to work with people, and to be fair to the Loners they’ve got good eyes and good ears.  So Krylov makes a deal with this Valerian - the Loners get half the complex, and in return they help us with pest control.  Worked out pretty well, until…

Well.  Until one of our privates decided to have himself a look in the basement.

Kid comes scrambling back up the stairs, shrieking like a firebell, bleeding out the side of his neck.  You know there’s only one thing makes those wounds.  He must have caught it out of the corner of his eye and yanked back just in time.  If that Bloodsucker’d gotten any closer to the kid’s carotid he’d have had himself a nice little afternoon snack.  But Mitya and Kolobok get the private patched up, pour a bottle or two of vodka down his throat, and he’s more or less fine.  Nothing like your first Bloodsucker to get your attention, eh?  

Anyway, the attack gets reported to the General, who sends a team down to clean out the tunnels.  Except not a single one of them come back.  Not a single. One.  And it’s not just us, either, we talked to the Loners and turns out they’d lost half a dozen down there, give or take.  The ones who did come back up came back addled, so we knew there had to be more than just bloodsuckers down there.  There was actually a nutty rumor on the Loner side of the base that there was one pack of two or three Loners who were living down there for a few weeks before they lit off North for the great Unknown, but I’d sooner believe in Ded Moroz, after what I saw later.

So now we’ve got ourselves a mess.  We can flood the tunnels, but the valves are all down in the basement.  Nobody wants to go downstairs, not even Inquisitor, our big-game hunter.  Said he preferred to do his hunting aboveground.  Meanwhile the freaks in the tunnels know we’re here now, so they’re coming upstairs.  Milutin and Fyoki were manning the gate and they swear they saw a huge black bloodsucker jump on another one of our guards and just disappear into the treetops with him.  The General’s not big on wasting Duty lives, and you can’t order Loners to drink vodka, let alone go underground to end up bloodsucker food.

Then all of a sudden, one day, this big guy--and I mean BIG guy, must have been two metres, face like the evil robot from that old movie--comes strolling into camp.  He’s got this weirdo outfit on, glacier-blue camo that barely fits and a green flak vest and this ratty leather overcoat that looked like he looted it off a Bandit, but he says he’s a Merc, and after a couple days he up and volunteers to do the job for us.  Perfect solution, right?  If he succeeds, we’re good to go.  He dies, well, no great loss, and we don’t lose any of our own.  Tell the truth, none of us expected him to actually succeed, but this guy must have been something else because it went off without a hitch.  We gave him some gear and some cash as thanks, I fix up his Vintorez, he stalks on over the hills and far away, and our base is safe for operations. Or so we thought.

See, what none of us were counting on was the blowout.  That big one.  It fucked everything up.

I was on survey with the General, trying to take stock of the damages to the facility.  It was...a day after the blowout?  Two, maybe.  I don’t know.  Those things fuck with your head.  Time gets weird.  You know?  At any rate, he’s got me with him, because I’m the tech.  I don’t know shit about architecture or infrastructure maintenance, mind, but I’m the closest thing we’ve got.  

We’d sealed up the entrance to the basement levels with an old steel door we cut from one of the labs in the building.  What the hell they were doing here I don’t know, something to do with agriculture’s my guess but fucked if I know. The door was rusty but still sound, at any rate.  Well, when we got down there to make sure the shaking hadn’t damaged it, we saw Sergeant Nalivayko standing outside the door.  Just...staring at it.  Eyes big blank zeros.  

Then he started screaming.

Screaming and screaming, holding his head, his ears, like he was trying to hold his brains in.  Saying ‘it’s inside, something’s inside me!’  I didn’t know what the hell he was raving about, I thought the blowout must have sent him mad somehow.  Except...then I started to hear something too.  Ever been too close to a grenade when it explodes?  That ringing in your ears after?  Like that.  But it didn’t stop. 

That’s when I started booking it the hell back up the stairs.  Suppose I ought to be shot for cowardice, but so far nobody seems to care.  I made it up to the first landing, and when I looked back down…

Nalivayko was still down on his knees screaming, but General Krylov was still perfectly calm.  I still don’t know why he did what he did.  He was a good man.  A hard man, but this is a hard place.  At first I thought he meant to go in there and kill whatever it was behind that door.   But then I remembered there should be nothing behind that door...nothin’ except god knows how many cubic fucktons of water.  

I yelled down at him...shit, I don’t know what I yelled.  I couldn’t hear past that ringing noise.  Maybe he couldn’t either, because he went right on ahead and opened the door.  Soon as he does, all that water starts pouring into the stairwell...but it was all wrong.  It was glowing.

Like I said.  The blowout.  It shook stuff up, and not just the ground...it moved all the anomalies around.  Ever seen the ones they call “fruit punch”?  Looks like a glowing puddle of bubbly water, but it burns like industrial strength lye.  Dozens of them must have sprung up in those basement tunnels, and they’d gotten into the water we filled the place up with.  General Krylov and poor Sergeant Nalivayako melted to death in that stairwell like...like the fucking Nazis in Indiana Jones.  Fuck.

We left Agroprom the next day, and whatever the hell still lives there.  I’m not sorry a bit.  Rostok’s Duty’s place, always has been.  We can do our jobs from here just as well, and I get better parts for my repair shop since everyone comes through here to trade with Barkeep.

So I say fuck the Garbage, and fuck Agroprom.  The Bandits want it? Great.  Let ‘em have it.

[hdvrpg]

(Because these questions kind of assume a classic-old-school-run-of-play I tried to throw in an adventure hook into each of these because my games don't tend to follow that road).

The world was called Haftorang, First Warrior of the North Palace, and a multitude of other names. These survive only on the most ancient of maps.

In the most general of terms, it is hot, atmospherically soupy, and poor in metals. Most of it is given over to oily seas. The sun is distant and smouldering ulfire.

The game begins in an expanse known as Beyond-the-Goblin-Ear-Strait. It is a fatal gash of unbridled wilderness stretching north-south across the world across which sprawl thin skeins of mortal settlement. Our eclectic players are emigres,  defectors, exiles, and vagrants from across the Strait. The bitter owner of the sewn Skrom-skin craft which ferried you here died in a storm or mutiny and now the boat is (a piece of shit, but) collectively owned by you.

What is the deal with my cleric's religion?

The gods, originally only nominally worshipped, have returned to the surface of the earth. None have so many temples beyond the Strait as Gurazzar, He-of-the-Ninety-Nine-Mirrors, The Naked God, ruler of the night sky, wind, storms, obsidian, smoke, discord, tigers, and father of sorcery. His sorcerer-priests desire divisive battle and every grey morality to be considered. every ninth new moon the Overlord must walk the streets naked, painted peacock-blue and bearing weapons like a sorcerer-priest slaying anybody he finds.

Where can we go to buy standard equipment?

The port gets all the finished goods– tools, guns, weapons and armour that aren’t made of skins, bone, or obsidian studded witch-wood. Although such things have been disappearing recently and being replaced with versions made of gold, carved from crystal, or tooled in elaborately pelagic ceremonial designs. Merchants say it is Ikma in her fish-aspect come to protect her seafarers in their poverty and destitution.

Where can we go to get plate-mail custom fitted for this monster I just befriended?

They won’t want it. Dwarves despise metal, elves will shrink/grow/warp out of it the moment they get in, and just about everything else will eat it or you first.

Who is the mightiest wizard in the land?

The high sorcerer-priest of the Naked God, Terrible Kandza, wields magic of the ninth order. Few challenge this power, for magic even of the first order is forbidden to common wretches; except for perhaps the witch hunting librarians of Hexelheim, said to maintain in their library tomes which reveal the weaknesses of the gods themselves.

Who is the greatest warrior in the land?

The Overlord. It is said half his blood is the mind-altering sap known only as The Holy Mountain due to the amount the queen mother partook during her twelve-year pregnancy. For this he feels no pain, can see his enemies through walls, and can chop a horse in half with a club.

Who is the richest person in the land?

The council of Guilds, the ninety-nine blessed merchants of the region advising the Overlord and his priests, holds collective decree as owners of all the wealth Beyond the Strait.

Where can we go to get some magical healing?

Temples: Priests of Ikma can only touch wounds of life-threatening importance; Priests of the Rat god will tell you to embrace the wound as a blessing; ascetics of the Tiger-path will offer to eat your seven souls for protection from earthly wounds.

Where can we go to get cures for the following conditions: poison, disease, curse, level drain, lycanthropy, polymorph, alignment change, death, undeath?

The first two: your own house. Your door will be nailed shut for thirty days and painted by a priest with the sign of Ikma in the black-green blood of the fleshtree, the god of necessity. Level drain you can suck up because if you’ve been touched by a ghost in the Land you must wear a mask of that spirit for the rest of your life.  The last five (save alignment change) are best asked for at the goodwill of a local temple; if your alignment changes, accept the omen and embrace your new cause (Priesthoods often put the zeal of a convert to direct action).

Is there a magic guild my MU belongs to or that I can join in order to get more spells?

The librarians of Hexelheim, far south, accept the worthy; amongst other things you must renounce all religion, bring six witch-heads as tithe, and accept a gruelling apprenticeship which mostly involves fetch-quests, spell transcription, and gruesome public assassination of temple officials.

Where can I find an alchemist, sage or other expert NPC?

Alchemists are mostly devoted to explosives; in a well-avoided tenement or perhaps in the interrogative possession of the Librarians of Hexelheim. Temple priests function as much else; prophets, trip-guides, and healers. Oga the blind will fence anything in the Temple Markets for a cut and it is said Thirteen-Fingered Kalbo maintains his criminal court from within the city somewhere.

Where can I hire mercenaries?

Every temple has dedicated warriors who can be bribed for some gold or hired from their posts for more: or if you’re down and out consider a short monthlong stint in their ranks and they’ll pay you a favour back.

Is there any place on the map where swords are illegal, magic is outlawed or any other notable hassles from Johnny Law?

Yes. Everywhere (for magic) if you’re not noble or a priest; if you can get a sword made of metal the summary punishment for peasants is to be killed with your own sword.

Which way to the nearest tavern?

Alcohol is abhorred and anti-religious. Try imbibing the Holy Mountain at any of the regular temple trance-sessions.

What monsters are terrorising the countryside sufficiently that if I kill them I will become famous?

The Gods. Potentially seperate, considering it’s bold to assume it might help against gods: ask why any of the road patrols bother lugging around cannons everywhere they go

Are there any wars brewing I could go fight?

Wait till sunset; pick between any of the temples, guilds, and the various politically motivated violent groups that fill the darker streets and undercity at night with their state-sanctioned petty warfare.

How about gladiatorial arenas complete with hard-won glory and fabulous cash prizes?

There are street-leagues of Seven-Tongues-of-Fire players, a game where the main rule is to fight your opponent using a weapon that is “some form of live, poisonous, deadly, and previously enraged animal chained to the wrist of the wielder”. Also, try arranging a dawn duel with any of the merchant nobles; the prize is whatever’s on their corpse if you win and a fat bounty on your head.

Are there any secret societies with sinister agendas I could join and/or fight?

People keep disappearing for months on end and then reappearing at comfortable jobs amongst the king’s bureaucrats. Ask them.

What is there to eat around here?

The vicious, dark Skrom-beast is a trophy kill and life-giving staple here; one mature kill feeds a family for a season and the carcass is sold to shipwrights to be sewn into ships. Tax is recorded in Skrom-heads and is common unit of measurement (think fuckton). I. E. they are worth a lot.

Any legendary lost treasures I could be looking for?

The Yellow Hulks– solitary yellow ships with silent crews that arrive twice yearly carrying cargo of the finest textiles, slave-bands seeking life contracts, weapons made of real steel, and then leaving with equal weight in gold– have not arrived all year despite many sea-merchants having said to have passed them in the busy ocean routes or canals through the coastal swamps.

Where is the nearest dragon or other monster with Type H treasure?

Rivers of blood have been flowing from the semi-permanent villages in the inland wastes that spring up around the ancient temples there.

[tombcnd-a]

hellloooooo friends!! it’s everyone’s favorite hoe, harley!! after a long time of decision and some work, i’ve decided to bring in a third and final muse. typically, when i bring in a third muse, it doesn’t seem to stick, but i’m hoping it will this time if adult life and time allow me to do so! and again here i am with another underused/unknown fc, because i have no self control, and apparently hate myself enough to make a fuckton of icons for them... without further ado, here he is! if you wish to plot, hit that like button and i’ll come to you!

TRIGGER WARNINGS: mentions of abuse, injury, pregnancy, and murder/crime

[ kier kemp, twenty-seven, cis male, he/him ] ━ hey, I just saw [ thomas “tom” blackwell ] walking down the streets of crownsville. they’ve lived in town for [ three years ], and you can catch them around town working as a [ owner of outside the lines and con artist ]. I hear they’re known to be [ clever and efficient ] and [ deceitful and downtrodden ]. if asked, they would say their aesthetic would be [ blurred lines, fake passports, crying babies, half-painted walls, trashed hotel rooms, French swears, a knife in the back, smudged eyeliner, chipped teeth, chasing ghosts, counterfeit cash, messy haircuts, leopard print ]. ━ [ ooc: harley, 19, cst, she/her ]

name: thomas judah blackwell

nicknames: tom, tommy

birthday: february 29, 1991 (age 27)

hometown: atlanta, georgia (later baltimore, maryland)

occupation: owner of outside the lines & con artist

orientation: demiromantic heteroflexible

relationship status: married

children: a two-year old daughter, penelope (nicknamed penny or pen), biological father of the baby Hazel gave birth to at 18 (has no knowledge of it)

education: high school diploma, certificates in management and art history

VARIOUS INFORMATION AND FACTS:

made up of french heritage, born to a waitress on the poverty line and a famous actor as a result of a hushed affair, he was abandoned at an orphanage by his mother as a baby when she found she could not afford to care for a child of her own

growing up in the foster system did not go well for young tom after he hit a certain age when he lost the cute, endearing baby-like charm of a small child, and he began to be bounced around foster homes on a fairly constant basis

during high school, he never fit in. he knew who he was from a young age and that he didn’t fit in with the crowd, and it caused a rift between him and others- for someone so patient and soft, he didn’t tolerate the bullying he faced as a result of being an outcast and stood up for himself. his strong-willed independence led to him working double shifts on a job as soon as he could manage to scrape up enough cash to purchase a shitty beat-up car to pull him to and from work and school

though exceptionally bright, he fell short academically with the constant running from home and physical abuse in the homes he did end up in, as well as stress from the general school environment, and only graduated by the skin of his teeth

living in the seedy part of the city thanks to a foster home he was living in at the time, tom was involved in a near-fatal stabbing when he was seventeen and suffered substantial injuries that left a nasty scar

met his father once during high school, and while the meeting went decently enough, he felt they were from far too different worlds and he didn’t wish to push fatherhood on someone who showed no apparent interest in it

he and Hazel (our Kaya) grew up together and became particularly close when high school rolled around, practically inseparable and the best of friends- for him, she was a safe place to hide when he needed to run away from an abusive foster home and have a place to stay until he was chucked back into the system and placed in another home, and each other’s soft spot in a harsh world. at the beginning of their senior year, they began to date and the relationship lasted for a year up until somewhere after their graduation, when they decided to mutually part ways on account of tom’s ventures to move up north- unbeknownst to him, hazel was pregnant with his child

after moving to baltimore, his life improved- for a brief period. finding a decent job as a backroom stockboy and earning his certificates, his luck seemed to be turning around and he could picture a future for himself

all good things come to an end, however, when working the backroom ended with him becoming a witness to something he wasn’t supposed to see. little did he know, a crime syndicate ran the store that he worked at, and said crime syndicate was run by a striking, empowered, and ruthless woman by the name of jezebel (may or may not become a wc at some point in which her name would become utp). she allowed him to go unharmed under the condition that he were to take up running tasks for the crime ring, and naturally, he obliged

before long, he was head over heels for none other than jezebel herself, and the two courted. the longer they dated, the more he rose in the ranks, from runner to pickpocketing and small, often petty crimes and before he knew it, he was in the same position as she was- tom had become a hitman. together, their crime ring thrived with an abundance of clientele in the city and the surrounding area, making out well. the dirt poor foster kid that had once been suddenly had more money than he really knew what to do with

when he was 23, they got married in a fever and couldn’t be happier with one another, and the honeymoon was nothing less than perfect. two years into their marriage, jezebel found she was pregnant with his child

but happy endings didn’t last forever either. for him, being a hitman was just a way of making money and for jezebel, it was a way of life. that way of life began to catch up to them and she feared for the safety of the child that was to be born. she feared that an enemy of theirs would find out their identities and try to destroy the competition. to maximize her sense of security, they made the shared decision to pack up and leave baltimore, moving to crownsville where his wife purchased ownership of outside the lines

on november 7, 2015, the light of tom’s life was born and penelope came into the world like a firecracker, as fiery as her mother, and he was completely taken by her and the joys of fatherhood

a short time after penelope was six months old, though, jezebel disappeared, leaving only a note, apologizing to tom for her leave and saying it would be better for both he and the child to keep them safe. she didn’t say where she was going and they haven’t seen each other since. from time to time, he receives packages in the mail, unlabeled, from her with varying post cards and letters and whatever else that had stacked up over the last few months, with enough time between them and the package’s arrival to ensure his inability to track her down

settled into crownsville and with the disappearance of his wife, he decidedly made the attempt to weasel his way out of the hitman business. it’s still an uphill battle for him, on account of both needing money and the career choice not being the easiest in the world to escape from, and turned to con artistry instead to make up for the lack of cash, and ended up with the ownership of outside the lines

he and hazel kept in contact, although sporadic and unpredictable, exchanging emails from time to time

tom is a compulsive liar and can and will lie over a multitude of details of his life, even the everyday mundane detail, and sometimes with no reason at all- he’s quick on his feet and able to spin a lie at the drop of a hat

short bean at 5′4″, probably can’t reach the top shelf at a grocery store, and has had the same messy hair since high school and somehow finds time to put eyeliner on with a kiddo in tow

hair dyed black or red (currently red) since he was literally 15, bad teeth because he didn’t receive much proper care as a youth, terrible chainsmoker, fluent in French (+ partially fluent in Portuguese because of hazel), still wears his wedding band, extremely fond of leopard print jackets

unironically loves the black eyed peas and fergie... also classic rock

not big on alcohol and never has been, will only indulge the occasional beer or social drink

extremely feisty and strong-willed, will not tolerate shit from anybody and is more than willing to stand up for himself and call someone out on their bullshit and despite being small, he can pack a punch if he needs to

punkass kid at heart and though his job made him rougher around the edges, he still manages a soft, patient attitude thanks to his daughter

WANTED CONNECTIONS:

Former clientele (petty crimes only, e.g. stealing for someone, supplying them with something, etc)

Parent friends

People he’s sold fake art to / ripped off

Enemies

ya girl is literally the world’s worst at plotting, hit me with all ya got

[malik-ibn-tahir]

“Alright.. so we’ve got... six cases of beer, four bottles of whisky, a bottle of vodka, a bottle of fireball, plenty of soda, including a box of Diet Doctor pepper.”

Malik was reading off the list of the things they needed, tapping his fingers on the matching items before turning his attention to Delsin as he read the last entry.

“What, I like the taste.”

“You’re an animal, Delsin.”

“Right, says the guy who’s got a butt plug in right now.” Delsin laughed, shoving Malik’s shoulder. The two shared a grin, and a simultaneous ‘eeyyy’ with finger pistols.

“Anyways, continuing.. A fuckton of sausage, meat, chips, dip, and everything else.”

The pair hauled the two loaded baskets to the register, Malik colliding with a absolute pillar of a man clad in all black, wearing a floor length trench coat who wreaked of wet dog. Malik shrugged it off, ignoring the man’s almost feral snarl, the clerk looked at them like they were crazy as she looked over their two fully loaded baskets.

“...You two some kind of new prospects at a sorority or something?” She joked as she began ringing them up. “I’m going to need to see some ID.”

The two flashed their ID’s as Malik chuckled at her remark.

“No Ma’am. Just four friends going out for a weekend in the woods.”

“...Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” She joked.

With everything rung up, Delsin and Malik loaded their haul into the back of Rhea’s jeep, storing the meat in a huge blue cooler and topping it with a couple bags of ice. They had borrowed the jeep to make a run for what they needed. Despite neither of them having any business behind a steering wheel, Malik was the more seasoned of the two and took the wheel.

As they left the parking lot of the Safeway, their loot in tow, Malik spotted a very curious van that felt rather out of place. It was dark grey, with no windows other than the windshield and the doors. The driver was the same man he’d bumped into in the shopping center.

Malik ignored the strangeness and pulled into traffic. It was a twenty-minute drive back to the apartment but before they returned home, Malik had to make one quick detour.

Delsin was confused as they pulled up at a tattoo parlor, the red neon sign in the shape of a heart, spelled out ‘Mom’ in white through the middle of it. He watched as Malik went in.

The inside was old and dark, lit only by neon signs and a few lamps over the leather chair in the middle, the holes patched up with silver duct tape. An older woman wearing too much makeup and a leather vest snuffed out her cigarette and waved to Malik as he came in.

“So, what’ll it be today?” She asked, giving him a fond hug.

“No ink today, Mom. Just one of your specials.” Malik withdrew enough cash from his pocket and handed it to her. She counted it, pocketing it once she confirmed it was all there before reaching behind her counter and pulling a brown bag from a drawer.

“You know you’re lucky my supplier is so cheap because he wants people to test this stuff out. And you’re lucky I like you, or this would cost a fuckton more.”

“You’re the best, mom. I’d love to stay and chat but I’ve gotta get home. We’re going camping this weekend.” He hugged her again and she tussled his hair.

“Be careful, sweetie. Heard there’s been some people gettin’ mauled out there by a bear or somethin’.”

“Will do.” He waved a salute and went back outside. Oddly enough the same van from before was across the street at the gas station, the same tower of a man in dark clothing climbing back into the driver’s seat. Probably just lived out the same way.

“So what’s that?” Delsin asked as Malik climbed into the jeep. Immediately he didn’t need answer as he was practically punched in the face by the strong, earthy odor of pot. “...Ah yes, the main event of the weekend.”

“Mom’s got the best shit in town. Gets it from some egghead that crossbreeds it so its got all the kick without the downsides. It ain’t cheap but.. it beats that weak shit they sell in the dispensaries.” Malik tucked the bag into the center console, buckled up and put the jeep into gear.

About halfway home, Malik spotted the same van following them. When he took a detour, Delsin glanced around, confused. “Another stop?”

“No, I think we’re being followed.”

“What no way.” Delsin sat up in disbelief. “Wait that’s the same van from Safeway.”

“Yeah, and I saw them at the parlor, as well.” Malik turned yet again, and the van followed. Come the third turn however, and the van broke away, vanishing into traffic as it turned on its own into a neighborhood. “Huh, guess they must’ve just been out this way. Freaky coincidence.”

“No joke.”

Once home, Malik loudly announced their return almost musically, greeting Rhea and Halley each with a big hug, a soft grope of the behind and a kiss on the cheek.

“So, we all ready for this weekend?” he asked with a grin, giving Rhea a big kiss.

“Just the four of us, the woods, a nice quiet little lake where we can do all the skinny dipping we want.” Delsin’s fingers tickled at Halley’s hips as he nipped at her neck before turning his attention to the pile of camping gear. Frying pan, tents, sleeping bags, blankets--whatever else they’d need for the weekend.

------------------------------

“Wait, aren’t we going to follow them?” Ezra whined, clinging to his seat. Adrian shook his head, signalling to ease into traffic.

“No, he’s onto us. besides, I already have his scent. Hard to forget a smell like that. Tracking him will be easy.”

“If you say so..”

[insomniasix]

Something About Me

I was tagged by the amazing @ladye11e​ and @nemo-ne-impune-lacessit   Thank you so much babes!! ^.^

Tagging to do this (but no pressure!): @mzargentum @fieryfantasy @alicemoonwonderland @thedragontamerying @lady-asuka @avistella

Name/Nickname: Lita

Gender: Female

Star sign: Sagittarius

Height: 6′0

Hogwarts house: Just took a test because (please don’t kill me) I know nothing of HP..  Gryffindor

Favorite animal: Wolf

Hours of sleep: 3-4 xD Stupid Insomnia 

Dogs or cats: Why not both? xD 

Number of blankets: Two.. It got cold xD

Dream trip: Italy, America and Japan ^^

Dream job: Author is definitely one xD the other would be (after a friend suggested it) Voice Actress xD

Time: 2:21 PM

Birthday: In a month xD 

Favorite bands: 30 Seconds To Mars, Panic!At The Disco, Linkin Park, Bring Me The Horizon, Digital Daggers, Fall out Boy, Florence and the Machine, Halestorm, Paramore, Hollywood Undead (I could go on ad on!!)

Favorite solo artist: Pink, Adam Lambert, Cash (Always), Elvis, Ruelle, Woodkit (And I could go on and on as well xD)

Song stuck in my head: The Last Theatre (Death Parade closing soundtrack) 

Last movie I watched: Watching now (before work) Charlie’s Angels 

Last show I watched: The Ancient Magus Bride (Just started and I’m in love)

When did I create my blog: About a year ago, maybe?  

What do I post/reblog: FFXV !!

Last thing I googled: Why does SE like to hurt us so much? xD 

Other blogs: sorcery-of-six, an FFXV collaboration blog I run with my lovely friend @nemo-ne-impune-lacessit

Do I get asks: Not at the moment ^^

Why did I choose my URL: Because of my baby’s name (Six Ulric) and both the Insomnia from the game and the one I have (that messes with my sleep xD)

Following: 153 Lovely people

Followers: 260 (And I wanna thank each and everyone for putting up with me <3 )

Lucky number: Unlucky (And misunderstood) 13

Favorite instrument: Piano 

What am I wearing: Jeans and flannel shirt xD 

Favorite food: Pizza!!!!!! 

Nationality: Greek

Favorite song: A fuckton of them xD 

Last book I read: Poems by Edgar Allan Poe (Present from a friend ;) )

Top three fictional universes I’d like to join: FFXV (I mean duh!), The Witcher Universe and Goddamn Mordor!! 

[rachello344]

ace-of-twos:  last night you reblogged a thing and one of the options was “tell me a story that happened to you”. i’m sorry this took so long to type. but here it is. i hope you enjoy reading it. sorry it’s a mess. 

… [Rachello344: I’m adding a readmore because damn is this a helluva story, but it is also quite long XD]

first thing you gotta know is that like any set of best friends, lex and i make terrible decisions. this includes deciding to go to the fair last minute which, yes, may sound like a great idea, but just wait for it. the second thing you gotta know is there are going to be a fuckton of asides in this story bc the entire day was a magical and incoherent wreck. 

there’s a fair that comes into town twice a year. i don’t usually go bc it’s hot and loud and god there are so many people. but lex convinces me and we go.

our first mistake: we arrived as it opened, at 1pm. 

our second mistake: from arrival to departure, we did not leave the fairgrounds. 

our third mistake: we stayed until approximately 8:30pm. 

keep in mind that those numbers, first and second and third, only really apply to that particular list. many mistakes were made that day. most, but not all, were made by us. it was terrible but also mostly hilarious. 

so, to get into the fair and actually get to the rides, you have to walk through a long kinda psuedo hallway filled with carnival games. giant prizes are hanging from the ceiling. one of these prizes is a dragon. it’s fucking adorable as shit. keep this in mind. it’s important. 

at about 2pm, both of us high on adrenaline, we decide to ride the tilt-a-whirl. i have never properly been on a tilt-a-whirl so a number of things happen in rapid succession. lex scares the shit out of me by making the carriage spin super fucking fast. (i thought you were just supposed to sit there and let the momentum spin you around. oh, how wrong i was.) i discover that i fucking love the tilt-a-whirl. i demand we ride it again. we get in line. when we get back to the ticket gate, the person managing the ride tells us that we’ll have to take another person in the carriage with us. this is fine until it’s revealed that this other person is a 10yro girl. 

lemme describe this girl for you: big, trusting eyes; dark skin; the sweetest smile; chocolate colored hair in a neat bob; matching shorts and top. basically she’s the most adorable small child i’ve ever seen. 

lex and i are 100% planning to spin the ride out of control. 

i am slightly worried for this child. maybe we shouldn’t do this. i really don’t want her to throw up, specifically on either lex or i bc we are idiots who live far away from the fair and yet brought no spare clothing despite the fact that fairs are messy places. to be fair, i also just really don’t want her to have a terrible time. but mostly the throwing up would be a downer. 

we spin the ride. 

for two seconds, i watch the small child with concern. and then she screams, the delighted kind, and i help lex turn the carriage into a poorly maintained and probably dangerous metal tornado. 

(s'all good, no one’s died at the fair in… years, probably. idk.) 

i’m pretty sure we made that kid’s day. we also probably made her parents want to kill us bc we definitely turned her into an adrenaline junkie. 

moving on. there’s a swing ride called the yo-yo. (yes, it’s exactly as terrifying as it sounds. the only ride that scares me more is the zipper.) lex initially doesn’t want to go on it bc tbh it’s a wee bit rundown. it’s an old fair, everything is a little broken, but this ride is like scarily old. but then she remembers some of the nostalgia or smth and we get in line. 

all the swings are individual seats, one in front of the other, around a thing that spins. a major fucking asshole sits in front of lex. 

i’m already scared out of my mind, no matter how fucking safe they claim to be those things do NOT feel secure, and then this guy? he starts swinging back and forth, trying to hit his girlfriend that’s sitting in front of him. he hits lex multiple times in the process. i was so close to strangling him but i really didn’t want to be arrested for murder and ruin an otherwise good day so i moved on. 

(also he and his gf spent the entire time before the ride got started making out????? like wow. can there be a limit on pda? like please? chill out.) 

you remember that dragon from earlier? let’s get back to it. 

okay, actually, one more aside. it’s time for lunch. lex and i have realized too late that fair food is fucking expensive. we spent all our money getting day passes so we could ride every single ride available to us. lex is a bottomless pit and i don’t eat much, but even i’m hungry. 

we do the obvious thing and beg my dad to drive out to the fair and give us money for food.

(yes, we had passes. this means we could’ve left and come back. no, we did not do that. in our defense, going home would’ve taken like an hour and then add in food prep time and actually eating it and then coming back? yeah, no. fair only comes once a year. it’s ride or die.) 

my dad gives us way too much money. yep, his mistake. like. giving a large amount of cash to teens wandering around a fair? not smart. 

despite the fact that we were both starving, it’s also fucking boiling out. we aren’t as hungry as we think we are. so we split a poutine and still have a ridiculous amount of money left. 

back to the dragon. 

we’d gone up to one of the stalls before and asked what we had to do to win one. the lady is old and kinda grumpy, probs not super happy about working around screaming kids, so instead of telling us how many balloons we had to pop to get a dragon (the information we were looking for) she tells us how much money to just straight up buy it. 

i’m hard of hearing and have problems processing auditory input so i do not hear what the price is. this is before lunch and i have fourteen dollars. 

she walks over while we’re trying to count out how much change i have and then shakes her head. she did not say fourteen dollars. she said forty. anxiety kicks in and it’s suddenly the worst moment of my life. 

after lunch, we have forty dollars leftover. we march up to the lady and i would love to say we shoved forty dollars in her face but we did not. we crouched over her counter for about ten minutes trying to figure out what combination of change equaled forty dollars. then i awkwardly poured it into her hand. 

she’s going to just give us the dragon but apparently she has to keep up the ruse bc she drops a handful of darts on the counter. we have eight darts between us and we have paid forty dollars. all i want is the dragon. 

we each throw four darts. it’s horribly sad to pay forty dollars and get a measly eight darts. but hey, the economy is shit. we are also shit. as in, we are awful shots. i think we managed to pop a total of three balloons. it’s far more likely that we only popped two. 

i tell myself that we aren’t paying for the darts, we’re paying for a dragon. 

the lady hands us a dragon. i forget that anything bad has ever happened to me in my life. i am so fucking overjoyed to have a dragon. like damn. 

the rest of this story happens much, much later. 

it’s about 7pm. lex and i have decided to go on one last ride and then leave. we’re both wearing shorts, have no jackets, and it’s getting cold out. so we get in line for the himalaya. 

(to explain, it’s kinda like a roller coaster but it only goes around a little circular track. they play really, really loud music the entire time the ride is going. it’s awful and amazing. esp bc they play weird shit like gangam style and old justin beiber songs. it’s weird. the ride spins forward for half a song and then backwards for the last half. there’s usually a guy standing by to make sure that everything runs smoothly but he also has another purpose. he sits there with his hands out and high fives as many people as he can. it’s amazing but as the lighter person i’m never on the outer edge so i can almost never reach him and it’s upsetting.) 

we’re waiting in line for the himalaya. we’re both tired. we’ve been here for six hours. both quiet. and then lex screams. 

she’s seen our friend chris on the ride. we did not know chris was there, had no plans to meet up with him. and chris is kind of awesome and bubbly and just all around a pretty cool dude. we both love him. 

so clearly, we spend the next couple of minutes making funny faces at chris every time the ride brings him closer to us. it’s what friends do. 

when chris gets off the ride, he’s here with some other people that we barely know but that isn’t important, we make plans to ride the himalaya together as our final ride. lex and i get on the ride and we’ll meet up later. 

(before then, we also persuade him to ride the tilt-a-whirl with us and scare the shit out of him by spinning it as hard as we can. there’s videos of him just screaming. it’s pretty great.) 

then it’s the last ride of the night. the himalaya. 

we all get in line. 

after such a good day, something just had to go wrong. 

we’re getting pretty close to the start of the line and there’s a pretty decent gap in the line bc it’s late and everyone’s lazy so lines tend to be disorganized. a group of teens is kinda chilling next to the line and they do the unthinkable. they attempt to slide into the line just ahead of us. 

this brings us to the part of the story where chris almost gets in a fight. 

chris may be an airhead but he absolutely will not stand for shit like that so he just holds his arm out in front of him like a shield and tells them to go to the back of the line. the teens do not take this super well. 

incorrigible as ever, they still jump the line but this time they end up just behind us in the line. everything is fine. and then the ‘leader’ starts talking shit at chris, backed up by his boys. 

(i should mention that chris is trans, pre-t, and fucking tiny. he also lacks comon sense. for all that he may be like three years older than me, he will always be my little brother.) 

so when the leader says, “if you ever fucking touch me again, i’ll grope your ass,” we all get a little defensive. also bc the guy’s a dick. 

there’s two kids in line behind us and in front of them. lex has noticed them, i did not. they’re middle schoolers. clearly. they’re full of energy, dancing and dabbing and just generally being walking, talking memes. lex is also a memelord. these are her people. so she turns to them and asks them to annoy the shit outta the guys behind them. 

being annoying middle schoolers who love chaos, they comply. 

at some point they ask us how old we all are. now, remember how i said chris is fucking tiny? he tells them he’s 21 and they don’t believe it. and of course, i’m 19 but i look 12 so they don’t believe me either. 

chris and i are both fucking extra so we dig out our wallets to present our id cards to these kids. and my wallet is a wee bit of a disaster. i’m also clumsy. so when i try to get it back in the bag, it doesn’t end well. i decide to just carry it with me on the ride and it’s all going great until i trip. all the cards spill out. 

now there’s this guy and i’ve seen him on several rides. he’s wearing sunglasses and a frown. i have not seen him smile all day. he also keeps texting during rides with is baffling to me. ENJOY THE DAMN RIDE. 

just giving you context so he’s clearly established as a douche. 

i trip right next to his car. as i’m struggling to pick up the contents of my wallet, he turns to me and says, “how many fucking cards do you need?" 

i’m not proud, but here’s my response: "how many fucking cards does your mom need?!” then i walked away. and keep in mind that half of my cards are still on the floor as i make my exit. (luckily lex grabbed them.) 

with that nonsense over, we attempt to get on the ride. 

now, i’m a fucking twig with legs and i’ve already said that chris is tiny. we figure that all of us will fit in the one car. we have forgotten to factor in lex’s fucking gigantic hips. she cannot fit in the car with us. so she gets out and looks around and spots them. 

the middle schoolers, they’re sitting behind us. 

lex approaches their car and says, i kid you not, “move fuckers, i’m getting in.” respectful of their meme elder, they allow this. 

we figure that’s enough adventure for one day so lex and i start to leave the fair. it’s been a long day. we are very tired. i say, wistfully, “damn, we should’ve gotten a picture with the meme children.” lex and i turn to each other, communicating non-verbally, and simultaneously turn to head back into the fairgrounds. 

and that’s the story of how i ended up following two children on instagram. 

[epicwinsauce]

I’m not sure when I started saying “peeps” unironically.

Spotify, SoundCloud, or Pandora?  Pandora if I had to choose I guess. I technically just listen to the same shit I have or if I’m feeling adventurous, I go to youtube. lmao.

is your room messy or clean? I don’t think my room is cleanable. I don’t think it’d be possible to achieve that right now. It’s in a weird place right now, emotionally

what color are your eyes? Not sure, I haven’t looked at them in a while. But usually blue or green or some gray-ish color between the other two.

do you like your name? why? I like my name, but I don’t like how people insist on shortening it.

what is your relationship status? single, but annoying someone with romance

describe your personality in 3 words or less no, thanks.

what color hair do you have? it’s usually described as dirty blond. which is light brown tbh

what kind of car do you drive? color? Esmerelda is a gray 2007 Toyota Prius. I love her.

where do you shop? that’s awfully vague, like, what kind of shopping?

how would you describe your style? I don’t try to describe it but I’m pretty insistent about my hat.

favorite social media account what kind of question is this. I mean I’ve had them all for a long time now, so...???

what size bed do you have? it’s like a twin or something.

any siblings? two older sisters

if you can live anywhere in the world where would it be? why? I already live in Florida, it’s where I plan on dying

favorite snapchat filter? I haven’t used a filter on snapchat in a while but I really love the flower crown, I hope they still have that one

favorite makeup brand(s) SEPHORA. no I obviously know nothing about makeup, don’t take this answer seriously.

how many times a week do you shower? as many as I damn well please.

favorite tv show? One Piece!!!

shoe size? 8.5, or 9 on a good day

how tall are you? 5″5′, or 5″6′ on a good day.

sandals or sneakers? sneakers please. I know I live in Florida but please let me just cover my whole feet.

do you go to the gym? my gym is my bed ;) by which I mean no, I just sleep a fuckton.

describe your dream date I’ve actually written about that, look: http://morgengesang.tumblr.com/post/160787553824/51717

how much money do you have in your wallet at the moment? $6 in cash

what color socks are you wearing? I’m not wearing socks, I haven’t left the house at all today. I barely left my room tbh

how many pillows do you sleep with? just two.

do you have a job? what do you do? my job right now is just a phone agent for a credit card of a store, but I also train classes to take those calls.

how many friends do you have? I joke about having none but I actually have plenty. Nikolai, Mariah, Leah, Melissa, Samantha, Dylan, Luke, Chris... that’s not even counting internet friends like Jannell, Davey, Morgan.... Yeah, I got plenty.

whats the worst thing you have ever done? joined this goddamn website

whats your favorite candle scent? I have asthma, dude

3 favorite boy names consider me biased but if it starts with a D or a J, I probably like it

3 favorite girl names I like names that start with A or K, which is also me being biased

favorite actor? I mean I don’t really have one specifically, I’m not really emotionally invested in acting just in general

favorite actress? *slams desk on the table multiple times* EMMA WATSON

who is your celebrity crush? ...don’t have one

favorite movie? I love the Princess Bride tbh (I also don’t wanna put a lot of thought into these questions apparently)

do you read a lot? whats your favorite book? no, besides internet, I’m awful at reading just in general. my favorite book is a fuckin’ history book..

money or brains? ummm??? both??? give me money though, I already have brains (I just don’t want to use it anymore)

do you have a nickname? what is it? Nick, Nicci, whichever.

how many times have you been to the hospital? not a whole lot, but like five or six? mostly as a child. speaking of which, I have no idea where the nearest hospital around here is, eerrrhh woops.

top 10 favorite songs In no particular order: “Good Morning, Goodbye” by Backseat Goodbye “Sidewalk Sing Along” by Backseat Goodbye “Seelenfresser” (Soul Eater) by Schallfaktor “i lack a spine” by flatsound. “Los” (-less) by Rammstein "The Medicine Show” by Clockwork Knotwork “Funeral for the Falling Leaves” by Backseat Goodbye “Mein Versprechen” (My Promise) by Cephalgy “Zu den Sternen” (To the Stars) by Megaherz “Pressure” by Billy Joel

do you take any medications daily? No.

what is your skin type? (oily, dry, etc) I mean I guess it can be oily, it’s just skin. It can get really hairy, too.

what is your biggest fear? hallucinations. like the kind where you’re dead because you just got creamed by a pole on the side of the road but you’re dreaming that your life is going on and on even though you’re dead. I can’t even explain to you how many times a day that idea plops in my head.

how many kids do you want? hahaha.

whats your go to hair style? ponytail because it’s easy.

what type of house do you live in? (big, small, etc) it’s small-ish, I mean it’s not an apartment small but it’s definitely not a house.

who is your role model? Chad Sugg.

what was the last compliment you received? I don’t remember exactly what it was but it was a really good compliment, I remember being impressed.

what was the last text you sent? “Actually considering how long we’ve been playing Diablo, Blizzard should be paying us to play it tbh” (me to my sister)

how old were you when you found out santa wasn’t real? I never really “found out” really, I just stopped caring.

what is your dream car? I don’t really have a car preference so Esmerelda is perfect because she’s practical.

opinion on smoking? I used to hate it back when I cared about things but now the most I can say is that I’m not a fan. but everyone should have the right to choose their own death.

do you go to college? Been there, done that.

what is your dream job? I don’t really want to live???

would you rather live in rural areas or the suburbs? rural I’d have to say, I love my trees.

do you take shampoo and conditioner bottles from hotels? no, I didn’t even use them when I was in Miami.

do you have freckles? no.

do you smile for pictures? Usually.

how many pictures do you have on your phone? too many, probably, but I get sentimental and can’t delete anything.

have you ever peed in the woods? Yeah.

do you still watch cartoons? yes.

do you prefer chicken nuggets from Wendy’s or McDonalds? I haven’t gotten any from either in the past few years, I don’t even know.

Favorite dipping sauce? Ketchup.

what do you wear to bed? Usually whatever I was just wearing, or if that’s uncomfortable I just sleep nude.

have you ever won a spelling bee? I probably should have, I’m a spelling genius. But I lost once and got frustrated and gave up... you know, like I do with everything! lol

what are your hobbies? my go-to hobby is learning languages, but if you’ve been reading information about me for this long, you probably know that by now.

can you draw? I can and I love to, but damn, I rarely ever do.

do you play an instrument? I used to play clarinet and recorder and used to also try guitar but I could never get good so I quit. lmao.

what was the last concert you saw? Clockwork Knotwork at an Irish pub in Madeira Beach.

tea or coffee? No.

Starbucks or Dunkin Donuts? I don’t go to either.

do you want to get married? I don’t particularly, no. Not as a concept.

what is your crush’s first and last initial? My crush already knows, I tell her I’m in love with her sometimes

are you going to change your last name when you get married? I’m probably not going to get married. And if I did, I’d consider adding a name, but not changing mine, no.

what color looks best on you? Blue or green, I think.

do you miss anyone right now? yes.

do you sleep with your door open or closed? closed. Closet door open though.

do you believe in ghosts? Life is more fun if you do.

what is your biggest pet peeve? Spelling “women” when you clearly meant the singular “woman.” I mean with all the discourse that goes on, it’s willful ignorance at this point and I’m not about that shit.

last person you called? My dad called me and we talked about anime.

favorite ice cream flavor? Umm cookie dough, duh?

regular oreos or golden oreos? Idk what golden oreos are but I probably love them, too. so yes.

chocolate or rainbow sprinkles? Rainbow!

what shirt are you wearing? My “UNDER PRUSSIA” shirt which was about Hipster Hitler as a joke but I don’t wear it to work or outside considering there are like real Nazis out there and I sure as hell don’t want people thinking I’m one of them for wearing a Hitler joke on my shirt.

what is your phone background? my "crush”

are you outgoing or shy? Shy. I almost died in Miami because I can’t ask for food by my goddamn self if the food areas are small and look like closets lmao

do you like it when people play with your hair? I dooo but it almost never happens.

do you like your neighbors? I mean the most interaction I have with them is “howdy neighbor!” “hey neighbor!” but I don’t hate them, no.

do you wash your face? at night? in the morning? I wash my face every time I go to the bathroom as a habit. It’s part of how I dry my hands off lmao

have you ever been high? Alex let me try hookah once but that’s the most I can say I’ve had, and it wasn’t really even like being high, I was just losing breath because I was trying to make an impressive puff of smoke lmao

have you ever been drunk? ooh yeah. 

last thing you ate? a whole French baguette because I like them when they’re like old-ish, hard, and only $1 because I am literally Smiley Bone lmao

favorite lyrics right now I’ve been staring at the screen for like two minutes, I don’t have one

summer or winter? I hate winter so much I moved to the bottom of the US just to avoid it.

day or night? man, why you gotta make me choose and do me like this?

dark, milk, or white chocolate? mmmm milk... but I am also very partial to dark chocolate. ... and I also like white chocolate. Just don’t hide shit in the chocolate like cherries or some shit and we’re good for the most part

favorite month? July!

what is your zodiac sign Capricorn on Greek, lamb in Chinese

who was the last person you cried in front of? umm??? I don’t know???? I don’t cry often these days, or feel, or care about anything lmfao

[designatedloveinterest]

write here write now

I did an online writing class today. The main exercise was to write a story using all of the following prompts: 

lollipop - big white swirly thing from carnival

extremely tight pants

1000 yen note

Leonardo da Vinci

a blue glass heart

I wanted it. It was wholly artificial and probably disgusting, and I absolutely had to have it. "Only five dollars for six throws. Bargain!" yelled the carny, waving at the audience hanging back from the gallery. I handed over my fiver and took the six balls lined up in front of me. I knew the game was rigged, and I throw like a squid anyway. Nevertheless, I carefully lined up six prissy underarm throws and managed to score the absolute lowest possible legal win. Of course, the carny used this as leverage to try to sell me another six throws, so close, almost had it, just five more dollars, but - "I scored 24. I want that lollipop." I walked away from the stand clutching my prize, idly clutching my boyfriend's hand yet shamelessly checking out the crowd. Festival season means t-shirt weather, halter necks and extremely tight pants, boys girls and everyone else. I felt a bump as my idiot boyfriend, lacking my skilled perving cloak, ran into and apologised to someone apparently checking out the same butts as him. "Peripheral vision is your friend, friend" I explained, not feeling up to supporting him if he got into a fist fight because he looked at the wrong chick. "Glance and remember." "It's all right for you," he grumbled. "You're female, you just keep that shit forever." "Right, and you can't remember your first wank." He smiled dopily. "Patti Smyth in The Warrior video." We approached a corndog vendor and promptly bought the filthiest, hogs-anusiest snacks covered in red sugar that ten fucking dollars could possibly buy. "Hey, check this out," said Sam as we walked away nomming our extruded intestines. He waved a note at me. "1000 yen." "You got that in your change?" He nodded. "What the fuck did they mistake that for?" "Maybe a tenner? It's the wrong colour but the same size." I thought about telling him to go back and get real change, but festival lyfe is all about spending too much money on utter shit, and it would look good stuck to our fridge. (That unnerved me. Our fridge. It really was Our Fridge, too - he'd transferred me his half of the cash on the spot so we could have a high quality SMEG with a fuckton of space. I'd never owned a fridge that wasn't from Crime Converters.) The festival circuit took us to the Buy Victoria pavilion, which was full of random vendors selling fuck knows what, varying in quality and sanity from soap and cosmetics to little stands for your phone. Something occurred to me. "If I give you a list, can you grab me some stuff?" "You mean from outside? No. No passouts, remember?" "No, but the David Jones pavilion has supplies in it. I'm feeling... uh... a bit drippy." His face squirmed, but he took it like a champ. "Can't you go, though?" "Are you actually enjoying it here?" He slumped. "Fine. Write your list." I scrawled out the list - Kotex U OR Libra OR Carefree (linebreak) Super OR Normal ok - and gave it to him. He'd find me. Squeezing my bits together in a hopeless dream of not leaking everywhere, I wandered the pavilion looking for comfort. I stopped at a woo-woo stand promising all sorts of nonsense related to coloured rocks, which would apparently harmonise my anus or some such. It was all total balls, but I picked up a blue glass heart. "That's the Angel Dolphin Spirit Tarot. It helps you get in touch with your personal spirit guide." I realised the heart wasn't for sale, it was holding down the sample cards. But my personal spirit guide was buying tampons from an overpriced 7-11.