#thx for the booze

[cyborg-franky]

Shopping Trip With One Piece Characters

Part of a trade with the awesome @softcenteregg

Doffy - The very definition of “Get in loser, we’re going shopping!”

Has money but you will have to pay for him all day when it comes to lunch and drinks.

Will be sitting at a restaurant at 11 am with a cocktail as he tells you about his week, regardless of if you asked or not.

Checks out the mall hotties.

Laughs when people open push/pull doors wrong.

Always has a cocktail or a Starbucks clutched in one hand, waving his credit card around in the other hand.

Rude to salespeople.

You will be dragged through the mall for hours because he needs to go into every designer shop he can and try on at least seventeen pairs of $400 sunglasses or he’ll die.

Will be the most overdressed person in the area,

When your having lunch with him and he sees someone he doesn’t like, he will be like “Oh hey! Been so long since we hung out, should do it again soon!” then soon as they're gone he’s dishing the dirt.

Also, you will carry his bags, thx.

Roger

Makes you wish you could get those reigns for kids but in adult sizes.

In fact, the entire trip is like taking a child out for his birthday.

Ever seen a huge bearded man grinning in pure glee at the new limited edition Build a Bear products? Ever seen one make like 12?

Do yourself a favor and limit his booze and sugar intake.

Is confused he can’t do a pub crawl in a mall.

Buys alot of those ‘alcoholic chocolates’ by the box load in an attempt to get a nice buzz going.

Thrift shopping but he will try on everything he can.

Does not know how to dress but does it with style, oddly enough.

You won’t get a chance to sit down or rest unless it’s dinner time.

At least he’ll sleep well tonight.

Kid

Hit’s all the stores that sell music and band merch.

Will snort at people who buy things he doesn’t like.

Throws around words like ‘poser’ and judges everyone.

The kinda metal kid who hangs out at the mall with all the wallet chains looking like their parents grounded them, but in their late 20s.

Will spend hours looking for CDs and just say he’s too broke and he’ll download it online anyway.

Walks around the mall trying to find the right shade of lipstick with Killer, both their arms and hands are covered in testers before they both just get more black nail varnish and the same shade they always buy.

Has a reusable plastic cup that's full of jack and coke. 

Taunts mall cops.

Killer

Imagine all of the above but he also spends alot of time looking at fancy new cook wear.

Will spend nothing on food all day but will drop $90 on a brand new crockpot or air fryer for the kitchen.

Very metal of him.

Thatch

Thatch is fun to go with.

Treats you, buys the coffee and lunch.

Is happy to do whatever you want as long as he gets to check out homeware sections while you look at your things.

You will never lose him behind shelves because you can always see his hair.

Like Jaws but with hair and ozone layer murdering levels of hairspray.

Will flirt with staff, will get talking to them for far too long, and hold up the line.

The type of person who has alot of change and makes it a personal challenge to count out change exactly.

Will carry your bags though, he’s a good boy.

Bit judgey on eatery places pastries.

Shanks

I hope you enjoy getting nowhere because when you're at a mall with Shanks or out and about in town you will be stopping every ten steps because someone recognises him and comes over and chats.

Has no concept of how long he’s been talking.

Is the type to have a pint with breakfast or brunch when you guys hang out.

Sale on ugly pants? He’d push you down to get there first.

Always texting the gang when he’s out.

Lol Benn guess what, I saw Buggy and he was with that guy, you know, the one with the hook, lol lol

Will drop Uta off at the mall kids' soft play area even though she’s 18 and still forget to pick her up before leaving.

Ace

Low key baits mall cops by loitering around and looking like an issue but has no intention of being an issue.

Might skateboard inside the mall.

Poses with ‘no skateboard’ signs.

Hopefully, there isn't an arcade in the mall because if you had any intention of getting things done today, that won’t happen now.

Hungry every 20 minutes and has to grab snacks.

100% the kinda friend/boyfriend who sits on the seats outside the changing rooms holding all the bags and groaning, acting like it’s the worst thing in the world.

Is one of those people who opens push/pull doors wrong.

Marco

After taking five minutes to park correctly he’s happy to go with the flow. 

Likes to have a coffee and a people watch with you, chatty and social.

But he will drag you to shoe stores and you will be sat there for ages as he tries on every strappy sandal in the place, walking up and down and asking you what you think.

“I like this one but I don’t know if it makes me too tall yoi.” while you can’t for the life of you tell the difference between that pair and the last 40.

If you meet him at the mall he might be late, very much the shows up 20 minutes late with Starbucks.

Has a tendency to wander off in shops and you spend half your time looking for him.

Doesn’t give a warning when entering a shop if something shiny caught his bird brain.

Benn

He hates the mall.

Imagine a dad who has to take his teenage daughter clothes shopping and that’d basically be him with Shanks.

Benn is a very ‘I know what I am here for’ in and out kind of person but he doesn’t mind going to other places with you.

Ignores staff-only signs when he knows there is a smoking area on the other side of that door.

Is the person to remind you of the ‘insert thing here we have at home’ and is a shop sensible person, though he won't say anything if you do buy another T-shirt that looks exactly like the one you already have.

Pretends to be annoyed at carrying the shopping, but he offered and he likes to help you out.

If you complain about your feet hurting he’ll helpfully tell you he told you to wear your other shoes.

Sabo and Luffy

Banned

Both have their pictures up in the security office.

Sabo for giving the mall cops the finger, graffiti, and shoplifting.

Luffy peed in the fountain and kept stealing pick-n-mix.

[whataperfectwasteoftime]

The District Sleeps Alone Tonight - A Songfic

Pairing: None 

Rating: General, although my blog is, as always, 18+ only 

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: angst, breakups, mentions of Teresa x Patrick Jane

Summary: I am a visitor here. I am not permanent. 

A/N: @whatsnewalycat said that The District Sleeps Alone Tonight by the Postal Service was a Marcus Pike song and then I listened to it during a thunderstorm and imagined a whole scene based on it. I’m not sure whether or not to call this a songfic, but there are several direct quotations from the lyrics and the “plot” of this follows the song pretty closely.  For best results, listen to this song while you read. The lyrics are posted at the end of the fic <3

Masterlist

A lone figure cuts through the wet fog, his collar turned up and shoulders hunched forward in a futile attempt to ward off the elements. The faded leather jacket may have been sufficient enough for even the coldest winter days in Austin, but against the drizzle and wind in this new climate, it only succeeds at keeping him dry. Mostly. The notion that he may not be as well-prepared as he had originally thought himself to be grates on him, shame niggling at the back of his spine at the realization that he doesn’t even know where to go to purchase a winter coat.

A gust of wind sends thousands of miniscule, stinging droplets of water into his face, making him grimace, and Marcus wonders to himself how it could possibly still be raining with temperatures so close to freezing.

It seems as though he’s stopped at every street crossing, because of course he is, and he squints against the endless line of headlights and brake lights extending in either direction, blurring and distorting in the soggy weather, as he waits for the traffic lights to turn.

It gets dark so early here.

His phone buzzes against fingers shoved in his pockets, and he fishes it out to read the text message that flashes on the screen.

Sorry, I think you might still have my spare key? If so can you mail it back? Thx.

The cavity of his chest feels empty and raw as his vision seems to darken around the words, twisting and warping them much like the rain and the headlights. Marcus pockets the phone again without responding and stares blankly at the ground. He thinks about the endless, pitch-black tunnels stretching out in every direction beneath him, wondering how many feet of asphalt and concrete there are between the bottoms of his feet and the top of the cavernous expanse of the DC underground. He imagines the sidewalk crumbling, sending him down into the unknown depths.

In reality, he takes the escalator across the street.

The station is buzzing with life–as it always seems to be, no matter the hour–and Marcus watches vibrant humanity swirl around him. Two teenagers sharing the same pair of headphones. A tired-looking mother with two young children. A woman in a business suit, eyes glued to her phone. A disheveled old man, smelling of booze, that everyone subconsciously steps around without even a look in his direction. 

Marcus fishes in his pocket for his metro card, his fingers bumping against the badge he had immediately unclipped from his lapel upon leaving work–the one that spells out a single word with big block letters, just another indignity upon all of the other indignities he’s suffered this week.

When he had asked why his regular badge–the one he’s clipped on his lapel every morning for over a decade–wasn’t sufficient, the bored door attendant tried to explain about building access being tied to his network credentials, which were tied to something called “Active Directory,” and it couldn’t be done right now because they were experiencing downtime after a backup server failed, and Marcus didn’t really understand what any of this meant or why this hadn’t all been set up beforehand, but there was hardly a point in trying to get answers to his questions because none of it would speed up the activation of his new credentials, nor the delivery of his new laptop, which wasn’t arriving until Monday.

None of this was done with malicious intent, of course; nor is he the only new employee affected, going by the line of badged Agents standing in line every morning this week to get the day’s temporary access, but Marcus still feels like a marked man. Separate. Apart. Singled-out. 

I am a visitor here. I am not permanent. 

It only compounds upon that same feeling inside of him: that feeling that he’s on some sort of strange vacation, and that soon he’ll be able to return home. Home. To his little duplex in Austin, where he shared one wall with Mrs. Ruth Galloway, the eighty-five year-old widow he had a cup of tea with every Sunday at two pm. To the city he knows, the field office where he’d spent most of his career, with familiar rooms and familiar faces… where she walks through the familiar halls. With him. 

Marcus swallows thickly, shoving the painful lump down into his stomach. 

No, he can’t go home.

The spacious condo certainly doesn’t feel like home when he opens the door to find the large living room dark and cold and foreboding, although that’s probably mostly his fault–the walls are still lined with moving boxes, most of them still half-full with his belongings, messy and unkempt after rummaging through them to find the essentials and leaving the rest.

When he had toured the building, two weeks before the move, the large residence felt full of dreams, of possibilities, rather than empty and sterile. Marcus remembers going from room to room, his head filled with images of an idealistic future: a king-sized bed, his and hers towels in the pristine bathroom, a bookshelf large enough to fit all of their books in the first spare room, and, in the second spare room… a crib. 

Now, they’re just two empty rooms. 

The fridge is empty too, Marcus suddenly remembers, having not had a chance to find a grocery store yet. He’s been living out of takeaway containers, not even bothering to open the box of dishes and silverware. He takes out two styrofoam boxes–one half-filled with leftover Pad Thai, the other with chicken Tikka Masala, and dumps them side-by-side into the same container with a half-grimace.

Beats going back out into the weather.

There are two beers left in a six-pack bought three days ago, so he opens one and takes a long sip while the microwave heats his food. He thumbs through the mail he left on the kitchen counter absentmindedly, finding mostly junk advertisements and coupons, but a takeout menu for a Sushi restaurant catches his eye. As he sets it on top of several other menus he’d accumulated over the last couple of days, the microwave beeps, alerting him to the fact that his dinner is ready. 

Marcus sits at the kitchen table and flicks on the TV in the living room, setting the channel to some random rerun of a syndicated sitcom that he doesn’t recognize, mostly for background noise. He pulls a somewhat-soggy copy of the Washington Post he snagged from the breakroom from his messenger bag and flips through the pages without really reading any of the headlines until he finds the crossword. He halfheartedly fills out the clues as he eats, the canned laugh track from the show filtering in and out of his awareness. The clue ‘strips in geography class (6 letters)’ finally causes him to rub at his temples, setting down the pen as he rises to his feet to toss the empty container and bottle in the trash. 

The other beer is popped open, and Marcus settles down on the couch, flipping through channels. He pauses briefly on a black and white film–Roman Holiday, he recognizes after a minute or two of watching–but when Ann and Joe kiss on the riverbank, he quickly switches to a basketball game instead. Keeping the volume low, he lets his mind wander as he blankly watches the teams run back and forth on the court, not all that interested in the score. 

He needs to buy food. He needs to find somewhere he can get a winter coat. He needs to find a post office, he suddenly remembers, thinking of the text message from earlier. He checks the time–late, probably too late. Wait, no–it’s two hours earlier in Austin. Two beers is hardly enough to even feel the alcohol, but apparently it’s enough to dull his sense of judgment, because he finds himself pulling out his phone. The call goes straight to voicemail, and he tries not to think about the possibility that she’s screening her calls because of him.

“Hi, uh… Hi. I’m sure you’re busy, but I got your message earlier about the key, and… I think I do have one, yeah, but I’m not sure… where, exactly. I’m still in the process of unpacking, got a couple more boxes to go through,” Marcus says, looking at the large pile of boxes in front of him and knowing he’s got many more throughout the house. “I’ll make it a priority to find it and send it off this weekend.

“It’s really nice here,” he continues, seemingly not able to stop the flow of words once they’ve started. “There’s a Thai place down the street that you’d like, but the spring rolls are so-so. Not like that one place we found in Ridgetop, remember that one?” Marcus chuckles softly to himself, hardly recognizing the sound of his own laughter, and it sends a pang down into his chest. “I–” he stutters, blinking rapidly. “I know things weren’t perfect between us. The–the timing wasn’t right, and there were a lot of… of uh, obstacles in our way, but I’ve been doing–” he huffs humorlessly, “–a lot of thinking over the past couple of days, and I think I understand now. I saw a life that I wanted, and… I pushed for it. I pushed too hard, without–without thinking about how you felt about it, about whether you were ready, whether you even wanted a life with me. You were… you were trying to tell me, that whole time… and I didn’t listen. But I… I think I finally see it–why I was the one worth leaving. It was never going to be me, it couldn’t have been. I ignored all the signs that I was pushing too hard, not listening, pressuring you…” He takes a shaky breath, and lets it out slowly. “I’m sorry. You were right to leave. I–I wish you the best, Teresa.”

*

The District Sleeps Alone Tonight

The Postal Service

Smeared black ink

Your palms are sweaty

And I'm barely listening

To last demands

I'm staring at the asphalt wondering

What's buried underneath

I'll wear my badge

A vinyl sticker with big block letters

Adhering to my chest

That tells your new friends

I am a visitor here, I am not permanent

And the only thing

Keeping me dry is

You seem so out of context

In this gaudy apartment complex

(Where I am) A stranger with your door key

Explaining that I'm just visiting

(Where I am) And I am finally seeing

Why I was the one worth leaving

Why I was the one worth leaving

D.C. sleeps alone tonight

You seem so out of context

In this gaudy apartment complex

(Where I am) A stranger with your door key

Explaining that I'm just visiting

(Where I am) And I am finally seeing

Why I was the one worth leaving

Why I was the one worth leaving

The district sleeps alone tonight

After the bars turn out their lights

(Where I am) And send the autos swerving

Into the loneliest evening

(Where I am) And I am finally seeing

Why I was the one worth leaving

Why I was the one worth leaving

Why I was the one worth leaving

Why I was the one worth leaving

[beansricejc]

JOHN WICK X READER: The Courier

part one (part 2!)

authors note: this is my first drabble on tumblr, I do plan on making these into a small series! please lmk your thoughts if you’d like! thx 💕

summary: you are an up and coming courier for organized criminals. you bump into buzzed and confident John at a cocktail party while you’re in the middle of work, but you let him know you don’t have time for his games.

warnings: NSFW blurb, alcohol, cursing, motorcycles?

John wasn’t one for parties. Well, he pretended that he wasn’t one for parties. It’s part of the image, the gruff and tough hitman, best in the world. He had a reputation to uphold.

But he wouldn’t deny a good drink and some conversation every once in a while.

The bar and lounge area in the Continental was quite, well, bustling. Filled with assassins, crime lords, you name it. If they were someone in the criminal underworld in NYC, they were here tonight. John could feel the tension between gangs in the air, the rules of the hotel hung above everyone’s head.

No business conducted on hotel grounds.

Of course, no one dared to break that rule.

Here was John, in a congregation of hitmen that he has known over the past several decades. Chatting it up with booze in hand, and on their breath. Some would call them OGs. In the game long enough for people in the industry to know not to fuck with them. Especially John. These old dogs didn’t need new tricks, in fact, all of them had body counts that combined, would make the High Table shudder.

But of course, what comes up, eventually must come down. They were aging men. As early as their late 30s, and as late as their mid 50s. There was fresh meat lurking on the sidelines, waiting for their chance to be in the spotlight.

And that’s were she comes in.

Y/N.

New to the game. Well, fairly new. She wasn’t an expert, however, she was very good at what she did. Was she a killer for hire? Not exactly. Y/N had created an industry no one in the underworld knew was needed. In fact, it was very convenient.

An anonymous courier business.

You need to send over files but the Feds are on your ass and probably have acess to your fax machine? Call Y/N. She’ll be at your door in 20 minutes to drive across the city to deliver it for you. You forget it’s your wife’s birthday because you were too busy pile driving your side piece to remember? Y/N will pick up something for her at Target and get it to your door in an hour.

You get the idea.

Have a hard drive of the password to a Bitcoin account that’s worth 5 million dollars? Y/N will bring it to whoever needs it in the city, on her modified motorcycle, gun on hip and helmet on head, safe and sound. She had a perfect track record of delivering things for crime syndicates around New York City for the past year and a half.

Enemies? Not for Y/N. Every criminal group used her services. So much in fact, she had even hired a small team. She was growing. Slowly. But growing.

It wouldn’t take long for John to notice Y/N. In fact, he would take notice in a few moments, right after he took a large sip of his bourbon that he just had to have tonight. John was chuckling amongst colleagues, as he noticed Y/N walk into the lounge, seemingly with work on her mind. Her helmet was still on her head, and she wore a form fitting protective biker suit that matched everything she wore.

Black.

John frowned in confusion. He’s never seen anyone wear full motorcycle gear into the hotel before, much less one that was sort of crashing a party.

Y/N walked quickly, right up to the man himself, Winston. She wasted no time, unzipping her well organized backpack and handing Winston a protected manilla envelope, with god knows what inside. The elderly man smiled kindly at the helmeted woman, quickly signing some sort of touch screen device with his finger, before she efficiently put her bag back on over her shoulder, and began to walk away.

John raised his eyebrows at the sight. Who was that? He couldn’t help but form a soft but playful grin as his eyes danced around her figure that was covered by that riding suit.

“Any of you recognize that one?” John blurted during a discussion his friends were having. The men turned their heads towards Y/N, all chuckling softly.

“Yeah, Y/N. She works this delivery service for people like us in the city. Super under the table type stuff. You seriously haven’t heard of her?” Marcus asked, as John shook his head.

“No. I’m not familiar.” John huffed out. John was a curious man, and he just had to know more. So, enticed by this mystery woman, he wriggled through the thick crowd of guests to catch up to her. Before she could make it any closer to the door, John gave her a light tap on the shoulder. The woman jumped a bit, before turning around.

There he was. The man. The myth. The legend. John fucking Wick. Y/N almost froze in fear at the mere sight of the man who towered over her. She had to swallow the lump that formed in her throat.

John stared down at her, trying his best to look through the blacked out facial shield on her biker helmet. He was just itching to know what she looked like. Guess he’d do it himself. He was a man of little words after all. What was she going to do, fight him?

John took his large hands and placed them on her helmet, applying pressure and lifting it up and off of her head.

“H-hey! What the hell?” Y/N stuttered out, as John took a moment to study her delicate features.

Wow, she’s fairly easy on the eyes. John thought to himself as his eyes trailed all over her face. With nice cheekbones and gorgeous eyes, anyone who had sight could tell that this was a woman you could never forget. An impish smile curled onto the man’s lips, his very well maintained black beard framing his mouth to perfection. Y/N unintentionally took in his scent of patchouli and tobacco. Of course she could also smell the whiskey on his breath but that went without saying.

“Well, aren’t you just a pretty thing?” John hummed out softly at the young woman, as she grabbed her helmet and plucked it with force from his grip. It was clear that this infamous hitman had a few bourbons to drink already tonight, and he didn’t mind finding a pretty woman to take up to a hotel room after a few more.

Y/N grumbled as John bit his tongue to force himself not to say anything else in this moment.

I’ve only heard stories about this guy, scary ass stories. What a pain in my ass. Better deal with him so I don’t make an enemy.

John was maybe a decade or two older than her. Jesus christ. Y/N had daddy issues but this would be a whole other level if she decided to even pursue something like John.

“Sorry. I gotta go, still working.” Y/N spoke to him as professionally as possible. John displayed a perky smile on his face, his eyes racing with attraction.

Just look at her. I’d be crazy if I didn’t shoot my shot.

“You can’t do just one drink with me? I’m sure your client would understand if they knew who you were with.” John offered, gesturing towards the hotel lounge full of people.

Y/N laughed nervously, her heart racing at the mere sight of this man. The way this older man with obvious charisma was certainly getting to her.

And here John was, thinking about how pretty Y/N’s lips would look wrapped around his hard cock. Her head bobbing as he used his large strong hands to grab a fistful of hair, making her take him deeper into her throat each time. Maybe she’d gag and plead with him to be gentle. Maybe she’d be a total pro at it. Maybe a mix of both. With tears in her eyes as she whimpers in pain, while her legs trembled for John to make his way over to spread them apart for the real fun.

“I’m really sorry, I just have a few jobs-”

John’s long pointer finger swooped under her soft chin, lifting her face to meet his gaze. Y/N had no idea what to do, there has never been a man this forward towards her in her life. Just the thought of John’s touch alone made hundreds of women wet with excitement. Y/N knew she shouldn’t be one of them, it wasn’t smart mixing work and love.

As they say, don’t shit where you eat.

John could sense tension striking the area where they stood. Right now, there was nobody else in the room besides for this woman. He took her as a challenge, new blood. Young, pretty, and probably naive, right? Someone he could have a bit of fun with upstairs after he bought her a few drinks.

If John were sober right now, he would have probably said ‘goodbye’ in a polite and formal way, smiling as she left the building. John with some liquor in him though, was a completely different man. The rumors people spoke in the criminal underworld were true, this man though and though, was a total playboy.

So of course, when a new and unfamiliar pretty face in town crossed his path, he just had to have her. At least for the night. He was especially curious about what she had underneath that form fitting riding suit, not that it left too much up to the imagination.

Y/N cleared her throat.

“Right, uh, I’m gonna, uh, go.” Y/N mumbled, pulling away from John’s electrifying touch, taking a subtle deep breath. John blinked his brown eyes of his a few times, almost lost in his train of thought in the few moments that he had her in his gentle but firm grasp.

Before he knew it, she was hurrying out of the hotel doors. Y/N didn’t think twice to get out of that awkward/terrifying/intimate situation. So many emotions were flowing through her at once, her heart beating at about a mile a minute. It didn’t take long for her to climb onto her motorcycle, start it up, and peel off down the busy street, away from that god forsaken hotel.

And then there was John. Shocked, stunned even. A woman who didn’t immediately jump at the chance to have drinks with him? Unbelievable.

He could hear his group of fellow middle aged hitmen snicker at his failed attempt at picking up the woman, and all he could do was clench his jaw, and walk back to the bar.

They’d meet again. Of course. It would take some time, John was a patient man, and Y/N was a working woman. Their paths would eventually cross again, especially in the industry they were involved in.

And maybe, just maybe, John could have his chance with Y/N, and actually convince her to have that drink with him.

Even if it was just for some fun.

[blingblong55]

Send Me On My Way- 141

A/N: Okay but please tell me you also don't see this song fitting for this one!?

Based on a request:

Ive seen your 141xf1 fic bestie I know you do weird(and also amazing) crossovers so i have one for you How about 141xsailor!reader Not like a pirate but a competitive sailor, like they race and take a part in regattas Feel free to ignore and have a great day Idk how to comment on the stuff you wrote me about the sailor request so im just gonna leave it here :] Im fine with the reader being rich, i honestly though of it as a family thing, generation after generation of competitive sailors but needles to say that rich kid option is easier I love the thought of the reader teaching them though, amazing, stunning, beautiful I also honestly admire your work, mate, the shit that you have to put into it, and you do it for FREE Anyway, thx for everything, stay safe and take care of yourself mate ❤️❤️❤️

GN!Reader, sailor!reader, competitive sailor!reader, posh(wealthy)!reader, fluff?

Since you can remember, your family has participated in regattas. It has been a sport your family has carried through every generation, it started with your great-great-grandfather by The Whitsunday Islands. And now as an adult, you have found yourself teaching Kyle and his three other mates.

Soon you learned Kyle was nicknamed Gaz. Soap and Price let you in on the story behind that. As the five of you headed down to the perfect spot for them to learn how to learn the way of the waters in your small but amazing sailboat. Ghost was in some rather comfortable trousers, Gaz in the most fitting outfit for such time, Price and Soap in a more relaxed attire than you or the others. Those two are in for a treat, that is for sure.

The men are all excited as they board the sailboat, you helped them all, mainly because they were nervous and you teased them too much to make them feel this way at the moment. As you helped them put on their vests and gave them a rundown of what each rope was meant for and how they could control it, they seemed less nervous.

Hours went by and the four men had the hand of it, that was until a gush of wind that was too strong for them almost flipped you all over. The men did their best until Soap lost balance, tried to hold onto his captain and soon they were overboard. "Soap!" Price said, Bonnie hat floating away. "Sorry sir but I was falling."

"You didn't have to drag me down!"

The three of you on board laughing, Ghost took a picture and will be using it anytime Price dares to brag to the soldiers at base about today. Gaz had to sit down after watching Price get back in, not because he was exhausted but because he laughed too hard his stomach hurt a little. For hours, the five of you sailed the waters, enjoying the peaceful moment. It was something new amongst the four soldiers, having such a peaceful moment that you brought upon them. After the laughter and the shared stories and the booze, silent feel upon you all. Ghost sat on the edge, and placed his hand in the water as you guided them back to land.

Gaz sat by you, watching what you do. It was like seeing younger you all over again. Waving the trophy as he watched your family win that year. Then back when you were 24, watching you from land you gained places, winning over the other solos in the water. That was something he admired from you, no wind or bad weather seemed to affect your mood or readiness. Price envisioned himself doing this once he retires, maybe bringing the other three men along him and who knows maybe you'll even join them.

Five months after that memorable moment, the four men watched as you, once again won. They felt normal like their hands were clean and their guns were non-existent when they were in the crowd. Maybe there is a life after the war they go through each mission.

Tags: @agasawit

[oxygenbefore1775]

can you please do warriors at thanksgiving dinner or christmas dinner doesn't matter just some sorta family gathering please?

thanks

oh sure can do - thx for giving me some wiggle room with this req cuz i have no idea what christmas/thanksgiving dinner should look like so family gathering it is

AoT Warriors At A Family Gathering

Annie

is the only one to watch TV playing in the background

whenever a quarrel breaks out (as it frequently does), Annie secretly records it on her phone

abysmally poor in acting out charades so her teammates always have a hard time guessing whatever word Annie is trying to show with her lack-luster movements

when setting up to snap a group pic, Annie gives the next-standing person bunny ears - usually it's Pieck since they are both standing at the front due to their height

Bertholdt

comes a couple of hours early to help with preparations because he knows what havoc certain warriors can bring

also brings baked goods from home for everyone to enjoy

gets into an argument with Porco about some conspiracy theory but will immediately back down as soon as their conversation becomes heated (mainly because of Porco since he can't keep his disagreement to himself)

when playing games, Bert often teams up with Annie and Reiner since it'd be the most versatile team and up to any task - that means, Bert often has to fight Gabi to get Reiner on his team

Colt

offers up his parents' place (since they left the city for the holidays) for the gathering - everything to win over the likes of the cool kids as Colt sees the warriors

always makes sure that everyone's plate and glass is full and frequently goes back and forth between the kitchen and the main room to bring more food

prepares a bunch of games/activities for the guests and gets very upset if the warriors don't show due interest to it

when playing games, Colt wants to be on the same team as Zeke but ends up being mostly a dead weight since Zeke'd be the main brain power

Falco

very displeased that the gathering is taking place at their home

greets each guest at the entrance to explain the rules of the household expecting that these rules are to be followed - in reality, Falco is too mild for policing the guests and enforcing the order so he opts to appear slightly annoyed whenever things aren't going his way

follows every suspicious person (aka Gabi, Porco and Zeke) around the house to prevent any damage to the property they may cause

eventually Falco warms up to the guests and becomes an active participant in the discussions, although he tries a bit too hard to get them to talk - mainly, he tries to strike up conversation with the most untalkative person at the table aka Annie with little success and gets a bit discouraged by her coldness

Gabi

learns that Falco would also be attending the gathering and convinces Reiner to let her tag along

Gabi just has to try every dish at the table and eat all of the dessert - at one point, Reiner had to pull her aside and tell her to leave some for the others

plays Wii sports with Porco - turns out, they are both shit-talkers so every match they have is a cacophany of boasting and insults

would fight Falco if she finds out that he's been intentionally losing to her in the games so that she could win because Gabi finds it incredibly belittling

Pieck

brings most of the alcohol since she knows there won't be any that she'll like

if the warriors decide to play a trivia game, Pieck is automatically forbidden from teaming up with Zeke or else those two would be too powerful in their random knowledge and easily win each time

would probably fuck with everyone by sneaking her way to electric panel and turn on and off the power supply repeatedly

sticks around till the end of the gathering to help with the cleaning (and also to eat the leftovers and drink up the remaining booze)

Porco

greets the kids with a handshake like adults and leaves commentary about the firmness of their handshakes

while playing Wii with Gabi, Porco crashes into the firniture multiple times trying to catch a virtual ball

blocks Reiner out of the group photo by standing right in front of him or accidentally lifting up his arm to cover Reiner's face

Porco is basically looking for a verbal fight since every now and then he'd insert an extremely controversial thesis into the dialogue canvas in hopes it'd spark the continuation of the conversation

Reiner

spends an unhealthy amount of time talking to Colt about Gabi and Falco discussing their recent achievements - mostly it's Colt talking at Reiner and Reiner agreeing with whatever statement Colt is putting out for him

finds an old table for table football and spends the majority of his time around the thing, playing by himself or occasionally having matches with Annie

when splitting into the teams for the upcoming games, Reiner hates to have Bert and Gabi fight over him so Reiner teams up with the mildest of the guests, Pieck

leaves the gathering the first out of all the guests since Gabi was getting too feral and was hard to control

Zeke

like Bertholdt, also shows up early - but not out of the kindness of his heart; Zeke just doesn't like arriving with the majority of guests

at this point, Zeke's been frequenting the Grice household so much that he feels himself at home there and just roams the place freely - no room is off-limits for him

during pre-gathering time Zeke opts to sit either in the kitchen or the main room - wherever the commotion is the biggest - just to watch the preparations from the farthest corner of the room

Zeke would often mention in passing that he has a list of his favourite warriors that he is updating regularly (spoiler alert, colt and pieck are always making it into the list)

[thecubes]

hi :) top 5 randall and hopkirk episodes?

hi!! :D sorry it took so long to respond i love questions like this and i've been thinking....

hrmm ok well my #1 is my late lamented friend and partner :") i love a good set up, i love the FEELINGS. i love JEFF. i know they are new to this concept but IMO it demonstrates their acting skills wonderfully even if it is played safely... mike pratt especially! his ability to demonstrate his utter misery and then relax back into his friendship with marty when they're exploring marty's powers at the hotel. even though at first it feels frustrating to not have seen more of their interactions before death, you don't even really need to! jeff (mike) demonstrates it all so naturally :")

ok #2... that's how murder snowballs. first of all: david jason! he doesn't get a huge role but it's still great to see him. as for the episode, it's such an inventive use of the "my partner the ghost", in fact it was the first episode i saw of randall and hopkirk that got me into the show!! the dialog is brilliant and hilarious (marty having dinner with the prime minister 😆), plus some interesting choices made early episode (re: jeff getting the bag)

ok this is getting sorta long so i am gonna whizz through these next ones #3 is it's supposed to be thicker than water. the real test of jeff and marty's relationship!!!! can jeff really live without marty? (no!)

#4: when the spirit moves you. well this is surprisingly low down for how much i enjoy watching it and how much i love calvin p bream.... still!!!!! marty oscillating between his principle anti-alcohol agenda and "oh shit we need you to be sloshed get that booze down your neck" and then back to "Heres some fuckin milk you dipso"

aaaand my fifth - the ghost talks. the marty lore!!!!!!!! and by lore i mean the slightest little HINTS of life breathed into marty and jeannie hopkirk for this episode (in amidst jeff/mike's whining bc SOMEBODY got too drunk on their birthday 🤭). marty drinking TOMATO JUICE??? <3 marty's floral ties (presumably to contrast against his deathly white tie but still<3) marty and jeannie being domestic and adorable <333 marty's fuckin necktie 🥲🥲 can you tell i love marty hopkirk so much???

thx for asking!!!!!!!!! have a good day :D

[baeleigh]

Girl im filled with booze. Hard solo is the shit. Just what a bitch needs to feel numb. Spent a decade trying to not care when every event/gath/party i planned ended with people cancelling last min. Thiught i had that shit under lock and key, turns out nope shit still hurts. Cant even talk to the person about ot because it is so not their fault but fuck hun i thought that it was just something my old friends did. Guess i need to finally put 2 and 2 together and realise the common denominator, yours truly. Oh well you live and learn, ive got music, my cat and alcohol so friends or not i will have fun. Refuse to end the night crying.

I hate w p ritubg when im mentaly checked out, i know imma read this tommorrow and go "jesus fuck was i trying ti start a pitty parade" which is always what happens but fuckin who cares, im not even sad rn (thx solo, kisses) i swear i dont want pitty, just need a place to throw my thoughts to the wind while i bop to måneskin; got a new vinyl, shits such a pretty shade of blue omg. Anyway heres my son, he meows constantly but i love him, his name is Cheshire (Chess for short)

[hyenapriest]

Gives him a fishbowl of booze

He's not sure what to make of this. So he's just gonna shake it, maybe something shows up? Smells kinda bad, really. It's not food, so he doesn't try for a taste either. So it ends up on the ground. “Uh, thx?”

[tacky-and-wacky]

Come One! Come All!

Tacky and Wacky. Kitschy Punk. Saw the word “JokerCore” and flinched guiltily.

I only have a lil’ bit wrong with me. 18+ pls and thx.

Likes: rainbows, cute weapons, carnivals/fairs/circuses/theme parks, bats, makeup, candy, funny fonts, horror movies, cartoons, chaos, dicks, fruit, comedic violence, drugs

Dislikes: pigs (acab- the animals are lovely), terfs and other fascists (fuck off), capitalism and consumerism, when your leg falls asleep, drinking booze

[futurefind]

//Misc Mara hcs:

Potential to mutate and get her own fuck off half winged... wings. Two black ones (on her left(?) side iirc)

(SOLDIER wide) using magic makes the mako in her eyes glow brighter/'flash' in time with the materia

(SOLDIER wide, ish) She has no problem obtaining(? making?) her own SOLDIER-grade booze, despite it being a restricted substance that requires special licenses to distribute.

Idk what Her fanclub gets up to or called but she sure has one (thx Zack)

F's in chat to her defecting all but immediately after being chosen as new General—means she can't get whiplashed into reflexively responding to the title (unless...)

Always a prop in Shinra's propaganda since... p much ever (graduation into SOLDIER program), but became its sole figurehead in the 5 years since CC/her departure— as a result, she has a weirdly symbiotic relationship with it despite Shinra wanting her dead. She gets to keep them off her tail (for just long enough, at least) when going around picking up misc merc work by delaying rumors etc under guise of 'official business secrecy', they get to keep her as their (token Not Dead) figurehead and keep the resulting PR, recruitment, etc stats. They want her dead, sure, but it'd be bad publicity for them to disavow her, so !

Tends to wear heavy sunglasses (esp when just lurking about) on account of. You know. Mako red eyes being a dead giveaway and kill chances of just staying uninterrupted.

In FF13, she still invented (or at least improved upon it here / the present day model) the FF13 style gunblade. Thorn her bolorbo :)

(In main/FF7 canon, Thorn was developed as a side hobby/passion project—since she couldn't officially use it in-field until she made First Class. Probably worked on drafts etc in training, got it made when she made SOLDIER, and improved upon + finalized the design over time. Practiced with it in her free time. Also, the revolver in Thorn's base isn't for bullets—it's for Materia. :) Allows for both enchanting bullets with magic as well as higher velocity, precision, and longer-ranged spellcasting than freehanded spells.)

Thorn is red (ofc!), with its mechanism for switching between forms calibrated for SOLDIER level strength + force on top, to prevent accidental switching (and slicing). Also, it still has a blade in gun form.

Mara can (not always, but sometimes) calls Thorn 'she'. Bonus points if she admits to it being her pride and joy, etc. (Don't read into it.) ((You should absolutely read into it.))

[josiebelladonna]

happy birthday, green druidess.

i hope today is good, because... oh, boy, is it a good day for me.

in fact, this is the first january in years that’s been genuinely kind to me! been making tons of art and planning stuff for my fics, planning on moving house sometime this year...

i’m writing all of this as thunder and lightning is rolling through my area. if you don’t mind, i’m going to turn into nikolai tesla here for a second. or robert oppenheimer. electricity is everywhere, and if you’re not careful, it can burn you and vaporize you, sweetheart.

now hold onto me, pretty baby, if you wanna fly. i’m gonna melt the fever, sugar, rolling back your eyes.

*lights up a bong*

are y’all with me now?

her: “hey, how come you never have anything nice to say about me?”

she asks, completely oblivious to the fact that i was never a serious critic, but someone with a sense of humor and i had every right to stand up for myself.

want me to say something nice about her?

she knows how to appeal to people.

there. happy? am i even being serious right now?

who knows, and who cares. besides, her and her army of nimrods have something new to bicker about when using my name in junction again.

*alex skolnick, eric peterson, joey belladonna, and rob cavestany have entered the chat*

*receives, but whatever. and...

pfffff, what?

“Or maybe it was the ice cream man.”

i shouldn’t have laughed as hard as i did at that, but i did, anyway. god.

man, and i thought i had awkward syntax. there’s a lot. trust me: from how state of euphoria sits in my mind, she’s known for her awkward sentences, among other things. such that even the teachers of the most entry-level, special ed. english classes would hit the roof.

...edgy strawberry shortcake? but, you know, if it exists, there’s an edgy version of it. it’s like an offshoot of rule 34 (if it exists, there’s porn of it). by the way, “seafoam”. back up, i thought you weren’t an artist.

u mad, bro? also, paranoia is not a good look for you, liz. trust me.

ahahahahahahahahaha *fart*

oh, yeah, that’s... that’s real important. thx for that really important info. you know, there’s building tension and then there’s farting around like this, and you, my dear, fart more than i do (and i have digestive issues so that’s saying something)

in all seriousness, though, she has gotten bad with the filler lately, like... how many times can you show me this. how many more times can you show me this.

“i rubbed my chiny-chin-chin and said, ‘my, my, my, what sort of this thing might this lady get high upon?’ i checked out her sister who was holding the bed, and i wondered what sort of thing the young lady was on.”

“snap yo’ fingers, snap yo’ neck!”

i haven’t heard about strippers wearing thongs in like... what, 15+ years? britney spears and paris hilton even stopped wearing them even in the era of low-rise jeans, they’re so uncomfortable and so gross, too, like there’s nothing sexy about having a string between your ass cheeks and your coochie.

“slid off the bed” made me think of homer simpson sliding off the bed and sneaking out in the middle of the night with bart to scour the barrels of booze in the prohibition episode (there’s a bit in the second part of this fic where vince acts like bart reading notes from his palm 😂)

firm tits? if she’s got firm tits, she’s probably got cancer, bro. or she has pcos, just gave birth, or she’s the three-breasted martian from total recall, like it’s not natural to have rock-hard boobs and a soft body, especially in that situation.

“so i pulled on her hair, got her legs in the air, and asked if she had any cooties in there. ‘what do you mean, cooties? no cooties on me!’ she was buns up, kneeling. i was wheelin’ and dealin’, she surrendered to the feelin’, and she started with the squealin’. dyna-moe watched from the edge of the bed, with her upper lip twitching and her face gone red, some drool rolling down from the edge of her chin, while she spied the condition her sister was in.”

...this is the woman who made fun of me in 2020 for writing the word “butt” in an otherwise erotic fic. the same one.

good god.

did you have a stroke and lose your sense of hearing, nick? she’s obviously in pain. knock that shit off.

“melted water and her juices”

man alive, that conjures an image.

also, why am i under the impression that she sat down with eclipse open in another tab whilst writing, specifically to angel’s trumpet and summer in the city, and wrote this alongside those chapters, like this whole time i’m just thinking of vampire!alex and his icy cold body... but minus his sensuality and sweetness, and made a lot more disgusting. and it’s kinda creepy, too, like at least i try to make people look like they’re having a good time in my erotica. i also didn’t screenshot it, but there’s a line in here where nick says “i’d like to lick something” and i was almost immediately reminded of magic stick.

after everything, she is still ripping me off, and badly this time around no less: the first time was actually kind of innocuous in comparison to this, like this is borderline psychopathic behavior.

and it’s so ironic, too. everything i do is all supposed to be fun. you gently rib at someone because you like them. has she or anyone who supports her never heard of “dramatic readings” or “drunk readings”? or watched a bad movie and made wise cracks all the way through? if my mental breakdown after all this went down in summer 2020 wasn’t enough proof for you, i don’t know what to tell you.

really, i can forgive spelling errors and awkward sentences and unintentional hilarity, i really can (there’s a trope for that, too, it’s called “so bad, it’s good”), but if you still insist on doing the nefarious behavior i initially called you out on?

she’s insane. she is completely and totally out of her goddamn mind.

and she looks at me and tells me to get over it? that’s justifying your own horrible behavior in hopes to make me submit. there’s a word for that, too. you may have heard of it, you may have seen her use it, too. it’s called “bullying”. look at it this way: if someone hits you and you’re crying, and they tell you to get over it, it’s abuse. bonus points if they’re like “i didn’t do it!” (given bullying is a form of abuse).

when i posted the apple shed back on the 9th, it had pure intentions. sure, when i posted dead man walking, it had the intent of standing up for myself. but that was it, though: i was standing up for myself while writing something that i had wanted to write for a long time, so two birds with one stone there. when she starts something in response to fics like those, it’s solely to cover her ass, never to contribute to fandom. i promise i’m not trying to be like one of the cool kids, either. so, i don’t know what her logic is because i’m not trying to prove anything. i stopped caring about popularity a long time ago. i grew up in nevada and california: we don’t give a shit if we’re popular or not. it’s nice when it happens, but we don’t expect it.

coming from her, she may as well be telling us we’re all fools. really, this is erotic? this is unpleasant, even for her (and i’ve avoided her like the ‘rona). a little pain goes a long way, but this left me genuinely uncomfortable. in fact, this happens a lot in her so-called erotic writings. and like, you can’t cover it up with “don’t like, don’t read”, either, because it’s all at the expense of growing and changing.

it’s like she tries way too hard to be sexy and winds up writing some of the most “cannot... unsee” things i’ve ever read. i feel like i’ve actually grown as a writer since i joined ao3. i can tell right away that she hasn’t, not one bit (and she’s been on there longer than i have, too).

in fact, she’s actually the reason why i’m so picky about reading things that are erotic: i don’t ever mean to shame anyone for what turns them on, that’s never my intention. i’ve been shamed for my sexual feelings pretty much my entire life, so you couldn’t pay me enough money to shame someone for their preferences and their kinks, but way too often, i’ll read something that’s kinda hot, kinda sensual, and then something will happen that’s off-putting and it’s immediately gross, or it’s unintentionally funny. i don’t blame you for it one bit, though: writing is hard, and erotic writing is even harder (no pun intended). you want proof? it took me almost four years to overcome my hang-ups on my own kinks and be comfortable enough to write about them, and yet, i still have a long way to go. i still feel guilt and shame with what gets me going, and though my art is about what i like and who i like, i still am reluctant to talk about my crushes and my sexuality. it’s a continuous process.

what i don’t understand is... what the hell makes her so special? her writing is not sexy. at all. and i’ve given myself shit for being unsexy multiple times in the past. but i don’t think i’ve ever written anything that’s uncomfortable, disturbing, and stomach-churning at worst, and unintentionally funny at best like with her. (and that’s not even touching the plagiarism aspect, either).

there’s someone who comes to mind now that i write this out and really put the pieces together. so many of you are too young to remember tila tequila: i was 12 when she was the queen of myspace and i barely had a finger in the world of music then. if i was too young to remember tila, i know you all are. but i recommend you read about her. i can’t really explain it, but i keep seeing this weirdly similar arc between these two women: overly sexual to the point it’s obnoxious and squicky, loud and boisterous, big ego, went nuts after a traumatic event (in tila’s case, it was losing her girlfriend and then od’ing on pills during an aneurysm; in the green druidess’ case, it was losing her grandmother and then the rendezvous with me in quarantine). if she starts whipping out the prejudices and really problematic behavior, don’t say i didn’t try to warn you.

“you hurt my feelings” i thought people got sick of this trope like... six years ago. sick of the trope. six years ago. nikki sixx. seems kinda weird…

it’s like watching two people have sex with rubber gloves and soapy water.

okay, i want y’all to take a shot every time she writes the word “butt” from now on. i actually came up with a few drinking games with her. for example, take a shot every time someone “hums” during an intercourse scene. take a shot every time she uses a flowery synonym for red hair. take a shot every time there’s a sex scene and you’re more grossed out than turned on.

again, this is the “hot, erotic romance” that readers of bandfic want in 2022/2023? this is torture. like... dude. have you tried just talking to her? why do you insist on spinning in circles every which way: this shit is hard to watch.

this is the scene from tiny bubbles:

Alex didn’t hesitate to take off his jeans right there in the front part of the apartment: he swiped the cordless phone from the kitchen in the instance of someone calling him in the meantime, and he ambled across the carpet to the hallway. He stepped into that large, spacious bathroom and already began to feel completely at ease. The white tile that made up the floor felt like cold stones on the very bottoms of his feet; the white and gray marble on the countertop next to him shimmered and twinkled under the soft light that filtered through the window over the bathtub before him. He peeled off his shirt and lay it on the counter next to him and the edge of the sink. He stood right next to the toilet for a second with his eye on the big silvery shower head on the wall over his head.

A shower wouldn’t suffice. Too quick, especially for his tense muscles in his back and in his legs. He glanced down at the big bathtub before him, the big pearly white tub that provided enough for him to lay down flat on his back.

That would do the trick. He took the bath mat off of the rim of the tub and lay it on the tiles right next to the tub, and then he reached over to the dials on the wall and switched on the water. A bit too cold at first and then he turned the hot dial a bit. He then reached behind him to the cabinets under the sink for the bottle of bubble bath: what was a boy who wanted to relax without soft-smelling tiny bubbles. Down on one knee, he unscrewed the lid from the top and poured in a slender little trickle of that deep blue liquid in: he watched it bleed through the water for a moment, and then he reached down and stirred the water with a shake of his hand so the bubbles would flurry up and collect throughout the water. He put the bubble bath back into the cabinet and he watched the bubbles form and pile upon themselves.

Every so often, he reached down for a stir of the water with his hands so those little stacks of tiny bubbles collected and formed upon themselves even more.

Once the water reached a certain level on the bathtub, he switched off the water, and then he peeled his underwear off and he let it fall onto the bath mat, around his feet. He ran his hand down his stomach before he stuck one foot into the water: nice and warm, almost perfect. It was a bit colder than he usually liked, but the tub had enough water in it already; he set the other foot into the water next, and then he took his seat on the floor of the tub. He leaned back against the wall opposite to the faucet and stretched out his long, lanky legs to where his feet reached the faucet. Though he remained close to the wall on the left, there was plenty of room in that tub for two people.

it’s directly from tiny bubbles. she still has not gotten tired of this. as i said, it’s like she had eclipse open in one tab and used it as a base. it’s like when you’re taking notes from a textbook and you paraphrase as “best” as you can... “best” in that it’s actually not coming from you.

god, where’s miss rocco, my english teacher in junior year of high school. that woman had eyes like a hawk: she knew if you plagiarized or read cliff notes from a mile away. she was tough but she wanted us to do well, and that was my original intent with the green druidess. but since she’s way too egotistical, stubborn, and dumb to figure it out (as bullies usually are), i had to leave the “love” part out of “tough love”.

by the way, “non-erogenous zone”? what are you, my therapist?

*projectile vomits*

“oh. my. GAWD. chand-lah bing! chand-lah bing-a-ling!” (this part actually deserves two jokes)

“are you eating a t-bone? why don’t we call you.. t-bone?” “can i be g-bone?” “there is no ‘g-bone’, george.” “T-BONE! T-BONE! T-BONE! T-BONE!” 

*later*

“you’re like that monkey that can do sign language.” “cocoa?” “yeah! COCOA! COCOA! COCOA! COCOA!”

she also ripped off covalent bonds, i see. not surprised at all, either: it had “easy target” written all over it.

“when you walk in the bar, and you feel like a star, rockin’ your fuck-me pumps.  and a man notice you with your gucci bag (crue), can’t tell who he's lookin' to, ‘cause you all look the same, everyone knows your name, and that's your whole claim to fame. never miss a night 'cause your dream in life is to be a footballer's wife. you don't like players, that's what you say- but you really wouldn't mind a millionaire. you don't like ballers, they don't do nothing for ya, but you'd love a rich man six-foot-two or taller.”

vanessa: “we also received your other gift.” austin powers: “yes, basel! nice rack!”

“you’re being a peñis... colada, that is.” -liz phair

i swear, i used “i want you”... by bob dylan, in either fever or now it’s dark. may have been fever, i remember seeing it in the notes when i was putting volume one on wattpad last week.

speaking of notes, here’s another drinking game: take a shot every time you read her author’s note and they’re like this. when i write author’s notes, i try to be fun and friendly because we’re all fans here, but istg, the last couple of times i poked my head into her fics out of morbid curiosity, i saw her author’s notes and they were... i want to say “businesslike”. most recently, she hasn’t put any. it’s like when you have that one mutual on here: you were friends at one point, and something happens, and they end up moving away from their original content, like they got involved in social justice or something, and they start getting hostile and belligerent about it, and they end up deviating away from the original purpose of social justice and turn into someone full of hate, the very thing they were initially up against, and they reach a crisis point where it completely breaks them, and they turn into hipster blogs who don’t bother tag anything or even talk anymore, and then at some point, they leave tumblr. (tells you how long i’ve been on here, too: i’ve actually watched blogs venture through that very pipeline, whereas it’s rare now).

but here, i’m trying really hard to understand her point, or why she’s so bent on making things difficult for me when she just winds up making things difficult for herself as well as everyone who follows her, but she can’t come out front like this. when this whole situation started, and then continued, i really was alone in the whole thing (another key trait that should tell you that i’m not the bully here as bullies usually travel in packs and their prey tend to be loners). some people who had blocked me lifted the barrier and i apologized to them straight up because i knew it was upsetting for them. add to this, i had people left and right blocking me on the pretense of my supposedly running my mouth. incredibly petty and rude (unless someone’s opinion is actually hurting you, i can’t even tell you how messed up it is to block someone for being themselves: and at that point, it stops being opinion anyway) and it really gave me some insight into this new generation of tumblrs, many of whom are a lot like her: she happens to be a prototype of sorts, a codifier for what tumblr has become. but if there’s anything that this current tumblr is not, it’s that i know you guys don’t cheat.

as much as i dislike the ____ x reader trope and stranger things, the air of “oh my gosh, look what i found!” laced with captain obvious that’s in literally everything you guys do, and as much as i wish tiktok would just go away already, gen z and a lot of her readership do have a lot of charm to them because it comes down to ego.

the pen can’t be mightier than the sword if you let your ego get in the way. fic should be fun, it shouldn’t be about cancelling or getting all defensive when someone notices that you’re fucking up and wants you to stop but you instead double down and continue to do it and play possum afterwards at the expense of everyone in the room. karma is a bitch, man, and a bigger one than i ever will be. what goes up must come down.

speaking of coming down, there’s...

there’s...

there’s...

*snicker* sorry.

ladies and gentlemen. boys and girls. everyone in between. damen und herren. madames et monsieurs.

the crown jewel. the trinity test:

BIT HER BOTTOM

BIT

HER

BOTTOM

WHAT

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAALEX

YOU’RE NOT HERE! YOU’RE NOT HERE! A DIRTY WORD! HE SAID A DIRTY WORD!

WHAT IN GOD’S NAME HAVE YOU DONE STICK YOUR ARM FOR SOME REAL FUN SO YOUR SICKNESS WEIGHS A TON AND GOD’S NAME HAS SMACK THE SUN!

U

G

L

Y

YOU UGLY YOU, YOU UGLY YOU UGLY YOU, YOU UGLY

YOU AIN’T GOT NO ALIBI YOU AIN’T GOT NO ALIBI YOU AIN’T GOT NO ALIBI YOU AIN’T GOT NO ALIBI

YOU UGLY YOU, YOU UGLY

I AM NOW CHOPPING OFF PHYLLIS’ HEAD WITH A CHAINSAW 

I SAID A BOOM-CHICK-A-BOOM!

I SAID A BOOM-CHICK-A-BOOM!

I SAID A BOOM-CHICK-A-ROCK-A-CHICK-A-ROCK-A-CHICK-A-BOOM!

IT IS OVER! IT IS ALL OVER!

FUCK

okay, never mind the image that just conjured up. it reminds me of that eminem song where he’s rapping in an eric cartman voice, and there’s a line where he goes: “that bitch can twist like a contortionist!”

she bit her bottom and ate her own shit 🤣

it’s like, “what do you want for lunch?” “could you make me a sandwich?” “sure!”

SPLAT.

oh, my god, i cannot think of a better allegory to her fics, like seriously. between the hyper obsession with ghoulish topics to the point of not doing them right (yeah, i don’t get it either) to the juvenile humor, it fits beautifully and perfectly. i also feel like it’s foreshadowing like KARMA IS A BITCH, BABY! 😂😂😂

and that’s another thing that’s common in her fics, too, especially as of recently. she’ll omit words (which is a typo i’m often guilty of, this is getting weird) and she’ll put in a shitload of filler to pad out the word count and then shove it out the door so no one can question it.

it’s like she wants to... beat me to the punchline or something.

but guess fucking what? i have the punchline now, hahahahaha!

god, that is a terrible error, and i cannot believe no one pointed it out, either. but i also can, though, because when i make an error like that, i usually notice after the fact or when i’m editing; the fact no one’s said anything after a month confirms she’s surrounded by yes men. or at the very least, people who don’t know, or don’t care, what a con job looks like (i’ll explain that in a second).

that’s right up there with “angry balls” from twilight (with apologies to stephenie meyer, of course).

and it doesn’t really matter at this point, but it came from this:

george: “you can’t break up with me! i had hand!” AND YOU’RE GONNA NEED IT.

besides... the only taut belt I ever want to think about

is his

yeah, i’d like to see him tighten that belt of his, making that little belly poke out even more and bring more attention to his crotch 👀  swish his long beautiful hair 👀👀👀

actually, all the testament guys can tighten their belts for me any time 😏 and joey, too! he likes his belts, too. the man whom she betrayed and left behind in the dirt along with pete apparently. yeah, she threw not one, not two, but three subcultures, thrashers, grungers, and the goths, under the bus for quite literally no reason: she pretty much gave up anthrax fic after the incident with me and then her eddie vedder/grunge fic and her megadeth fic respectively in 2021, and her updates of like loving the dead since chapter 37 have been hollow and kind of boring, which tells me she’s not putting effort into them, and it’s weird because there are a few people who’ve bookmarked it saying it’s their dream peter fic. she left these fandoms, whole-ass subcultures, hanging for literally no reason other than to be petty and spiteful towards someone who stopped caring in january 2021.

what makes me different? very simple: i don’t cheat. i also genuinely like stuff.

i was thinking about this when i said it’s like she’s not even a fan of these things and she just writes because she thinks it’s what’s cool, too: she’s a grifter. she doesn’t swindle people out of their money, sure, but her behavior is parasitic enough, though.

she writes fic that appeals to a wide array of people while she keeps a straight face on (”she’ll stab you in the back with a smile on her face”, if you will) and also leeches off them under the pretense of “don’t like, don’t read”, thereby abusing fandom rules and then the very second she comes across someone who doesn’t kiss her ass or is bit of a threat to her or better yet annoys her, she turns hostile, covers her ass and gaslights everyone, and drags everyone down with her, declaring it’s “because they made do it!” lol, no. you chose to do it. i didn’t point a gun to your head and told you to ditch your fics: you did it because you have a victim complex and frankly, you suck at writing, too. there’s no money involved but you’re a grifter.

i pray for the mötley crüe fandom. really, take this from a girl who’s into alt rock and thrash and death metal, three genres that are notoriously the antitheses of glam: they don’t need the run-around like that, her building up a base only to watch her suddenly leave down the line because she can’t handle some girl being herself. instead of hitching up her bootstraps and accepting responsibility like any person with a spine and common sense, she plays the blame game and goes “look what she made me do”. who the hell does she think she is, taylor swift? (say what you want about her, but at least taylor has the decency to learn from her mistakes and has a healthy sense of self-awareness. and she’s actually a nice person, too: regina george is more charming than the green druidess) like i said, i’ve grown as a writer and a person. from the looks of it, the green druidess, formerly known as daveighmustaine, formerly known as fromthewasteland, has not one bit. the only thing that’s different is username and pettiness level.

by the way, alex likes to wear a lot of black and red (and green, oddly enough), too, so before i get called out for double standards: no, context is important.

and speaking of context, there’s also a line in this fic where nick runs his fingers down liz’s bare body to her (’scuse me) “abdomen” and she has a belly button piercing. it’s insufficient to say, but i feel like she had the hanukkah chapter of black moon open, too (fits the time frame: that was posted on the 18th and her fic on the 27th). and maybe disciples of the watch from eclipse, too, and blood & chocolate, and really anything i wrote that’s a bit sexual because i have a belly kink, specifically “little round bellies that look like they’d be fun to kiss, cuddle with, playfully poke, gently pat, tickle, admire from afar with the right fabrics and colors, and maybe fill them up until they’re very full and give them lots of gentle rubs”.

so, she not only copies from me, but she can’t even do kinks right. 

how is that possible? 

when you write kink, there’s this unspoken commitment behind it, like... you know. commit. shit or get off the pot. dude, i have written bdsm scenes where they were enjoying themselves. i wrote temperature play, and elemental play (pyrophilia and aquaphilia), and not once did i inject some painful bullshit.

and i thought we learned from 50 shades, too. there’s literally a right way to do it all and she isn’t doing it. “it makes it more believable and enjoyable!” no, it doesn’t. take this from a virgin: if you’re in pain while having sex, stop. extreme pain is not empowering or sexy: it’s quite the opposite. don’t keep going until one of you is crying and then you call the guy a fuckhead and he’s reveling in your verbal abuse. you’re treating not just him like shit, but yourself, too.

how do you people following her sleep at night knowing your precious fic writer, your “gorgeous queen”, is glorifying abuse across the board and is grifting everyone right in front of their faces, not once apologizing or being levelheaded about anything. she has shown to me, since 2020, that she cannot handle people who are different. hell, it looks like she can’t even handle fandom, period, because i have seen, time and time again, people in fandom far worse than me and i can tell she’s not okay with it. always wanting more attention, more sympathy, just like ol’ tila nguyen who preceded her by 20 years.

i’m just... i’m gonna y’all this right now.

it’s only a matter of time before she says something really problematic, and she loses control of everything. and you’re going to wish you believed me when it all first happened.

[kmp78]

“Why don’t you grow the fuck up and make a decent life for yourself…” Honey, booze and pills are fun, but maybe you should eat a sandwich and settle down. 😘

Mmmmmmm... sandwicheeeeeees... 🤤🥪

Cajun-spiced chicken and pickled slaw in mine, thx! 🙌

[wntw-virtuemoir-edition]

<< whispers >>

hey.

move in close.

i got somethin to share w the class.

found the Tessa Virtue Inc™️ next venture.....she just doesn’t know it yet bcz someone else already be running it.

but it’s honestly a fail-proof idea in this economy.

[jessicajones616]

I woke up from a nap to the Hellboy reviews and immediately started drinking

[heavenlyexiled]

@prayingfxryou wanted a ship with lizzie!

    Elizabeth sighed softly, glancing down at her beverage she had just ordered. it was pretty tempting to just down the small glass and order four more. before elizabeth could actually act on the idea, the annoying bell from the door ripped her attention away from the glass and towards the entrance. she had to do a double take to realize she recognized the person. elizabeth stood up from her stool at the bar, grabbing her glass and walked towards him.

    “  we meet again.  ” she offers him a toothy grin. “  you are...wait--wait..  ” elizabeth can’t help the small laugh that escapes her as she looks up at him. “  your name is Boe. see, i remembered.  ” she brought an index finger up to tap her temple. “  our last meeting was...awkward but uh..  ” she clears her throat with a small smile. “  let me buy you a drink, to make up for that...experience.  ”

[ajoymoon]

Thank You Beery Much - Goofy Face

Illustrator - Vector