#that shitshow is not included in this post

[suffarustuffaru]

hi i made a tier list of how homophobic rezero characters are

hello in the spirit of valentine's day and the very welcoming community here on rezero tumblr i decided to make this with the help of my lovely mutuals.

[dragondream-ing]

The shitshow messed up in many ways, but one of the worst is cramming all the build-up to the dance into one season. Adaptations will change things, that’s inevitable, but they needed way more on the years leading up to the war. They essentially created OCs of the main characters, they should’ve spent more time fleshing them out and exploring their relationships. Comic movies sometimes get away with shallower characterization because they’re spectacles and people who want deeper insight can read the comics, the shitshow detached itself from canon so it doesn’t have that to fall back on. I’ve heard some people say political machinations are boring, but they’re wrong, plain and simple—audiences loved early GOT, and it was full of intrigue and politics. That’s the bulk of the dance in the book for a reason, it’s not superfluous, it’s necessary to understand the characters and the conflict.

I would’ve done 3 seasons of pre-dance and one of the war tbh, not speed run 20 years in one season and spend 3 seasons on a relatively short war. Even 2 seasons each would’ve been an improvement.

Anyway, F&B ftw

[xiaoluclair]

something small for all my poc max fans - no you’re not a ‘terrible person’ or a ‘traitor’ or ‘turning your back on your ancestors’ or whatever bullshit people will say. you’re a person appreciating a sport and partaking in the experience of said sport and there’s absolutely nothing to feel ashamed about. it says zilch about your true personality, your kindness your loyalty your goodness. supporting just another dude in a sport full of another dudes (and hopefully another dudettes one day) who’s done nothing inherently cruel or evil to anyone is what it is and all there is left is to enjoy it and support war crimes and take a step back from the rush of real life and not take heed of people who’ve never met you before and know nothing of your true self bc eh who are they to say whether you’re a good person or not.

[weirdsociology]

i understand that tumblr is run by people with clown shoes for brains but here’s the thing, i’d rather give a broken and poorly-run site where follower count means nothing, they don’t demand age verification or or my real name AND i can say “fuck elon musk i hope he explodes”

than give money to… well… almost literally anywhere else on the web. 🤷‍♀️

[gembreaker]

can't wait to get back in the mood to start playing again so that i can hopefully get to shb sooner rather than later and start making frankenstein parallels with kihceh & the exarch

[literallysatanofficial]

Alright, I'm going to attempt to hopefully clear up a few misconceptions and assuage some worries about this Disco Elysium sequel and the general situation at za/um right now.

I see the shitshow that is unfolding on social media, and as someone who has known about this whole disaster for over half a year now I'd like to weigh in on it and provide some context for everyone who may not know the full story.

First off, Robert Kurvitz was fired at the end of last year. December 2021. As is strongly implied on Martin Luiga's twitter, the reason for this is greed (calling them "money men" and "crooks" and other similar statements for like, months now), and the executive producers, Tõnis Haavel (who has previously been tried for fraud) and Kaur Kender (who has previously been tried for... other things.) screwed everyone over. Kender provided funding for the game, as the majority of the original za/um cultural association did not have the financial means to.

The original za/um cultural association consisted of Robert Kurvitz, Jüri Saks, Martin Luiga, and Aleksander Rostov, originally founded in in 2009. The group, along with Argo Tuulik, played many different ttrpg campaigns over the years, several of them set in Revachol (centred around Precinct 41), and slowly built the world up from there. Kurvitz released the book The Sacred and Terrible Air, set 20 years after Disco Elysium, back in 2013* but the novel flopped, and it was decided that they would make a video game. Rostov has always been more than just an artist for Disco Elysium, as you can see from the dev threads he frequently updated promoting the game, as well as on his personal instagram, tumblr sketch blog, and several other accounts he used while the game was first gaining traction.

*The most notable credits for TSaTA are as follows:

Author: Robert Kurvitz, Editor: Martin Luiga, Cover Design: Aleksander Rostov, Worldbuilding: Robert Kurvitz, Martin Luiga, Kaspar Kalvet, Argo Tuulik. Helen Hindpere and Kaur Kender also appear in the credits.

I say this because some of the staff at za/um are now accusing fans of being unable to overcome the "auteur theory" of it all (ie. seeing Kurvitz as the singular creative mind behind it all) but the fact is that they have now lost not only the original ttrpg campaign's game master, The Sacred and Terrible Air's author, and Disco Elysium's lead writer/director (Kurvitz) but also their lead writer for the Final Cut's political vision quests (Hindpere) as well as their "co-founder" and art director/designer (Rostov). They are all CREATIVE LEADS, and not just well known only for their reputations/titles.

Luiga himself (who originally broke the news) was an Elysium world builder and provided much of the pale and innocence-related lore. He was also a part of the original tabletop campaigns (Chester McLaine is his player character!), but left midway through Disco Elysium's development due to creative differences (or as he says, "bad vibes" at the company). He is credited as an editor, but claims to have written a good chunk of the text in the game, including much of Joyce's dialogue about the pale. I have seen people discredit him due to his early departure, but Rostov also tweeted out confirming that he, along with Hindpere and Kurvitz were no longer at the company, with no additional comments. Rostov also posted a drawing on his twitter several months back depicting a man jerking off over an NDA, so take that as you will.

So what does this mean for the future?

Luiga has said that he has hope for the sequel, which could either mean that the script was finished or nearing completion before Kurvitz was fired (likely, and fits a pattern in the industry) and it's just a matter of finishing the actual game development aspect, or it may be that he has hope for the original za/um creatives to be able to re-acquire the IP.

I think it's worth pointing out that the original pitch for "Disco Elysium" was actually "The Return", and Disco Elysium was meant to be the smaller-scale prequel to introduce players to the world. Considering that the team was planning on this sequel all along, I think it's possible that a large amount of the "original" game was written years ago, so it's not all that far fetched to believe that the basic outline may be finished, or even that a large portion of the script already exists. Keep in mind that there are a large number of writers for both Disco Elysium and The Final Cut, and it may still be possible to work with a base that the others provided. We have no idea how far into development the sequel may be. Of course, proceeding without three key members of the original team is kind of a kick in the balls, and imo really quite disgusting, especially with how long the company has been keeping their departures secret (dishonesty is not a good look lmao), but it may still be canon, true to the authors' vision, and genuinely a good game in the end.

Argo Tuulik, original Elysium world builder and part of the old ttrpg campaigns, as well as a main writer on Disco Elysium, is still working at za/um. Justin Keenan, former writer on The Final Cut who wrote the political vision quests alongside Helen Hindpere, still works at za/um (and has been promoted to lead writer, according to his LinkedIn), as does Kaspar Tamsalu, who painted several character portraits, (René and Gaston) and worked as a concept artist on the original game. Plenty of the original creatives still remain. The sequel could very well still be in good hands at the development level, even if the higher ups are "crooked".

So, in conclusion... If this game comes out and they still haven't worked things out with Kurvitz, Rostov and Hindpere? Honestly... fuckin' pirate it. But it is very likely it could still be a great game that plays out as it was meant to! All that being said, FUCK za/um as a company, don't support them through Atelier or their merch store. I wish everyone luck if they do attempt to get the IP back, and I sincerely hope this fan pressure will help get things moving for them.

[sgiandubh]

Welcome to the shitshow

We have:

A ✈ sighting. No pics.

The MPC live, scarce details. No rings. Spartan decor. Suntan and out of Bonnie Scotland. No further details on destination, which might or might not be the same as the flight. Mark me, I think it is - he is in Gran Canaria and for a very precise reason: keeping his part of the deal and his Onlies on tenterhooks.

C is seen in Marseille, hullaballoo ensues. We pinpoint some coincidental details. I was expecting the shite to hit the fan in 4, 3, 2, 1...

And it did. With both sopranos hinting at the same person, but only one brave (or rather foolish enough) to push a name out there. Disingenuous, to say the least - but oh, how convenient for any given agenda. Because it's too easy, when you give out a name to a thirsty crowd to say: 'well, of course it's because of the shippers! They did this or that (sky is the limit)! They are to blame!' (excuse me?) and 'well, of course they won't say a word, now' (how convenient if the thing does not stick, eventually).

That was, IMHO, a strategic mistake and the petticoat is showing across the pond.

Around the same time, I started to get a different kind of Anon, day after day after day. Very brutal. Foul-mouthed. And...with some intel. I answered the first, but then when things started to 'happen', the coin dropped very quickly that: a) I did hit a nerve and b) someone or some people wanted me to push this particular agenda - remember when...?

For reference:

And then today, just in time for the long, boring, chilly and even snowy (depending on your location) week-end, the bomb dropped and the cargo was juicy:

A name. A woman. A gym. Not one, but three suspicious videos: the one with the leg, the one with the clear voice (unmistakably S!) and the one with the dog (and more S voiceover). How nicely connected. How fucking perfect.

An Airbnb close to the gym. What would a single woman traveler do in a three-bedroom gargantuan villa all by herself, when you are in Winterbird Central with a bajillion other accommodation options, is beyond any logic. So easily and lazily - OMG, date!

Unless...

Unless you conveniently forget some details:

Not one, but three different promos/endorsements, with a discount code to boot - 10% off, how nice!

The one that has been discussed by just about everyone:

The one that provided the discount code for new subscribers: Gymshark, a fitness attire manufacturer (https://eu.gymshark.com/).

And the most important one, hiding behind a humble hashtag: #metcon. Now I don't know you, but I'd rather digress about tea parlors and bookstores, and so had no fucking idea Metcon was, in fact...

Yup. Nike. A very recent model - expensive and sure, in need of immediate product placement/promo:

And so, for tax reasons, she just had to (mandatorily) include the #ad (as in advertisement, lest we'd not have naive Anons again!) hashtag.

Also, this, posted along the short reel with S's voice (but who cared, all 👂were there and only there):

That woman was working. She has, after all, 450k Insta followers. If she and S met at a gym in a winter destination very sought after by Scots should be none of our business. If they met again or have a regular training schedule does not mean they fuck or that we're going to look out for Remarkable Week-end 2.0. If they met in Hyrox GLA - so what? What is this, I beg your pardon, Gilead? People just can't hang out, like ever, I mean men and women?

🙄

But.. but... the gargantuan villa...?

Och. Sure enough, the place is correctly identified. You can check chez Marple. I am not posting it, because I do not want to and by now, I trust just about everyone has seen those pics. But this time, I am not going there. The name of that villa, even, made me laugh like a drain. I mean how more in your face can they be?

Who footed the bill of this rather comfy PR shitshow, reminiscing of Ha-wa-wee, 🐰 and whatever else you could think of? SRH?

Perhaps. But what if Nike did, as a freebie to a very good promoter? They sure can spare the dime and, to be honest, as we speak, there is no sign S and her share anything else than a gym schedule. What tells us with absolute certainty, at least at this moment in time, she is not there with friends, family or even a group of fellow promoters, Avon-style?

Oh, and the world is definitely a handkerchief, especially in GLA, it would seem. Wanna know who also follows her on Insta?

Paul Donnelly. Nope, not the chef. This Paul Donnelly:

The one who literally owes S a shitload of cash. A post that earned me a report (I was just explaining, if I remember correctly, that S would have been wise to legally secure that hefty loan, nothing more).

And now you know what? That post is gone, vanished, poof and I have no idea why. I surely did not take it down, I never do this.

And surely enough, just before I started writing, Filthy Anon came back and warned me there was more (pics, 👅👄) about McFitness. Surely enough, the same info (albeit toned down) was picked up by *urv in her comments' thread, about twenty minutes after Anon dropped by.

Agenda, anyone? God forbid!

You draw your own conclusions. I can only very honestly say:

Welcome to the Shitshow - the Winter Edition!

This page is not going to follow blindly your script, whoever you are. This page simply hopes to cleverly hit a nerve every time it considers necessary. Other than that, big effing deal, really. Ship on.

Sorry for the length. I was never good at summing up.

[emoangel44]

ok serious death note post but it really fucks me up how literally the SECOND light leaves the warehouse after the final confrontation near immediately goes to look at the death note scrap that almost killed him. he tries to be nonchalant about it but even while hes talking to aizawa he just keeps glancing down at it. what do you think he was thinking about. do you think the survivors guilt he definitely fucking has after the shitshow of him being the only surviving l successor including l himself is made worse because he knows just how close he was to dying too. do you think he was thinking about how if mello didnt sacrifice himself for the knowledge that mikamis notebook was fake it wouldve been him dead instead.

[agendabymooner]

high school in jakarta || pg10 fic

"I couldn't have you sit there and think that you're better 'cause you're older."

Summary: Pierre Gasly was in Los Angeles to attend his girlfriend's record label's festival, Head in the Clouds. Sadly, meeting Ensley’s close friends would also mean that he’d have to meet her high school sweetheart, who he believed he couldn’t compete against until Ensley ensured that his two-day attendance wouldn’t be spoiled by some guy who couldn’t let go of some memories she couldn’t even remember. 

Content warning: Use of explicit language, established relationship, insecure!Pierre needs a hug, smug ex-boyfriend (fictional), mentions of high school romance and nostalgia, brief appearance of Lando Norris, Joji and WillNE, kind of an abrupt ending, fluff??

Note: I need to get this out of my google docs 🤠 enjoy and let me know what you think! xx

masterlist

    Pierre Gasly had always been considered cocky by people who didn’t know him that well. He had a bad reputation when it came to women. His ego always believed that he could be charming or too flirtatious. Too arrogant. In some instances, Charles even had to tell him to get his shit together and make things clear for the woman he was in a situationship with.

But he had an alter ego that he hadn’t met before until Ensley Soleil came along. 

He could admit that how it started was a bit too… complicated. But it wasn’t anything that a courtship couldn’t handle. 

Ensley was celebrating the first year she’d been single since she left her cheating boyfriend, and yes, maybe shading him was too petty — but he went after her first, calling her out for being too busy and… bland? Yeah, those were his words. Celebrating meant that she posted photos of herself backstage before performing at her last concert of the year in Europe — London. 

Then the shitshow began there. 

BACK THEN

Her YouTube channel started in the United Kingdom while she was in university. She could remember connecting with William Lenney when her channel grew, knowing he lived a few tube stops away from her school and flat. Then she gradually continued to sing on the internet and made content with Will and some of his friends until she graduated. Then a year passed, and she became a well-known Asian artist based at Los Angeles after she signed a contract with the American record label 88rising. 

She didn’t know how the algorithm worked in the internet, initially thinking that maybe the comments about her post being “liked by pierregasly” or noticed by an F1 driver were nothing but some prank initiated by her peers. 

At some point, Will had mentioned that he had a friend, who was also a driver in the said sports. Will regularly followed and watched the races on television, attending the race in Silverstone whenever his friend would invite him. She was acquainted with this guy, meeting him once when they celebrated Will’s birthday. Lando Norris was a driver who created content with his peers, including Will himself.

Her sharp memory thankfully had told her to ask him if he knew someone named Pierre Gasly. When Will said yes and asked why, she sent him screenshots of her comment section. He hadn’t responded immediately and when he did, he FaceTimed her and laughed hysterically. 

“Oh my god,” Will howled, unable to stop himself from laughing. “Your post was liked by Pierre!”

“I don’t even know who that is?” Ensley almost shrieked. “William—“

“I know, I know,” Will rolled his eyes, “hang on, let me just…” He then added another contact on the FaceTime call, the person answering after the third ring as Lando looked down on his phone with confusion.

“Oh aren’t you a welcome face,” Lando grinned after seeing Ensley on his screen. Ensley’s eyes narrowed. “How’s it going lads?”

“What time is it in there, mate?” Will asked. Lando was moving around in a room, fixing his things left and right before he leaned his phone against a surface to show his upper body over the table. 

“We’re in Hungary, so it’s like an hour ahead of London…? Yeah an hour,” Lando nodded to himself before Ensley jumped at the sudden drumroll that he performed with his hands. “Anyway, how about you lots? Anything new?” 

“Yeah I sent you a DM,” Will replied with a grin. Ensley remained silent throughout the interaction, too annoyed to even bother speaking. 

“Alright I’ll check it,” Lando looked up for a moment and spoke to someone, who then showed up at the screen next to Lando to say hi. The British driver introduced the man as Daniel before “Daniel” left. It didn’t take Lando long to find Will’s text, his eyes widening as Will noticed Ensley flipping him off. Will was going to protest but Lando murmured, “Did he really?” 

Thirty seconds passed then… “Oh my… god. He actually did.” 

“What is it about this guy?” Ensley grunted in irritation, losing her patience every second as Lando and Will laughed over the news. 

If Ensley didn’t know Lando, she would have assumed that he died by the way he fell off with a thud. He then regained his composure before saying, “He’s one of my grid mates. Drives for a different team. A party animal and yeah uh—“

Lando paused and pursed his lips, “Had told me once or twice about coming across your Instagram.” 

“What.” 

“Oh my god,” Will cackled on the other side of the call, unable to contain his amusement. Ensley shushed him with a glare. 

“Yeah,” Lando looked at her with a hint of confusion in his face, “like six races ago? I think it's the Spanish GP. He showed me your timeline and asked if I knew you then I said well yeah I do, I’m following you.

“I had some suspicion that he was somehow trying to slide to your DM,” Lando continued before he asked, “has he?” 

“Not that I know of,” Ensley replied. “No. I would have known otherwise.”

“Oh,” Lando’s voice flattened at the answer she gave him. “Well there you go, you have yourself a Frenchman.” 

“What— no!” Ensley exclaimed. “Norris, you better give me some context instead of being mysterious and shit. Like who is he?” 

“Ensley,” Will gasped in a mocking tone, “did you just tweet bitch who the fuck is Pierre Gasly?” 

“Ooh,” Lando grimaced at the post, “yeah, uh… funny thing about that— oi, Gasly! D’ya wanna meet your crush?” 

Ensley’s eyes widened while Will’s mouth gaped. They could hear a slight murmuring from Lando’s background. Ensley hadn’t even bothered drying her damp hair, her eyes drooping at the thought of looking like garbage in front of new people. 

When Lando began shifting his camera and screen towards a person, she quickly ended the call as soon as the man saw her face. No she wasn’t about to deal with that bullshit. 

Then the next thing she knew, the said man slithered his way into her private messages. When she told Will and Lando about his message, Lando brought up that it was an unusual thing for him to say that. Then the driver rattled off about how he’d seen Pierre text a woman before and how… charming his messages sounded. 

He’s very much out of character, Lando continued to text, but I’ll see what I can find out. 

Lando continued to pry about this whole Ensley-Pierre situation, because not once did he ever witness Pierre text I hope you’re having a good day so far to someone he barely knew. 

Ensley was quite hesitant to respond to him as days went on, but she persevered through her doubts and asked general things like how the races worked or how he could even manage to get out of the bed early in the morning without a problem. She had an inkling that he was only trying to get to her pants and she thought that she was right when he invited her to a race. 

Everyone knew about the specifics of the invitation, and she did too but thought so little of it. It might have been a passing comment made by the French driver. She just didn’t think that her manager would go as far as allowing Brian to tweet out that he’d send her to Singapore for the race if he got 100K retweets on his post. Next thing she knew she was being sent to Singapore on a first class flight with Will. 

Her manager Mavi, and her friend Brian made contact with Pierre’s PR manager and received the paddock passes. But her anxiety was through the roof as she thought about meeting Pierre. 

He only wanted one thing and it’s to link up with her. Preferably in his bed. Preferably naked.

But that’s what she only assumed. God, she proved herself wrong when he came picking her up with a bouquet of flowers in his hand and a smile so nice. She was so wrong about him. 

NOW

The whole thing that she considered a shitshow became a courtship that lasted for three months. She didn’t know when she fell in love, but she uttered the word yes as soon as he asked if she could be his girlfriend. 

Pierre could admit that he was too cocky and there was something about Ensley’s character that toned down his arrogance and strong personality. He liked it. Stability was his favourite thing about his life. She was his favourite thing in life.

But he didn’t think that it would come to the point where he felt so… lost. As if he didn’t know how much Ensley had spoken of him in her interviews, videos and even in her songs. He knew that he should be cocky about being loved by her — it was a win. 

But hearing that your competitor was just a day away from meeting you and sizing you up? Yeah. He wasn’t too keen at the thought, only wanting to stay at her LA apartment while she had some fun with her circle of friends from school back in Jakarta. He couldn’t do that to her, though, telling himself that he would be alright with meeting her friends. 

Ensley could read his face. Despite his insistence that French people had the resting bitch face, she could see his forehead creasing as he stared at whatever the fuck was on the floor. She knew how much he didn’t like the thought of meeting her friends due to a high school sweetheart that she just recently called out on twitter. She knew that confidence took some time to develop; Rome wasn’t built in a day.

She wished that he knew how much she adored him and his effort to be as accommodating to her— with her previous relationship that ended in a sour note being a factor of his consideration.

But he couldn’t read minds, so Ensley settled for an embrace and repeated murmurs of, “I love you” in his ears while she kissed his cheeks repeatedly. He smiled at her sweetness, his arms pulling her in his lap and allowing her to hold him close to end the night of silent battle with his demons. He won. 

The next day consisted of going out for a walk and basking in the sunlight that brightened the Los Angeles area, and rehearsals before tomorrow. Pierre liked the heat and the brightness, but he never thought of it too much until he saw how Ensley’s skin seemed to shine under the sun - how the sun shone over her prettiest face he nearly got in his knees to thank whatever God was up there or anywhere. He liked the sun, overall. 

She had an hour rehearsal that didn’t seem to take long as Pierre sat and spoke with Jackson, Joji and Ylona throughout the entire hour. He’d look up to check on Ensley every other five minutes but never stopped speaking with the people he befriended a few months ago. 

With everyone knowing that Ensley’s ex boyfriend would be at their high school reunion, she also expressed her worries for Pierre to her peers. So Joji decided to assure the Frenchman, “She barely tolerates him— but he happened to be friends with her mates. So really, don’t worry. He’s got nothing on you but a past history.”

Pierre took that information in, offering him a thanks before he told himself to keep his composure once he and Ensley met her friends. 

He was wearing nothing too extravagant. He wore a cream crocheted shirt and left them unbuttoned, white ribbed tank top being at the bottom layer while he wore a pair of khaki shorts that matched well with his tops. He had a subtle gold chain hanging on his neck. His blue eyes were fucking pretty.

She did say she wasn't going to go all out. She lived in this city to know she didn’t have to dress fancy in a bar, knowing full well that she and Pierre would call it a night as soon as 11 PM hit. She had to perform tomorrow, after all.

But still, she wolf-whistled at the sight of him, leaning on the doorway with her arms crossed and her cream dress on. Pierre looked up at the mirror to see her reflection staring at his back, her eyes trailing down on his figure as he tried to keep his composure. She had a bad habit of "admiring" his figure, but it wasn't anything that sets him off - he does it to her all the time and would sometimes tell her "you look pretty to devour." 

“You’re staring, bébé,” Pierre chuckled, making her stare at him with a grin. 

“How to spot a rich European in Los Angeles,” Ensley jokes, giggling quietly as she approaches him. She hugged him from behind, slotting her head under his arm to look at their reflection properly. She took in the scent of his cologne. God, he was so fucking perfect.

Then she said, “I didn’t think you would wear that colour.” 

“No?”

“I thought you’re like Ricciardo,” she quipped, “with his party shirt and all that?”

“Bébé we’ve been together for ten months, you know this is my party shirt.”

“No it’s not,” Ensley snorted, “you’re more of a linen shirt and khaki pants guy. You’re wearing a crocheted shirt.

“But nonetheless,” she said quietly, “we’re going to be the hottest couple in there.” 

“I sure hope so,” Pierre chuckled, reaching down to kiss her hair. “I’d hate to be rated as 1.” 

“Your driver number is 10 for a reason, bub,” she laughed, now standing straight before she clapped his back gently, “c’mon, we’ve got our sangrias calling for us.” 

“An absolute 10,” Natasha might have been quiet, but she wasn’t too sneaky on gesturing at Pierre’s direction when she spoke to Ensley. “You bagged a good one.”

“Hm,” Ensley hummed happily, glancing at Pierre — who stood by the bar counter while waiting for their drinks — and was caught staring at him. His lips curled into a smirk as he winked at her. She rolled her eyes playfully before turning away to talk to her friends. “Yeah, I lucked out.” 

“When you told us about him before you even began dating we went full on FBI on him,” Abby chuckled quietly. “It was easy to find him— seeing as he’s a driver and all that. I was worried about you for a moment though.”

“How so?” 

“For one, he’s known for the endless line of women trailing after him,” Abby answered before she smiled, “but you setting your boundaries and him respecting it? Phew, now that’s the hottest thing a man could have within him. Respect, of all things.” 

“And you are like the happiest woman to have existed,” Natasha smirked, “who passed her honeymoon phase with all the happiness that a woman could get.”

The conversation in the table was tampered with the karaoke at the front, which helped with avoiding nosy people who’d try to get a good story to hear for the night. But alas, there were nosy people that happened to be in the same group as her for tonight. 

“Who passed her honeymoon phase?” Ensley restrained herself from rolling her eyes, keeping her mouth clamped shut to somehow respect her ex as her friends’ friend. 

Vero Gerard was a year older than Ensley. It felt wrong for a junior to date a senior, but she was smitten. She could remember breaking her own heart and not dating anyone after him, not in a new country or new city. She hadn’t tried again until that guy named Kenny from San Diego. Vero was memorable, to say the least. At least, those memories that made her realize that she was worth more than how he treated her. She forgot the rest. 

He’s only a year older, but somehow his “matured” ego and his experiences in life made her feel small. He would often see her notes and would scoff at how easy it was while she was about to shed tears at the thought of failing. Her father was strict because he didn’t want her to be in danger— a daddy’s girl, she was. While Vero’s parents thought that she was too childish for his liking. 

Vero didn’t tell her all of that, instead Ensley learned all of those from a friend of a friend of a friend. Her heart broke at that, bleaching her hair orange when he immediately found a girl to string along. 

He didn’t care to tell her where he went, only calling her when he’s drunk. She thought it was ideal to say that she was getting drunk at her friend’s house and having a party with the people there— she really wasn’t. She tried to get back at him, like any petty teenager would. 

When she moved to the UK for university, she kept tabs on her friends and acquaintances. She’d immediately turn off her Facebook whenever she came across Vero’s new fling while the photos taunted her. 

But that wasn’t her anymore. Now she was only irritated with his petty behaviour and the tone of his voice. 

He arrived with their two other guy friends, Jason and Mario, and he couldn’t choose a better time to walk over the table. 

“Just Henny about to reach the engaged phase,” Natasha told him, “not that you’d know.” 

Vero looked peered at the mentioned woman, to which she stared back but with the unequal amount of interest written all over her face. “You’ve made quite a good album.” 

“Heard all of it?” Ensley scoffed.

“I like to keep tabs,” Vero shrugged. Nonetheless, Ensley looked past him to greet Jason and Mario before the two settled near Natasha and Abby. Just as Vero stood there, a figure behind him cleared his throat. Her ex turned around, looking in the eyes of the Frenchman who had no intention to even challenge him to some sort of testosterone competition. 

Then Pierre’s eyes softened when he looked down at her, “Got your sangria, mon amour.” He placed down her drink before he found himself sitting on his original seat— next to her. Vero found his seat next to Mario, a cocky smile still written on his face as though he would win the game Pierre had no intention to play. 

Pierre reminded himself that he was the one that Ensley would fly and come home to, not anyone. Ensley just reminded him yesterday how much she loved him by peppering his face with kisses. She continued to prove to him that she was equally in love with him everyday. He never doubted that. 

“Merci beaucoup,” she said with a smile, obviously proud at her skill of not butchering a simple French phrase, before turning towards the men who just arrived. “Pierre, these are my friends— Mario and Jason. Guys, this is my boyfriend— Pierre.” 

The three men exchanged pleasantries while Mario told Pierre, “She really wasn’t lying when she said she was dating an F1 driver. She doesn’t even watch any sport so I didn’t know what changed her opinion.” Pierre laughed at this before telling the man that he managed to change her mind on her lack of interest in the sport by competing in it.

Then she said, “Vero, I’m sure you know Pierre.” 

Pierre turned towards the mentioned man, “Yeah. It’s nice to meet you.” 

He stuck out his hand for Vero to shake, making the others gape quietly. At least, he knew he was a better man without putting it out there. He didn’t need to show his home in Milan to prove how better he was. Vero must have thought of him as some rich boy who would take his pick of the week before moving onto another country for a race. 

Vero shook his hand regardless, a fake smile planted on his face. “Likewise,” but he said it as if he didn’t mean it. 

Pierre Gasly knew that Vero Gerard was sizing him up. This cockiness of his would eventually humble him, if he didn’t know any better. While the Frenchman felt like he knew very little about his girlfriend in comparison to her ex, Pierre still knew how little she appreciated someone’s egotistical attitude. He experienced her wrath firsthand so he knew exactly her thoughts on people who allow their egos get in the way of reality. 

But Pierre still felt nothing but discomfort as he stood by the bar counter to grab some refresher for Ensley and himself, opting for something nonalcoholic instead of getting pissed in the middle of a street he had no knowledge of. It was a full house and it took him nearly ten minutes just to order their drinks. It didn’t help that Vero had approached the bar with his own order and his smug smile. 

“How long have you two been together for?” Was the first thing Vero had asked Pierre, fucking around with his empty cocktail glass while he continued to play some sort of mind games with the Formula One driver. 

Pierre wasn’t that into the testosterone game that Vero started. Regardless he answered truthfully, “Ten months,” he paused, “fourteen if you count our unofficial months.”

“Unofficial? Hm,” Vero hummed, cocking his head to the side as he continued, “I didn’t think she’d make you wait.” 

“How so?” What was Vero insinuating, Pierre asked himself internally. 

“I dunno,” Vero shrugged nonchalantly, “she always jumped at the chance to get into a relationship. Even with me.” 

His comment nearly had Pierre fuming. Was he calling her easy? Vero must have noticed him get ticked off by the comment, but he must’ve thought that Pierre was pissed at the thought of having to wait because he continued to run his mouth.

“She’s had a crush on me for months,” Vero continued, “yet when I asked her out she quickly said yes. She was the same with that guy from San Diego I think. So, you’re a different story, if anything.

“Don’t know if that’s a good thing or not,” Vero laughed as if he was being fucking funny. Pierre would’ve swung his fist at the man had it been for the fact that this night wasn’t for Ensley. This was her night and he wasn’t going to ruin that.

It didn’t feel right that he was hearing someone talk about his woman like this. Like she was easy and naive. She wasn’t. She was headstrong and her petite figure could do a lot more damage on someone’s physical being should she fight against her morality. 

He’d gotten a mouthful from her when he joked about having to carry heavy stuff for her because of how small she was, telling him that she didn’t need him when she could just make trips back and forth. She had gotten into an argument with some journalist who thought that she was only in it for the money and fame, spewing out the most colourful words possible to defend herself and her devotion towards Pierre. 

So for someone to call her easy and naive — no matter how direct or indirect it was — never felt right in Pierre’s ears. They were so wrong. Vero, for someone who bragged about knowing Ensley for a long time, didn’t know how amazing and brave she was— and Pierre could only pity him for it. 

But he controlled his urge to get into some sort of fight with him, not wanting to embarrass himself or Ensley. He was still a Formula One driver with dignity and respect for his girlfriend’s image and being. He was the better man. 

“I’d say good,” Pierre answered with a shrug. Vero gave him a questioning look and so the Frenchman continued, “Different means she was looking for a change — and clearly she got tired of the same thing all over again. It was good for her to be able to get out of the loop she was unhappy with.” 

“That right?” Vero muttered, his eyes still challenging the driver. His smile fell off as he listened to Pierre’s words.

“Maybe,” Pierre shrugged again, “I’m not really sure— she’s got her own thoughts, after all. I don’t control her. Maybe that’s why I don’t know her much.” 

He then looked at Vero while he grinned, “I don’t like dictating what she likes and what she doesn’t like. She only tells me what she wants me to know. Maybe that’s why I don’t know her much— everything she likes I don’t decide for her.” 

Before Vero could speak any more, the bartender had placed a glass of alcohol free tonic and a Shirley Temple in front of Pierre as he thanked the man behind the counter. 

The choices of drink left Vero to comment, “She likes tequila sunrise.”

“She loves white sangria,” Pierre told him matter of factly, beaming as he sipped on his tonic before he stood up and grabbed the glasses, “she has a mint plant in my place because she makes a pitcher of the drink whenever she’s around. She loves going to the market to get some citrus for her drink, too— saying she likes the fresh fruits of Milan.” 

Then he walked back towards their table, extremely proud of himself for standing his ground. Maybe that’ll get Vero to shut up for once, as Ensley wanted. 

“I thought you liked the tequila sunrise better?” “Sangria’s much better. I make more of it whenever I’m in Milan. I’d rather not get drunk tonight though so… I only had one and am settling for a Shirley Temple.”

“You always liked the school varsity jacket I had. Do you still have ‘em?” “Had to toss out half my closet. I’ve been purchasing enough for myself lately.”

“Do you still make Che Banh Lot? Like those ones you’d make at my house?” 

Pierre knew where Vero was getting at. He knew when a guy wouldn’t quit— and he was sure that Ensley’s ex was trying to make her remember those happy days. 

But Ensley’s genuine confusion nearly had him and the girls laughing. She cocked her head to the side and said, “I’ve been making it at home with Tasha.”

“Tasha was there,” Vero nodded in confirmation, trying to get her to agree with his recalling. 

Ensley’s eyes narrowed, trying to figure out where he meant before she said, “Eh— nonetheless, I do. You know what? I had Pear assisting me with making them when we last visited his parents in France a month or so ago.”

Everyone but the couple looked at her in awe and shock. Ensley offered them a confused look, only for Pierre to grab her hand from underneath the table to hold it. She rubbed her thumb against his hand mindlessly, a questioning look exchanged between her and her friends.

Jason first spoke up and turned to Ensley, “So you’ve met his parents?” 

Ensley, not really aware of the looks exchanged between her friends, beamed happily before rambling, “Yeah! Pascale and Jean-Jacques invited us over when I flew to Milan. I do back and forths, remember? But yeah, P got his flat there and we traveled for six and a half hours. I was glad I had enough time to make it. I’ve got quite a useful assistant right here.”

Natasha, amused at her friend’s excitement, then peered at the Alpine driver and asked with a small smile, “How did they like it?”

“Good,” his French accent thickened while he spoke, “they were wondering if Ensley would come back anytime soon because they wanted to lock her up there forever.” 

Her friends giggled at this. “Would you lock her up there?” Abby teased the duo. 

Pierre looked down at his girlfriend, not even caring about the man next to Mario anymore. For some reason, there were certain inhibitions that he couldn’t seem to look at anymore. Womanizing, or being a Casanova, was one of them. 

In the span of a year, Ensley had managed to slither her way to his heart and found a little space there. He was enthralled with her personality and beauty and it was a shame Vero didn’t see all of that. If you told Pierre that he’d be dating someone that he drooled over on Instagram and that he’d eventually want to marry her, he would have laughed at your face.

But the Pierre in the present wasn’t the same. So he cheekily grinned and joked, “I would but I wouldn’t have anyone to write songs about me.”

Forget about the love that she had back when she was in high school in Jakarta; Ensley wrote more about him, and only him. He wasn’t the same person that everyone would’ve assumed to kick out a girl after one night. She wouldn’t have written Lowkey if she thought of him as someone who didn’t deserve a shot. 

She was glad that her relationship with Vero had happened. Otherwise, she wouldn’t be able to imagine what it’s like to have a life without a certain Pierre Gasly on it.

[mermazeablaze]

I didn't attend or even knew "Readers Take Denver" existed until yesterday. I have been watching it explode in real time on Threads. Y'all it's a literary convention that turned into an absolute shitshow. & I find it bizarre that no one on Tumblr is talking about it:

Some Authors & Influencers who were guests had to pay for the privilege.

Authors & Influencers who decided not to attend this year were promoted like they were going to be there. & volunteers & directors made it seem like they were there or going to be there DURING the convention.

Authors & Influencers who were guests were double-booked including their tables & panels.

They didn't receive all the items they were promised including badges, stickers, lanyards & table placards.

Because of the over & double booking of everything - guests & their PAs were verbally assaulted, sometimes including physically, by volunteers & directors.

They had the lights turned off on them.

They had their items thrown off tables & across the room if they didn't move fast enough.

They missed panels they didn't know they were a part of or were thrust into them without knowing they were a part of them.

There were no snacks or water provided to guests.

Volunteers kept attendees from finding or interacting with guests when they were on con floor. & vice versa.

Guests had valuables stolen - cookies, books, purses, etc

During the ball people were sexually harassed & assaulted by people who weren't even part of the con.

Volunteers & directors were going in guest hotel rooms without permission.

Several guests are not coming back & many others who weren't there this year are no longer attending.

Apparently in the FB group moderators aren't allowing in posts disparaging the con.

The con chair was supposed to answer questions in a video chat, but dipped out last second.

Like this was quite literally a clusterfuck to end all clusterfucks.

So if anyone knows or has heard anything let me know. I want to share it with those affected on Threads.

[kanmom51]

Me being a broken record

With everything that went down the past few days, I kind of feel the need to play this on repeat, so I'm going at this from another angle.

JK is not the person people are trying to paint him out to be.

This callous macho sex fiend, that at the moment, even though people keep screaming "well, he might be bi", they are actually only talking about him screwing women. And lots of them. In different places, at different times. He's a fuckboy par excellence.

And those that take that one step further also have him cheating on JM, breakup stories, make up stories, full on fanfics in the making.

I have addressed much of this here:

He also addressed some of this in last night's Stationhead.

And did the whole TikTok post and delete thingy.

I get it.

Well, part of it.

3D kind of shook some people.

It was the very obvious meaning of the song, JK singing on repeat girl, and I think the big big thing here was Jack Harlow's lyrics. I think for many the initial knee jerk reaction was to those lyrics. And I will admit, I had that same knee jerk reaction (to JH's lyrics).

I still don't like them. Whichever way you look at them, they are problematic.

But I came to live with the song, cause it's JK, cause when you listen to it on repeat you just can't get rid of it (🤣), cause I like his performance (yes, including the certain very sexual moves. Hey, I'm no prude), and cause I just tend to listen to the alternative version and when I have the clip running on YT phase out from the rap (cause I just don't like it).

But for many, as I got to discover after this whole shitshow blew up, JK singing girl in a song for which he did not even write the lyrics is all it took to throw away everything people saw and knew about Jikook and JK in behaviour and interactions over the past 10 years. For that.

Forget the y/ns. All they needed and were waiting for was that kind of confirmation. They didn't need anything more than JK saying that one word. The choreo being sexual added, of course. It being sexual either way making no difference. Either way meaning every single move that was considered sexual can be applied to either male or female!!!

Oh, and there was this:

But you see, this is what actually happened:

By the by, big deal. Big deal JK does the thrusts in the choreo. Big deal JK did that flicking of the hand. Even if he did it only not to leave Brian hanging, literally. He is an adult, and do I remind that JM did the same in the recording of their Idol MV? Him doing all of this doesn't make him into what people are trying to paint him to be.

So, we were at this point where people that were supposed to have JK's back, in the sense that even if they had doubt the least they could have done was not to continue to spread it, and with every tweet or post add a little more conjecture and assumption, none of it based in facts, didn't. Have his back in the sense of perhaps stepping back for a second and waiting to see where the stones fall, didn't. See if there is a statement, if JK says something, they didn't. There was a clear intent in the timing of these clips and pics. Posting them just after the release of the song and during Chuseok, so it takes time for whoever it is that needs or wants to take action. So it gives time for it to spread. And it did. Not with Karmy. Cause they had JK's back. Not with Chinese army, cause they were fighting the claims for authenticity of the clips, fighting the claims of harassment that were also raised against him. This was a coordinated targeted attack. And instead of having his back, I-army just went with it. Spreading it. Defending the authenticity of it. Yes, there were cries for breach of privacy. All while continuing to spread the clip over sm.

We don't know these young men fully. We also don't know what they do with their time. We get maybe a 0.01% of it now. Before we got more. The early years we got a shit ton. Not everything. But enough to see who they are as human beings. The good and the bad. And NOTHING that we got over the years, and even more so through the maybe somewhat tainted Jikook glasses indicates JK to be that person that he was painted out to be in the past few days.

The man that talked about being with that one person for life. The man that believes in destiny. The man that arranged and paid for a trip for JM to Japan knowing he was struggling at that time, going on that trip with him, doing what JM wanted to do, even when it wasn't necessarily what he would have chosen to have done (remember RM and Jhope's conversation about JM dragging JK around Malta?). The man that made that HUGE statement at RB. We all focus on the ear sucking, but this was way more than that. JK enveloping JM, whispering something in his ear. Kissing his ear. Then sucking it, kissing it again and then comforting him, helping him up and just being by his side. This is the man that fucking tattooed JM's name on his hand for all to see. That tattooed a moon on his shoulder. That tattooed an eclipse on his arm. This is the man that during a LV concert looking at JM, talking to JM, said "I LOVE YOU", out loud, for all of us to hear. And if, by any chance, he wasn't aware the mic was still on for all of us to hear, wouldn't that have been even WAY louder? No realising we are hearing him saying it to JM, that it was meant for his ears only. This is a man that has dedicated almost full lives to JM. Listening to and singing his songs, watching JM content adoringly.

All that and so so much more.

Enter a grainy clip with faces literally white washed, a couple of more either badly edited clips and pics and all is forgotten. JK is the ultimate playboy. Multiple girlfriends (what name wasn't attached to him?).

And when JK denies having a gf then it's: "but the clip is old" or "doesn't mean he doesn't sleep around".

Instead of listening to him.

You think he doesn't know when this is supposed to be from? The clip. For god's sake, the dog being there was what everyone latched onto. So he knows. And he said I don't have a gf but was talking about THAT clip. You expected him to say "yes I saw the clip, I didn't have a gf then"? No. This is what he could do. And again, instead of listening to him, what he's trying to tell us: NO GF, NO NEED FOR ONE, people are about trying to see why the clip could still be legitimate, authentic, and/or why it doesn't mean he isn't sleeping around.

Perhaps that's why he felt the need to comeback with his ever so loud TikTok post and delete.

Anyway, me ranting again.

[trulybetty]

Strings | I

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!Reader Word Count: 1,309 Warnings: Mature content, friends with benefits or more maybe acquaintances with benefits? References to sex, but nothing graphic, brief mention of a child's death, angst. Summary: As your feelings deepen and the lines of your initial agreement begin to fade, you grapple with the realization that you might be falling for Joel, uncertain of what this shift means for your unconventional relationship. AO3: Link

x. strings masterlist

Strings I

The wind was brisk and biting as you made your way down the path toward Joel's house. The rugged settlement of Jackson held a semblance of normalcy that almost made you believe that the world hadn’t collapsed into despair twenty-odd years ago. That the threat of death didn't linger on the wind behind the tall wooden fences that surrounded the community, licking at the cracks, its fingers searching for a means to break through. 

You pulled your coat closer, a mix of anticipation and uncertainty stirring inside you as the soft glow of Joel's porch light came into view, the twang of his guitar filling the air the closer you got. He's there, as usual, perched on his porch, fingers deftly strumming the strings of his worn-out guitar.

Your relationship with Joel was, by all standards, unconventional. He was a man of few words, and those he did share were usually layered with meaning. When you first met, there had been a spark, a connection that neither of you had tried to define. It had quickly morphed into a physical one, passionate but restrained by boundaries you'd both agreed upon.

No spending the night. No emotional attachment.

There's a strange comfort in your arrangement. It's the fragile connection, a spark that flickers in the bleak post-apocalyptic landscape, that keeps pulling you back. Neither of you speak of it. It's just there, unspoken and profound. You both live in the same community and survive under the same brutal conditions, but when you’re together, it’s different.

The scent of woodsmoke filled the air as you padded up the steps of his porch. Joel looks up from his guitar, his fingers still strumming a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Was starting to think you changed your mind," he teased, his Texas accent smooth and inviting.

You shake your head, as you replied with a smirk. "I had some things to take care of." He sets the guitar aside and stands up to meet you, his warm hand enveloping yours in a tight grasp as your fingers intertwine.

The settlement is quiet now, save for the occasional rustle of leaves. The wind that blows over from the west sounds like howls in the echoes of the mountains. The sound should make you feel uneasy, a reminder of what's out there waiting. However Joel's presence steals your attention, there's a tug in your chest, his touch sending shivers down your spine, and you can feel your resolve at the agreement to keep things strictly physical weakening.

"Come on," he says, leading you through the front door.

The evening unfolded as they often did, the two of you sharing a meal, a few drinks, and easy conversation. There was a comfort in the rhythm, a connection that had slowly grown to more than just mere physical attraction.

You wished you could've met Joel before the outbreak, before the shitshow that followed. To feel warmth when he smiled while it still hadn't been tainted by the darkness that had settled in his eyes. Too much had taken place since then for him to ever be the same again.

His roughened hands on your skin, the warmth of his hushed voice in your ear, the rhythm of your breaths melding into one. The nights he goes slow, he takes his time and explores every inch of your body. He traces his finger over the curve of your neck, up your inner thigh. The first night you had sex, it was raw and frantic; nothing about it was slow or steady. You cried out as he entered you for the first time. It had set the tone thereafter, before slowly turning into what it is now, including the nights where it's not about sex and it's just the two of you sat on his porch with a bottle of whiskey between you.

Joel sets the tone the majority of the time, you're happy for him to take the lead, though you're not afraid of letting him know what you want. Tonight is a night for passionate and gentle lovemaking, slow and measured caresses that sweep across your skin in an overwhelming wave of warmth.

He teases your body with his own as he dips lower and kisses around your neck until every nerve ending is alight with desire. His tongue traces patterns on your stomach that make your heart race faster than ever before as he slowly trails down and then back up again. You gasp when he breaches the barrier of your inner thigh, the feeling of his tongue exploring the sensitive folds of your body had you arching off the bed in pleasure.

He moves back up your body, finding the heat of your lips in an urgent kiss. You wrap your arms around him, relishing in the familiar warmth as the intensity between you both builds. It's a beautiful, intense sensation as he slides into you, your hips lifting up to meet his, a silent invitation to continue.

For a few hours, you both forget the scars that mar your pasts, the burdens that weigh heavy on your hearts. But then, it happens. A crack in the facade, a ghost from the past sneaking in.

In the stillness of the night, you both had fallen asleep, breaking the unspoken rule.

You awaken from a fitful slumber, roused by the sound of Joel's muffled shouts. For a brief moment, you're not sure where you are. It takes a moment to recognize you're still in Joel's bed. He’s thrashing beside you, and you realise he’s still asleep. His fingers claw at the sheets, sweat beading on his brow. His cries pierce the silence of the room, raw and heart-wrenching. 

"Sarah!" he cries out desperately, his voice echoing around the empty room.

Your heart clenches at the sight, the torment etched into his face too profound to ignore. You've heard stories of his lost daughter, of the life he couldn't save, but witnessing his pain firsthand is an entirely different experience.

Instinctively, you reach out, fingers brushing through his damp hair, whispering soothing words into his ear. Your touch seems to pacify him, his body relaxing under your comforting presence. The shouts fade into soft whimpers, his hand reaching out in his sleep, fingers grazing your arm as if trying to anchor himself to reality. 

You watch him, a mix of emotions washing over you. This is Joel Miller, the hardened survivor, the man who built walls around his pain and locked away his sorrow. And yet, here he is, vulnerable and haunted in his dreams.

The pull to stay is stronger than ever. You want to remain by his side, to comfort him in his torment, to assure him that he's not alone. But you also remember the agreement, the boundaries you both set. No strings, no feelings. It's just sex, nothing more. 

Right? 

But as you watch Joel, lost in his nightmare, you realize that you might have already crossed that line a long time ago.

Slowly, reluctantly, you pull away, dressing quietly so as to not wake him. His face looks peaceful now, his furrowed brows relaxed, the painful grimace replaced by the soft rhythm of sleep. You stand at the threshold of the room, looking back at him one last time before you head down the stairs, stepping out into the frosty late night.

In the safety of your own home, as the night stretches into the break of dawn, you find yourself awake, unable to sleep. Longing to go back, break the rules you both set. You close your eyes, the image of the torment twisting his face imprinted on your mind, and you wonder if maybe, just maybe, there could be more to your arrangement with Joel Miller.

But for tonight, you'll honour your pact.

[rickfucker]

(kinda emo) Nsfw Rick Headcanons (GN!)

i’ve gained lots of followers since my last post. hello! and welcome to the shitshow. this turned out extra emo! for whatever reason idk. i think it might just be because of how much i love rick this season. he’s a little softer. pls enjoy.

Sex is one of those things that he almost overdid when he was younger. He still loves it, don’t get me wrong, but he used it as an unhealthy coping mechanism in tandem with his drinking. It started losing its spark as he really got on in years.

This man is of the streets. He’s seen it all and he’s done it all.

Definitely a switch. His default is soft dominant. He will give endless praise, from how stunning your body is to how well you take him.

He gets tired, though. He’s spent his whole life fighting shadows of himself; trying to convince himself that he doesn’t need anyone. He wouldn’t ask you outright, necessarily, but if you decide to take the reigns from him for a night, he melts right into it. He wants someone to take care of him. Love him. Be gentle with him, just enough to make him forget about the cruelty of his own existence.

Sex with you is healing for him in that respect. He has done the hard and fast with everyone he’s ever met. You’re a fresh start, like he’s being given a second chance at doing things the right way.

He takes his time with you. To the point of your very obvious frustration. I’m talking hours of foreplay.

He’s the type to gently coerce you into saying exactly what you want in bed, usually in the filthiest way possible. Once again, extra points for the full-body blushing you’ll be doing. He eats that shit up.

He wants to hear you say what you want. That you want him, specifically. Consent is sexy!

Nicknames for days. Sweetheart, baby, hun, sugar, sweetcheeks, lmao. He loves just hearing you say his name, though.

He likes to fuck in weird places. Views it like a sort of challenge.

You would definitely have sex in every room in the house. Kitchen countertops, living room couch, the shower (obviously), laying you out on top of the dining room table (you insist on Clorox-ing afterward because he certainly isn’t going to do it).

He would never risk the possibility of you two being walked in on, though. He’s for sure into exhibitionism to an extent, but not with his family in mind. For your privacy as much as his own. Also his territorial nature. Nobody is viewing the goods but him.

He actually doesn’t want to have sex on his workspace. He’s got too much important shit that can’t risk, ahem, contamination.

If you get awkward of feel embarrassed while bumping uglies, he literally does not care. Everything you do is sexy to him, including all of the very human things about you.

(AFAB) I can’t tell if he’s a boob or a butt guy, but that’s ‘cause he’s a pussy guy. We all know this. He is King of giving head and he fucking loves it. 

(AMAB) Same goes here. King of Giving Head; He WILL give you that sloppy toppy.

Always makes his partner come first.

He can’t pick a favorite position, but he does love it when you ride him, especially dry humping. He likes it when the two of you end up so in the moment that there’s no time for taking off clothes.

Goes absolutely feral when you say you love him.

Sometimes cries a little after really intense sex, but not when you can see him. He’s got all these pent up emotions that just end up toppling over when he lets his guard down.

Pillow talk for a hundred years. He likes it when you start rambling about the future, toying with his hands while you talk softly. “Maybe we could move somewhere closer to the ocean. Or are you more of a cabin in the woods kind of guy?” You laugh at the idea of Rick lounging on the beach, which he takes mock offense to.

You make him think about things he never would have considered before. What reason would he have to ask himself the less important questions of life? Like what his favorite architectural style of home is. What would his perfect vacation look like? If he had to pick a new hobby to start, what would it be? It’s just nonsense, things he would never talk about in front of anyone else due to their irrelevant nature, but in the afterglow with you, he likes it. Maybe it makes him feel more normal; suburban; domestic. Maybe he just likes how dreamily you talk about those things, and the way you give him your full, rapt attention in the quiet sanctity of his tiny bedroom. Nothing else exists but you.

[anonymous-dentist]

since people apparently cant be formal im going to be: we dont use "q!" cuz people kinda dont want to talk abt the server, only spiderbit/guapoduo, so they decided to use "g!" or only "!", and when people are refering to other series they use the first letter of the series for example: "c!roier", i myself dont quite get the g!/! and understand why u dont like people not using "q!" when the universe they talking abt is qsmp

(people saw u complaining abt it here and start to shit on u without any context on twt and saying u complained that q wanst appearing in other fics even tho im pretty sure i didnt when ur distancing urself from him so i wanted to be formal :])

-🎀

(also can u explain y u dont like the "g!" or "!"???)

I can try to explain myself, but I'm also kinda crying answering this because I have a hard time with emotion regulation when I'm upset (autism thing)

OKAY! SO!

I don't really mind the new tag things? Like, I don't love them, but they're fine. If people want to distance themselves, that's fine. I'm distancing myself. Anybody who's been keeping up with my blog over the past half a year or so can see that I haven't really posted about the QSMP at all since Purgatory started. I haven't talked about Quackity at all outside of that shitshow of an awards ceremony in over a month when, for several years, I was a Quackity-centric blog (2021-early 2023)

My thing with the new tags, and with the Guapoverse thing in general, is that it really just isn't accessible for a larger audience. Sure, some parts of Twitter might understand it, but what about the rest of us?

As far as I can tell, the Guapoverse originated with a Twitter artist (Moone), and it blew up overnight. And I'm overall cool with it! It's a little silly, but so is fandom. I'm a fanfiction writer. Who plays Splatoon for like 4 hours every day. I know silly, and I love it

But then, BAM, I blink and everybody's abandoned the q! and they're changing their tags on Ao3 and making everything suddenly so much harder to find, and it's all about accessibility, isn't it? Like, don't get me wrong, I love a good multiverse, but when it inadvertently excludes a significant portion of the fandom, what are we supposed to do?

Like, say I go on Twitter looking for q!Pac fanart. But now it's so much harder to find because it isn't tagged or typed that way, it's !Pac, and that includes search results from every single au that has a ! in it, like if there was an au called AU!Pac? The !Pac would be in there. But I don't want to see AU!Pac, I want to see q!Pac.

And then there's the g! thingy. Like, that's fine, but a little more widespread of an explanation would've been nice. Like, what au does g! stand for? If you don't know what Guapoverse is, like A LOT OF PEOPLE don't, what are we supposed to think your art is? If we're looking for q!Cellbit art, we aren't necessarily going to like and retweet your art if it's labeled as g!Cellbit because we don't know that he's q!Cellbit.

It's kind of similar on Ao3, only that one's a little different because you can filter by relationship. But let's say you don't know how to do that. Let's say you're new to the website and you only know how to filter by fandom, because that's the first thing you learn how to do on Ao3- it's right there at the top of the front page: Browse By Fandom.

So you go to the QSMP tag looking for fics with Spiderbit/Guapoduo in them. But, here's the thing, you can't find any. Because they aren't being tagged QSMP, they're being tagged Guapoverse now even if the fics are being set in the QSMP setting.

It's just a general lack of fandom accessibility that gets me. I understand the distancing aspect, and I've been waiting for it to happen since the Elections when he Brazilian fandom started getting IMMENSE amounts of hatred from Gringo Chats. But it gets a little tricky when you're part of a fandom as large as this one is. How are we all supposed to share content and talk about things with each other if we can't even find each other anymore?

Like! I've lost so many cool fics I forgot to bookmark because they were taken out of the QSMP tag and moved into the new one! (The new one goes against ToS btw I believe, but go talk to a tag wrangler about that.)

People on Tumblr don't know what the Guapoverse is. TikTok doesn't. Reddit doesn't. Only Twitter does, and only a section of Twitter does. Because I haven't seen any English or French-speaking Guapoduo People talk about the Guapoverse, only Portuguese or Spanish-speaking people. And I get that the exclusion isn't purposeful and that the Guapoverse is meant to sort of heal everybody from the wounds the QSMP left, but I think that maybe even just spreading the news and not... you know... sending death threats and insults and smearing people's names would be better than this.

Thank you for politely asking. I thought I had made myself clear before, but I guess I hadn't.

I'm open to answer any more questions. I can't explain myself to my critics on Twitter, but I can answer your questions here, hopefully.

[according2thelore]

omg i love that es sam post!!! imagine him “taking a break” from the three of them. he’s a jealous bitch and feels like they don’t even WANT him around, they all like each other better anyway!! cue Flagstaff Part 2: Electric Boogaloo

gosh!

if sam ran away, it would be an absolute shitshow, lol. i don't know if i think he would full-stop run away. i think maybe it would be a miscommunication--especially since for ES!Dean, stanford is so fresh and raw.

in my head, i'm picturing maybe ES!Sam steps out because he found a lead on a surprisingly non-BS book on time travel at a new-age bookshop a town over and gets stuck out overnight. and honestly, he's not that mad about it. he could do with a fresh night at a motel away from the Sammy and Dean show (and will not admit that it stings that he's not the 'sammy' in question). plus! sunlight! he hadn't realized how dark and damp everything is underground until he actually has a room with a window.

at first, as much as it sucks to admit, no one really notices at first. ES!Sam has really tried to distance himself from everyone (much more at the beginning of this ordeal than a few weeks in), and spends most days either archiving a storage room that LS!Sam told him about just to have something to do or in he and ES!Dean’s room avoiding them.

so LS!Dean is the first to notice. he's just had the idea to maybe reach out and offer the kid a grilled cheese for lunch. but...he can't find him. anywhere.

he goes to ask ES!Dean&LS!Sam who are tucked in next to each other in one of the armories, giggling, and LS!Dean gets distracted for a bit at how irritating--and honestly?? kind of arousing--they are together.

they "split up and look for clues" as LS!Dean puts it, quite excitedly, and ES!Dean kind of flushes like 'wow you're such a dork' but he's practically skipping down the hallway and LS!Sam rolls his eyes.

once their search turns up no sam...it's Hit Every Alarm Bell Time.

ES!Dean is the most freaked out. what if ES!Sam got taken back to the past without him? what if ES!Dean's stuck here? what if whatever brought them both to the present kidnapped him? he's guilty because he should've noticed it sooner. he's been spending so much time with LS!Sam that he didn't even notice his own little brother was missing for what? hours? dean's little brother is his whole thing! and he didn't even notice! not to mention stanford is still so fresh for ES!Dean that he's absolutely the most freaked out about the Lack of Sam, and therefore absolutely the least helpful.

LS!Dean is in the middle. that is to say, on a scale of 0 to rip the building apart brick by brick ("hey, stop it kiddo, he's not in the fucking walls." "shut up, old man!") he's a 7. a Missing Sam is a Missing Sam, okay? you could bring any dean (even squirrel dean) in and tell him this, and that's a category five disaster. and this sam is small!!!! and alone in the world!!!!!!! he's calling local hospitals and jails, before widening the search. he's probably even on "foot" patrol (patrolling motels and town with Baby) which he drags ES!Dean into, because that poor kid's fourteen seconds away from having three concurrent heart attacks.

LS!Sam checks ES!Sam's search history. he promises to do a more thorough up-and-down of the bunker, including investigating if any of their artifacts that they've got spilling out of old boxes in almost every room, have the power to transport people. but then, he sees the laptop in ES!Sam's room (kid has a FASCINATION, and LS!Sam cringes to think of a time before laptops were widely available). and okay, yeah. let's check his search history. after 'curious college twink gets ass ate large hunky man hunk bearded middle aged' and oh. okay. ES!Sam found internet porn. cool. (LS!Sam does not notice that the 'hunky man hunk bearded middle aged' has light brown hair and a strong jaw and does not remember the website and thumbnail. because that would be weird!) LS!Sam sees the bookshop.

he calls LS!Dean, and he comes back so they can all hop the town over to go collect him.

they find him immediately under "dean plant" at a motel on the edge of town closest to lebanon.

he's groggy because it's five in the morning. the storm from the night before has barely cleared, and the smell of wet concrete hits him before he's even full awake as the door slams open.

he's got three guns pointed at him (two identical ones, one significantly less scratched than the other; and the third is very familiar) and an ES!Dean that immediately falls upon him like a regency woman reuniting with her long-estranged husband returned after years of war.

LS!Sam keeps trying to calm the situation down with calm words and an annoyed glance at ES!Sam but mostly calm. and LS!Dean is just pissed.

"where'd you go? why'd you go? why are you here? the storm? yeah i guess it was kind of bad. but that's no excuse! oh they closed the bridge because of the flooding. well you could have called! no phone. hm. well. you can't go disappearing like that, kid."

and ES!Sam is kind of equally pleased and annoyed. because honestly, he didn't think they would really notice. he didn't think he was an integral part of this machine that they occupy. he thought he was the weakest link, but they chased him down (even if it was only twelve miles) and—

(and ES!Sam tries not to think it, but it reminds him of a sermon at the church he visited once a month with brady, before brady stopped going to church (the church that made sam's feet tingle as in his shoes as soon as he stepped on hallowed ground); about the shepherd chasing down the wandering lamb, and how fucked is it that sam's thinking, in part, about himself? some bigger, stronger, wiser version of himself bringing him back into the fold? it makes sam shudder a little, bc sam didn't even question the part about dean being god, just himself.)

and later that night is when ES!Sam gets his first "we"--LS!Sam pulls him aside after dinner, and says quietly,

"we can't disappear on dean, okay?" he's quick to continue, because he can see the beginning of ES!Sam's indignant protest. "it was an accident. and they shouldn't've freaked out like that. but we go through...a lot. and he needs us. even in 2006. and he's glad we're here."

ES!Sam shrugs him off, but later that night, when he says goodbye to ES!Dean, he says "goodnight jerk," and dean relaxes against the doorframe. and sam thinks, maybe this isn't the worst thing that's happened to them. not as long as they're all in it together.

every time i say "oh this ran away from me" and UGH! every time it's TRUE! flagstaff pt 2: electric boogaloo would end with a lot less tears and anguish on all parts involved, i think. but like any good sequel, it would increase the stakes (TWO deans losing their minds + a bonus sam!).

thanks for this ask, anon! my brain really took to it, lol!

-lizzy <3

[fuck-customers]

I wish there was a way to warn people who are applying for a job/coming in for an interview that this is NOT the fucking place to work.

There's also the extra special cherry on top where I have 3 hours TOTAL for the ENTIRE WEEK next week and just today alone, I had 4 people walk up to me and tell me they were here for an interview and asked me to get the manager.

I wish there was some way to tell them "honey, I've been here for over 4 years, literally longer than any person here, including the store manager, yet I get absolutely no respect or consideration, no raises, no promotions, no respect, and next week I have 3 hours for the entire week, which is less than I had in my first week working here and I'm competing for hours with children who don't do their jobs and have been employed for 2 months. Do not bother with this shitshow."

But all I can say is "yeah, I'll call the manager over right now!" 🙃🔫

Is there a way to warn people off? If there's no manager in earshot and someone comes up to me asking about the application process, I do tell them the above issues and warn them about working there, but that specific situation happens maybe 1% of the time. Usually someone already has an interview scheduled or a manager is in earshot and I can't speak my mind.

Posted by admin Rodney.